MASG chapter 37

 

Silver Fang didn’t remember what had happened in the previous loop. Perhaps he had said something wrong, triggering an attack from the crew. But clearly, that didn’t happen this time. He could feel the atmosphere freeze as if he had shattered an invisible layer of glass—no one moved.

The fact that he was still alive meant that this method worked.

Yan Xia and Xia Yu’s efforts hadn’t been in vain! The message had been delivered correctly!

“Everyone, your ocean voyage is over. The Tide has officially docked at Port A—everything is finished.” Silver Fang spoke slowly, unable to imagine what these people had been through. “Now, if you’re willing to come with me, we can disembark. Let’s go have a meal.”

More and more crew members looked at him, but no one spoke.

Their right to speak had already been taken away.

“Just think of it as doing a good deed, everyone. Come down with me. I know you can wake up. I’ll arrange for your chips to be removed, and then we’ll have a great meal together.” Silver Fang was counting the time—the dangerous countdown was still approaching. “My teammates are still below deck. They can’t hold on much longer. There are two children among them.”

The ticking sounds grew clearer. The ship’s hull was corroded and covered in rust.

“Let’s go have a feast. The beef has been great lately—I know a wonderful steakhouse. How about rice? Does anyone here like rice? You could start with a bowl of porridge or soup. Once your stomachs recover, we can eat all we want.” Silver Fang kept moving forward—the awakening was too slow.

A tile fell from the ceiling. The weathered Tide was on the verge of collapse. The crew stood frozen in place, blood streaming from their ears. Once the electronic corruption zone detected the awakening of a core individual, it would rapidly disintegrate.

When they finally spoke, their voices sounded like the grinding of rusted gears.

“When we boarded, we didn’t know what the chip was for.

The company representatives said it was for a very long ocean voyage. They wanted us to be mentally prepared. The pay was excellent though, enough for us to buy a house in the upper districts of Qingyao City.”

“We had never been on a voyage that long before and were worried about our families. However, that person said it was a mission of great significance—one that would save humanity and shape the future. He said he would arrange everything at home for us. They also offered chip services to help us get through the difficult days. The chip could erase the human fear of the sea and loneliness.”

Silver Fang nodded in agreement, but also prayed that the awakening process would speed up.

“We underwent the surgery, and sure enough, we stopped missing home. We no longer feared the sea at night. We didn’t need to dock anymore—the ocean was us, and we were the ocean. At night, we’d hold hands on the deck and hear the sea’s voice. Through the mist, we could see a giant standing on the waves.”

“We also didn’t need to eat much. One bottle of nutrient fluid a day could sustain us. We were energetic and tireless. We sang hymns, worshipped, and worked eighteen hours a day without pause.

“What was your work?” Silver Fang pressed.

But no one answered that question. The crew member continued: “But half a year ago, something went terribly wrong with the chip.”

“We got hungry.”

“The first to feel intense hunger was the captain. He went mad, gulping down nutrient fluid meant for a dozen people. The first mate locked him in the cargo hold with that thing.”

“What thing?” Silver Fang asked again.

“We were starving—desperately starving—but the Tide’s course had been set long ago. Until the time came, no one could return. We could only ration what little food we had, but we still couldn’t overcome our hunger. Later, the crew split into two groups. The first mate went to find the captain, taking some men with him. The rest of us collected the remaining nutrient fluid, tried to catch sea fish and seabirds, and waited to reach land.

“When we reach land, we just want to eat our fill.”

“We just wanted one good meal. We worked so hard—why take away even the right to eat?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

The entire crew spoke at once, as if questioning someone—or the chip itself. But no one could answer them. Suddenly, the corrosion behind their ears accelerated, festering into large, gaping holes. Silver Fang reached out a hand toward them. “Come on! Come with me!”

“We’re not leaving. We belong here,” the crew answered in unison, their voices deafening.

Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds had passed. The time loop hadn’t restarted. Members of Team A and the rest of Team B rushed over from other areas and kicked open the doors of the central cafeteria. The crew collapsed one by one, red light radiating from behind their ears. Some of their skin peeled away like sand, revealing metallic flesh beneath. The hull groaned and twisted—the entire keel was coming apart. Transparent glass shattered from bow to stern with explosive force. The shards were faster than bullets but far more fragile, breaking into white dust upon hitting the ground.

The ship shook violently. The bow began to rise and the stern to sink—soon it would be vertical. Silver Fang could barely take care of himself, retreating step by step. However, the crew didn’t follow him. Instead, they sat down one by one.

They sat upright, as if preparing to eat.

They were finally about to eat. In their final moments, they reclaimed the most fundamental human right: the right to eat. Though there was nothing before them, the illusion created by the chip had lifted. The crew member closest to Silver Fang turned his head and said, “The apocalypse has come. The knight descends.”

