WTNL Chapter 439

Thank you @Mareux for the Kofi. (1/10)

Yuying University
hapter 439: You realize you have no advantages, don’t you?

In the mere tens of minutes that had just passed, the audience in the [Integrity First] live stream felt like they were on a roller coaster ride.

Events unfolded far too quickly, unforeseen by anyone.

One moment, they felt their future was bleak, that this skilled team would be buried here in such a suffocating manner. But then, an unexpected turn of events, a instance anomaly, made them disbelieve such a change could happen. Yet, just as they cheered and screamed for the streamer’s heroic reversal, a sudden blow left them dazed and disoriented.

The live stream screen showed a rare still image.

The office was pitch black and eerily silent, with only faint, intermittent, and weak breathing sounds coming from a corner.

The young man lay slumped on the ground, one hand clutching the side of his neck, blood gushing from between his fingers, already forming a small, viscous pool on the floor. His other hand lay limply beside him.

His hair was soaked in blood, clinging to his overly pale face.

Even so, he still struggled to lift his eyes, his eyelashes trembling. His light-colored, tear-filled eyes peered through his messy hair towards the ceiling, his unfocused gaze wavering, unable to concentrate.

Snow-white, jet-black, crimson red—the clash of colors was too vivid, instantly captivating people with this dying, almost despairing beauty.

Anyone could tell he was close to death.

The [Integrity First] live stream received Hall of Fame exposure, prominently displayed in the most conspicuous recommendation slot across the entire platform, visible to all viewers.

Every viewer, regardless of which instance or streamer they were currently watching, instinctively looked up at this highly recommended live stream—even if they had never entered or even heard of this streamer before, they found themselves irresistibly drawn in.

Like a bird with a rose branch piercing its chest, sharp, tiny bones poking through flesh, its hot, soft, feathery little breast trembling, yet still emitting a bright, mournful cry for survival.

So pitiful, so beautiful.

[Who is this?]

[I think it’s that one who was really popular a while ago?]

[Dying so soon?]

[Go, go, quick, go check it out, or it’ll be too late!]

Unlike the large influx of thrill-seekers, the old fans of the [Integrity First] live stream were incredibly anxious.

In such an open-ended instance where the main quest was almost impossible to activate, he had forcefully pushed the plot deviation to its maximum, causing the instance to deepen its mutation, and even, by his own efforts, turned the tide, rescuing all his teammates from danger…

But after achieving such a feat, he was left to die silently and alone in the dark pool of blood, simply because no one came to his rescue or aid?

This ending was simply unacceptable.

Unfortunately…

They were powerless to do anything about it.

The six-hour safe zone within the instance was not only for the instance NPCs but also for the streamers within the instance.

For fairness, during this period, the abilities of both sides would be restricted by the rules.

NPCs could not harm streamers during this time, and streamers’ talents would consequently enter a six-hour cooldown period. Although items could still be used, there was no target for using them, meaning the entire instance entered a static state where progress was impossible.

In this state, streamers could only rest and could not use this safe time to explore or solve puzzles within the instance.

Rules were absolute; no one could break them.

This meant that unless Wen Jianyan himself actively walked out, no one would be able to enter the administrative building.

But in Wen Jianyan’s current state, he couldn’t even stand up, let alone actively leave?

[Ahhhhh, no, I can’t accept this!]

[How could this happen!]

[Please, please, who can save my treasure streamer? I’m willing to pay 1000 points!]

[Wuwuwuwu, I’ll pay ten thousand!!]

However, just as the bullet comments were in a heated argument, the live stream screen unexpectedly displayed static again.

[?]

[??? Nightmare, you’re messing up at a time like this??]

[Are you f***ing sick, fix your damn signal, saving so many points to buy your own coffin, are you?]

[Die!!]

Unlike the chaotic and noisy scene in the live stream, the instance remained in a deathly silence, as if completely undisturbed.

Inside the office, heavy shadows blurred into the darkness, unclear. A strong smell of blood permeated the air, almost making it impossible to breathe.

Wen Jianyan lay weakly in a pool of blood, painstakingly lifting his blood-soaked eyelashes.

