WTNL Chapter 337

Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 337: Kiss the Evil Spirit

The vast corridor was shrouded in darkness, with all directions—front, back, left, and right—enveloped in pitch-black obscurity. In the deathly silence, the hurried and panicked breathing of the group echoed.

On both sides of the walls hung numerous mirrors of varying sizes, their surfaces reflecting the flickering beams of the flashlight.

The faces of the group were mirrored within, pale and filled with fear.

Perhaps it was just the lighting, but each reflection, while seemingly familiar, felt eerily foreign at this moment, sending chills down their spines.

“W-Weren’t there paintings here just now?” Blond asked shakily, his expression unsteady. “How did they turn into mirrors?”

If, in the Xingwang Hotel instance, oil paintings were already ominous, then the presence of mirrors was even more foreboding.

Based on Wen Jianyan’s initial hypothesis, the entire instance was structured through three layers of reflections:
The lower and upper floors of the Xingwang Hotel,
The Xingwang Hotel and Rainy Town,
And within Rainy Town, the ground above and the waters below.

Each layer was progressively more dangerous, as if something had been confined deeper and deeper within.

Following this logic further…

Beneath the waters of Rainy Town lay the true Ghost Abyss, teeming with wandering vengeful spirits—the true realm of the “residents.”

This time, instead of using the door of the oil paintings to leave Rainy Town, they had found the shopping street, locating a path leading directly into the Ghost Abyss, disguising themselves as “ghosts” to infiltrate.

This meant they were currently in the deepest and final mirror layer.

However, they had yet to fully enter the Ghost Abyss.

The corpses roaming the streets, though terrifying, were merely the remains of anchors who had perished in this instance—they weren’t true “ghosts.”

But as they continued forward, the boundary between the two became increasingly blurred.

A single misstep, and they might unknowingly cross the line, stepping fully into the depths of this horrifying domain.

More crucially…

Once inside, no matter how powerful or terrifying an existence might be, escape would be impossible.

This was why the “residents” who attacked them in the hotel and town could only invade through mediums to kill, but never truly enter the real world.

The Black Faction had nearly been led across this boundary by him before, only barely stopping in time—though at great cost.

Wen Jianyan’s expression darkened.

He had believed that as long as he stayed cautious and didn’t deviate from the path, he could avoid falling into the Ghost Abyss.

But now, seeing the oil paintings transform into mirrors without warning, he was suddenly struck by a realization—

He had overlooked something.

Besides leaving the path, there was a second way to fall into the Ghost Abyss.

Since oil paintings could serve as doors connecting the Xingwang Hotel and Rainy Town, then logically, they could also serve as doors linking the ground and the underwater abyss within Rainy Town!

Wen Jianyan pressed his lips together slightly, his fingers unconsciously rotating the cold, heavy metal ring on his finger.

He turned his gaze to the side.

At the moment of the anomaly, Yun Bilan had already stepped back to his side, subtly positioning herself in front of him, as if drawing him into her protective reach.

Wen Jianyan lowered his voice and asked,
“Did the Black Faction encounter anything similar when they entered the framing shop?”

Yun Bilan tilted her face slightly, the faint red glow in her eyes flashing beneath her mask.

She shook her head. “No.”

Even though her movements were restricted and she had been kept from any classified information, if the Black Faction had encountered an inescapable horror within the shop, she would have sensed it.

Hearing this, Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes slightly, instinctively glancing toward the darkness behind him.

Since the portraits of the Black Faction were hung here, it meant they had reached this depth in the corridor.

Yet they had not experienced the same anomaly.

Either they had avoided it using parchment, or… it was related to another factor.

His damp shirt clung to his skin, alternating between hot and cold sensations.

The contrast was sharp—he had ignored it before, but now—

“…”

Wen Jianyan pressed his lips together, his fingers tightening around the cold metal ring.

Perhaps, it was this that was causing it.

Since approaching the framing shop, the mark left by Wu Zhu had begun to heat up, as if warning him of what was to come.

So the anomaly happening now might not be entirely random.

But the real question was…

For some reason, Wen Jianyan had an unshakable feeling of unease.

In previous instances, he had been able to anticipate events and formulate plans accordingly.

But this time, everything was shifting before his eyes.

Until now, Wu Zhu had either been a sealed fragment or a force excluded from the instance entirely, unable to significantly alter the environment.

