Chapter 27 White Hole Island (4)

Chapter 27: White Hole Island (IV)

With a loud clang of the iron chain hitting the ground, the ship lurched violently.

"Off the ship, now."

The guards on board seemed impatient, barking loudly. Those who didn't move were shoved toward the hatch. Their heavy gas masks hid their faces and the fear they concealed.

Shi Wu walked near the back of the line, catching a glimpse of Scarface still picking at the corner of his mouth.

"Stop picking at it, man. I'm afraid you'll puke right on someone's foot," Shi Wu teased.

"Can't help it," Scarface sighed weakly. "That smell is still stuck in my head."

"Tsk, rough."

The young woman stood on Shi Wu's other side, leaning close and whispering, "Are we there?"

Shi Wu nodded, the briny, fishy smell in his nostrils growing stronger, mixed with an indescribable damp, rotting odor.

At the end of the deck, a metal gangplank slowly lowered with a mechanical creak, finally connecting the ship to the island.

The prisoners were herded off one by one, the iron plates clanging underfoot.

Before them lay a stretch of sticky, cold, black sand, mixed with gray-black shell fragments like the bone shards of some unknown, rotting creature. The gray sea in the distance churned with foam, rolling out strange, foul odors.

The guards stood in a row on the beach, as if waiting for something. A few seconds later, several "figures" slowly emerged from the mist-shrouded depths of the island.

They wore uniforms of the same style, their hat brims pulled low, faces obscured, only their boots, stained with damp mud, visible.

The one at the front was slightly taller.

"Line up," his voice was hoarse and stiff.

No one in the line moved.

"I said, line up," he repeated.

The guards immediately began shoving each other, none willing to step forward.

Shi Wu silently moved to the very center, coldly observing everything happening around him.

"These people," Shi Wu said in a low voice, "seem even more afraid of this place than we are."

"I think so too," the young woman beside him replied, also keeping her voice down. "They were probably forced into this task. Otherwise, no one would want to get near this island."

"Why's that? Isn't it just a prison?" Scarface asked bluntly.

"They're afraid of the people on the island?" another team member muttered.

"No, the people on the island are also afraid of coming to the island," Shi Wu spoke up, glancing again at the thick mist in the distance. "And what's on the island... might not all be people."

At these words, the others couldn't help but shiver, all looking up at the tall, black spire, where a thin, elongated shadow seemed to flash past.

The guards who had finished counting and organizing the line seemed to have instantly completed their task. Several of them quickly gathered and turned to run back, not even bothering with any handover words.

"Go, go, go!" one of the guards kept repeating, as if staying on the island one more second would lead to disaster.

Their steps were so panicked they didn't resemble an armed force, but more like a group of comical deserters fleeing a battlefield.

In the blink of an eye, the ship began raising its hatch again, starting its propellers to move away from the shore. Throughout the entire process, those guards didn't even look back once.

The guides at the front turned and began leading the way toward the island's center.

"Let's go. Let's see what tricks this instance has in store."

The path wound deep into the island's interior. Shi Wu felt the damp, soft, rotting leaves underfoot, each step producing a faint "crunch" or "crackle." Beyond that, there was no sound.

No wind, no insect chirps, no bird calls. Surrounding them were towering trees, their heavy shadows casting down, bringing only a sense of damp cold.

The guide walking at the very front moved quickly, not uttering a word.

Shi Wu touched the goosebumps on the back of his neck. From the moment he stepped onto the island, he had felt a strange sense of being "watched."

Unlike the malicious gazes on the ship, this feeling was more like a cold machine, or some ancient, alien creature—a completely detached, utterly objective "stare."

It wasn't the gaze directed at a "human." It wasn't even directed at "prey"—because prey implies a hunting desire. This gaze seemed stripped of even "desire," leaving only sheer emptiness.

Shi Wu suddenly spoke, "Have you noticed?"

Several people walking near him turned their heads in unison.

"Noticed what?"

"We've already landed on the island," Shi Wu said, looking at the footprints covered by fallen leaves. "But the system hasn't issued any task completion prompt."

"No way?" Scarface scratched his head. "I thought I just missed it..."

"There's no prompt," Shi Wu stopped walking, his eyes quickly scanning the surroundings. "So, the question is—"

"Are we actually on the island now?"

