Anchor Hall
Chapter 384: Wet & Intimate
In the “Xingwang Hotel” instance livestream:
As the screen was overtaken by scarlet flesh-like limbs, the livestream abruptly ended.
Instance terminated.
The remaining livestream rooms that hadn’t been cut off began losing signal one by one, going black and shutting down.
[anchor offline. Livestream will close in one minute…]
[60, 59, 58…]
The previous excitement and intensity had already been replaced by utter silence. The black flags that once hung high and the prominent “Victory” symbols had all disappeared.
Due to the forced termination of the instance, the massive screen had gone black, leaving the space empty and lifeless.
“……”
The audience stared blankly at the darkened screen, exchanging confused looks, as if they hadn’t fully processed what had just happened.
What… what just happened?
A wave of uneasy chatter spread among the audience, growing louder and spiraling out of control.
[That’s it?]
[What happened? I completely don’t get it.]
[So who won in the end?]
[No idea!]
[If we go by how things stood before the instance closed, then it should count as a Black Team win. But the key item was fake—the real one was with the Red Team. So maybe the Red Team turned the tables at the last second?]
[But don’t forget, even though the item ended up with the Red Team, they didn’t use it! They crushed it outright… so I think in the end, Nightmare will probably determine the outcome based on the final situation at the time of termination.]
Audience members from both teams argued fiercely, each standing by their own view.
Even though the [Xingwang Hotel] instance had long ended, the number of people in the livestream area hadn’t dropped at all.
—
Meanwhile, in the white space after the instance’s conclusion…
The anchors who had been pulled from the Xingwang Hotel instance gradually regained consciousness.
On the enormous screen above them, familiar text appeared.
The Xingwang Hotel instance name had turned gray, followed by a cold, hard number:
[15/250]
In other words, 250 people were deployed in the instance, but only fifteen survived. The survival rate was shockingly low.
Because this was a team-based instance with distinct factions, the anchors from opposing teams did not wake up in the same area.
“Where’s the captain?”
Blond looked around, confused.
“He hasn’t come out yet,” Chen Mo frowned.
“What?!”
Yun Bilan sat up from the ground. All of her wounds had been fully healed, but the color change in her eyes and the crimson vines that now covered nearly 60% of her skin had not disappeared.
She frowned, her face showing no overt emotion, but she still radiated a sharp, aggressive aura.
“Calm down.”
Chen Mo stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s wait a bit longer.”
They had encountered situations like this before—there was even a time when Wen Jianyan came out over an hour after everyone else. His name had grayed out at the time, but he eventually appeared.
Yun Bilan pursed her lips and stayed silent.
Blond pulled Chen Mo aside and whispered, “Hey… don’t you feel like… Sister Bilan has changed?”
Actually, they had noticed this during the instance, but due to the tense circumstances, they hadn’t had time to dwell on it. Now that the instance was over, everyone realized just how off Yun Bilan had become.
No doubt, her strength was unquestionable.
During the two phases when their captain was missing, she had basically carried the entire team and even repeatedly gained the upper hand. But that didn’t stop them from noticing the changes in her personality.
She had become extreme, irritable, and emotionally unstable.
“……”
Chen Mo narrowed his eyes and looked at Yun Bilan’s back.
After a long moment, he patted Blond on the shoulder. “Get some rest.”
What followed was a long, nearly unbearable wait.
In this blank space, time seemed to stand still. The stillness dragged on so long that it bred anxiety.
Finally…
No one knew how much time had passed when the number on the screen suddenly jumped.
[16/250]
One more survivor!
Everyone stood up at once.
Without warning, a familiar figure appeared in the center of the blank arena.
It was Wen Jianyan.
Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.
Even though they had seen this before and knew a delay didn’t necessarily mean death, nothing compared to the comfort of seeing him in person.
Everyone surged forward.
“You’re late again!”
“We were so worried just now. Glad you’re still alive.”
“Well, it’s not the first time—figured you’d be fine, Captain.”
But unlike the joy and relief of his teammates, Wen Jianyan appeared… distracted.
He stood still, eyes downcast, seemingly lost in thought.
It felt as though part of him was still trapped in the instance. Though he stood nearby, there was something strangely distant about him.
“Captain, what’s wrong?” Chen Mo noticed something off and asked, “Is something bothering you?”
Just then, other Red Team members noticed Wen Jianyan had returned and gathered around.
Xi Zi stepped forward and solemnly held out her hand to thank him:
“No matter what, thank you for everything in the instance.”
