novelbin Chapter 13's blowing is really awful.
Chapter 13's blowing is really awful.
Meanwhile, in the copies of other survivors, signs of mental pollution became increasingly apparent because they were unable to determine their favorite thing or tried the wrong items.
Strange noises began to appear in the room, the light became distorted, and even faint whispers could be heard, creating a stark contrast to the relatively stable picture in the Dragon Kingdom live broadcast room at that moment.
Some astute international observers began to sense that something was amiss:
"Wait... the environment in the Dragon Kingdom's live stream room... doesn't seem to have deteriorated?"
"Could it be... that this awful playing really fits Squidward's character? Does he really 'like' this?"
"That's impossible! Who would enjoy making that kind of noise?"
"But what if, in the character's backstory, Squidward is a musician who thinks he's an artistic genius but is actually terrible? Then for him, this would be his 'favorite' activity!"
This speculation is chilling to think about.
If that's the case, then the Chinese contestant's understanding of Squidward has reached an almost abnormal level, knowing even the most subtle and counterintuitive details of the character!
Jiang Xiu continued playing his unique melody, seemingly oblivious to the ridicule and worries from the outside world.
In his mind, this wasn't even acting; it was just being Squidward naturally.
It's just what I love to do after get off work.
As for whether it sounds good or not?
How could ordinary people possibly understand the world of artists?
The octopus-shaped clock on the wall ticked steadily.
This hour-long artistic practice continued amid the misunderstanding of most viewers worldwide that "this is definitely going to end" and the growing astonishment of a few.
The real crisis, however, may only come after this beloved activity ends.
When the neighboring pink starfish mentioned in the rules, or when night falls after 10 p.m.
Only then will it truly unfold.
"Ooh—hmm—pfft—squeak—"
Jiang Xiu's unique clarinet melody continued to float in the quiet room.
With his eyes closed and his body swaying slightly, he was completely immersed in his own artistic world, oblivious to the eeriness that might be lurking outside the door and the boiling discussion in the global live broadcast room.
In the other instances of the chosen survivors, however, the situation took a sharp turn for the worse.
They are suffering from increasing mental erosion because they fail to properly identify and execute their favorite private activities.
Live stream from the western Nordic countries:
The screen kept flickering, as if there was a poor signal.
Maitu huddled in the corner, his hands covering his head. The originally simple outlines of the furniture in the room began to distort and elongate, like melting candles.
A deep, humming sound, as if from the deep sea, lingered in his ears. Maitu's eyes were unfocused, drool uncontrollably dripped from the corner of his mouth, and he mumbled incoherent words.
"No...no...it wasn't me..."
His tentacles scratched unconsciously at the floor, leaving charred marks.
In the Inazuma Country livestream room: the light flickers, and grotesque, wet graffiti that appears to be made of shadows begins to appear on the walls, seemingly wriggling and changing.
Barto IV leaned against the music stand, panting heavily, veins bulging on his forehead. He could feel a cold, slippery sensation climbing up his spine.
"Get out...get out of my mind..." he roared in agony, and at the edge of the live stream, gray-black, misty tentacles were slowly seeping into the room.
Their live stream chat was filled with fear and helplessness:
"It's over! Mental pollution has already begun!"
"Rule number one has not been fulfilled! They are being devoured!"
"Hurry and think of something! Where's the research institute? Give us a hint!"
"What other options do they have? They have no idea what Squidward likes!"
"Are we just supposed to wait to die? What about the Dragon Kingdom...?"
At this moment of despair, some countries' research institutes on strange tales, after repeatedly comparing and analyzing the seemingly absurd yet "stable" scenes of Jiang Xiu in the Dragon Kingdom's live broadcast room, discovered that...
Combining Rule 4 and Rule 1, as well as the logic of Jiang Xiu's consistent role behavior, a bold but potentially only way out gradually takes shape.
"Quick! Use the prompt opportunity immediately!"
The head of the Nordic Western Research Institute, his eyes red, roared, "Tell him to imitate the Chinese athlete! Pick up that instrument called the clarinet and play it! No matter how awful it sounds, no matter how ridiculous he thinks it is, play it for a full hour! That's what Squidward 'loves' the most! Now!"
The Inazuma Research Institute also reached a similar conclusion and urgently used its valuable insights.
Almost simultaneously, several survivors on the verge of collapse heard similar notifications from their homeland in their minds:
[Immediately imitate the Chosen One of the Dragon Kingdom! Play the clarinet! For an hour! That's Squidward's favorite activity in his character design; it stabilizes his mind and resists corruption! Don't worry about how bad your voice sounds! This is part of the character's behavior!]
The survivors in dire straits grasped at a straw!
They practically scrambled towards the clarinet that had been tossed aside, frantically picked it up, stuffed it to their lips, and blew it out with all their might!
"puff--!!"
"Hiss—beep—!!!"
"Ughhhhhh!!!"
Even more piercing, chaotic, and disorderly noise erupted from their instruments, ten times worse than Jiang Xiu's playing!
They didn't understand any techniques at all; they just blew air frantically and pressed buttons randomly, creating terrifying sounds that could drive any normal living being insane.
However, a miracle happened!
When they started playing, even though the sound was unbearable, the spread of the distorted furniture, the writhing shadows, and the seeping gray fog in the live stream slowed down significantly, and even began to stop!
The whispers and buzzing sounds that lingered in my ears seemed to be disturbed and masked by this harsh noise.
Although playing the instrument was also a form of torture for them, it was nothing compared to the erosion of their souls that they had experienced before.
This self-inflicted noise is clearly more bearable and does, to some extent, "stabilize" their teetering mental state—in an unbelievable way.
The barrage comments instantly reversed:
"It works! It really works!"
"My God! How can such an awful voice fight off something eerie?"
"It's the logic of the role! As long as you do what 'Squidward' would do, even if the thing itself is terrible, you'll still get the approval of the rules!"
"Quick! Hang in there! Blow for a full hour!"
"This instance is so bizarre, the aesthetics are completely warped!"
The survivors, enduring discomfort and shame, played desperately.
Time ticked by, and under the protection of the noise, they struggled to hold on until 10 p.m.
When the clock on the wall struck ten, all the survivors, as if exhausted, put down their clarinets and gasped for breath.
Although he was extremely mentally exhausted, at least the most direct mental erosion was contained.
They quickly followed rule number three, drawing all the curtains and no longer daring to look out the window.