C3 Deep Sea Phantom
He didn't want to die!
Xiao Hao's will to survive surged as he frantically scrambled forward. A ripping sound pierced the air as his pajamas were torn to shreds. He tumbled to the ground, caught off guard, yet he instinctively looked back.
The ghost's hand had stabbed through the water wall, her arm resembling a desiccated tree limb, her fingers like rootless sickles clutching the blood-soaked fabric. Illuminated by the Shellfish House's shell lamps, her arm emitted wisps of white smoke.
Gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his back, Xiao Hao slammed the door shut with a resounding "Bang!"—his action propelling her arm back outside.
The ghost outside wailed mournfully, clawing at the door in a futile attempt to reenter.
Xiao Hao collapsed, drained, onto the floor, his heart pounding at his throat. The bloody gash on his back throbbed with pain and a chilling sensation, and there was no medicine in the room to treat it.
Gasping for breath, Xiao Hao glanced toward the Shellfish House, only to recoil in horror.
The Deep Sea Phantom was sprawled outside the window!
Its features were hollow, the flesh on its face clinging to bone, bleached by the seawater. Its uneven teeth gnawed on the bloodied cloth, while its ten Sickle Fingers clung to the clear glass.
The fingers scraped the window, their tips like iron needles etching into the glass, the noise sharp and grating.
The ghost paused its chewing, and the rag was swallowed whole. In the Shellfish House's light, Xiao Hao could see the swollen, purplish veins and the tumor-like mass slide down its throat.
A shiver ran through him, his skin crawling with goosebumps.
The phantom lingered for a moment before fading from view. As it departed, its empty eye sockets bore into Xiao Hao, leaving him with the ominous feeling that the Deep Sea Phantom would not easily forget him.
It was some time before the spirit's presence fully dissipated, and Xiao Hao was left to process the terror that had just unfolded.
This spirit was more terrifying than any horror film he'd ever seen. Had it not been for the warning from the bullet screen, he might very well have been devoured alive.
The searing pain in Xiao Hao's back was relentless, a sensation he couldn't simply ignore. Gritting his teeth, he turned his attention to the game panel, hoping for a life-saving hint from the bullet screen notifications.
He had narrowly escaped death once already. The guy was undeniably resilient.
But even a narrow escape wouldn't guarantee his survival for long. In this game, external wounds could heal if the bleeding stopped, allowing his health points (HP) to gradually replenish. However, the attack from the Deep Sea Phantom carried a sinister Soul Poison. Without the soul tonic herb, Xiao Hao was doomed. Once his physical strength hit zero, it would be game over.
Soul Poison?
Physical Strength Limit?
Xiao Hao quickly accessed the game panel and checked his personal information:
Name: Xiao Hao
HP: 60/100
Physical Strength: 40/90
He skimmed past the irrelevant details and noticed his physical strength limit had dropped from 100 to 90. The instructions were clear: this limit would continue to decrease over time.
Damn it, if his physical strength hit zero, it would mean certain death!
Desperate for a solution, Xiao Hao opened the space grid, hoping the treasure chest contained something useful.
The game interface was intuitive, mimicking a real game. He clicked on the treasure chest, and two options appeared: open and close.
Taking a deep breath, Xiao Hao cautiously tapped 'open':
Cloth x20
Bread x5
Mineral Water x3
Coral x5
Iron Ingot x1
Copper Ingot x1
Blood Agent x1
The game displayed a large inventory box brimming with items, but a wave of disappointment washed over Xiao Hao. Despite his preparedness for the worst, his heart sank.
After confirming, all items were transferred into the space grid.
Feeling increasingly lightheaded, Xiao Hao revisited his personal information and saw his HP had plummeted from 60 to 30!
Of course, he hadn't managed to stop the bleeding from the gash on his back!
If the wound had been elsewhere, he could have used the leftover cloth from his pajamas as a makeshift bandage. But the back was out of reach, impossible to bandage on his own. How was he supposed to stop the bleeding?
Then it hit him—the Blood Agent!
Presumably, this was designed to restore health. With no other options, he had to give it a shot.
Xiao Hao clicked on the icon for the Blood Agent and selected 'use'.
A vial filled with a red liquid materialized on the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, Xiao Hao uncapped the vial and downed the contents in one swift gulp.
A wave of warmth surged from his throat into his body, soothing Xiao Hao's senses. A fiery sensation spread across his back, and his mind sharpened. Beneath his skin, out of sight, his flesh knitted together, healing the unseen wounds.