Wen Jianyan seemed to snap out of his daze and, in an instant, returned to his usual self.
That familiar warm smile appeared on his lips—polite and approachable.
He shook hands with her.
“No need to thank me. We were all on the same side. Helping within reason is just what teammates do.”
Xi Zi: “If it weren’t for you, I doubt many of us would have survived.”
She still felt lingering fear when recalling what happened in the instance.
If Wen Jianyan hadn’t told them to leave the hotel immediately, they’d probably be buried under that writhing mass of flesh and bone by now.
“If anyone should be thanked, maybe it’s the Black Team,” Wen Jianyan’s smile deepened with meaning. “If not for them, none of us might’ve made it out.”
Whoever activated the fake item—one disguised as a skill—would force the instance to bug and crash, but they’d also suffer an extreme backlash and become the target.
That’s why he didn’t activate it himself. He created the scenario, lured the Black Team into doing it, and let them “accidentally” take the fall.
“?”
Xi Zi froze.
She didn’t quite understand what he meant, but wisely didn’t press further.
“Anyway, if there’s anything we can help with in the future, just let us know.”
“Of course.”
Wen Jianyan nodded with a smile.
He didn’t expect them to be so grateful as to help him in a future life-or-death situation, or that they’d be of real use. Still, there was no reason to turn down goodwill on the surface.
“We still don’t know who actually won in the end,” Xi Zi looked up at the huge screen, “but at least we had more survivors. That alone is a kind of victory.”
Even though the Black Team’s key item had been tampered with, Wen Jianyan hadn’t used the Red Team’s either. So for now, the outcome remained unclear.
“Hm?”
Wen Jianyan’s smile deepened slightly.
“I think the winner is already obvious.”
What?
Everyone blinked and turned toward him, confused.
“Sure, the instance crashed,” Xi Zi frowned. “But the victory condition for this wasn’t about platinum clearance—it was—”
She suddenly froze, eyes widening as she turned sharply to Wen Jianyan:
“Wait… don’t tell me—”
After a long, suffocating silence, the livestream screen finally lit up again.
Everyone stopped arguing and turned to look.
The system’s cold, emotionless voice echoed through the hall:
[Due to an abnormal bug in instance settlement, the outcome will now be determined by the original method for evaluating team performance—]
Original method?
The initial victory condition was…
The audience paused, confused.
Then someone gasped in realization:
“It’s the team’s total revenue!!!”
That soul-based item allowed a team to instantly send away all customers, making the team’s revenue hit the cap—thus granting both platinum clearance and victory.
But now that the item had been destroyed, the winner could only be determined by the revenue both teams had earned beforehand…
“Holy sh*t!!!”
“No way!!!”
“That was his plan all along!!!”
On the giant screen, the Red and Black teams’ revenue comparison slowly appeared.
Black Team: 0
Red Team: 3
“…………”
Every anchor stared at the screen in stunned silence.
All of the Black Team’s earned ghost money had been tricked away by Wen Jianyan. Their account was empty. Although the Red Team spent money to revive as many people as possible, 3 still beat 0.
In the blink of an eye, the high-hanging screen and banners turned a brilliant red.
[Ding! Congratulations to the Red Team anchors for winning this team-versus-team instance! You’ve earned all of the instance rewards. Keep up the good work and continue your success!]
As the victory message appeared on the screen, all the anchors wore blank expressions.
They had imagined countless possible endings—but not this.
No one expected Wen Jianyan to have planned this far in advance…
Involuntarily, everyone turned to look at him.
Did he really foresee everything unfolding like this?
Terrifying…
But at the center of the storm, the man in question didn’t seem to realize that at all.
Wen Jianyan had muted the congratulatory sound effects in advance, knowing they would soon go off. Cheerfully, he opened his personal stream interface and watched with delight as his points skyrocketed.
To be honest, this instance had been costly for him.
He had repeatedly used appearances in this high-level instance, draining nearly all the points he could spend, not to mention the rare items he had used from previous difficult-level instances.
Now, seeing his inventory finally replenished—and even exceeding what he had before—Wen Jianyan was overjoyed.
Staring at the rapidly increasing point balance, Wen Jianyan’s eyes curved in satisfaction, like a pleased little miser.
After all the rewards were distributed, every anchor who had survived the instance returned to the anchor Hall.
Although this instance had only lasted three days, once they returned, everyone felt as if a lifetime had passed.
