Heart of the Ocean (22): I will feel sad

Xiao Bai followed Tan Xiao’s gaze and was so shocked that his beady little eyes widened into circles: “Oh my gosh, how are there so many jellyfish?!”  

The five hundred jellyfish already gathered around Tan Xiao had seemed like an enormous number to him, but now, seeing this sight, he realized that the swarm around his master was just an insignificant fraction of the whole.  

In that instant, Xiao Bai vividly imagined Tan Xiao being completely overwhelmed by the jellyfish horde in the next second.  

However, that scenario didn’t come to pass. Unaware of what was happening to Wen Yi, Tan Xiao instinctively stepped forward, quickening his pace as he tried to reach the jellyfish swarm.  

On the other side of the platform, the jellyfish inside the temple were also in a frenzy, trembling with excitement.  

“Tan Xiao, it’s Tan Xiao!”  

The jellyfish inside the temple seemed to go wild, their first impulse being to rush out. But because so many surged forward at once, they inevitably attracted the attention of the restless ghosts.  

The overwhelming surge of life force made the ghosts restless. Without hesitation, they lunged at the jellyfish. Before the charging swarm could be wiped out, Wen Yi forcibly triggered the self-destruction of these unruly little jellyfish, randomly taking out “lucky ghosts” in the process.  

At the same time, Wen Yi shouted in Tan Xiao’s direction: “Tan Xiao, don’t come over—it’s dangerous!”  

The voice of a single singer may be soft, but when ten thousand sing in unison, the chorus becomes thunderous. Similarly, though the lighthouse jellyfish had shrunk to just one percent of their original size, their combined voices were deafeningly clear—not just on the platform, but even as far as the distant stone pillars.  

On one of the nearby stone pillars, Xu Xu’s hand trembled involuntarily, earning him another wound.  

“Tan Xiao?!” If it wasn’t a homophone, was this Tan Xiao the one ranked first on the leaderboard? Was he also in this instance? Did the increased difficulty of the system have something to do with him? If they followed Tan Xiao, would they have a chance to escape this instance alive? 

Many had heard Wen Yi’s voice, but only the players reacted with particular excitement.  

Tan Xiao, whose trail they had been tracking, immediately halted his steps—even retreating a few paces.  

Though he didn’t understand why Wen Yi didn’t want him to approach, his unconditional trust in his lover made him instinctively obey.  

The strikingly handsome young man stared anxiously at the tiny jellyfish, watching as they vanished under the assault of the humanoid ghosts. Tan Xiao’s heart twisted painfully, and his expression darkened, the ever-present smile on his face replaced by a stormy gloom.  

Struggling to steady his emotions, he called out loudly, “Wen Yi, are you okay? Were you hurt just now? How bad is it? What can I do to help?”

“I’m fine! As long as you’re okay, I’m okay!”  

Losing a batch of little jellyfish was no big deal—Wen Yi would rather take the hit himself than let Tan Xiao get hurt.  

Seeing Tan Xiao stop in his tracks and gaze at him from a distance, Wen Yi let out a huge sigh of relief: Thank goodness, Tan Xiao was safe! As expected of his soulmate—he still trusted him so completely!  

The next second, the swarm of miniature lighthouse jellyfish acted like a megaphone, continuing to shout at Tan Xiao: “Stay right where you are—don’t come any closer! I’ll draw a line for you. Don’t cross it!”  

The jellyfish that had been clinging to Tan Xiao earlier, along with the ones that had just surged out of the temple, quickly formed an orange-red safety line at the perimeter. Packed tightly together, their transparent bodies revealed their glowing orange stomachs, creating a bright, unmistakable boundary—visible to anyone with functioning eyes.  

Tan Xiao stood stiffly in place as Wen Yi instructed: “From the edge up to this line is the safe zone. If you go past it, the ghosts will target you. I’m safe inside the temple—just wait for me, I’ll come to you right away!”  

As a lighthouse jellyfish, Wen Yi could split himself into countless copies, but Tan Xiao was just an ordinary human—he couldn’t divide himself, and he only had one life. There was no room for recklessness!  

Tan Xiao took a few careful steps forward, stopping just half a fist’s distance from the safety line. Then, he moved along the boundary, positioning himself at the point closest to the temple in a straight line.  

Even while ensuring his own safety, he wanted to do something for his lover—at the very least, this way, Wen Yi wouldn’t have to travel as far to reach him.  

True to his word, Wen Yi acted immediately. His core consciousness had remained in the temple because the divided jellyfish couldn’t be controlled or communicated with beyond a certain distance. But now that Tan Xiao was here—so close!—he could finally move freely.  

Once he confirmed the ghosts had settled down, Wen Yi slipped into the next wave of jellyfish and dashed over, successfully crossing the safety line before plopping right into Tan Xiao’s palm.  

“I’m here, I’m here!” Wen Yi excitedly bounced in Tan Xiao’s hand. But at his current tiny size, the 1.8-meter-tall Tan Xiao seemed like a towering mountain to him—he couldn’t even see his lover’s full face.  

Wen Yi issued a command to the jellyfish that had escaped the temple: “Assemble!”  

Merging had been inconvenient inside the temple, but now that he was with Tan Xiao, he needed to grow bigger than before.  

