***
Bonus chapter! Thank you to JustSomeOne for the donation! ^^
***
Every instance has its limits. When two boss-level entities coexist within a single instance, the instance becomes inherently unstable.
Neither Qi Yi nor Xu Jinyan were ordinary players—through countless instances, they had stolen power from instance bosses until they rivaled them in strength. Add the Evil God of this instance into the mix, and the instance had already teetered on the brink of collapse.
Even with their restrained use of power, the instance could no longer withstand the strain. It needed only one final push—and the power of that book became the straw that broke the camel’s back.
As the blinding light clashed with the encroaching darkness, space itself warped like heat haze, fissures of void splitting the air.
The instance could endure no more. It shattered completely.
[Due to unforeseen circumstances, the instance <Horror Cruise> has been temporarily closed for adjustments. Please stay tuned.]
The live-stream audience stared dumbfounded at their abruptly blacked-out screens and this unexpected announcement.
The instance… collapsed?
Viewers had imagined countless possible outcomes—maybe a full party wipe, especially after seeing that massive whirlpool through the live feed. At the ship’s speed, it would’ve been swallowed long before the clearance timer ran out.
But instead, the instance itself had broken down prematurely?
Even the paying viewers—players who’d spent points to spectate—were stunned.
Fortunately, one had the foresight to enable recording from the start.
Eyes alight with excitement, the player knew this footage was worth every point spent. A guaranteed profit.
Without hesitation, they uploaded the video to the Infinite Horror Game’s player forum.
The forum—a space where players invested points to share recordings—typically hosted titles like "XX Instance Guide" or "Suspected S-Tier Player Spotted in YY Instance."
But today’s upload broke the mold:
[Ex-Sugar Daddy vs. Current Sugar Daddy: Luxury Cruise Showdown! White Moonlight Love Triangle + Kidnapped Lover—A Chase Where No One Escapes!]
Uploads weren’t cheap. Unless certain of recouping costs, most players wouldn’t bother.
New videos weren't frequently posted on the forum, so freshly uploaded ones always appeared prominently on the homepage.
While uploading required a hefty amount of points, watching only cost a few—with ten points being the highest price.
Some players scoffed at the title, assuming it was just another troll wasting their hard-earned points.
Most ignored it, but a handful clicked—only to find it required ten points to view.
The higher the viewing cost, the more expensive the upload. Ten points exceeded the total rewards from clearing multiple instances—even as a joke, no sane player would burn that many points.
...Even if the title did sound like a prank.
One hesitant player, unwilling to risk missing a potential lifeline, gritted their teeth and paid the points.
The moment the video loaded, they froze.
Because right at the start, the instance's name flashed across the screen:
<Horror Cruise>
Wasn't that… one of those notoriously unclearable instances?
Data-collecting players had compiled lists of low-clearance-rate and zero-survivor instances—and <Horror Cruise> was definitely on there.
The player frantically paused the video, cross-referenced the lists, and—there it was.
Eyes widening, they scrambled back to the video and checked the progress bar. It was long. Even if the uploader hadn't made it to the end, they'd survived deep into the instance.
This was worth far more than ten points.
Within seconds, the player blasted a forum post with the video link and the infamous list:
[HOLY SHIT, WATCH THE "WHITE MOONLIGHT RUNS AWAY PREGNANT" VIDEO—IT'S FOOTAGE FROM <HORROR CRUISE>!! THE ACTUAL UNCLEARABLE INSTANCE!!]
[Wait, seriously? That title looks like some trashy romance edit. Troll or wrong section?]
[No way. That's gotta be bait.]
[FUCK ME IT'S REAL!! WHOEVER NAMED THIS IS A SADISTIC BASTARD—I WOULD'VE SKIPPED IT IF NOT FOR THIS POST!!]
One player calling it fake was questionable. But as confirmations piled up, the truth became undeniable.
A flood of players poured into the forum’s video section and clicked on that video—only to be instantly dumbfounded by the title.
