Chapter 130: Having fun
“……”
Wen Jianyan’s body stiffened.
In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room, the frenzied spam of “The anchor is awesome” and “Dog liar is awesome” finally came to a halt and was replaced by a sea of question marks:
[?]
[??]
[???]
[What’s going on? I can’t keep up…]
[Damn! Why do I feel so excited?]
[Is this a live capture of an employee switching jobs, hahaha!]
[Hahaha, I’m dying of laughter! Dog liar, you really need to work on your habit of trash-talking. Why don’t you reflect on the reasons for your constant overturning?]
The system’s countdown continued in the background.
【15, 14, 13…】
Above his head, the blood-red sky was covered in expanding, pitch-black cracks that filled the entire sky in the blink of an eye. It seemed like the darkness was greedily devouring the entire world.
Wen Jianyan stood still, his brain racing.
F*ck.
No way, no way, no way?!
What did this mean? Could it be…
The cold shadow solidified, moving like a serpent as it crept up the young man’s slender body.
His clothes were soaked in a significant amount of blood, and although most of it had dried up, it still looked particularly disturbing. His skin appeared sickly pale due to the excessive bleeding, and against the backdrop of darkness, the color contrast was striking.
The system’s countdown continued.
【9, 8, 7…】
It’s okay. With less than ten seconds left, this instance is about to end, even if I get caught…
Pretend to be dead and tough it out!
Wen Jianyan acted as if he hadn’t heard, gritting his teeth and remaining silent.
Unbeknownst to him, the shadow had already climbed up his calves, thighs, and shoulders, and even coiled around his throat.
【3, 2, 1】
【Live broadcast has ended.】
A cold mechanical voice echoed in the ears of all the surviving anchors. In the next moment, whether it was the black and red interwoven sky or the burning fantasy amusement park, everything was instantly consumed, leaving no trace behind.
In a vast, pale space, the streamers slowly regained consciousness.
The white plains stretched as far as the eye could see, with a massive screen displaying a list of ongoing live broadcasts, some of which had turned gray while others continued.
Yun Bilan groaned in pain, opening her eyes. She had forcefully activated her ability three times in this instance, even using a rechargeable prop. The cost of excessive ability usage was extremely high, and her body felt like it had been shattered and reassembled, with pain radiating from the depths of her soul.
Fortunately, this instance ended in time. The high amount of points was automatically deducted, and her body slowly began to repair.
Yun Bilan was so exhausted that she couldn’t lift her arms. She took a deep breath and struggled to get up from the ground, casually turning off the mechanical voice of the system reporting in her ears.
Her gaze scanned the screen, searching for the instance she had just cleared. The instances on the screen were sorted by difficulty, and this time, the number and difficulty of the open instances were much higher than usual.
Yun Bilan’s gaze slid from the bottom to the top, but she didn’t find the familiar name in the A-level instances.
She frowned slightly and raised her eyes to look at the very top of the list.
At the very top of the list, there were four S-level instances, and the recently upgraded “Fantasy Amusement Park” was among them.
…S-level?!
Yun Bilan couldn’t help but be surprised. Although she had never expected such a significant change in instance levels, strangely, she wasn’t surprised at all.
She had previously cleared A-level instances, and comparing their difficulty to this one was like comparing a small task to a monumental challenge.
To be honest, if this instance were rated only S-class, she would have questioned the meaning of life.
Her gaze landed on the now grayed-out “Fantasy Amusement Park,” and the numbers on it were particularly striking:
[21/300]
In other words, this instance originally had three hundred participants, but only twenty-one survived in the end.
Even in the face of overwhelming nightmares, this death rate was extraordinarily high.
These numbers appeared cold and distant, like symbols, but only those who had experienced the instance could truly understand what real cruelty meant.
To them, these were not just numbers; they represented the lives of real people who had been sacrificed.
In their four-person team, only she and Elise were left. Fatty and Ball… they would never come back.
And the other team…
Yun Bilan withdrew her gaze and turned to look at Wen Ya, who was not far away.
Wen Ya had also regained consciousness and sat alone, her eyes downcast and her gaze blankly fixed on the ground in front of her. Although her wounds had been mostly healed automatically by the system, her complexion still displayed a frightening paleness.
Originally, they had been a team of three, but in the end…
Only she remained.
Even though such occurrences were common in nightmares, Yun Bilan couldn’t help but feel a sigh welling up within her.
She approached cautiously, placing her hand gently on Wen Ya’s shoulder, and whispered, “Are you okay?”
