31: Chapter 31 Fear Has a Name

Midnight. The instant the countdown hit zero, the sea surface seemed to be heaved up by something from below.

It was not a wave—it was the entire sea area breathing.

Yang Hang stood on the observation deck of the highest level of his Golden Houseboat, the scanning interface of the magic sea compass spreading out across his field of vision.

The screen was full of red.

Dense red dots swarmed in from all directions, like an ant colony whose nest had been poked. Nearby were small, fist-sized red dots, labeled as "Serrated Fish" or "Bone-Eater Eel," the low-tier small fry; further away were medium-sized, basketball-sized red dots, "Iron-Clad Crab" and "Abyssal Jellyfish"; and further out—

Six watermelon-sized, deep red light clusters were closing in on his Houseboat from different directions.

[Deep Sea Tyrant Whale · High-Tier] × 2

[Blood-Spine Dragon Fish · High-Tier] × 3

[Nether Octopus · High-Tier] × 1

The Houseboat's gravitational pull. The announcement was right; the larger and more luxurious the Houseboat, the stronger the attraction.

To the sea beasts within a hundred-mile radius, his three-hundred-meter-long golden giant ship was probably no different from a searchlight.

Yang Hang glanced at the movement speed of those six large red dots, then turned back and sat down on his lounge chair. He fished a pair of sunglasses from the small cabinet beside the armrest and put them on.

"Activate attack mode."

The bionic maid bowed respectfully. As the command was transmitted through the Houseboat's central hub, the entire giant ship emitted a dull sound of structural shifting.

The protective shields of the six turrets popped open simultaneously.

The triple-barreled main cannon at the bow, "Heaven's Punishment," slowly raised, pointing at the Deep Sea Tyrant Whale approaching at high speed directly ahead. Inside the cannon barrels, the energy circuits lit up with a blinding blue-white glow, and the energy-gathering rings began to rotate and accelerate.

Yang Hang picked up his lemonade and took a sip. It was lukewarm; not cold enough.

"Fire."

The main cannons fired in a volley.

Three blue-white beams of light, as thick as water vats, roared out from the bow, tearing through the night sky and instantly vaporizing the darkness for a nautical mile around. The sea surface was pushed into a pot-shaped depression by the energy shockwave, and a white mist of steam rose dozens of meters high.

The massive figure of the Deep Sea Tyrant Whale flashed through the beams—and then vanished. Along with all the small and medium-sized sea beasts within half a nautical mile behind it.

The six auxiliary turrets followed suit, turning toward the remaining five large red dots, their crossfire covering every direction. The beams of light intertwined in the night sky like a blooming firework of death.

The dark night was beaten into daylight.

Yang Hang leaned back against the chair, his eyes narrowing behind the sunglasses.

He didn't actually need to fire the cannons. With a movement of his Power of Causality, the "destinies" of these sea beasts could be rewritten directly by him. But where would the fun be in that?

It was rare to have a chance to be a gunship captain; it would be a waste not to use it.

Besides, what he was more concerned about were not these minor scenes before him.

In the Karmic Star Sea, 1.4 billion threads were trembling simultaneously.

At the same moment.

Somewhere in the central region of the Magic Sea, on a raft cobbled together from wooden planks and vines, a Tianzhu youth stood barefoot on the deck.

Amit Salva. Ranked third in the Indian Camp on the personal merit leaderboard.

His talent, "Yoga Practitioner," allowed him to briefly communicate with marine life. Relying on this ability, he had been doing quite well for the past three days.

But at this moment, there was no composure on his face.

He could "hear" the sounds from the seabed.

Not one fish, not ten fish. It was thousands upon thousands of them, surging up from the deep sea like magma churning in the Earth's crust before a volcanic eruption. Every single one of them was emitting the same signal—hunger.

Amit took a step back and bumped into the edge of the raft.

He looked around. He couldn't see anything on the pitch-black sea surface. No compass, no early warning, no teammates, no way out.

The Indian Camp had no Fate Platform. With only over 300 million people left, everyone was fighting on their own.

A dull "thud" came from beneath the raft, and the entire bamboo raft shook violently. He knelt on one knee to avoid being thrown into the water.

The second thud. The third. Something was ramming his raft from below.

Amit closed his eyes, attempting to communicate with the attacker.

What responded to him was a screech so sharp it pierced his consciousness. It wasn't a conversation. It was a declaration of feeding.

In a sea area in the far west of the Magic Sea, Fritz was using a screwdriver to tighten the last interface of the desalination device.

The sea surface began to shake. The screwdriver in his hand dropped and rolled into the cracks of the deck.

He didn't go to pick it up, but instead looked up out the window. In the black surges, something glowing was moving rapidly underwater, flickering on and off, like the final phantom seen by a drowning person.

The Teutonic Faction also lacked a communication platform like the Cause and Effect Fate Platform to connect the entire camp. The entire camp was like a blind man fumbling in the dark within the Magic Sea.

Fritz stuffed the "Engineering Manual" into a waterproof bag, tied the opening tight, and strapped it to his waist.

He didn't know what those light spots were. He didn't know how many there were. He didn't know where they came from or where they were going. He knew nothing, but he wasn't afraid in the slightest, and he was determined to fight for himself and for his civilization, until death.

Meanwhile, in a sea area to the east of the Magic Sea, within the territory covered by the Cause and Effect Fate Platform, the scene was completely different.