At most, he had appeared in dreams to communicate.

Yet this time, everything—from his scale to his presence—had exceeded expectations.

Wen Jianyan clenched his teeth.

“Keep moving.”

Even though they lacked information, staying put was not an option.

Rather than standing still and waiting for danger to strike, they might as well push forward and search for clues.

“Pay attention to the mirrors.”

Wen Jianyan lowered his voice and warned Blond, “If you notice anything unusual, inform me immediately.”

Blond swallowed hard and nodded.

The group quickly walked forward.

Urgent footsteps echoed through the empty and deathly silent corridor.

On both sides of the walls, countless frames of various sizes were densely hung. However, the oil paintings within the frames had all turned into cold, bright mirrors.

The mirrors hung silently on the walls, coldly reflecting the faint light of their flashlights and the figures of those walking in the middle of the corridor.

Yet, the corridor seemed endless, never reaching an end.

Suddenly, Blond’s shoulder shuddered.

He leaned toward Wen Jianyan, lowered his voice, and said with a slight tremor, “T-the mirror… there’s a shadow in the mirror…”

Wen Jianyan’s steps paused slightly, but his eyes subtly shifted as he glanced to the side without making it obvious.

Under the dim light, the scene in the mirror appeared no different from before. However, at this moment, he could clearly see that beside him, countless vague, shadowy figures were moving within the mirrors. Moreover, as time passed, they were becoming clearer and clearer.

“…!”

Wen Jianyan’s heart skipped a beat.

He realized that the last thing he wanted to happen had finally occurred.

The oil paintings were the “doors” between the mirrors, and as long as the “ghosts” were sealed outside the door, they could not perceive the existence of humans.

Vision was mutual.

Just as humans could see “ghosts” from above the surface, “ghosts” could see humans from below the water. And now, as he could see the existence of the “ghosts” with his own eyes, it meant that, in turn, the “ghosts” could also see him.

At this moment, he was likely standing at the blurred boundary between the ghost realm and reality—or perhaps, he had already stepped halfway through the door.

The temperature in the air seemed to drop rapidly, like icy blades slicing through his skin, bit by bit.

A damp, putrid stench began to spread in the air.

The group instinctively quickened their pace.

But it was useless.

To be precise, this corridor no longer existed in physical reality—it had transformed into an inescapable, conceptual space.

As time passed, the number of shadows in the mirrors increased, and they became more solid.

In the end, the mirror scene had completely turned into something straight out of a horror film—countless blurred figures stood behind the mirrors, their emotionless, numb, and eerie gazes staring at the only few living humans in the corridor from all directions.

The reflective quality of the mirrors was diminishing.

In the end, they were almost nothing more than a thin layer of glass.

In the corridor, everyone’s faces were pale, their foreheads and noses drenched in sweat. Under the weight of the countless “gazes,” they felt as if needles were pricking their backs. They continued rushing forward as if fleeing for their lives.

But even they knew…

Their chances of escaping were close to zero.

“There is no way out.”

Suddenly, a hoarse, cold voice sounded from within the group.

Everyone was stunned and turned toward the source of the voice.

It was Bai Xue.

He stood among the group, slightly panting from the previous sprint. His face was as pale as paper, making his pitch-black eyes appear even more eerie, like whirlpools:

“There is no probability of leaving.”

“W-wait,” Zhong Shan stammered. “What do you mean?”

Bai Xue’s dark eyes shifted.

He locked his eerie gaze onto Zhong Shan. The latter shuddered as if frightened, instinctively taking a step back and shrinking his shoulders.

Bai Xue spoke again, his tone cold and detached, as if the matter had nothing to do with him:

“It means death.”

What?!

His words sent a jolt of shock through everyone.

None of them had expected Bai Xue to say something like that—it was like a heavy hammer smashing into their heads, making their vision blur and their minds spin.

H-how could that be?

Did this mean…

There was no such thing as a no-death scenario in the nightmare?

But they hadn’t done anything wrong this time. They hadn’t triggered any crises.

So why had they fallen into a dead-end situation?

How was this possible?!

However, compared to the fear screaming in their minds, reason remained calm yet despairing.

Bai Xue had no reason to lie.

Even though they had never worked with Bai Xue before, they knew of his strength. Some among them had even heard of his title—the strongest psychic medium.

Since he had spoken with such certainty, then this was already an undeniable fact.