“Thank you,” Wen Ya replied with a slight start as if just awakening from a dream.
She raised her head, looking at Yun Bilan, and surprisingly, her voice was calm and composed as she said, “I’m fine.”
She stood up, speaking calmly, “Thank you for helping me find my teammates and thank you for coming back at the last moment. I won’t forget such a big favor.”
“My guild is called ‘Eternal Day’,’ so feel free to come to find me if you need anything.”
Wen Ya extended her hand in a courteous gesture.
It seemed like she had completely returned to her initial demeanor—calm, rational, and devoid of any emotional fluctuations.
Yun Bilan’s gaze paused on Wen Ya’s outstretched hand for a moment, but instead of shaking hands, she opened her arms and gave her a tight hug.
Her arms tightened, and the force seemed suffocating.
Wen Ya was momentarily surprised, and she heard Yun Bilan’s low, restrained voice by her ear, “About Lilith’s… I’m very sorry.”
Elise also walked over and silently embraced both of them.
“…”
After a brief stiffness, Wen Ya slowly returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around both of their shoulders.
“…Xu Lili, her name was Xu Lili.”
Like a switch, the hardened shell that had clung to Wen Ya began to melt away, revealing a fragile interior with countless cracks. Her voice remained calm, but she seemed especially vulnerable.
Not Lilith.
That beautiful, cold name was just her code name within the instance.
Her real name was Xu Lili. She just recently graduated from university. A Southern girl, she was delicate, and beautiful, loved to act cute, and couldn’t resist the delicious food her mother cooked.
She loved being beautiful, but she died in the ugliest of appearances.
She wanted to go home the most, but she disappeared forever in the burning inferno.
She feared being left alone the most, but time and again, she pushed her friends away from her to ensure their safety.
Wen Ya’s fingers, clutching the fabric of the other person’s clothing, slowly tightened. Her knuckles turned slightly white from the pressure, and her eyelashes blinked slowly as a large teardrop fell with a plop onto Yun Bilan’s clothing, leaving a small wet mark.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for being willing to accompany me to find her.”
“…”
Blond had already returned to his original form.
He stood not far away, staring at the three of them embracing, his gaze somewhat dazed.
So far, he had been recruited into many teams, knowing well that his talent was valuable, which was why he had received protection. Otherwise, given his cowardice and incompetence, he wouldn’t have survived until now.
However, he also knew that if they encountered a real threat, all his teammates would abandon him without hesitation to choose survival.
Blond had heard Lilith’s final words.
In that moment, he felt like he had been struck hard, experiencing a powerful sense of shared grief for the first time.
This team puzzled him.
They had sacrificed too much to save a teammate with seemingly no hope, even being willing to break the rules and enter the highly dangerous Employee Rest Area. They had forsaken the hope of clearing the instance just to come back and save a teammate in dire straits.
Blond understood why Lilith had thanked them for coming back to find her.
This was how Nightmare works.
Here, anyone deemed worthless would be left behind.
If… someone was also willing to come back for him, even if death awaited them in the end, he wouldn’t feel lonely.
Blond sniffled and suddenly felt like crying.
Around him, the other surviving anchors were also slowly waking up.
Each person wore a look of confusion and bewilderment on their faces. Clearly, they were quietly discussing the recent changes in the instance: the eyes in the sky, the cracks, the massive fire, and most importantly, the “critical vulnerability” mentioned by the system’s voice.
It was evident that it was because of that vulnerability that the entire instance had ended prematurely.
However, where had that vulnerability originated from, and who had created it? No one knew the answers.
Whispers and discussions gradually grew louder.
A few minutes later, Yun Bilan, Wen Ya, and the others had regained their composure.
After all, they were experienced anchors in the nightmare, and their long training had instilled in them rationality and calmness. They quickly returned to their initial states.
“Speaking of which, where is that guy?”
Yun Bilan looked around and couldn’t help but be taken aback.
In fact, when the amusement park caught fire, she already had a vague suspicion. In the end, they left the instance without completing the main task, further confirming her initial thoughts.
It must have been that guy who did something.
However, after the instance ended, the person who had played the most significant role in their survival in this amusement park was nowhere to be found.
Yun Bilan initially thought that he might be too far from their location, which was why he hadn’t met up with them immediately. However, as time passed, there was still no sign of him.
A serious expression appeared on Yun Bilan’s face.
She motioned to Blond, standing nearby. “Hey, can you see where that guy is?”
