Chapter 122: Under Absolute Power, All Schemes Are Mere Dust!
Zhang Yangqing nodded in satisfaction as he observed the cursed crew members dutifully standing guard.
Though they were immortal cursed crew, this one was quite sensible.
After praising him, Zhang Yangqing left the area.
However, his actions left many experts puzzled.
After all, the cursed crew members were, in a sense, indestructible and immensely powerful—making them the perfect tools.
Why wouldn’t Zhang Yangqing take advantage of these hidden anomalies?
Hu Liuqi had some guesses.
Based on his understanding of Zhang Yangqing’s usual behavior, Zhang was someone who knew how to delegate tasks efficiently.
Hu Liuqi believed that the reason Zhang Yangqing didn’t mobilize these hidden anomalies was that he recognized their unique role.
The old captain—or perhaps the previous captains—had stationed these cursed crew members here for a reason, possibly to guard against certain threats or to maintain the safety of the bridge.
As the new captain, Zhang Yangqing saw no need to disrupt their duties.
Just like the hidden anomalies at the haunted tour group toll station, without them enforcing the rules of that world, chaos and collapse would ensue.
In other words, some hidden anomalies existed to maintain the balance of a place.
Imagine if the tour group toll station lacked these powerful entities—inevitable riots would break out between the city and the wilderness.
Understanding this, it became clear why Zhang Yangqing didn’t commandeer the hidden anomalies.
There was another point Hu Liuqi seemed to have missed: others might seek to use hidden anomalies because they believed these entities could help them complete tasks, relying on their strength.
But Zhang Yangqing hadn’t even fought at full power yet—he didn’t need any assistance. Let the guard dogs do their job.
Inside the bizarre world, most people’s attention was focused on the two superhumans.
The other chosen ones had mostly returned to their cabins to rest.
Having obtained high-ranking crew uniforms or received the captain’s acknowledgment, it seemed the hidden anomalies wouldn’t attack them.
After a grueling day of near-death experiences, the chosen ones returned to their cabins.
A wave of exhaustion washed over them.
Unaware of what dangers tomorrow might bring, getting ample rest was the best choice.
It was already 1 a.m., and dark clouds blotted out the moonlight.
Compared to the eerie facilities inside the cruise ship, the outside environment was even more terrifying.
Unidentifiable creatures occasionally flew across the pitch-black night sky, seemingly searching for prey.
The ocean, calm and sunny during the day, had now transformed into something else entirely.
It resembled less of a sea and more of an underwater graveyard.
The cruise ship slowed its speed, advancing cautiously through this graveyard of the deep.
Standing on the deck and looking down, one could see the water was unnervingly dark, like ink.
Peer closely, and pairs of eyes could be seen drifting within the inky depths.
The entire sea seemed alive, its inhabitants eagerly awaiting whatever “food” the cruise ship might offer.
The ship itself resembled a living creature, expelling bones and corpses from within.
The moment the scent of blood and “offerings” poured into the sea, the waters erupted into a frenzy.
Like a swarm of ravenous sharks tearing into prey, the sea churned violently.
The cruise ship seemed to be paying a “toll,” and once the “sea creatures” were satisfied, it resumed its journey unimpeded.
Some of the hungrier creatures, either unsatisfied or having missed their share, grew restless and attempted to capsize the ship.
Chosen ones with good sleep quality unknowingly survived this ordeal.
But those who struggled to sleep faced dire consequences.
Edson from the Football Nation had overexerted himself mentally that day. After entering his cabin, greeting the old crewmate, and locking the door, he collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep instantly.
Since the pale ghost in his cabin had already been dealt with by the high-ranking crew, only a friendly NPC remained, allowing him to rest without worry.
Pernalf from the Britannian Nation, having obtained the golden mask, had an easier time during the day.
Now lying in bed, he stared at the golden mask, pondering how to approach the next day.
Should he use the identity of a golden-masked tourist to enjoy himself, or should he continue playing it safe, adhering to the crew’s rules?
After all, he had tested it earlier—with the golden mask, the silver-masked tourists were no match for him, and he could even defeat the pale ghosts.
Coupled with his high-ranking crew status, could he do whatever he wanted on the ship?
The thought excited him.
He had always watched the superhumans from the Dragon Nation slay anomalies, feeling a rush of adrenaline each time.