In such a prolonged instance, both their bodies and minds were pushed to the brink of exhaustion.
Everyone longed for rest.
“Hold on a second,” Wen Jianyan called out to them.
“?”
Everyone turned their heads toward him.
Wen Jianyan looked at Yun Bilan. “Are all the anchors from our guild currently in their downtime?”
Surprised by the unexpected question, Yun Bilan blinked. She pulled out her phone and checked quickly.
She shook her head. “No, a few are currently in active instances.”
Wen Jianyan hummed thoughtfully and said,
“Tell all the anchors not to enter any new instances for the time being. Once everyone is back, let me know. We’re having a meeting.”
The group exchanged glances.
Although they had no idea what Wen Jianyan was planning, they still nodded.
“Oh, right—one more thing,” Wen Jianyan suddenly remembered something and turned to Chen Mo. “Remember that unresolved issue in our guild before we entered the Xingwang Hotel?”
Chen Mo: “?”
Wen Jianyan leaned in and whispered something in his ear.
“?!”
Chen Mo’s pupils contracted in shock.
He stared at Wen Jianyan, dumbfounded. “W-What? Are you serious?”
“Of course,” Wen Jianyan replied with a smile. “I think it’s about time, don’t you?”
Then he patted Chen Mo’s shoulder:
“Alright, off you go.”
“…”
Looking like his entire worldview had just been overturned, Chen Mo walked away slowly, glancing back every few steps.
“Okay, okay,” Wen Jianyan clapped his hands. “Everyone go get some rest.”
He stretched his sore shoulders and neck lazily. “I’m tired too. See you later.”
One by one, the group dispersed.
Only one person remained where he stood—Bai Xue.
His skin and hair were deathly pale, almost bloodless. Only his eyes were unsettlingly black, staring unblinkingly at Wen Jianyan.
“What is it?” Wen Jianyan blinked and asked.
“You didn’t ask for my contact info,” Bai Xue said in a flat, emotionless tone.
Wen Jianyan: “???”
“You said during the instance that you’d treat me to a meal afterward,” Bai Xue continued, expression still blank. “But you didn’t ask for my contact.”
Wen Jianyan: “……”
Keeping a straight face, he swore solemnly, “Relax, relax—I was obviously lying. We’re bound to run into each other again in the Secret Council, right?”
“Oh.”
Bai Xue nodded.
“See you at the Secret Council, then.”
He turned to leave, but Wen Jianyan quickly grabbed him. Laughing awkwardly, he said, “Hey, since we’re already on the subject, how about giving me your contact before you go?”
Bai Xue: “Oh.”
Soon, Wen Jianyan had a new contact in his phone.
Bai Xue added, “By the way.”
“Hm?” Wen Jianyan responded distractedly.
“The probability of single-card draws and the overall game,” Bai Xue lifted his lifeless, jet-black eyes. “I understand what it means now.”
Wen Jianyan paused. “?”
Huh?
What overall game?
“Let’s play again sometime,” Bai Xue said, eyes fixed on Wen Jianyan. His pale face was expressionless, but the look in his eyes was strangely intense—almost chilling. “I’ll win next time.”
Wen Jianyan: “……”
Under that unnerving gaze, he suddenly felt a prickling sensation down his spine.
Wait a minute—this guy… is way more serious than he thought!
Wen Jianyan was starting to feel a little creeped out.
If he told the truth about how he won, would he be… killed?
Definitely, right?
“Hahaha…”
Wen Jianyan forced a laugh. “Let’s talk next time, next time.”
Under Bai Xue’s unsettling stare, Wen Jianyan came up with a random excuse, turned, and practically fled the scene. Within seconds, he was gone—leaving Bai Xue behind, still staring expressionlessly in the direction he had disappeared.
Wen Jianyan soon returned to the residence he’d exchanged points for in the anchor hall.
He didn’t go to see Su Cheng or the others and instead went straight to his room.
The moment he opened the door, he paused in surprise.
The room had changed.
It was already the most luxurious suite in Nightmare, meant for solo use, and perfectly matched Wen Jianyan’s hedonistic and consumerist tendencies.
But during the time he’d spent in the instance, it had been upgraded again.
Even the most high-end presidential suites in the real world couldn’t compare.
The air carried a refreshing pine-like scent. The table held the finest champagne available in the entire system.
Wen Jianyan stepped forward.
Next to the champagne sat a black-and-gold card, with a single line of text:
[Congratulations on officially becoming a member of the Secret Council.]