Hundreds of jellyfish hopped onto Tan Xiao’s palm, gathering around the core jellyfish that held Wen Yi’s consciousness.  

Bit by bit, the lighthouse jellyfish reformed into the shape they’d taken when the two first met—then grew slightly larger, reaching about the size of a jelly dessert.

The reason he didn’t grow any larger was that fewer than ten thousand jellyfish had made it over so far.  

When Wen Yi first met Tan Xiao, he was about 5 millimeters tall—roughly a 5mm cube with a volume of 125 cubic millimeters. In contrast, a 1mm cube only had a volume of 1 cubic millimeter.  

Though the size difference might seem like just a fifth reduction, the actual volume had shrunk by a hundredfold.  

Going from the size of a fingernail to that of a small jelly dessert had already required fusing nearly ten thousand miniature jellyfish.  

More jellyfish were still streaming out of the temple in batches—99 at a time. At a rate of 99 per minute, they could move 140,000 in a day. To get them all across unharmed would take about ten more days.  

Tan Xiao watched as the jellyfish gradually disappeared, the lone one in his palm growing bit by bit. He didn’t blink. “Do you need more energy?”  

According to the law of conservation of energy, whether splitting or merging, some energy would always be consumed.  

Wen Yi tapped Tan Xiao’s palm with a tentacle. “With more energy, I’d recover faster.”  

So Tan Xiao pulled out the tuna cans the little jellyfish had been eating earlier, opening them one by one. “Eat up. As much as you want.”  

Xiao Bai also waddled over. “I want some too.”  

The little family of three gathered together, the scene warm and cozy.  

Tan Xiao didn’t mind the dirty ground, sitting cross-legged as he opened a chicken can for Xiao Bai. For himself and the bird, he rationed carefully, saving supplies—but for his partner? He spared nothing. If Wen Yi wanted to eat, he could have it all.  

Wen Yi emptied can after can of tuna, munching away while quietly updating Tan Xiao on the temple situation.  

“Those ghosts are trapped here, guarding the tombs for whatever’s inside the temple. To leave this cursed place, we have to destroy it.”  

But to destroy the temple, they’d have to get inside—and outside, countless ghosts stood watch.  

“So we need to eliminate those ghosts first, right?”  

Wen Yi puffed up proudly. “No problem—I can blow them all up!”  

Before, he’d been worried about losing too much strength and not being able to reunite with Tan Xiao. But now that they were together, he wasn’t afraid anymore. Even if he got hurt, Tan Xiao would protect him.  

“Blow them up… You mean sacrificing parts of yourself to kill them, like before?” Tan Xiao’s voice turned firm. “If that’s the plan, I don’t agree.”  

Wen Yi hurriedly reassured him. “It’s fine! I don’t feel pain—it’s just losing some energy. And if we wait for them to trickle over, we’d be stuck here for ten days. It’s better to have the rest charge out. I only need a tenth of my strength to manage.”  

With just a tenth, he could take human form again instead of being stuck as a jellyfish.  

Wen Yi said breezily, “It’s not like I’ll actually die, and the lost energy will recover eventually. I don’t mind.”  

“But I do,” Tan Xiao said. “Let’s think of another way. Promise me—unless it’s life or death, you won’t do what you just suggested!”  

If they were truly desperate, trading injury for survival was one thing—Tan Xiao wouldn’t hesitate then. But they weren’t there yet. He refused to let Wen Yi recklessly throw himself into harm’s way.  

Even if Wen Yi claimed it didn’t hurt, Tan Xiao’s heart ached at the thought. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”  

Wen Yi formed multiple heart shapes with his tentacles, pressing them to Tan Xiao’s palm. “I’ll listen to you.”  

After five or six hours of continuous movement, Tan Xiao finally relaxed—and exhaustion hit. He was human, not a machine. The intense climbing and searching had left his muscles sore and stiff.  

The system blocked item usage in this special instance map, so Tan Xiao couldn’t rely on recovery potions to instantly recharge. The only option was rest.  

He found a relatively safe spot. “Take your time, no rush. I’ll set up a place for us to stay.”  

They knew nothing about this place. With no other living creatures around, who knew if temperatures might suddenly plummet?  

While Wen Yi rested, Tan Xiao rummaged through his supplies, pulling out a foldable tent. With Xiao Bai’s help, he quickly set it up, securing it with ropes before gradually unpacking gear inside.  

“If we have to wait ten days, then we’ll stay ten days. I’m in no hurry.”  

For once, he was grateful the mission had no time limit—it meant more time with Wen Yi.  

Wen Yi obediently perched on Tan Xiao’s shoulder, remotely directing the jellyfish still in the temple to rush over and merge with him.  

He wanted to regain human form as soon as possible—not just to talk to Tan Xiao, but to hold his hand, embrace him, kiss him, go even further—he wanted Tan Xiao!  

It was as if his jellyfish body wasn’t filled with water, but with sheer, overflowing love for his partner.  

Tan Xiao quickly lay down inside the tent to rest. “Xiao Bai, keep watch for me.”  

When he arrived, there were no other players or villagers near this southern pillar.  

But the moment Tan Xiao decided to stay, those who’d heard the commotion earlier began creeping toward the giant column.