Xiao Hao glanced at his personal stats once more. His health had climbed to 85 and was steadily increasing. His stamina had seen some improvement too, though it was a shame that his maximum stamina remained at 90.
Stripping off his shirt, he fashioned two sets of clothes inside the Synthetic House. Regrettably, without cotton, he couldn't craft a sweater or coat—just barely enough to cover himself, but hardly enough for warmth.
After consuming a slice of bread and half a bottle of water, hunger still gnawed at him, but he refrained from eating more. He needed to conserve what he had, hoping to trade for soul tonic herb and weapon materials at the Exchange Hall. He had enough materials to craft an exquisite coral rod, but it paled in comparison to a spiked coral spear.
Now that he was out of danger and had a moment to rest, Xiao Hao could ponder the messages on the bullet screen. One message had stuck with him: among the multitude of live broadcast rooms, there were always a few lucky ones.
Live broadcast rooms? Could this all be a game? Was every player also a broadcaster? And who was sending those bullet screen messages? If his theory held, it meant every player had an audience, and bullet screens were present in all the broadcast rooms. The unique twist was that he could see the bullet screen content, while the others could not.
Life truly had no dress rehearsal; it was a live broadcast every single day...
The question of whether the bullet screen sender was human was something Xiao Hao couldn't address at the moment. He shelved the thought, focusing instead on pressing issues.
Firstly, there was the matter of the room's mana. Together with the mana consumed by the Exploring Bubbles, a total of 80L had been used, leaving 920L remaining.
Secondly, the issue of soul poison loomed. During his explorations, he had marked his path with various plants, among which the soul tonic herb might just be concealed.
Damn it, after just 30 minutes of exploration, the Shellfish House had guzzled 5L, and the Exploring Bubble had drained a whopping 30L!
The urgency of the soul poison issue might even surpass that of magic. Xiao Hao wasn't sure if one could simply sleep it off or if it would be a sleep from which one wouldn't awaken.
He checked his personal stats again; his physical strength cap had dipped from 90 to 89. The chill he felt down his spine wasn't just from the waning effects of the blood agent.
Left with no other option, Xiao Hao took to the forums and the marketplace to inquire about the soul tonic herb.
Unsurprisingly, it was nowhere to be found.
The early stages of this survival game were brutally dangerous: live or die, with very few lingering in a half-dead state like him...
If he could just hold on until the later stages, once his level was higher and with a Protector's aid, the likelihood of surviving a wild monster encounter with injuries would skyrocket, making the soul tonic herb much more accessible.
But with no other players possessing it, he had to fend for himself.
He'd have to venture out again in the afternoon.
While his physical strength was still ample, he needed to find that soul tonic herb—and fast.
He managed to trade with some players in the marketplace, exchanging two loaves of bread for four iron blocks.
Should he craft the coral spear?
With trepidation, Xiao Hao clicked 'yes.'
The materials vanished from his inventory, and a coral spear slowly materialized on the ground.
Taking a deep breath, he gripped the spear with a grave look, only to be met with a delightful surprise—it was astonishingly light!
He cursed under his breath. He was used to in-game weapons weighing a ton—so-called "Artifacts" that would be shameful if not weighing a small mountain. Forget about precision in combat; one might not even be able to lift such weapons.
Thankfully, this game's system was more considerate, with weapons averaging around ten kilograms, light enough even for the most delicate of women to handle.
Xiao Hao ran his hands over the coral spear, impressed by its feel and quality. He swung it a few times, each motion fluid and forceful.
Glancing at the game panel, he noticed the absence of a bullet screen.
If every player had their own live broadcast room and his was devoid of comments, did that mean no one was tuning in to watch his stream?
So, if he could draw in enough viewers, he'd be in for more bullet screen prompts, right?
Judging from the bullet screen chatter, the audience seemed oblivious to the fact that he could see their prompts.
That meant he had to keep it under wraps that he could see the bullet screen while simultaneously drawing a bigger crowd to his live stream. Wouldn't want any viewers leading him astray on purpose.
But how to lure an audience to his live stream in the first place?
Here in the survival game, even in life-or-death situations, the bullet screen was hardly bustling with viewers.
With so many players caught in their own desperate struggles, it was nothing novel for the spectators.
Xiao Hao's mind flashed back to his high school days in the dance club.