Blond hesitated for a moment, raised his eyes, and looked around the blank space. Then he shook his head.
“…He’s not here.”
In that moment, everyone’s hearts sank.
Blond sniffled, tears starting to well up in his eyes, “Could it be that he…”
“Shut up.”
Yun Bilan coldly interrupted him.
Logically, if he hadn’t appeared in the system space at the end, he must have been left in the instance. However, for some reason, Yun Bilan found it hard to believe.
…Dead?
The person who had created the critical vulnerability, ignited the entire Fantasy Amusement Park, and prematurely ended the instance—dead?
Yun Bilan paused, seemingly noticing something.
—A considerable amount of time had passed since the instance ended, but the achievement system that should have appeared was silent.
Moreover, despite the instance having a critical vulnerability and likely being permanently sealed, the system seemed unusually quiet, not announcing the attribution of platinum achievements.
“Hey, count again. How many people are left in this space right now?”
She looked at Blond and ordered.
Blond hesitated for a moment, turned his head, and scanned the crowd. “In total… twenty people.”
And the number of survivors in the Fantasy Amusement Park was twenty-one.
In other words, Wen Jianyan was still alive, but… his whereabouts were unknown.
***
The live broadcast hall of Fantasy Amusement Park had closed, and the remaining audience members were discussing the instance.
[Oh my god! This instance was so exhilarating!]
[Yeah, it was so much fun!]
[It truly deserves its reputation as one of the highest death rate instances. I never thought it would be S-level, but the danger definitely matched it!]
[And there were so many anchors! I think there were around three hundred? I ran around this hall so much that my legs were about to break!]
[Hahaha, same here! The anchors I chose kept dying, one after another. I must have switched to at least twenty different broadcasts! It’s been a while since I had this much fun!]
[Right, right! True aficionados of gruesome scenes are truly satisfied. There were a few anchors whose deaths were so thrilling. I’ve already recorded and saved them for posterity!]
[Hahaha, yes, I remember a few good-looking anchors too. Their deaths were so gruesome. Their fans were sobbing like crazy.]
[Ah, well, everyone is the same. In the end, when a better-looking anchor comes along, their fans will change their loyalties. The anchors in the appearance category are replaced so quickly.]
[Everyone’s here for some fun in the nightmare, whether it’s for their looks or for something else.]
[By the way, how did this instance end?]
[I don’t know, something about a place being set on fire? I wasn’t paying attention.]
[Could it have something to do with the anchor who achieved the all-server achievement?]
[It seems like it. It should be interesting. Let’s check out the replay of that broadcast after we leave. It’s bound to be exciting.]
The audience members gradually left the live broadcast hall and returned to the live broadcast square, preparing to find the next instance they were interested in.
Suddenly, an observant audience member noticed something not far away—the top-ranked anchor on the personal leaderboard.
The personal leaderboard was constantly changing, with only actively live broadcasting rooms appearing at the top.
In intense competition, only S-level anchors could make it to the top. However, regardless of the level of competition, a newcomer who had just completed three or four instances could never have held the top spot for so long—yet this anchor had managed to do so.
The sharp-eyed audience member exclaimed:
[Hey, wait a minute! Look over there! That anchor’s room… ‘Integrity First’?]
[! Isn’t that the anchor who achieved an achievement earlier? Fantasy Amusement Park has already closed, so why hasn’t their broadcast room closed yet?]
[That’s strange… Come on, let’s check it out.]
***
Wen Jianyan remained expressionless.
He admitted that his plan had failed.
The countdown to the closure of the instance had ended, but evidently, that familiar white space hadn’t appeared. Instead, he now found himself in a place he least wanted to be.
He took a deep breath and slowly got up from the ground.
What he saw was an endless expanse of darkness, with countless passages formed by mirrors scattered throughout this space. However, beyond the passages was the same inky blackness, and nothing could be seen. It seemed impossible to leave this place.
Wen Jianyan took out his phone from his pocket and opened the Nightmare app.
Familiar gray.
Whether it was items or the shop, he couldn’t use them, and he couldn’t make any purchases.
Everything felt very familiar.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze slightly darkened. His slender, fair fingertips swiftly returned the phone to his pocket.
It was evident that after obtaining the new soul fragment, that person had become even more powerful. From only being able to stay within the instance, to entering the instance through dreams, and now… being able to resist the system’s automatic retrieval even after the instance had collapsed by pulling him into the mirror space. This was an extremely dangerous signal.