Not far away, a figure stood silently, undetectable by any camera. He appeared without a sound, as if he were simply a part of the darkness.

Amidst a chaotic jumble of terrifying illusions, his presence was so abrupt, almost causing a sudden catch in one’s breath.

Wu Zhu lowered his eyes, observing the dishevelled young man before him.

His heterochromatic golden eyes were concealed in the darkness, silently meeting the human’s unfocused, tear-blurred gaze.

“…Is that you?”

Wen Jianyan lay in the blood, his voice weak, with a sense of vague delirium, as if still caught in an illusion.

Wu Zhu withdrew his gaze, swept his eyes over the mineral water bottle in his hand, then casually tossed it backward. Invisible tentacles stretched out from the darkness, effortlessly coiling around it.

It disappeared without a sound.

“…”

Wen Jianyan’s previously unfocused gaze suddenly sharpened. He stared intently at the other party, gritting his teeth, each word seemingly squeezed out from between them, fragmented, mixed with intermittent gasps and coughs, trembling on the brink of death, yet erupting with astonishing strength like a dying ember’s final flicker.

This time, he wasn’t asking; instead, he seemed to be stating a conclusion with certainty:

“—It’s you.”

Wu Zhu looked at him again.

This time, he seemed to smile: “Yes.”

The man standing in the darkness stepped forward, leaned down, and very lightly picked up the young man from the floor.

To him, it seemed effortless.

One hand supported the other’s head, which was soaked in blood and tears, while the other hand passed under his legs. The weight of an adult man was thus easily overcome, and he was powerlessly lifted from the ground and the pool of blood.

Wen Jianyan gasped, seemingly still wanting to struggle.

His hand fell weakly onto the other’s shoulder, but it was almost useless, merely leaving a few bloodstains.

Wu Zhu stood still for a moment, thought, and decided to sit down on a nearby chair.

The human, having lost the ability to resist, nestled in his arms like a helpless infant.

His legs hung limply on the same side, his head resting against the other’s shoulder. The hand covering his wound had also dropped at some point. Perhaps due to excessive blood loss, the bleeding from the wound had slowed, but it still inevitably stained Wu Zhu’s shirt.

Wu Zhu seemed unconcerned about his chosen human attire being ruined by blood for the first time.

He stroked the young man’s back with one hand—though through the shirt, the other’s body temperature was already very low. The prominent shoulder blades appeared very slender, trembling slightly under his touch. It was hard to tell if it was from fear of death, or still an unwilling struggle, trying to escape his control.

“It’s always been you,” Wen Jianyan tugged tightly at the other’s collar with weak fingers, his voice intermittent. Each word required a pause to rest for a moment.

Finally, he even seemed to grit his teeth:

“…Always.”

Although his current state was unprecedentedly terrible, at this moment, Wen Jianyan’s mind was inexplicably clear. All previous doubts were connected, and all truths hidden in the mist became clear.

“The Ouroboros is failing… so you came out—”

In this instance, the weaker he became, the stronger Wu Zhu grew.

Taking advantage of his reduced sanity, which made him unable to distinguish between illusion and reality, Wu Zhu would appear beside him in the form of an illusion, until this moment of power reversal.

Whether due to his decreasing body temperature or his shock and anger, his body was trembling slightly.

“You goddamn…”

Wu Zhu turned his face, pressing his lips to the young man’s blood-stained forehead, his voice rarely gentle:

“Hush.”

He used his fingers to push aside Wen Jianyan’s blood-matted hair, his cold fingertips gently brushing:

“It’s almost over now.”

Wu Zhu kissed the top of his head, saying softly, “It will be quick.”

No matter his tone, the implication of that sentence was chilling—

Don’t worry, death will come quickly.

Wen Jianyan’s analysis and speculation were completely accurate.

However, that no longer mattered.

Before entering the administrative building, even after Wen Jianyan’s sanity was restored by an item, Wu Zhu still followed him, only this time he did not reveal himself and had no intention of interfering.