The expressions of the people around him changed—some bewildered, some suspicious, others already instinctively looking back.

"I don't believe the system would have a bug," Shi Wu added.

He stared at the path where the string of footprints was slowly being covered by leaves again, a dangerous alertness gradually rising in his eyes.

"And," he paused, "do you remember how many of us got off the ship?"

The young woman was taken aback. "Th-thirty? More than that..."

"Count," Shi Wu slightly lifted his chin, gesturing with his eyes. "See if we're missing people."

The group immediately looked around.

A line of about a dozen people, neatly arranged. The area behind the guides at the front was empty, and no one was catching up from behind. The remaining prisoners numbered less than twenty.

"But we didn't hear any footsteps or see anyone being taken away?" Scarface whipped his head around, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Could they have gotten lost while we were walking?"

"But this is an instance," the young woman's voice was tense. "The only possibility is..."

Before her words fully landed, the entire line suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

Not the silence of no one speaking, but a hollow feeling, as if completely swallowed by something.

What's going on?

Suddenly, Shi Wu stopped walking and sharply looked up at a tree ahead.

"A moment ago," he said, though his tone was certain despite the uncertain words, "have we been here before?"

A thin white thread dangled from the crooked branch of the tree—the girl had accidentally snagged it earlier.

The guide ahead seemed completely unaware that the path was repeating itself, still trudging forward, head down.

"What's going on..." she murmured, her voice soft and tinged with disbelief, "we've been walking in a straight line the whole time."

"But in reality, we've come back around to a path we've already walked."

Silence spread among them.

"Hey, uh, everyone, I gotta say something," Scarface swallowed hard, his expression slightly panicked. "I... I just looked back and saw the person at the very end of the line... the one who's been walking with his head down the whole time. His face... it's different now."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he gritted his teeth. "At first, I noticed he had a scar on his face too, so I took a closer look, thinking 'hey, a fellow scar-face.' But then, in the blink of an eye, the scar was gone."

As soon as he finished speaking, a low, hoarse cough came from within the group.

"Cough."

Then, the coughing grew more violent, as if the person were trying to cough his guts out.

Everyone turned to look in unison.

The sound came from a middle-aged man toward the back of the line. He'd kept to himself since getting off the boat, but now he was slightly hunched over, one hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

Shi Wu watched as drops of bright red blood dripped from between the man's fingers, and every alarm in his head went off.

This is bad.

"What's wrong?"

"What's happening?"

All the prisoners panicked, and the entire group descended into chaos.

"Step back! Step back!" the previously silent guide suddenly roared. "Everyone, shut up! Don't move!"

But no one listened to him. The other prisoners, having never witnessed such a horrifying scene, broke and ran.

The middle-aged man remained standing, his spine now grotesquely arched. With the sound of tearing skin and bone, his back suddenly erupted, gushing blood and a black, viscous fluid.

"Click... click..."

"That's... that thing from last night!" the girl's voice trembled.

The mass of black fluid suddenly writhed, as if alive, and shot up to wrap around the ankle of the nearest prisoner.

"Ahhh—!" A scream tore through the air as the man was gruesomely "devoured," leaving behind only a pool of foul-smelling flesh and blood.

"Open fire!" the guide bellowed. Several men raised their firearms and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the black sludge, sparks flying as it was riddled with holes.

But mere seconds later, the fragments began to slowly writhe and pull themselves back together.

"Damn it, it's regenerating!" The guide's face turned pale as he turned and shouted, "Where are the guards?! Where are they?! Why the hell aren't they here yet—"

"They're here."

A cold, low voice sounded from the distance.

The next second, a specially crafted silver blade came streaking down, piercing straight through the monster's core.

"Ssszzzzzt—!" The black sludge let out a piercing shriek, convulsed violently a few times, and finally dissolved into a pile of charred ash.

Footsteps cut through the thick fog.

Click.

Click.

The sound of boot soles stepping on charred remains, unhurried yet steady, giving Shi Wu an oddly familiar feeling. He looked up.

The figure finally emerged from the mist—

His uniform was a slightly different color from the others, the shoulder seams sharply tailored, the knife-like contours accentuating his tall, straight frame. His face, however, was unexpectedly ordinary, his features carrying a sickly, gloomy cast.

But...

Shi Wu narrowed his eyes slightly.

But this man had a pair of sharp, golden eyes.