Wen Jianyan understood that his previous escapes had largely relied on the mechanism where the system automatically transported him out after the instance ended. Now, this mechanism couldn’t protect him anymore, meaning he was gradually losing the scarce control he had.
His actions of helping Wu Zhu collect soul fragments were akin to drinking poison to quench his thirst and playing with fire to burn himself. His fingers lingered for a moment in his pocket, touching something familiar—cold, hard, with intricate patterns carved into it.
The Ouroboros.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, his amber-colored irises hidden beneath his dense lashes, and a cold glint of thought flashed in his eyes. He had to quickly eliminate that person. This meant that everything that happened next would be crucial.
He needed to hide his props and murderous intent well. Before understanding how to use his items and devising a perfect plan for the counter-kill, he couldn’t reveal the slightest hint; otherwise, all his previous efforts would be in vain.
While Wen Jianyan was deep in thought, a faint warmth suddenly emanated from his lower abdomen. He was slightly taken aback, raising his eyes. Not far away, a familiar figure appeared in his field of vision.
A tall and slender physique, eyes like molten gold, intricate black patterns, and a dangerous yet icy aura—it was undoubtedly Wu Zhu.
Wen Jianyan’s heart involuntarily sank a little, but his expression remained unchanged. He took a slow step forward and respectfully bent his body before Wu Zhu.
“My God the Father, naturally, only you are my master.”
The top priority was crisis management. The question the other had asked before pulling him into the dark mirror world was crucial: “Who is your master?”
Wen Jianyan now had to figure out if the other had heard what he said to the eyeballs in the amusement park and how to eliminate this influence, resolving the trust crisis.
“I am your bishop and only your bishop.”
The cold shadow entwined around his ankles, creeping up his calf’s curves.
Wen Jianyan maintained his bent position, his gaze fixed firmly on the slowly tightening shadow. A drop of sweat appeared on his forehead, but his tone remained respectful and devout.
“Don’t you remember? All my actions from the beginning were carried out under your command. Can’t my actions prove my loyalty to you?”
“My conversations with them were just to divert their attention, giving you time to recover. None of the content I said was insincere—”
The respectful tone suddenly rose, turning into a suppressed scream.
Wen Jianyan’s pupils contracted. He felt his body being abruptly pulled forward and fell into a cold embrace.
What’s going on? Does this mean it failed?
He looked up in panic and locked eyes with the man before him.
“God the Father?!”
Wen Jianyan’s voice trembled with tension.
The man’s eyes were an extremely pure shade of gold, almost bestial, radiating a cruel glint that revealed nothing of his thoughts.
His wrist was bound by the shadow, which was lifted passively.
With one hand embracing the young man’s waist and the other holding his wrist, it was as if everything he was doing now was entirely natural.
What the hell is this guy doing?! Is he preparing to devour me?!
Wen Jianyan dared not even breathe. His whole body was as taut as a bowstring, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the man before him, his face turning pale.
The next moment, the man calmly took his fingertip into his mouth.
“…”
?
Wen Jianyan froze.
?????????
This… What is this situation?!
The cold and wet mouth enveloped his injured fingertip. The soft tongue forcefully pressed and licked the wound, almost as if it had thorns, instantly opening the just-sealed wound. It was being greedily nibbled and sucked.
This sensation… was almost identical to what happened in the director’s office.
Wen Jianyan blinked, scrutinizing the man in front of him.
The man looked no different than in his memory.
No, to be precise, he was exactly like the one in the Decai Middle School instance—innocent and hungry, acting purely on instinct.
Except for the difference in the place being licked, the current situation was an almost perfect replica of that time.
The figure of the man in front of him seemed somewhat transparent, not entirely solid, with most of his body shrouded in shadow.
Wen Jianyan blinked, and a bizarre thought slowly surfaced.
“Wu… Wu Zhu?”
The man before him raised his innocent golden eyes and licked his finger again with his tongue.
A familiar, cold snort came from behind him.
“Hmm?”
“!!!”
Wen Jianyan shivered, and the hair on his back stood on end. A strong sense of foreboding rushed over him. He turned in terror and looked in the direction of the voice—
The true Evil God, with a completely solid form and golden eyes gleaming with a familiar cruelty, approached step by step. Rational, dangerous, and uncontrollable:
“It seems you’ve been having a great time playing with my soul fragment.”
The real Wu Zhu said.
The author has something to say:
Wen Jianyan (panicking): Ahhhhhh, there are two of them, ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!
