Ethan Brooks's face changed dramatically. Although he suddenly became alert at that moment, he could no longer control his own actions. The singing was like thousands of ants crawling and tingling in his heart, guiding his arms to move involuntarily.

Ethan Brooks immediately shouted loudly, his roar temporarily suppressing the singing. Taking advantage of those few seconds of clarity, he quickly tore off a piece of his clothing and stuffed it into his ears. Then, with a fierce punch, he knocked Sarah unconscious, clamped him under his right arm, and, not forgetting to grab a few dead fish, swam away frantically into the distance.

The singing seemed almost tangible, piercing through the cloth stuffed in his ears, drilling straight into the depths of Ethan Brooks's soul. Each haunting call tried its best to lure him back.

Ethan Brooks kept shouting at the top of his lungs, suppressing his inner urges, resisting the temptation of the singing with astonishing willpower.

The lakeshore was getting closer and closer.

The singing grew fainter and fainter, almost inaudible, about to disappear—when suddenly it soared, becoming sharp and piercing, stabbing through the air like a blade, straight into Ethan Brooks's heart.

It was as if his heart had been struck by lightning. Ethan Brooks's whole body trembled violently, and with a "wah" sound, a mouthful of fresh blood spurted from his throat, splattering onto the lush green grass at the shore. Dragging the unconscious Sarah, Ethan Brooks crawled ashore on all fours, collapsed headfirst, and lay on his back, gasping for breath in utter exhaustion.

It was truly a terrifying sound of death.

When Sarah woke up, the sky was already pitch black. A bright campfire flickered nearby, and the oil from the roasting fish sizzled as it dripped onto the flames, releasing an enticing aroma.

He tried to get up, but his limbs were weak and limp. Sarah stared at the fish skewered on the branch in Ethan Brooks's hand, his eyes lighting up as he secretly swallowed a mouthful of saliva. "What happened to me? Why am I here? Oh my god, why is my head spinning so much?"

Ethan Brooks handed him a perfectly roasted fish. "We circled around that singing mermaid countless times. Of course you're dizzy."

Sarah's expression kept changing, clearly recalling what had just happened, a look of fear appearing in his eyes.

"Hurry up and eat. Aren't you hungry? Luckily, I just saw how primitive people make fire by drilling wood in a stalactite cave. Otherwise, we'd have to eat it raw."

"You saved me?"

Sarah looked at Ethan Brooks as if waking from a dream. The latter nodded, his face flickering in the firelight, his eyes deep and lively, as if lost in thought, giving off an impression of extreme calm and wisdom.

"Thank you."

Sarah's lips moved, and after a while he added, "I... I shouldn't have made fun of you before."

Ethan Brooks gave a faint smile. "I've long forgotten about it."

Staring blankly at Ethan Brooks for a while, Sarah scratched his head awkwardly. "Actually, saying 'I surrender' isn't really something to be ashamed of. After all, life is more important, right?"

"'I surrender' is useless now."

"What did you say?"

Sarah cried out in surprise, "You mean you tried it? That's impossible! George Hill clearly said we could leave this virtual world at any time!"

"If you don't believe me, try it yourself. Sarah, I saw it with my own eyes."

Seeing the suspicion on Sarah's face, Ethan Brooks said quietly, "I surrender."

"How could this be? Why would George Hill lie to us?"

Sarah stared in disbelief at Ethan Brooks, who was still right in front of him, gently poking the campfire with a branch, showing no sign of disappearing.

After a long daze, Sarah suddenly gave a desolate smile, the usual cynicism gone from his face. "Maybe it's for the best. I once swore that as long as I lived, I would never say those three words again."

Ethan Brooks was slightly taken aback. "Why?"

"My home is in a slum in Brazzaville, the capital of Congo."

Sarah fell silent for a while, then spoke slowly, his sorrowful gaze fixed on the dancing flames, shadows covering half his face.

"Brazzaville is a beautiful and prosperous city, but my home is tiny, broken, and reeks of a foul stench.

Besides poor black people like us, there are many wealthy white people in the city. The white children have clean clothes and shoes and can eat white bread every day.

Because I was hungry, I begged along the streets every day, pleading with those white gentlemen to give me some leftovers to take home and feed my poor little sister, Sophie, whose belly was swollen like a balloon from hunger.

But the white people avoided me whenever they saw me. The white children would rush over to call me 'black pig,' beating and kicking me, while their parents warned them not to dirty their clothes."

"What about your parents, Sarah?"

"They died of disease long ago."

Sarah's voice grew lower and lower. "My sister and I depended on each other. Until one day, when I came home from begging, I heard my sister crying from far away. I ran over and saw her lying on the ground, with several white children stomping on her belly, saying it was a big, fun ball.

I tried to pull those white children away in anger, but they beat me up again. The tallest one stood with his hands on his hips and shouted that if I could beat him in a fight, they would let my sister go."