“What apocalypse? Get over here!” Silver Fang grabbed his wrist and dragged him over.

“Captain! Fall back!”

A teammate yanked Silver Fang back from the central cafeteria into a safer area. He still had hold of one crewman. Nearby was a semi-open corridor where the faint outlines of speedboats could be seen through the mist. The core personnel of the corrupted zone had been awakened, and the entire space was returning to normal. The team could now evacuate.

Silver Fang was out of options. He couldn’t save everyone. “Hurry! Smash the lower glass and rescue Team C!”

The ship was sinking. Those in the cargo hold stumbled and crashed in every direction, completely disoriented. But hope appeared when the seawater outside the porthole turned from pitch black to deep blue and a faint light became visible above.

Yan Xia’s lungs were at their limit. Moments earlier, she had found an air pocket. She had only ninety seconds left. Without hesitation, she raised her gun and fired at the glass. The porthole shattered. Her consciousness blurred, but she struggled toward the light.

A flash of dazzling silver swept past her, moving faster than she could.

Her awareness dimmed. Yan Xia couldn’t open her eyes anymore, but someone suddenly grasped her hand and pulled her forward. She closed her eyes completely, drained of strength, with only one thought left: Don’t breathe.

Mo An grabbed one of Yan Xia’s hands and pulled her and Xia Yu through the shattered porthole.

Moments ago, he gave Xia Yu a breath of oxygen—enough to sustain him until they reached the surface—and handed him the syringe. However, Yan Xia’s condition was poor; she might have already drowned. On land, carrying an adult and another child would be impossible for someone with just the strength of a child, but in the water, it was nothing.

Mo An brought the two of them out with little effort. The light above their heads guided them like a lighthouse by the shore. Xia Yu looked straight toward the sea surface and suddenly understood the purpose of a lighthouse for sailors.

Twenty meters, then ten… They were getting closer to the surface quickly. Xia Yu didn’t feel anything strange, but blood started pouring from Yan Xia’s nose and mouth. It looked like she had internal injuries.

What was going on? Mo An didn’t understand. Could surfacing this quickly put a strain on the human body? But Xia Yu wasn’t vomiting blood; he was fine. There was no time to think. He had to help them up and swim toward the yacht.

Both yachts were rocking—there were definitely people aboard already. Mo An and Xia Yu turned back together. The Tide was slowly sinking, beyond saving. But Xi Ban, who had gone into the cargo hold with them, hadn’t come out.

When the cargo hold was filled with light earlier, Mo An hadn’t seen him. Had he seen him, as a male siren, he would have dragged him out and proudly told Meng Qingqing about his heroic rescue.

But Xi Ban was gone, probably knocked unconscious by falling shelves and dragged down with the Tide. Mo An turned back, first sending Xia Yu and Yan Xia upward while avoiding the sight of Silver Fang and the others—he couldn’t be seen.

He stopped directly below the speedboat and confirmed that Xia Yu only needed two kicks to reach it. Then, he let go. Xia Yu wasn’t surprised. He could guess Mo An’s thoughts—he was going back for Xi Ban. Xia Yu nodded and pulled the injured and unconscious Yan Xia upward. Two seconds later, he broke the surface. “Help! Help!”

Silver Fang was on the boat and grabbed his hand.

“She’s unconscious! Help!” Xia Yu shouted, drawing everyone’s attention to Yan Xia. Her condition was grave—she was still coughing blood.

Hiding under the speedboat, Mo An made sure they had been pulled aboard before turning back. With a flick of his asymmetrical tail, he darted toward the barely visible Tide.

The ship was sinking faster than he expected. The lights that had been glowing went completely dark—it was like a massive corpse melting into the deep sea. Mo An flicked his tail again, his pelvic fins paddling desperately, but his path curved instead of staying straight.

Still not working. It seemed he needed more pelvic fins to swim straight. Maybe once the other pairs grew out, he would be able to swim straight! Mo An wasn’t discouraged. He rushed toward the Tide’s shattered window, ready to go inside and look for Xi Ban—or perhaps his corpse.

The cabin was pitch-dark, and even Mo An couldn’t see clearly. As he darted in, he hit something.

It felt like a wall.

Strange! He had just come out of this window, so why couldn’t he get in now? Something was blocking him. Just as he became confused, the “wall” turned around—it was Xi Ban’s pale face.

His eyes were closed. It was his corpse pressed against the window from the inside. Mo An’s heart quickened. This was his first time seeing a human corpse at sea. It was so quiet, as if asleep—but lifeless.

At least he looked peaceful. His body was intact and untouched by fish. Mo An reached out to pull him out, but suddenly, the “corpse” moved.