Other chosen ones could only survive by following the rules of the bizarre world.
Now that he, too, had the power to kill anomalies—albeit temporarily—why not seize the opportunity to enjoy it?
Just as his thoughts ran wild, he suddenly felt an intense gaze fixed upon him.
He looked up.
Wish he hadn’t.
His heart nearly stopped.
Outside the cabin window facing the sea was an enormous eyeball, staring directly at him.
The eye was so large it completely obscured the window—or perhaps it was just one part of a colossal creature.
Being scrutinized by such a monstrosity was utterly terrifying.
Under the eye’s “hypnotic” influence, his mind began to fog, as if intoxicated, and his body grew numb.
Terrified, he quickly took a sip of the Bloody Mary he carried.
As his consciousness returned, he suddenly remembered a rule:
[Rule 11: If you notice eyes staring at you from outside the window after dark, hold your breath until they leave.]
Most chosen ones assumed this rule referred to high-ranking or cursed crew members patrolling at night.
To avoid execution, they believed it best to follow the rule.
Cabins had two windows: one by the door and one facing the sea.
If high-ranking or cursed crew members were inspecting, their gaze would naturally come from the door’s window.
But this grotesquely oversized eyeball was peering in from the sea-facing window.
Pernalf was certain—this was no human eye, at least not a normal one.
The eye was three or four times larger than a human head.
Chosen ones already asleep wouldn’t trigger this rule, as they wouldn’t notice the eyes.
But those still awake would face a potentially deadly situation.
Following the rule’s instructions, Pernalf held his breath.
Now, it was a test of lung capacity. Just as he was about to suffocate, the terrifying eye finally drifted away.
It seemed only those who were noticed and breathing would be affected.
Pernalf exhaled deeply, then buried himself under the covers, trying to sleep.
But the shock had left him wide awake.
The sheer horror of that gaze made him realize that even with the golden mask, he’d be devoured in seconds.
Cold sweat dripped down his back as he grasped a terrifying truth about the bizarre world:
Even with the golden mask, his strength was limited to this ship.
The world outside was vast, filled with far more horrifying entities beyond his imagination—forces he could never hope to oppose.
The rules existed to help him survive in this bizarre world. He shouldn’t overstep, nor did he have the ability to.
Calming down, he realized what he needed to do.
Humans were like this—Pernalf was like a nouveau riche, intoxicated by sudden power and eager to flaunt it.
But now, he understood: some things were beyond his reach forever.
He didn’t have the luxury of trial and error.
As his emotions settled, the sounds outside grew clearer.
Waves crashed against the hull, accompanied by occasional splashes—likely crew members who had broken the rules, lured by the giant eye to leap into the sea.
The thought that he had nearly met the same fate filled Pernalf with dread.
The expert team reached a conclusion: most chosen ones had misinterpreted the rule.
The “eyes outside the window” mentioned in the rules likely didn’t refer to high-ranking or cursed crew members.
Under normal circumstances, these two types of crew wouldn’t appear on the first or second floors—they operated near the ninth floor, following their own rules.
This meant the rule referred to something else entirely.
Some chosen ones misjudged, costing them their lives.
Others misjudged, costing someone else their life.
While most chosen ones slept, Zhang Yangqing was already searching for the hidden treasure—the so-called “Heart of the Ocean.”
The ninth floor had many passageways. Zhang Yangqing chose one opposite the bridge, where a few cursed crew members patrolled.
Upon seeing Zhang Yangqing, they halted and saluted respectfully.
After all, Zhang Yangqing now bore the designation “0001” and wore the captain’s uniform.
Regardless of who the captain was, they obeyed the rank, not the person.
At the end of the passage was a spacious area—a side deck at the ship’s stern, where several lifeboats were stored.
From here, one could even see the outside scenery.
The deeper the night, the more terrifying the darkness became.
It was a constant reminder of the countless dangers lurking beyond.
“How did you find this place?”
Before Zhang Yangqing could speak, the man on the deck addressed him.
The man exuded an air of arrogance, his back turned, his hair slicked back like a successful businessman.
He swirled a glass of red wine—though what it contained was unclear.
Judging by his attire, he was likely the department manager here—the very one embezzling from the Twilight Hall.
