Chapter 144: Terror Cruise

Midnight, the Atlantic.

A storm arrived without any warning.

On the top deck of the Haiyang Ningjing Hao, the party was at its peak.

No one noticed that the sky outside the cruise ship had already been swallowed by lead‑colored clouds.

And no one knew that beneath their feet, a maintenance worker had just finished the final setup, slipped into a diving suit, and silently left.

At that moment.

Boom—!!

An extremely muffled thunderous blast came from the hull, and the whole ship jolted violently!

The Jiabǎn rocked violently, and countless people lost their balance, falling to the ground.

The crystal chandelier swung wildly, then the light flickered and went out completely.

The world fell into three seconds of darkness and deathly silence.

Ah—!

A scream ripped through the darkness.

The backup power kicked in immediately, and the dim emergency lights illuminated a series of terrified, twisted faces.

The hull was tilting at a speed visible to the naked eye!

"The ship is sinking!"

"Run! Get to the lifeboats!"

Panic spread like a plague, exploding instantly among the crowd.

A gentleman who a second ago had been courteous now shoved his female companion aside and rushed toward the edge of the Jiabǎn like a madman.

The crew maintaining order was the first to toss aside the intercom, push through the crowd, and try to seize the chance to escape.

In the chaos, people, driven by survival instinct, trampled and betrayed each other.

A torrential downpour fell from the sky, the icy rain mixing with people's cries and curses.

Wave after wave slammed the dying steel behemoth, emitting a sour, grinding moan.

Finally, accompanied by a series of metallic cracking booms, the massive hull split in two.

Amid the desperate wails of thousands, it slowly sank into the pitch‑black deep sea.

Beneath the icy water.

A pitch‑black Shadow duplicate silently surfaced, moving through this freshly formed human hell.

Chu Che, like a spectator admiring a masterpiece, watched the scene before him with indifference.

He watched a father, in order to save himself, release his grip on his daughter.

He watched a couple, fighting over a piece of driftwood, use all their strength to push the other into the water.

He watched those lofty social elites on land, now like the lowly masses they despised, futilely struggle in the scorching depths, ultimately having their breath taken away.

On the editor interface before him, the value representing "resentment" was soaring at an unprecedented rate.

Over two thousand souls, in their final desperation, hatred, fear, and betrayal before sinking, coalesced into a terrifying energy capable of contaminating reality.

"Your despair… will grant this ship rebirth."

Chu Che's gentle, obsessed whisper echoed in the frigid water.

He did not, as usual, go out to collect those high‑quality vengeful spirits individually.

This time, his target was the entire sinking cruise ship.

He would fuse this steel tomb, along with all the vengeful spirits inside, into one Weird!

A smile deepened at Chu Che's mouth corner.

He combined all the freshly gathered, boiling resentment and, without hesitation, poured in a full 10,000 points of "Karma".

A massive amount of resentment and "Karma" were poured into the editor!

【Begin merging 2,317 resentment spirit units...】

【Fusion target: cruise ship "Haiyang Ningjing Hao"...】

【Fusion start... Weird creation successful, named: Terror Cruise】

【Murder Rule setting in progress...】

Chu Che nudged his gold‑rimmed glasses on his nose and set the rules for this soon‑to‑be perfect artwork.

Rule One: 【Ghost Route】.

—This ship will appear at random in the world's densest foggy seas and broadcast false distress signals.

Rule Two: 【No One Survives】.

—No living person will emerge from this Terror Cruise.

A simple rule.

But often, the simpler the rule, the greater the horror it contains.

Because it represents the unknown.

And the unknown is the greatest horror.

Meanwhile.

Bu Lie Dian Empire, London.

In a cluttered apartment filled with the sour stench of cheap beer.

A bruised‑faced teenager sat on the bedside, skillfully repackaging a bag of white powder into small packets.

His name was Liao, a delinquent riddled with misdeeds.

Snorting white powder, dealing white powder, fighting and brawling.

Just yesterday, he was indefinitely suspended for beating a classmate in school until the classmate was hospitalized.

All of this stems from his so‑called "family".

"Bang!"

The apartment door was kicked open.

A burly man reeking of alcohol rushed in, still holding a half‑bottle of whiskey.

He is Liao's father.

Liao hurriedly hid the white powder under the mattress.

"You damned waste!"

The drunken father instantly saw the fresh wound on Liao's face, roared, lunged forward, and yanked Liao's hair.

"I paid for you to go to school, and you damn it caused trouble again! You made a fool of me!"

The two erupted into a fierce argument, or rather, a one‑sided beating.

Liao was knocked to the floor by his father's punch, curled up by the bedside, clutching his head, silently enduring a rain‑like barrage of fists and kicks.

The domestic abuse and lack of love in his birth family deformed his growth into the person he is now.

At that moment.

"Ding‑dong—"

The doorbell rang.

The drunken father's actions halted; he spat, then snarled, "Just wait for me, I'll deal with you later!"

He muttered curses as he went to open the door.

There was no one outside the door.

Only a brown cardboard box with no sender information lay quietly on the doormat.

"Who the hell spent my money on a delivery!"

The father, furious, grabbed the package, returned inside, and tore it open roughly.

Inside was a crudely made doll.

The doll wore a tattered dress, its face painted with a huge, stiff, unsettling grin.

"What a trash toy!"

The father jumped, cursed, hurled the doll hard into the corner Trash Can, and, still unsatisfied, stomped on it.

That night.

Late at night.

The drunken father awoke from a nightmare, drenched in cold sweat.

He felt… someone in the room was watching him.

He stiffly turned his head toward the foot of the bed.

He was startled to find that the doll "Anna", which he had meant to smash and burn, sat intact at his bedside.

Its hollow, paint‑stained eyes stared silently at him.