Three minutes before the countdown hit zero, nearly 1.1 billion survivors in the Yanhuang Camp who had activated their compasses simultaneously saw the distribution of red dots around them.

There was fear, of course. But fear had a name.

"Serrated Fish school, thirty of them, medium aggression, approaching from the southeast, expected to arrive in twelve minutes—detour, go northwest; there are more green dots and fewer red dots there."

In the regional echo of the Fate Platform, various coordinators began calling out.

"Brothers in the 28° to 30° north latitude range, listen up! The compass shows a safe shipping lane eight nautical miles above you, with following ocean currents and level three wind. Go! Go now! Don't hesitate!"

"The Seventh Team in the Southern Region is in position! Three harpoon guns, one Flying Sword, one Water Control technique, and six ability users! The compass has marked the surrounding high-density areas of low-tier sea beasts; we're playing guerilla tactics! Merit points for hunting during the beast tide are ten times higher; brothers, this is a freebie!"

"Weather warning indicates a level six wind coming from the west at 3:00 AM. All independent survivors in the west, take note! Reinforce your Houseboat in advance! A rainstorm is not a bad thing; rainwater can be used to collect fresh water!"

Some ran, some fought, some held their ground. It wasn't a blind run, a frantic fight, or a stubborn defense.

Behind every decision was the data support from the compass. Where the red dots were, where the green dots were, what time the storm would arrive, where the ocean currents flowed—everything was laid out on the table.

A youth on a Rotten Wood-grade Houseboat was drifting alone on the sea. He had no weapons, no special abilities, and his talent was "Elementary Cooking."

Three days ago, he had mocked himself on the Fate Platform: "If a sea beast comes, I can cook it a meal and beg it not to eat me."

At this moment, he stared at the red dot distribution on the compass, his fingers trembling, but his mind was clear.

The nearest group of red dots was four nautical miles away to the southeast, moving slowly. Three nautical miles to the west was an area with a high concentration of green dots—driftwood and floating debris. To the north were two blue blocks, which were thick fog banks gathering.

Thick fog. He remembered President Shen Qing mentioning in her strategy post: Fog areas can reduce the visual tracking ability of sea beasts. Although it also affects human vision, when combined with compass navigation, the fog area is a natural shelter.

He turned the bow of his boat to the north. His hands were still shaking when the oars entered the water, but he kept a steady rhythm.

A private message popped up on the Fate Platform, sent by a survivor he had just met nearby.

"Brother, are you heading north? I'm also in the north. I've sent you my coordinates. Call me when you get here. My boat is Bronze-grade, it should be able to take more hits than a Rotten Wood-grade one. Don't be reluctant to give up your boat; your life is more important. We can squeeze together to hide two people, and it'll row faster too."

He replied with one word: "Coming."

President Shen Qing's coordinate point. Within a fifty-nautical-mile radius, over three thousand survivors had gathered. This number was six times higher than she had anticipated.

After the compass went online, escape routes became clear, and many independent survivors who originally couldn't reach her coordinates found routes with favorable winds and currents, arriving before the beast tide.

Now, these three thousand-plus people had formed a temporary defensive circle with President Shen Qing at the core. The outer perimeter consisted of survivors with combat capabilities—harpoon gunners, ability users, and even a burly man who had unlocked a Bronze Great Shield; the inner circle consisted of non-combatants and the wounded.

The first wave of sea beasts charged up at 00:15. It was a group of Iron-Clad Crabs, dozens of them, each the size of a washing machine, with hard shells and pincers capable of cutting through wooden planks.

The harpoon gunners on the outer perimeter fired first. The harpoons pierced the gaps in the shells, and crab blood splattered. One Iron-Clad Crab was hit by three harpoons simultaneously, flipping over on the sea surface, its six legs flailing wildly.

But immediately after, two survivors were caught by crab pincers—one had their arm nearly severed, and the other was struck heavily in the chest, flying two meters away.

"Move aside!" President Shen Qing's voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear amidst the chaos.

Although her Minor Life Technique could perform area-of-effect healing, it consumed a lot of energy and was less effective. Since the Magic Sea tide had just begun, she wanted to conserve everyone's condition as much as possible. As for the consumption of the three forces of Essence, Qi, and Spirit, many survivors who had gathered brought some recovery items from treasure chests and proactively provided them to her, so it was not a major problem for now.

She pressed her right hand onto the back of the person with the severe chest injury. Pale golden light seeped from her palm and into the injured person's body. Two seconds later, the person gasped sharply, and their pupils refocused.

Breastbone reset. Internal bleeding stopped. Near-death became severe injury, severe injury became uninjured.

The person whose arm was nearly severed had already lost consciousness when they were carried over. President Shen Qing pressed her hand onto it, and the light was brighter than before. Five seconds later, the broken bone began to heal, the muscle at the cut grew back, and the person suddenly jumped up, awake with renewed vitality.

The people around them watched this scene, their pupils dilated.

"Keep fighting!" President Shen Qing withdrew her hand, her face slightly pale. "Don't look at me, look ahead!"

The defensive circle of three thousand people stabilized.

Fuxing Hong Base. Zheng Yuanshan stood in the central hall of the command ship. In his consciousness, within the temporary combat group chat, several personal accounts of the Fate Platform were listed, displaying a vast, fixed-point map spread out in the illusory air. The map was densely packed with light dots.