[My White Moonlight’s Love Square on a <Horror Cruise>]
[Who the hell came up with this title? "White Moonlight Love Square"? Might as well call it "The CEO’s Runaway Pregnant Wife" while they’re at it.]
Players grumbled as they watched, but as the footage played, the complaints gradually died down.
The livestream wasn’t filmed from the "White Moonlight’s" perspective, but the boy’s unusual circumstances were impossible to ignore.
[Okay, maybe the title isn’t completely wrong?]
[Em… Yeah, no, the uploader knew what they were doing. I never expected it to literally be about a "White Moonlight" escaping with a kid—except the "kid" was not what I thought.]
[I’ve never seen a player clear a dungeon like this. "White Moonlight"? More like everyone’s Moonlight. Did you see how those staff members were looking at him?]
[Probably using some kind of charm item, right? Like a mind-control prop or a succubus bloodline?]
[The system shop does have those, but I’ve never heard of one that can charm major NPCs and the final boss. That’s straight-up cheating.]
[Hey… doesn’t that "White Moonlight" look suspiciously like those big shots’ long-lost love?]
[HOLY SH—YOU’RE RIGHT! This guy really does turn everywhere into a love square! Is there some kind of bug on him? Like, "Everyone Who Sees Me Falls in Love Instantly"?]
The forum erupted into chaos, all discussions about <Horror Cruise> now completely derailed. No one cared about dungeon mechanics or quests anymore—every thread was about the player (and NPCs’) inexplicable obsession with him.
Meanwhile, the man at the center of the storm remained blissfully unaware.
***
[Congratulations, Player Ruan Qing, on clearing the instance <Horror Cruise>. Reward: 300 points.]
[Penalty for OOC violation: -400 points.]
[Final tally: 160 points.]
The moment he returned to the system space, Ruan Qing ignored his exhaustion, ignored the pitiful point tally—his fingers flew across his control panel, scrolling frantically.
There was something he needed to check.
For example—entering the instance ahead of schedule.
The option sat at the very bottom of the screen. Without hesitation, Ruan Qing scrolled down, finger poised to select it.
Just before he could tap it, a hand seized his wrist, yanking it upward with effortless strength.
Ruan Qing’s eyes widened. The moment that grip closed around him, every hair on his body stood on end, his very cells screaming at him to run.
He tried to wrench free—but after channeling so much power through that book, his legs could barely support his weight. Breaking free was impossible.
So he stood there, rigid, not daring to turn around.
"Tch."
A low, humorless laugh ghosted past his ear. The sound alone sent ice skittering down his spine.
"What’s wrong?" The man’s voice was arctic, laced with a danger that defied description. "Weren’t you bold enough earlier?"
Ruan Qing trembled, silent, still refusing to face him.
But the man wouldn’t allow evasion. His grip tightened, forcing Ruan Qing to turn—
—and come face-to-face with a visage nearly identical to the Evil God’s. Same sharp features, same oppressive aura. Only the clothing and hair differed.
At a glance, one might mistake him for the deity himself.
But this wasn’t the Evil God.
This was the original.
The true form from which all fragments had split.
Ruan Qing didn’t react to the resemblance. His lashes merely fluttered, gaze flickering nervously up to the man still crushing his wrist.
The system had no tolerance for players who flirted with death. Compared to letting the Demon’s Eye erode him into oblivion, it would rather see him perish in an instance.
And yet—
He’d gambled anyway.
Bet everything on this one chance to escape.
His silence seemed to ignite something in the man. With a sharp tug, he hauled Ruan Qing flush against his chest, one hand snapping up to grip his chin.
"You shielded yourself from me."
The words were a blade pressed to his throat.
"Care to explain?"
Ruan Qing pressed his lips together, parting them slightly as if to speak—yet no words came. He looked utterly lost, trembling with a helpless vulnerability that only seemed to fuel the man's fury.