From those early days of chaotic dancing with fellow newbies to eventually turning heads on the street with his moves, he had come a long way. His street dance might not rival the gods on TV, but it had evolved to align with popular taste.
Xiao Hao had never been a streamer before, but he was savvy enough to know that audiences craved the fresh and thrilling.
Fighting back the embarrassment and the chill running down his spine, Xiao Hao stood up, queued up some music on his phone, and started to groove to the beat.
After a short while, sure enough, the bullet screen on the game interface came alive with comments!
Puhahahahaha, what on earth is he doing?
Is that dancing? He's actually got some moves, makes me want to learn!
Dream on, he's got legs for days, and you? You're just flapping a fish tail.
Xiao Hao's eyes widened in surprise at the comments. The ones sending bullet screen messages weren't even human!
Aliens, maybe?
I'm totally into this streamer, got my screenshot already.
Screenshot +1
If he manages to beat the game, these pics could haunt him for ages.
Amateurs take screenshots; the real pros are recording.
Xiao Hao: ???
More viewers meant a bullet screen bursting with creativity.
This live stream is a blast with its dance-off, but check out room 456, too. It's got its own... let's just say, unique charm. Don't want to get censored, so you folks can decode that one.
On another note, the number of live streams in this region has really dwindled. People are dropping like flies.
Yeah, it's shocking how many people died on the first day. Out of 1,000 live streaming rooms, now there are fewer than 800 remaining.
Xiao Hao felt a wave of heaviness wash over him.
It made sense why the forum's content refresh rate had slowed, and why there weren't many people chatting. It turned out this was a regional channel.
He was struggling to save himself, let alone anyone else.
The chat was buzzing with a constant stream of topics, each more bizarre than the last.
Right now, the priority was to rally the audience to help him navigate through this predicament.
Xiao Hao feigned ignorance of the chat and said with a pained expression, "I've got this constant chill on my back; I can't dance anymore."
His attention honed, Xiao Hao immediately noticed a flurry of related comments.
Nonsense! You're suffering from soul poison, of course you feel cold!
I'm new here, and he seems okay. How could he be afflicted with soul poison?
He was snagged by the Deep Sea Phantom, and though the blood agent has healed the wound, he failed to secure the soul tonic herb.
The soul tonic herb typically grows in areas frequented by the Deep Sea Phantom, but here's the catch: he's too weak to face the phantom, yet the herb he needs grows right in its territory. It's a vicious cycle!
But there's a glimmer of hope—he previously obtained a Shadow Hippocampus egg.
Holy smokes! A Shadow Hippocampus egg! That's an ace in the hole right from the start!
Calm down, buddy. No matter how impressive the egg is, it's still just an egg. Once hatched, it's merely a juvenile. The Deep Sea Phantom's combat power in Beginner Village is off the charts.
The soul poison will gradually erode his physical strength limit; he won't last more than three days.
Even if he hatches the seahorse egg and seeks out the soul tonic herb, it would be a death wish.
The only real shot he has is to hatch the seahorse egg quickly, gather resources to level up, and then find the soul tonic herb before his physical strength dips below 10. If it does, he won't even be able to lift a finger against the Deep Sea Phantom.
Can't move? No worries, I've got it...
At this point, the barrage of comments started to go off-kilter.
Xiao Hao ignored the lower comments filled with bizarre confessions of affection; his life hung in the balance, and he had no time for irrelevant chatter.
After accessing his space and retrieving the seahorse egg, Xiao Hao pondered the method of incubation.
By chance, his gaze fell upon the blood-stained, tattered pajamas near the door.
Perhaps...
A touch of blood?
That's how it always goes in the novels, like some blood pact.
Maybe the barrage could offer some clues.
With the bloodied fabric in one hand and his phone in the other, Xiao Hao waited.
And indeed, the barrage delivered the answer.
How did he figure out that the seahorse egg needed blood to bind to its host?
Was it because his was the only blood in the room?
But then, why not use mineral water?
Dude, the egg was taken from the sea floor, surrounded by water...
The host probably thought blood held more nutritional value, so he decided to experiment. And, by a fluke, it worked.
Reading that final comment, Xiao Hao couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.
He relished these wild theories; no need for him to concoct excuses when they did it for him.
Now, he eagerly awaited the grand entrance of the Shadow Hippocampus, dubbed by the netizens of Alien Land as the "Divine Stroke of Luck at the Start."
