Heart of the Ocean (13): He is cold

The group targeting Tan Xiao was a small gang made up of both players and local residents. This temporary team consisted of seven men and three women, including a young local couple, while the other eight were all players in the game instance. Six of them were from the same organization—the Black Tiger Guild—who had joined forces using binding items, while the other two were from the Rose Guild and had temporarily allied with them.  

Most of these players had already cleared at least three rounds of the game. This was their fourth or fifth instance, and even the weakest among them had scored at least a B-rank before. The strongest had even achieved an S-rank once, making them a small but relatively elite team.  

The young couple had been living comfortably in their standalone villa before the crisis hit. But when trouble arrived, the intruders barged in, tied them up, and “taught them a lesson” before releasing them to work under coercion.  

The players weren’t worried about the couple calling the police—one of them had poison-based skills and had force-fed the couple a drug, combining threats with intimidation before offering a sliver of hope: “Stay on this island for a month, and we’ll leave after that. If you cooperate, we’ll make sure you stay unharmed. But if you dare cause trouble…”  

A particularly menacing male player made a throat-slitting gesture, scaring the two locals like rain-soaked quails.  

The team didn’t abuse the locals too harshly—after all, order hadn’t completely collapsed yet, and they still needed the couple’s cooperation. A mix of threats and rewards, plus a one-month deadline (something most people could endure), kept the locals obedient.  

In fact, the husband even proactively offered information: “About 500 meters from our place, there’s a guest house rented by a young tourist from out of town. He bought a ton of stuff at the market, stocked up on seafood—his place must be loaded with supplies.”  

A young outsider hoarding supplies? The players immediately suspected another player. Survival instances had multiple playstyles, and some players preferred stockpiling from the start.  

But then the local added, “It’s just one guy and his dog.”  

While the game had a pet system, very few players actually owned pets—only those who had successfully specialized in certain roles had access to the relevant interface. And Tan Xiao wasn’t the type to broadcast his abilities to the entire player base.  

A delicate-looking young woman in the group asked, “Was the dog there from the beginning?”  

If it was, then the guy probably wasn’t a player but an NPC native to the instance—tourist NPCs weren’t unusual in a vacation town like this.  

“Whether he’s a player or not doesn’t matter.”  

The moment they learned a lone individual had a stockpile of supplies, that person was already a dead man walking in their eyes—his belongings were as good as theirs.  

Of course, if he was a player, they’d proceed with more caution. After all, almost no newcomers made it into this instance, and veteran players always had some tricks up their sleeves.

That particularly strong-looking player, who resembled a muscular tough guy, spoke in a somewhat ingratiating tone: “Why be afraid of him? We have Brother Xu in our team.”  

The “Brother Xu” he referred to was the player who had once achieved an S-rank rating. Tall and lean, with a wolf-cut hairstyle, he appeared slender but actually had attribute values far surpassing those of the muscular brute.  

The player called Brother Xu was named Xu Xu, with the in-game nickname “Zhaoyang.” Currently ranked 182nd on the system’s comprehensive strength leaderboard, he was also the deputy leader of the Black Tiger Guild. Among the top 200 elite players, rankings didn’t necessarily reflect absolute strength—182nd place didn’t automatically mean he’d lose to the 100th. But reaching this position already made him a powerhouse.  

Of course, the gap between the top 200 and the top 10 was vast. Tan Xiao’s current comprehensive ranking, unshaken by any player, firmly secured him as the undisputed number one.  

“Let’s move.”  

They had waited two days and finally seized the perfect opportunity—tonight, with its thunderstorm and howling winds. The sounds of rain, wind, and distant gunfire masked much of the violence.  

If things went smoothly, they might even take over that small guesthouse as their new base.  

Naturally, the ones sent ahead as scouts weren’t players. Two local residents were forced to the front lines as test subjects. Braving the storm, they arrived outside Tan Xiao’s guesthouse. Staring at the sharp broken glass embedded in the walls, one of the men nervously swallowed before knocking on the door.  

“Someone’s here, someone’s here!” Xiao Bai barked urgently, alerting his master.  

In truth, Xiao Bai had detected the group’s approach long before they arrived. But due to the storm, a lightning strike had taken out the signal tower, cutting off the island’s internet. The surveillance cameras Tan Xiao had installed could only record footage locally, with no way to transmit it remotely.  