The man's rage had long since reached its breaking point. With a vice-like grip, he yanked Ruan Qing's wrist higher, forcing him onto his toes, and then—
—claimed his mouth in a searing kiss.
If it could even be called a kiss.
This was conquest. A merciless invasion.
There was no tenderness in the man's movements, only ruthless dominance. His teeth grazed Ruan Qing's lower lip, his tongue pushing past defenses with brutal efficiency. The assault left Ruan Qing's eyes glistening, the delicate skin at their corners flushing red.
This wasn't affection.
This was punishment.
Retribution for nearly dying in that damned dungeon.
On the surface, his gamble had seemed effortless—a clean victory. But the truth? One more minute before the dungeon collapsed, and his body would have given out completely.
He'd had no other choice. The moment Qi Lintian became the Evil God, his chances of survival had plummeted to near zero.
All he could do was bet everything on a single desperate play.
Now, Ruan Qing's lips burned, swollen and numb. The man devoured him like a starved beast, stealing his breath until his lungs screamed. The suffocating pressure dragged him back to the ship—to that inescapable dread where every sense was hijacked, every shred of control ripped away.
A whimper escaped as Ruan Qing trembled, his free hand weakly pushing against the man's chest. But the iron grip around his waist held firm, crushing their bodies together until not a sliver of space remained. Trapped, he could only endure, lashes fluttering as tears welled—
—until, at last, the man relented.
A gasp. A fleeting reprieve.
Then the man dove back in.
Ruan Qing jerked his face away in panic, but it was futile. The man's gaze darkened further, a storm barely contained. "I—I know I was wr—mmph!"
Time blurred. When the man finally released him, Ruan Qing sagged against him, limp and pliant, his breaths ragged. The man watched him struggle to steady himself, then leaned close, his voice a rough whisper against Ruan Qing's ear:
"I should kill you for this."
Ruan Qing's fingers slackened against the man's arm, his body boneless in the suffocating embrace. He stayed quiet, obedient—
—as if silence might temper the fury threatening to consume them both.
Just as Ruan Qing thought the ordeal was over, the man extended his hand toward him.
The atmosphere instantly froze. Staring at the outstretched palm before him, Ruan Qing's lashes fluttered faintly. With trembling fingers, he finally retrieved the Demon's Eye from his pocket.
The Demon's Eye possessed overwhelming power—not merely for concealment and surveillance, but for peering across time itself: past, present, and future.
Yet such vision came at a cost. The longer the gaze extended through time, the greater the required energy... and the deeper the corruption.
As Ruan Qing hovered the artifact over the man's palm, his hand hesitated. "I..." he began weakly.
The man lifted his gaze—a look so devoid of emotion it turned Ruan Qing's blood to ice. Every hair on his body stood on end, and he promptly sealed his lips.
With cold finality, the man claimed the Demon's Eye and vanished from the space.
Only then did Ruan Qing collapse to his knees, clutching his chest as his strength deserted him.
So I couldn't keep it after all.
The system space healed all physical wounds for surviving players—but some scars ran deeper. Damage to the soul, like the erosion from the Demon's Eye, remained untouched.
Ruan Qing lowered his eyes. When the man had kissed him, he'd distinctly felt something within him dissolve.
Was it the black mist corrupting my body?
Weakened from energy depletion, he recognized entering another dungeon in this state would be suicidal. His fingers moved to the system panel, selecting the game's central hub instead.
Yet the forums were already aflame with threads dissecting the <Horror Cruise> dungeon. Worse—many players had connected him to the bounty notice.
The astronomical reward still hung prominently, its issuer never retracting the offer.
And now was the perfect time to hunt him. Fresh from <Horror Cruise>, the central hub was his most probable refuge.
Half a million points weren't the kind of temptation that faded. Not when capturing him posed far less risk than surviving another dungeon.
Abandoning plans to rest, Ruan Qing selected a new dungeon instead.
[Welcome players to the dungeon: <Miao Village>.]