Chapter 130: Having fun
“……”
Wen Jianyan’s body stiffened.
In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room, the frenzied spam of “The anchor is awesome” and “Dog liar is awesome” finally came to a halt and was replaced by a sea of question marks:
[?]
[??]
[???]
[What’s going on? I can’t keep up…]
[Damn! Why do I feel so excited?]
[Is this a live capture of an employee switching jobs, hahaha!]
[Hahaha, I’m dying of laughter! Dog liar, you really need to work on your habit of trash-talking. Why don’t you reflect on the reasons for your constant overturning?]
The system’s countdown continued in the background.
【15, 14, 13…】
Above his head, the blood-red sky was covered in expanding, pitch-black cracks that filled the entire sky in the blink of an eye. It seemed like the darkness was greedily devouring the entire world.
Wen Jianyan stood still, his brain racing.
F*ck.
No way, no way, no way?!
What did this mean? Could it be…
The cold shadow solidified, moving like a serpent as it crept up the young man’s slender body.
His clothes were soaked in a significant amount of blood, and although most of it had dried up, it still looked particularly disturbing. His skin appeared sickly pale due to the excessive bleeding, and against the backdrop of darkness, the color contrast was striking.
The system’s countdown continued.
【9, 8, 7…】
It’s okay. With less than ten seconds left, this instance is about to end, even if I get caught…
Pretend to be dead and tough it out!
Wen Jianyan acted as if he hadn’t heard, gritting his teeth and remaining silent.
Unbeknownst to him, the shadow had already climbed up his calves, thighs, and shoulders, and even coiled around his throat.
【3, 2, 1】
【Live broadcast has ended.】
A cold mechanical voice echoed in the ears of all the surviving anchors. In the next moment, whether it was the black and red interwoven sky or the burning fantasy amusement park, everything was instantly consumed, leaving no trace behind.
In a vast, pale space, the streamers slowly regained consciousness.
The white plains stretched as far as the eye could see, with a massive screen displaying a list of ongoing live broadcasts, some of which had turned gray while others continued.
Yun Bilan groaned in pain, opening her eyes. She had forcefully activated her ability three times in this instance, even using a rechargeable prop. The cost of excessive ability usage was extremely high, and her body felt like it had been shattered and reassembled, with pain radiating from the depths of her soul.
Fortunately, this instance ended in time. The high amount of points was automatically deducted, and her body slowly began to repair.
Yun Bilan was so exhausted that she couldn’t lift her arms. She took a deep breath and struggled to get up from the ground, casually turning off the mechanical voice of the system reporting in her ears.
Her gaze scanned the screen, searching for the instance she had just cleared. The instances on the screen were sorted by difficulty, and this time, the number and difficulty of the open instances were much higher than usual.
Yun Bilan’s gaze slid from the bottom to the top, but she didn’t find the familiar name in the A-level instances.
She frowned slightly and raised her eyes to look at the very top of the list.
At the very top of the list, there were four S-level instances, and the recently upgraded “Fantasy Amusement Park” was among them.
…S-level?!
Yun Bilan couldn’t help but be surprised. Although she had never expected such a significant change in instance levels, strangely, she wasn’t surprised at all.
She had previously cleared A-level instances, and comparing their difficulty to this one was like comparing a small task to a monumental challenge.
To be honest, if this instance were rated only S-class, she would have questioned the meaning of life.
Her gaze landed on the now grayed-out “Fantasy Amusement Park,” and the numbers on it were particularly striking:
[21/300]
In other words, this instance originally had three hundred participants, but only twenty-one survived in the end.
Even in the face of overwhelming nightmares, this death rate was extraordinarily high.
These numbers appeared cold and distant, like symbols, but only those who had experienced the instance could truly understand what real cruelty meant.
To them, these were not just numbers; they represented the lives of real people who had been sacrificed.
In their four-person team, only she and Elise were left. Fatty and Ball… they would never come back.
And the other team…
Yun Bilan withdrew her gaze and turned to look at Wen Ya, who was not far away.
Wen Ya had also regained consciousness and sat alone, her eyes downcast and her gaze blankly fixed on the ground in front of her. Although her wounds had been mostly healed automatically by the system, her complexion still displayed a frightening paleness.
Originally, they had been a team of three, but in the end…
Only she remained.
Even though such occurrences were common in nightmares, Yun Bilan couldn’t help but feel a sigh welling up within her.
She approached cautiously, placing her hand gently on Wen Ya’s shoulder, and whispered, “Are you okay?”