So this was the special benefit granted only to top ten members.
He had entered the top ten before, but was still under observation. Now, having cleared the Xingwang Hotel instance, Nightmare had clearly recognized his position and officially accepted him into the Secret Council.
Wen Jianyan smirked and casually tossed the card aside. He opened the shoe cabinet, pulled out his custom frog slippers, and walked toward the sofa.
He popped open the champagne.
With a soft “pop,” the cork was released, and the fragrant, golden liquid poured into a glass, bubbling with fine foam.
Wen Jianyan took a sip.
It really was excellent quality.
“Mmh, but this can’t be all,” he said lazily, slumping into the sofa, limbs sprawled out.
Swirling the champagne under the light, he said, “This is far from the full reward we talked about.”
Silence.
Nightmare didn’t respond.
But Wen Jianyan knew it was listening.
“How far along is the review of my previous request?” he asked.
After the Changsheng Building instance ended, he had begun negotiating with Nightmare. One of his main requests was to replace Oracle’s position—cooperating and even trading with Nightmare.
His goal was to penetrate Nightmare’s core.
At the time, Nightmare didn’t give a clear answer, only saying it would review the request and get back to him.
Then came the Xingwang Hotel instance.
Nominally, it was a test for entry into the Secret Council. But as it progressed, Wen Jianyan realized this was most likely the so-called “review.”
Unfortunately for Nightmare, both its backup plans failed—whether it was trying to erase Wu Zhu through the miniature world, or sacrificing him through an item.
Yet Wen Jianyan hadn’t broken any rules. He hadn’t resisted Nightmare. In fact, he’d completed the instance perfectly, “removed” the so-called bug per instructions, and emerged victorious.
Nightmare was now caught in a dilemma.
Wen Jianyan wasn’t in a rush—he waited patiently.
As time passed, the champagne dwindled.
Propping his head with one hand, a flush blooming on his cheekbones, Wen Jianyan stared at the last bit of golden liquid in his glass, looking lazy and content.
Finally, the system voice spoke:
“Please attend the official Secret Council meeting tomorrow at 6 PM.”
“…”
Beneath the shadows cast by his hair, his eyes were crystal clear—completely sober.
This wasn’t a direct answer, but it was an obvious sign.
“Official?” Wen Jianyan asked. “So the last one wasn’t?”
“Yes,” the mechanical voice replied.
“What’s the difference?”
“All active council members will be present.”
Wen Jianyan hid the flicker in his eyes and downed the last of his champagne, smiling silently.
“Alright, I’ll be there.”
He tossed the empty glass aside, not bothering to clean up the remaining liquid that soaked into the expensive leather sofa. Then he staggered off toward the bathroom.
He took a shower.
Only after washing away the chilling dampness of the instance—that bone-deep cold rain—did he leisurely step out of the bath and put on some clothes.
Steam rose from the bathroom, fogging the icy mirror.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes to his hand.
In his palm was a faint pink scar.
“…”
His fingers twitched.
The vivid sensation returned with full force.
The icy hilt clenched in his palm. The scalding golden blood flowing from his fingertips.
The crushing darkness. The endless graves.
The cold coffin. The scent of decay.
A wide, icy hand pressing down the nape of his neck.
The blade plunging into his chest. The suffocating pressure on his lips.
Between blood and saliva, they were wet and entangled.
His pupils constricted as he stared at the face inches away.
Until that face vanished like foam. The tip of the knife trembled, glinting on his skin.
Until, even with his stiff fingers, he could still feel the warmth of blood—and the lingering sensation of someone else’s lips and biting teeth on his own.
“…”
The young man stood before the mirror, eyes lowered, expressionless.
Underneath the tightly controlled calm, his lips moved, lightly pressing together.
Realizing what he was doing, he frowned irritably and ruffled his damp hair.
Damn it.
Wen Jianyan left the bathroom and flung himself onto the bed.
He raised his hand and spread his fingers.
The ouroboros ring around his finger clung tightly to his skin. Even after soaking in hot water, it remained icy cold—stark against his now soft, pinkish flesh.
Normally, he should be meeting with his allies to exchange intel after an instance like this.
But…
He didn’t want to at all.
Wen Jianyan dropped his hand, shoved it under the blanket to get it out of sight.
He scowled and glared at the ceiling.
F*cking Wu Zhu.
Why couldn’t you just fight back properly?
Wuzhu we miss youu