At that moment, Tan Xiao was helping Wen Yi get dressed. Because of the rain, freshly washed clothes couldn’t dry in the sun and had to be machine-dried at high heat, leaving a noticeable but pleasant scent of orange blossom from the detergent residue.  

Living conditions on the island were limited—even brand-name stores didn’t carry high-end fabrics. Fortunately, the jellyfish wasn’t picky; even the coarsest fabric wouldn’t irritate his skin.  

Tan Xiao helped Wen Yi into a sky-blue hooded sweatshirt. “There, hood up.”  

Ignoring the knocking at the door, Tan Xiao continued adjusting Wen Yi’s hood, meticulously tightening the drawstrings on either side. The high collar concealed Wen Yi’s distinctly inhuman skin from outsiders.  

“Mask on, sunglasses on.”  

“Perfect.”  

Wen Yi asked, “Do I look good like this?”  

“Exceptionally good.”  

Tan Xiao wasn’t just seeing him through rose-colored glasses—he was simply stating the truth. Wen Yi already had a youthful, delicate beauty, and the outfit made him look even more boyish, like a radiant high schooler with dewy, pinchable skin.  

After all, jellyfish are 98% water. It wasn’t an exaggeration—he really might drip.

Wen Yi smugly curled his lips and took off his mask. “If I look good, why wear this? It’s stuffy and uncomfortable.”  

Tan Xiao gently pinched Wen Yi’s cheek. “It’s because you look so good that I have to hide your face—I don’t want others coveting you.”  

He didn’t mind being openly possessive in front of his lover. “I want you to be for my eyes only, okay?”  

Wen Yi put the mask back on, muttering, “Ugh, humans are so selfish and petty… Fine, I’ll indulge you.”  

But then he grabbed another mask and hooked it over Tan Xiao’s face. “For fairness, you have to wear one too. No letting others see you—and no staring at anyone else either.”  

When it came to possessiveness, this particular lighthouse jellyfish was no less intense than a human. Ever since taking human form, he had outright claimed Tan Xiao’s bedroom, never once considering returning to the aquarium where a jellyfish belonged.  

He monopolized Tan Xiao’s room, Tan Xiao’s bed, Tan Xiao’s pillow, Tan Xiao’s clothes, Tan Xiao’s embrace, Tan Xiao’s lips—body and soul, Tan Xiao was his.  

Even when cooking, Wen Yi refused to let Tan Xiao prepare food just for Xiao Bai. After all, the little dog was capable—he could open his own kibble bag, his own cans.  

Not that they left Xiao Bai completely to fend for himself. Leftovers from their meals were shared with him, and they even saved extra meaty bones for him. But Tan Xiao couldn’t do anything just for the dog.  

This was how it went in households with both cats and dogs—the cat, as the superior, loved to bully the pup. But Wen Yi didn’t have any real malice.  

He could pick on their little dog—outsiders weren’t allowed.  

—  

“Hello? Is anyone there?”  

“My wife is sick—really sick! We can’t call an ambulance—please, can we borrow your car?”  

When soft knocking went unanswered, the man began pounding heavily on the courtyard gate.  

His wife wasn’t actually ill, but days of fear had left her naturally haggard. With some strategic makeup to enhance her “ailing” look, even face-to-face, they might not be caught in the lie.  

Xiao Bai barked loudly at the door: “Woof woof woof!” (Big liars!)  

Tan Xiao led Wen Yi downstairs. Neither carried an umbrella. Over his hoodie, Wen Yi wore a bright yellow raincoat—vibrant as a lemon.  

Tan Xiao’s was a translucent orange, thick and waterproof.  

The courtyard gate creaked open—just a narrow crack. Standing there were the “couple,” though in reality, eight players lurked nearby, watching.  

“I saw you have a car—please, saving a life is a noble deed! Help me!”  

Seeing the door open, the man’s eyes lit up. He feigned desperation, sliding forward as if to kneel—but hidden in his sleeve was a dagger, ready to strike Tan Xiao’s vitals the moment he got close.  

Couldn’t blame him. He just wanted to live.  

“No. Get lost.”  

Before the man could lunge, the thumb-width gap slammed shut. His nose smashed against the wood, blood streaming as tears welled from the pain.  

Tan Xiao’s voice cut through the wind—clean, decisive, merciless.