“Thank you,” Wen Ya replied with a slight start as if just awakening from a dream.
She raised her head, looking at Yun Bilan, and surprisingly, her voice was calm and composed as she said, “I’m fine.”
She stood up, speaking calmly, “Thank you for helping me find my teammates and thank you for coming back at the last moment. I won’t forget such a big favor.”
“My guild is called ‘Eternal Day’,’ so feel free to come to find me if you need anything.”
Wen Ya extended her hand in a courteous gesture.
It seemed like she had completely returned to her initial demeanor—calm, rational, and devoid of any emotional fluctuations.
Yun Bilan’s gaze paused on Wen Ya’s outstretched hand for a moment, but instead of shaking hands, she opened her arms and gave her a tight hug.
Her arms tightened, and the force seemed suffocating.
Wen Ya was momentarily surprised, and she heard Yun Bilan’s low, restrained voice by her ear, “About Lilith’s… I’m very sorry.”
Elise also walked over and silently embraced both of them.
“…”
After a brief stiffness, Wen Ya slowly returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around both of their shoulders.
“…Xu Lili, her name was Xu Lili.”
Like a switch, the hardened shell that had clung to Wen Ya began to melt away, revealing a fragile interior with countless cracks. Her voice remained calm, but she seemed especially vulnerable.
Not Lilith.
That beautiful, cold name was just her code name within the instance.
Her real name was Xu Lili. She just recently graduated from university. A Southern girl, she was delicate, and beautiful, loved to act cute, and couldn’t resist the delicious food her mother cooked.
She loved being beautiful, but she died in the ugliest of appearances.
She wanted to go home the most, but she disappeared forever in the burning inferno.
She feared being left alone the most, but time and again, she pushed her friends away from her to ensure their safety.
Wen Ya’s fingers, clutching the fabric of the other person’s clothing, slowly tightened. Her knuckles turned slightly white from the pressure, and her eyelashes blinked slowly as a large teardrop fell with a plop onto Yun Bilan’s clothing, leaving a small wet mark.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for being willing to accompany me to find her.”
“…”
Blond had already returned to his original form.
He stood not far away, staring at the three of them embracing, his gaze somewhat dazed.
So far, he had been recruited into many teams, knowing well that his talent was valuable, which was why he had received protection. Otherwise, given his cowardice and incompetence, he wouldn’t have survived until now.
However, he also knew that if they encountered a real threat, all his teammates would abandon him without hesitation to choose survival.
Blond had heard Lilith’s final words.
In that moment, he felt like he had been struck hard, experiencing a powerful sense of shared grief for the first time.
This team puzzled him.
They had sacrificed too much to save a teammate with seemingly no hope, even being willing to break the rules and enter the highly dangerous Employee Rest Area. They had forsaken the hope of clearing the instance just to come back and save a teammate in dire straits.
Blond understood why Lilith had thanked them for coming back to find her.
This was how Nightmare works.
Here, anyone deemed worthless would be left behind.
If… someone was also willing to come back for him, even if death awaited them in the end, he wouldn’t feel lonely.
Blond sniffled and suddenly felt like crying.
Around him, the other surviving anchors were also slowly waking up.
Each person wore a look of confusion and bewilderment on their faces. Clearly, they were quietly discussing the recent changes in the instance: the eyes in the sky, the cracks, the massive fire, and most importantly, the “critical vulnerability” mentioned by the system’s voice.
It was evident that it was because of that vulnerability that the entire instance had ended prematurely.
However, where had that vulnerability originated from, and who had created it? No one knew the answers.
Whispers and discussions gradually grew louder.
A few minutes later, Yun Bilan, Wen Ya, and the others had regained their composure.
After all, they were experienced anchors in the nightmare, and their long training had instilled in them rationality and calmness. They quickly returned to their initial states.
“Speaking of which, where is that guy?”
Yun Bilan looked around and couldn’t help but be taken aback.
In fact, when the amusement park caught fire, she already had a vague suspicion. In the end, they left the instance without completing the main task, further confirming her initial thoughts.
It must have been that guy who did something.
However, after the instance ended, the person who had played the most significant role in their survival in this amusement park was nowhere to be found.
Yun Bilan initially thought that he might be too far from their location, which was why he hadn’t met up with them immediately. However, as time passed, there was still no sign of him.
A serious expression appeared on Yun Bilan’s face.
She motioned to Blond, standing nearby. “Hey, can you see where that guy is?”