On one hand, after Wen Jianyan’s sanity was restored, his mind would become agile again, and appearing again in such a situation would be unwise for Wu Zhu.

On the other hand, while Wu Zhu found his previous unconscious actions strange, he also vaguely sensed some unfamiliar danger.

Thus, he decided to observe coldly.

He was curious to see how far this human could go.

And the other party clearly did not disappoint him.

“You did very well.”

Although there were a few minor errors along the way, the overall development of events was largely consistent with what he had expected.

Wu Zhu was not accustomed to dissecting his own mentality.

At least overall, he was satisfied with the current situation.

Wu Zhu clasped the human’s waist in his arms, letting him lean against his shoulder, as if holding a large toy.

Wen Jianyan had never been so docile before, actually nestling in his arms without resistance, putting all his weight on his arms and legs, completely encircled—although the human’s vitality and body temperature were draining, and the breath on his neck was gradually weakening with time, for Wu Zhu, this was not a big problem.

Wu Zhu sometimes stroked Wen Jianyan’s hair, carefully smoothing it, and sometimes raised a hand to caress his face, casually wiping away the still-wet blood.

He even unskillfully flipped up Wen Jianyan’s folded collar to make him look more presentable.

He tirelessly and patiently manipulated the human nestled in his arms, seemingly unconcerned that the other was slowly dying.

Surrounded by the intense smell of blood, the Ouroboros ring on his ring finger appeared even dimmer.

“Rest well.”

Soon, they could slowly settle their accounts, one by one.

Wu Zhu lowered his eyes, casually stroking the young man’s hair in his arms, while enjoying the other’s death and recalling the debts the other owed him.

The lies and escape from their first meeting, the temptation and betrayal of their second meeting, the hypocrisy and allegiance of their third…

And then there were those strange memories from the fragments.

The most important betrayals and imprisonments, of course, couldn’t be forgotten.

Recalling the unprecedented, devastating pain when the blade entered his body, Wu Zhu felt the cold blood throughout his body slowly ignite. Anger, excitement—rare emotions surged through his veins, and the heat of desire tightened his throat.

He still didn’t quite understand his own changes, nor what he truly wanted…

But it didn’t matter; they had all the time in the world.

Wu Zhu lowered his head and kissed Wen Jianyan’s hair:

“You are mine.”

“…….”

Wen Jianyan seemed provoked by those words.

Suddenly, the human who had just been docile and compliant in his arms abruptly lifted his head. The previously dim and lifeless Ouroboros ring on his ring finger had, at some unknown point, drunk its fill of blood, becoming cold and bright once more as if in a final burst of life. The next second, with a clinking sound, chains extended from the metal ring. A powerful force seemed to erupt from the human’s frail body. He yanked hard, forcing the other to lower his head.

Wu Zhu hadn’t anticipated this. His golden eyes narrowed, staring at the other in astonishment.

He hadn’t expected that, with the Ouroboros now completely unbound, Wen Jianyan could still forcibly activate it with his blood by expending his own life force. Although he was at the end of his tether, he had truly managed to lock Wu Zhu down again.

Wen Jianyan tugged the chain, glaring fiercely:

“Give… it… back… to… me.”

Wu Zhu: “What?”

Wen Jianyan: “…My water!”

A cold brass blade appeared in the young man’s palm at some unknown moment, pressed hard against Wu Zhu’s throat, drawing a thin, golden line of blood.

“…”

Wu Zhu tilted his head back, allowing the trembling blade to press against his throat.

He scrutinized the other’s excessively pale face from blood loss, his tear-blurred eyes, reddened eyelids, and trembling, gasping pale lips, an expression of novelty on his face.

“What if I don’t?”

Wu Zhu tightened the hand around the other’s waist, pulling him closer into his embrace.

The blade trembled, embedding itself a little deeper.

Golden, scalding blood surged from the wound, quickly dripping down.

The dark room was filled with the scent of blood and death, and the air was charged with an explosive silence.

The dying human and the monster about to break free from his control stared at each other.

“You understand you have no advantage, don’t you?”