Beside him stood five red-uniformed attendants, all eyeing Zhang Yangqing’s group warily.
These were probably his direct subordinates.
Yet, faced with Zhang Yangqing in the captain’s uniform, they didn’t dare act recklessly.
At this moment, the captain’s attire, accentuated by Zhang Yangqing’s innate majesty, made him seem like the ship’s true ruler.
Behind him stood five golden-masked individuals, glaring fiercely at the attendants.
The tension between the two groups was palpable, a bloody clash seeming imminent in the dim night.
The atmosphere grew heavier, tightening the audience’s nerves.
With a single order from Zhang Yangqing, the deck would surely run red with blood.
But Zhang Yangqing didn’t rush to act—he needed information first.
Casually, he strolled to the deck’s railing, gazing into the endless night.
The horizon seemed infinite, evoking a sense of boundlessness.
No one knew where the other shore lay, nor what awaited them.
Many viewers from the Dragon Nation felt a pang of emotion.
It reminded them of their ancestors’ voyages across the seas, braving storms and waves.
That mix of hope for new lands and fear of the unknown stirred within them.
Against the vast ocean, humanity seemed insignificant.
Even this massive cruise ship appeared tiny.
Could anyone truly explore these waters?
And here was Zhang Yangqing, taking that monumental step.
Facing the Twilight Hall manager’s question, Zhang Yangqing stared at the sea and said, “How I found this place doesn’t matter. What I’m curious about is why you want the Heart of the Ocean.”
By now, Zhang Yangqing had confirmed that the pale ghosts and cannibals were likely connected to this manager.
Perhaps the real Twilight Hall manager was already dead, and this was an imposter.
Either way, this man was clearly scheming something.
The Twilight Hall manager took a sip of wine, glancing at Zhang Yangqing sidelong.
Though this wasn’t the familiar captain, his rank was undeniable.
Yet the manager’s eyes were cold, as if looking at a dead man.
Clearly, he was confident in his victory—hence his relaxed demeanor.
“Fine, I’ll tell you. The Heart of the Ocean is the key to unlocking the treasure.”
According to the manager, these waters once hosted a notorious pirate ship, the Phantom of the Abyss.
They plundered countless riches from passing ships.
But one day, the Phantom of the Abyss vanished without a trace.
Some said it sank in a storm; others claimed it ran aground in a mysterious location.
Regardless, the ship’s treasure had become the stuff of legend, coveted by all who sailed these waters—including the previous captains of the Mary cruise ship.
Yet no one knew its whereabouts.
Then, a man claiming to be a descendant of the Phantom of the Abyss appeared, causing a stir.
That man was none other than the Twilight Hall manager—or so he now claimed.
He told Zhang Yangqing he knew the treasure’s location, as the rules dictated only a descendant could open the entrance.
Zhang Yangqing nodded. That fit the bizarre world’s logic—certain areas were accessible only to specific individuals.
“In that case, why not follow my orders? I’ll take you to the treasure.”
Zhang Yangqing made the offer naturally.
Since the manager claimed to be the key to accessing the treasure, Zhang Yangqing saw no need to kill him—unless he overstepped.
Otherwise, Zhang Yangqing wouldn’t compromise his principles for mere loot.
Whether the manager lived or died hinged on his next actions.
But the manager remained oblivious.
In fact, he laughed inwardly.
He wasn’t worried—he believed the new captain had taken the bait.
The manager had been setting traps long before this.
Knowing he couldn’t defeat the captain alone, he’d enlisted outside help.
Whoever held the captain’s rank was his target.
Kill the captain, steal the designation, and he’d become the new captain—such were the ship’s rules.
This was his ploy to ensnare the captain, whoever it might be.
The manager had no intention of cooperating. He was merely buying time.
He was waiting for a terrifying entity to arrive.
The captain might be the strongest on the ship, but not in these waters.
When a dreadful ripple echoed from beyond the ship, the manager smirked.
It was here. After stalling for so long, the monstrous being had finally arrived.
The new captain was too green to recognize the danger lurking here.
Now, all viewers could see it—a colossal, grotesque creature had emerged in the bizarre world.
First came a massive eye.
Meeting its gaze felt like having one’s soul ripped away, leaving the mind hazy and disoriented.
The creature’s visible body stretched over a hundred meters tall, its head resembling a giant octopus, with suction-cupped tentacles writhing endlessly.