Blond hesitated for a moment, raised his eyes, and looked around the blank space. Then he shook his head.
“…He’s not here.”
In that moment, everyone’s hearts sank.
Blond sniffled, tears starting to well up in his eyes, “Could it be that he…”
“Shut up.”
Yun Bilan coldly interrupted him.
Logically, if he hadn’t appeared in the system space at the end, he must have been left in the instance. However, for some reason, Yun Bilan found it hard to believe.
…Dead?
The person who had created the critical vulnerability, ignited the entire Fantasy Amusement Park, and prematurely ended the instance—dead?
Yun Bilan paused, seemingly noticing something.
—A considerable amount of time had passed since the instance ended, but the achievement system that should have appeared was silent.
Moreover, despite the instance having a critical vulnerability and likely being permanently sealed, the system seemed unusually quiet, not announcing the attribution of platinum achievements.
“Hey, count again. How many people are left in this space right now?”
She looked at Blond and ordered.
Blond hesitated for a moment, turned his head, and scanned the crowd. “In total… twenty people.”
And the number of survivors in the Fantasy Amusement Park was twenty-one.
In other words, Wen Jianyan was still alive, but… his whereabouts were unknown.
***
The live broadcast hall of Fantasy Amusement Park had closed, and the remaining audience members were discussing the instance.
[Oh my god! This instance was so exhilarating!]
[Yeah, it was so much fun!]
[It truly deserves its reputation as one of the highest death rate instances. I never thought it would be S-level, but the danger definitely matched it!]
[And there were so many anchors! I think there were around three hundred? I ran around this hall so much that my legs were about to break!]
[Hahaha, same here! The anchors I chose kept dying, one after another. I must have switched to at least twenty different broadcasts! It’s been a while since I had this much fun!]
[Right, right! True aficionados of gruesome scenes are truly satisfied. There were a few anchors whose deaths were so thrilling. I’ve already recorded and saved them for posterity!]
[Hahaha, yes, I remember a few good-looking anchors too. Their deaths were so gruesome. Their fans were sobbing like crazy.]
[Ah, well, everyone is the same. In the end, when a better-looking anchor comes along, their fans will change their loyalties. The anchors in the appearance category are replaced so quickly.]
[Everyone’s here for some fun in the nightmare, whether it’s for their looks or for something else.]
[By the way, how did this instance end?]
[I don’t know, something about a place being set on fire? I wasn’t paying attention.]
[Could it have something to do with the anchor who achieved the all-server achievement?]
[It seems like it. It should be interesting. Let’s check out the replay of that broadcast after we leave. It’s bound to be exciting.]
The audience members gradually left the live broadcast hall and returned to the live broadcast square, preparing to find the next instance they were interested in.
Suddenly, an observant audience member noticed something not far away—the top-ranked anchor on the personal leaderboard.
The personal leaderboard was constantly changing, with only actively live broadcasting rooms appearing at the top.
In intense competition, only S-level anchors could make it to the top. However, regardless of the level of competition, a newcomer who had just completed three or four instances could never have held the top spot for so long—yet this anchor had managed to do so.
The sharp-eyed audience member exclaimed:
[Hey, wait a minute! Look over there! That anchor’s room… ‘Integrity First’?]
[! Isn’t that the anchor who achieved an achievement earlier? Fantasy Amusement Park has already closed, so why hasn’t their broadcast room closed yet?]
[That’s strange… Come on, let’s check it out.]
***
Wen Jianyan remained expressionless.
He admitted that his plan had failed.
The countdown to the closure of the instance had ended, but evidently, that familiar white space hadn’t appeared. Instead, he now found himself in a place he least wanted to be.
He took a deep breath and slowly got up from the ground.
What he saw was an endless expanse of darkness, with countless passages formed by mirrors scattered throughout this space. However, beyond the passages was the same inky blackness, and nothing could be seen. It seemed impossible to leave this place.
Wen Jianyan took out his phone from his pocket and opened the Nightmare app.
Familiar gray.
Whether it was items or the shop, he couldn’t use them, and he couldn’t make any purchases.
Everything felt very familiar.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze slightly darkened. His slender, fair fingertips swiftly returned the phone to his pocket.
It was evident that after obtaining the new soul fragment, that person had become even more powerful. From only being able to stay within the instance, to entering the instance through dreams, and now… being able to resist the system’s automatic retrieval even after the instance had collapsed by pulling him into the mirror space. This was an extremely dangerous signal.