Its hand, which should have been stiff, grabbed Mo An’s wrist!

“Ah!” Mo An shouted instinctively, bubbles escaping his lips. Wasn’t he dead? How could he suddenly move?

Then, the “dead” Xi Ban slowly opened his eyes. As he blinked, a black membrane covered them. Mo An froze, watching gill slits appear one by one on Xi Ban’s neck.

Not only gills, but two layers of ear fins unfolded as well.

So he was one of them! Mo An had sensed another of his kind nearby, but he hadn’t thought it would be Xi Ban. Xi Ban wasn’t a siren, though; his ear fins were larger and a different color. Those pearl-white, translucent fins swayed gently, like a pair of symmetrical flowers.

“I knew it—you’re a mermaid, too.” Xi Ban smiled and tapped Mo An’s brow.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? Were you the one who sang before we boarded the ship?” Mo An asked, confused.

“You’re so young. Why do you already have elbow fins? Is that the ‘Siren’s Blessing’ on your arm?” Xi Ban was familiar with it.

Mo An raised his arm, and the black scales on it gleamed in the water, absorbing all light. “Yes, my sister gave it to me. Why are you here? Was that song yours?”

Xi Ban didn’t answer directly. Instead, he swam around Mo An, examining his injured tail fin and underdeveloped gills and pelvic fins. Then he asked in surprise, “Were you hatched on land?”

Mo An nodded. “Xia Yu hatched me.”

“No wonder you don’t understand. Yes, I sang that song. Our kind’s song can alter memory, which is why those people think I’m one of them. It’s our branch’s ability.” Xi Ban finally understood—this was a fish raised by humans who was clueless about his own kind.

“You weren’t hatched in the sea, so how do you have sisters?” he asked again.

Mo An told him about Meng Qingqing.

“You don’t have a bonded sister. Even if you bled out in the ocean, no fish would come to save you.” Xi Ban sighed. Mo An’s situation was dire.

“I have Xia Yu. I’ve tasted his blood.” Mo An flicked his tail, joyfully whipping the tip. “We came here to find medicine to save a friend. What about you? Are you looking for medicine too?”

“No.” Xi Ban shook his head. His dark eyes were heavy with sadness, even through the tear membrane. “Come on, let’s see.”

With that, he swam back into the hold, and Mo An followed. Xi Ban definitely wasn’t a siren—Mo An could tell. He just felt different.

But then, what was he? Why was he on the Tide? Why hadn’t his song affected Mo An or Xia Yu? Mo An had so many questions, but he didn’t know how to ask them.

This ship was enormous, like a massive building. Darkness surrounded them, and curious little fish swam close, only to dart away in fright when they saw the two mermaids. Though Mo An had met others of his kind before, Xi Ban moved much more slowly than Meng Qingqing—so slowly that Mo An accidentally swam past him several times.

That would never happen with the siren sisters—even if he tried his hardest, he couldn’t outswim them. The only explanation was that Xi Ban’s kind were naturally slow.

“That boy, Xia Yu—you two are close,” Xi Ban suddenly said. They had already reached level B3 but still hadn’t found anything.

“Yeah, but he’s a jellyfish,” Mo An replied.

Xi Ban stiffened. “What kind of jellyfish?”

“The one we fear the most?” Mo An hesitated. “A blue jellyfish.”

Xi Ban froze completely, his face turning paler.

“He’s not poisonous yet—he’s still little!” Mo An hurried to explain.

“Really?” Xi Ban said slowly, like a sluggish fish. Impatiently, Mo An quickly added, “Really! He’s young; he doesn’t have any toxins yet. I shared oxygen with him via mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and nothing happened!”

“Still, be careful,” Xi Ban warned. Then he suddenly stopped. Mo An stopped too. Without realizing it, they had reached the end of the corridor. At the far end was a door waiting to be opened.

“What’s inside?” Mo An asked.

Xi Ban shook his head and swam toward it, his long legs kicking gracefully through the water, his expression unreadable. He gently pushed the door open and Mo An followed him into a small storage room. But it was completely ordinary—nothing special at all.

What was Xi Ban looking for? Mo An didn’t understand.

“Mouiins ailewern.” Xi Ban swam to the far corner.

Mo An gasped, and a bubble escaped. Why did Xi Ban say “my sister”? Could there have once been a mermaid here? Then, he saw Xi Ban pull something from the pile of junk in the corner.

—a handful of blue diamonds.

Mermaid tears. Once, a mermaid had wept countless tears here.

“I see it now! Oh my god!” Mo An’s eyes widened. The reason the Tide had been at sea for seventy months was that they had been secretly capturing mermaids. And they had really caught one! The “it” in the captain’s log was Xi Ban’s sister!

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