Its body was a sickly green, streaked with crimson, as if painted with something sinister.
Its gaping maw was fringed with fleshy tendrils, like the entrance to hell itself.
A grotesque slit ran down its chest, lined with razor-sharp teeth.
A foul stench emanated from it.
Closer inspection revealed eyes embedded in its tentacles, constantly scanning for prey.
This was the true ruler of these waters—a deep-sea horror beyond comprehension.
Its visible body alone was over a hundred meters tall; its full scale was unimaginable.
Undoubtedly, it was the apex predator here, the reason everyone followed the rules to survive.
The giant eye Pernalf had seen earlier belonged to one of its tentacles.
Now, Zhang Yangqing faced the creature itself.
Its grotesque, terrifying form defied human understanding.
Anyone witnessing this would feel an instinctive dread of the deep.
Many viewers hid under their blankets, too scared to look.
The monstrosity was the stuff of nightmares.
On the deck, the five golden-masked subordinates trembled in fear.
Fighting the Twilight Hall manager was one thing—he was still human.
But this abomination? They felt utterly powerless.
Even the expert team, watching the screen, recoiled in horror.
They wondered: Could humans even oppose such a creature?
To them, this was akin to a death rule—something to be avoided at all costs.
They feared Zhang Yangqing might perish here.
Seeing this, the Twilight Hall manager grinned.
This was the Phantom of the Abyss’s guardian. As a descendant, he was immune to its attacks.
His mocking gaze seemed to say: I was waiting for backup. What were you waiting for?
But he was disappointed—Zhang Yangqing showed no fear.
The deep-sea horror roared at Zhang Yangqing.
The sound was deafening, like a baby’s cry amplified a thousandfold, piercing and horrifying.
Everyone on the ship trembled, praying they weren’t the target.
Zhang Yangqing remained unfazed. He stroked his chin and said, “You want to eat me? That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard since arriving here.”
No matter how terrifying the creature, if Zhang Yangqing deemed it worthless, it would die.
Don’t tell me this thing is dangerous—because I am the danger.
It might be unstoppable to others, but what does that have to do with me?
The creature roared again, and a dozen massive tentacles erupted from the sea, hurtling toward the ship with enough force to pierce through it.
Zhang Yangqing flicked his fingers, severing all the tentacles effortlessly.
They fell into the sea like chopped vegetables.
“Is that all? Let me show you what a real attack looks like.”
With that, Zhang Yangqing raised a single hand toward the sky.
Instantly, golden light flooded the sea.
A power capable of shaking the heavens filled the firmament.
Against the dark night, a golden sun seemed to rise.
All eyes turned upward.
Hovering in the sky was a golden greatsword, five hundred meters long, its aura overwhelming, as if it could pierce the heavens and earth.
The sheer purity of its energy inspired worship.
The sword seemed to tear through the fabric of space itself, descending with a thunderous roar.
“Perish.”
Zhang Yangqing’s soft utterance carried the weight of divine decree.
Even the heavens dared not disobey.
Where the sword passed, space itself shattered.
A shrill sound filled the air, as if the sky trembled and all life prostrated in fear.
Every creature in the sea fled in panic.
The once-dominant deep-sea horror widened its eyes, bloodshot veins bulging.
The more powerful the being, the clearer it sensed the terror of this attack.
Even the ruler of these waters dove desperately into the depths, fleeing for its life.
It had surrendered!
But Zhang Yangqing wasn’t about to let it escape.
The golden sword plunged into the sea.
In an instant, the waters within a several-kilometer radius erupted.
Golden energy illuminated the entire area.
BOOM!
A colossal wave surged forth, and a pillar of golden light shot into the sky.
The sword had impaled the deep-sea horror, its energy detonating inside the creature.
The explosion scattered its tentacles, eyes, and flesh in all directions—utter annihilation.
Every bizarre sea creature caught in the blast perished instantly.
Zhang Yangqing didn’t care. His target was dead—that was all that mattered.
How many others died was irrelevant.
He glanced at the Twilight Hall manager, now paralyzed with fear.
His expression seemed to say: Understand now? With the rules on my side, I can play however I want.
I don’t even need to know what schemes you’re plotting.
Under absolute power, all schemes are mere dust!