Pitch-black, ice-cold despair surged in like waves from beneath their feet, making their bodies go rigid with cold. Even breathing became difficult.

Death…

Was this their fate?

A meaningless disappearance, an end without reason.

Why was this happening?!

The suffocating despair spread in the air, making everyone feel as though they were on the verge of choking.

Bai Xue’s eyes shifted slightly.

His gaze landed on the last person in the group—Wen Jianyan.

“…”

His pitch-black, whirlpool-like eyes met the young man’s light amber gaze.

The two stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

Then, Wen Jianyan suddenly smiled.

“Not necessarily.”

Contrary to the current situation, despite hearing Bai Xue’s conclusion, Wen Jianyan’s voice remained calm and steady, even carrying a trace of relaxed amusement.

Everyone was startled and turned to look at him.

The young man raised his hand, brushing back his damp hair. He shook his head lazily and said:

“It’s not entirely without probability.”

“…”

Bai Xue remained silent.

“From here on, we split up,” Wen Jianyan said.

“What???!” Blond’s voice instantly rose an octave.
“Split into two teams?” Chen Mo asked.

Wen Jianyan: “Two teams.”
He pointed at the others: “You all go together.”
Then he pointed at himself: “I’ll go alone.”

Almost without thinking, Yun Bilan said firmly: “Impossible.”

Chen Mo also narrowed his eyes slightly, showing disapproval.

“Didn’t you hear Bai Xue’s conclusion just now?” Wen Jianyan looked at everyone and said lightly, “There’s no chance of winning ahead. Other than death, there’s no other outcome.”

“……” The air fell into silence, and the atmosphere grew heavy.

Wen Jianyan spread his hands and said:
“Since left is death and right is also death, then what’s the harm in trying my method?”

His gaze lingered on Yun Bilan for a moment, then he emphasized:
“I’m not asking you to abandon me and leave. We’re separating to break the game. Instead of dying together, why not scatter and survive, right?”

Everyone was speechless.

Yun Bilan furrowed her brows tightly beneath her mask.

Although she absolutely disagreed with Wen Jianyan’s proposal to split up, at this moment, listening to his twisted reasoning, she actually couldn’t find any words to refute it.

“You know something, don’t you?”

Chen Mo stared at Wen Jianyan with a probing gaze and asked slowly.

“Maybe.” Wen Jianyan shrugged and gave an enigmatic smile.

However, no matter how much the others pressed him after that, Wen Jianyan remained tight-lipped like a sealed gourd, stubbornly maintaining his air of mystery.

“Fine, then.”

Chen Mo sighed helplessly and ultimately compromised.

“……”

Yun Bilan didn’t speak.

Under her mask, her bloodshot eyes locked onto Wen Jianyan. After a long while, she said coldly:
“You better not be lying.”

The team split into two.

After Wen Jianyan left the group, the already tense atmosphere became even heavier. The remaining members quickened their pace down the corridor, suppressing their urge to turn back and look.

Suddenly, Blond let out a sharp cry: “Ah!”
“What’s wrong?” Chen Mo turned to look.

Blond pointed at the wall beside him, his face filled with shock, stammering: “It… it turned back into oil paintings!!!”

Everyone was stunned and turned to look.

Sure enough, the paintings in the frames on the walls had reappeared. The cold, gleaming mirrors and the eerie figures behind them were all gone. Everything had returned to normal, as if the terrifying moment they had just experienced had never happened.

Zhong Shan rushed forward.

The frame shop’s door appeared before them once again.
As long as they pushed it open, they could return to that small road outside.

“H-How is this possible?”
Zhong Shan backed away, turning his head dumbfoundedly, scanning his surroundings in a daze, staring blankly at the oil paintings.

The deadly crisis had appeared without warning and vanished just as inexplicably. The only difference was…
Whether Wen Jianyan was in the team or not.

Yun Bilan suddenly realized something.
She spun around abruptly and sprinted down the corridor.

The others hurried after her.

But no matter how far they ran, Wen Jianyan’s figure never reappeared, and the paintings on the walls remained unchanged—there was no sign of them turning into mirrors again.

Panting, Yun Bilan came to a stop.

Beneath her mask, her eyes burned red with fury. An uncontrollable rage surged from within, and she slammed her fist against the wall.

Through clenched teeth, she spat out two words:
“…Liar.”

