Chapter 8: A Way to Leave

Ye Mi stood by the dock, a kilometer away from the visitor center—once the spot where Paradise Island welcomed tourists arriving by boat.

Tonight, the wind and waves were fierce. The sea tossed and churned, carrying a briny scent that rushed toward her. Ye Mi narrowed her electronic eyes and gazed out across the pitch-black expanse, as if something lurked within its depths.

The Rust Tide swarm clustered behind her, restless and agitated, their electronic eyes flickering wildly—a clear sign of their fear of the ocean.

Beneath the layered waves dwelled a colossal monster, a creature so powerful that neither the Rust Tide nor any of Paradise Island’s monsters could resist it. Ye Mi could feel their primal terror.

That giant beast had destroyed the bridge spanning the sea, turning all the monsters of Paradise Island into livestock, its own source of food. It came to feed at intervals, and the sea monsters encircled the island, trapping its denizens. This was why so few monsters ever left.

They wished to escape, but could not.

The Rust Tide, however, survived by virtue of their uniqueness—no creature desired to eat their iron shells, except perhaps some aberrant with a taste for metal. Of course, Ye Mi thought, if one were to peel away their metallic exteriors, the hearts and brains inside could be eaten, much like clams.

It was only troublesome, the flesh so meager as to render the effort pointless.

Even though no monster hunted the Rust Tide, they still could not leave Paradise Island. But since Ye Mi had come, she would not leave them behind.

She communicated her resolve to the Rust Tide: she would take them away. Her unwavering determination was so clear that every Rust Tide understood they truly had a chance to escape the place that had imprisoned them for so long.

A sense of jubilation—even from these cold, metallic creatures—washed over her.

Ye Mi always fulfilled her goals. Having decided her next step was to lead the Rust Tide off the island, she immediately began to solve the problems before her.

The first issue: as beings of metal, the Rust Tide could not enter the water. Not all of them possessed the enhanced Achilles prostheses that Ye Mi had; plunging in blindly would surely cost her some of their number.

Ye Mi scanned her surroundings.

The old dock’s searchlights were long dead. Only a sliver of moonlight, slipping through the heavy clouds, scattered silver sparks across the undulating sea.

Beyond the rusted guardrail, waves battered the seawall, echoing hollowly.

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Here, a number of small passenger boats and jet skis were parked, most designed to carry up to thirty people—more than enough for twelve Rust Tide. Ye Mi bounded gracefully through the lot like a feline, searching each vessel for one that could still be used.

Most had rusted away, half-sunken in the water. But luck favored her: she found a relatively intact catamaran. Its hull was mottled with rust, but above the waterline, it remained whole.

“This one will do.”

She landed lightly on the deck, the clash of metal against steel ringing out.

Inside the control room, the boat’s key was still in the console. The instrument panel’s glass had shattered, but when she pressed the starter, the engine sputtered weakly—and then, miraculously, roared to life. The diesel engine’s vibrations made the entire vessel tremble.

Satisfied the boat was usable, Ye Mi hurried back to the dock.

The Rust Tide clustered at the edge, watching her intently.

Ye Mi sensed their emotions—a mix of anticipation and anxiety, like children about to embark on their first journey.

A boat alone was not enough.

A few blows from the monsters lurking in the sea would destroy this fragile craft. To escape safely, Ye Mi had to draw the sea creatures away—she needed a plan.

She had it: chumming the waters.

The term popped into her mind without much thought—a tactic from fishing.

Scatter bait to lure the fish.

Of course, Ye Mi needed bait.

Monsters preferred fresh flesh and blood—abundant enough on Paradise Island. She simply needed a sufficient amount.

She instructed the Rust Tide to wait at the dock, and signaled their leader: “Follow me.”

She turned and raced toward the amusement park, the Rust Tide leader’s metal steps clanking behind.

At the carousel area, a massive Flesh Cradle was devouring the rotting meat scattered on the ground.

Its body was a grotesque patchwork of flesh, constantly writhing; sometimes a twisted human face bulged from its surface, sometimes a barbed tentacle emerged.

Under the moonlight, this revolting mass reeked with a nauseating stench.

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Yet Ye Mi felt no disgust—only luck.

The bait was ready!

Target acquired, Ye Mi halted and signaled her intention to hunt the monster via a filament connection to the Rust Tide leader.

The leader’s electronic eyes flashed anxiously—it was a C-class monster, formidable.

Ye Mi smiled inwardly, twirling her venom spear in a dazzling flourish.

She offered no explanation. Instead, she charged straight at the writhing flesh. The Flesh Cradle sensed danger instantly, sending several tentacles whipping toward her.

Ye Mi dodged nimbly, counterattacking.

Like a shadow, she darted to the side of the meat mountain. Her spear struck deep into the root of a tentacle; dark red pus spurted out, and the Flesh Cradle shrieked.

The second attack came swiftly—Ye Mi accelerated, her metal body slamming into the creature’s core. Her left hand’s spring blade tore through its outer layer, and her right, balled into a gorilla’s fist, smashed down, scattering a mass of writhing viscera.

The Flesh Cradle convulsed, its bulk thrashing wildly.

Ye Mi gave it no respite. Her third move was a killing blow—the spear, poisoned and precise, pierced the creature’s hidden weakness beneath the layers of flesh: a fragile stomach.

Yes, Ye Mi had learned from Ian’s research that even such a vast and terrifying Flesh Cradle was born from nothing more than a creature’s starving gut.

The huge mass collapsed, twitched a few times, then lay still. The entire battle lasted less than twenty seconds.

The Rust Tide leader stood frozen, electronic eyes wide as saucers.

It had never witnessed such a clean, decisive hunt. The flesh tentacles it feared—so often a hindrance—were utterly powerless before this mighty king.

If before it had only perceived the king’s strength through the purity and hardness of her metal body, now it had witnessed her true combat prowess.

Could this king possess the power to face the colossal beast lurking in the sea?

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