Wen Jianyan understood that his previous escapes had largely relied on the mechanism where the system automatically transported him out after the instance ended. Now, this mechanism couldn’t protect him anymore, meaning he was gradually losing the scarce control he had.
His actions of helping Wu Zhu collect soul fragments were akin to drinking poison to quench his thirst and playing with fire to burn himself. His fingers lingered for a moment in his pocket, touching something familiar—cold, hard, with intricate patterns carved into it.
The Ouroboros.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, his amber-colored irises hidden beneath his dense lashes, and a cold glint of thought flashed in his eyes. He had to quickly eliminate that person. This meant that everything that happened next would be crucial.
He needed to hide his props and murderous intent well. Before understanding how to use his items and devising a perfect plan for the counter-kill, he couldn’t reveal the slightest hint; otherwise, all his previous efforts would be in vain.
While Wen Jianyan was deep in thought, a faint warmth suddenly emanated from his lower abdomen. He was slightly taken aback, raising his eyes. Not far away, a familiar figure appeared in his field of vision.
A tall and slender physique, eyes like molten gold, intricate black patterns, and a dangerous yet icy aura—it was undoubtedly Wu Zhu.
Wen Jianyan’s heart involuntarily sank a little, but his expression remained unchanged. He took a slow step forward and respectfully bent his body before Wu Zhu.
“My God the Father, naturally, only you are my master.”
The top priority was crisis management. The question the other had asked before pulling him into the dark mirror world was crucial: “Who is your master?”
Wen Jianyan now had to figure out if the other had heard what he said to the eyeballs in the amusement park and how to eliminate this influence, resolving the trust crisis.
“I am your bishop and only your bishop.”
The cold shadow entwined around his ankles, creeping up his calf’s curves.
Wen Jianyan maintained his bent position, his gaze fixed firmly on the slowly tightening shadow. A drop of sweat appeared on his forehead, but his tone remained respectful and devout.
“Don’t you remember? All my actions from the beginning were carried out under your command. Can’t my actions prove my loyalty to you?”
“My conversations with them were just to divert their attention, giving you time to recover. None of the content I said was insincere—”
The respectful tone suddenly rose, turning into a suppressed scream.
Wen Jianyan’s pupils contracted. He felt his body being abruptly pulled forward and fell into a cold embrace.
What’s going on? Does this mean it failed?
He looked up in panic and locked eyes with the man before him.
“God the Father?!”
Wen Jianyan’s voice trembled with tension.
The man’s eyes were an extremely pure shade of gold, almost bestial, radiating a cruel glint that revealed nothing of his thoughts.
His wrist was bound by the shadow, which was lifted passively.
With one hand embracing the young man’s waist and the other holding his wrist, it was as if everything he was doing now was entirely natural.
What the hell is this guy doing?! Is he preparing to devour me?!
Wen Jianyan dared not even breathe. His whole body was as taut as a bowstring, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the man before him, his face turning pale.
The next moment, the man calmly took his fingertip into his mouth.
“…”
?
Wen Jianyan froze.
?????????
This… What is this situation?!
The cold and wet mouth enveloped his injured fingertip. The soft tongue forcefully pressed and licked the wound, almost as if it had thorns, instantly opening the just-sealed wound. It was being greedily nibbled and sucked.
This sensation… was almost identical to what happened in the director’s office.
Wen Jianyan blinked, scrutinizing the man in front of him.
The man looked no different than in his memory.
No, to be precise, he was exactly like the one in the Decai Middle School instance—innocent and hungry, acting purely on instinct.
Except for the difference in the place being licked, the current situation was an almost perfect replica of that time.
The figure of the man in front of him seemed somewhat transparent, not entirely solid, with most of his body shrouded in shadow.
Wen Jianyan blinked, and a bizarre thought slowly surfaced.
“Wu… Wu Zhu?”
The man before him raised his innocent golden eyes and licked his finger again with his tongue.
A familiar, cold snort came from behind him.
“Hmm?”
“!!!”
Wen Jianyan shivered, and the hair on his back stood on end. A strong sense of foreboding rushed over him. He turned in terror and looked in the direction of the voice—
The true Evil God, with a completely solid form and golden eyes gleaming with a familiar cruelty, approached step by step. Rational, dangerous, and uncontrollable:
“It seems you’ve been having a great time playing with my soul fragment.”
The real Wu Zhu said.
The author has something to say:
Wen Jianyan (panicking): Ahhhhhh, there are two of them, ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!