So much for splitting up.
In reality, he had forced them to leave him behind.

—

After his teammates’ footsteps faded away, Wen Jianyan finally stopped walking.

Holding the flashlight, he stood still and looked behind him.

The others had disappeared from sight.

“……”
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath.

It seemed his guess was right.

This inevitable death trap was never supposed to exist. The only variable in the two small teams entering the frame shop… was himself.

The attacks were targeting him from the start.

So once he separated from the others, they were naturally able to leave the corridor.

Now, what remained… was up to him.

The mirrors had grown even thinner.

Behind them, countless indistinct figures became clearer and clearer. The fragile boundary between them seemed as if it would shatter at any moment.

Wen Jianyan took out his tool.

A small brass knife appeared in his palm.

He gripped it tightly with his slender fingers and suddenly stabbed toward the mirror in front of him!

Next, he had to find the fragment of Wu Zhu and…

“Eliminate” it.

The ouroboros ring on his finger shimmered.

Or rather, in the eyes of the Nightmare, it was elimination.
But for Wen Jianyan… it was containment—just like what he had done at the end of the Prosperous Tower instance.

This, however, was far more difficult for him than last time.

This time, the “Wu Zhu” was merely a fragment, lacking memory, and most likely devoid of emotions. Although it did not possess a complete thinking ability like its original body, it was also easier to deceive with sweet words.

Crack.
A faint sound of shattering glass echoed.

Wen Jianyan stared fixedly at the nearest mirror surface, his breathing somewhat uneven.

As if sensing the presence of a human, the shadows behind the mirror rapidly increased in number, clustering together more and more, enough to make one’s scalp tingle.

Cold, numb gazes shot toward him, making him feel as if needles were pricking his back.

Crack!
The sound of shattering grew louder.

But, was it just his imagination…

The shadows that had just gathered behind the mirror seemed to be dispersing rapidly, as if something was driving them away…

In their place, thick, ink-like darkness spread.

In the next second, an icy sensation swept over him, and a familiar system broadcast rang in his ears:

[Ding! A system BUG has been detected! Host… zzzt… please eliminate it immediately!]

Wen Jianyan clenched his wrist, gritted his teeth, and exerted more force!

The mirror surface within arm’s reach cracked rapidly under the sharp edge of the brass knife.

Behind the mirror, covered in fine cracks, thick darkness gradually solidified, gathered, and took the shape of a tall man.

In the darkness, a pair of golden eyes gleamed with an eerie light, staring straight at the human in front of the mirror, separated only by a blade.

No memories, no humanity.

Only endless, terrifying malice from an otherworldly god.

Perhaps due to the difference in this particular instance, this time, those golden eyes were even more sinister and cold, exuding a ghostly chill.

Even if all the previous stares were combined, they could not compare to the overwhelming sense of oppression and fear that this one pair of eyes brought.

Wen Jianyan’s movements instinctively hesitated for a moment.

The fine hairs on his back stood on end, and his entire being felt like a small animal caught in a serpent’s gaze. From the depths of his bones, a primal fear surged, making him instinctively want to retreat.

However, at that very moment, the tip of the brass knife plunged deeply into the mirror. A formless force erupted violently at the point of contact.

Crack!

Sharp shards of broken glass scattered wildly before his eyes.

Reflexively, Wen Jianyan raised his hand to shield his face, but some flying fragments still grazed his cheek, leaving a thin cut.

A fine, shallow red mark appeared on the young man’s pale face. Warm blood instantly welled up, trickling down his cheek. The stark contrast of crimson and pallor was striking.

A drop of blood splattered onto the silver ring on his finger.

The ouroboros’ eyes flickered slightly, and the droplet of blood was instantly devoured and absorbed, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye. All that remained was the cold, smooth metal ring, still tightly constraining the base of his finger.

[Zzt… zzzt…]

Suddenly, Wen Jianyan’s ears caught the sound of static interference from the system.

It was just like… what had happened after the Decai Middle School instance, after he had been dragged into the mirror…

Wen Jianyan involuntarily froze for a moment.

The next second, the system voice, distorted as if twisted by some unknown force, rigidly and mechanically issued a new task:

[…zzzt… Host… task issuance in progress]
[?? Task: Kiss the evil spirit… zzzt… for thirty seconds]
[Reward… unknown]

Wen Jianyan: “…………………………”

Huh???

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