Wu Zhu looked at him, like a wild animal observing its prey, or a child seeing a new toy. He didn’t quite understand what the other was doing, but he was intensely interested, with a peculiar, inhuman cruelty.

Wen Jianyan was a smart person.

He should know that he was at an absolute disadvantage during this period.

During the safe period, his talent couldn’t be used, thus losing the only means to confront Wu Zhu head-on. Luckily, though items could still be effective, in his current state, even holding a god-slaying blade, limited by his nearly zero sanity and health, the threat he posed was a shadow of its former self.

What’s worse, the water wasn’t in Wu Zhu’s hand; it had been “put away” by him.

So, even if Wen Jianyan really succeeded in killing Wu Zhu again, there was a high probability that the item would be permanently lost.

Or…

He could use his best trick.

Come up with a way, find an excuse, fabricate a lie.

He was a smooth-tongued liar, always adept at using flowery words to deceive others and rescue himself from crisis.

He had done it many times and wouldn’t mind doing it many more times in the future.

Even if someone had been fooled by him before, it didn’t matter. He was a master of escape, skilled in the art of language. Put on a show, administer a few doses of medicine, and there would always be people falling into the trap one after another.

But, gazing at Wu Zhu’s face so close, Wen Jianyan realized for the first time with a start.

Unbeknownst to him… he seemed to have exposed too much of himself in front of this person.

He was a reliable teammate, a cunning enemy. He pretended to be docile and pitiful in front of the audience, yet bluffed in front of opponents. He was a thousand-faced enigma, an unquantifiable mist. For purely utilitarian purposes, he would selectively wear different masks depending on the target.

However, in front of this monster, who wasn’t even truly human, he had torn off his masks layer by layer, revealing his true self.

His ruthlessness, his arrogance, his cunning.

So what? Think quickly.

He could always come up with another lie.

Just put on the next mask—

Perhaps due to extremely low sanity and extreme exhaustion, on the verge of death himself, Wen Jianyan felt utterly spent.

…Such a hassle.

This time, Wen Jianyan suddenly felt too lazy to lie.

He spoke frankly, without any pretense:

“Let’s make a bet.”

Wu Zhu: “A wager?”

From his expression alone, it was impossible to tell if he was interested in this wager.

He even seemed unenthusiastic: “Sounds familiar.”

If he remembered correctly, he had been tricked by a similar method a long time ago.

“Shut up.”

Wen Jianyan said.

“…”

Wu Zhu paused, then looked up at him.

The young man’s face was very pale, his eyes lost in the darkness, his voice very low, so weak it was almost a whisper.

“You broke free from the Ouroboros’s shackles, and even evaded my sight—well done, I admit.

So, this is the first, and only, time I’ve decided to discuss this openly with you… but there won’t be a second time, so you’d better listen carefully; I won’t repeat myself.”

“Let’s make a bet.”

Wen Jianyan leaned in, their breaths almost mingling:

“We’ll bet that I, as a human, can destroy the entire Nightmare with my own means.”

“I know you and Nightmare are irreconcilable, that you’ll be locked in an endless, long struggle, and perhaps you’ll win in the end, but who knows… After all, time means nothing to you, but I’m different. I’m a superficial human. I don’t want to wait, and I’m too lazy to wait for decades, centuries. I want to see it pay the price for everything with my own eyes, crumble and perish, turn into fragments.”

Wen Jianyan controlled his voice, forcing himself not to pause or tremble.

His eyes unblinking, he stared at the other, enunciating clearly. In those light-colored, near-death glazed eyes, burned a fire of ambition unique to humans, arrogant and untamed:

“So, I will tear it down, destroy it, bit by bit, with my own hands, until nothing but dust remains.”

“You might even save a few hundred years of effort… Whatever, who cares.”

Wen Jianyan said coldly.

The veins on the back of his hand bulged, his breathing slightly quickened, and he watched the other intently with both eyes.

“But it will always benefit you, so I need you to stop holding me back and causing trouble, like this time, and countless times before.”

This time, the liar full of falsehoods was terrifyingly honest. Though at a disadvantage, he was utterly impolite, even unceremoniously displaying his coldness and malice, hardly resembling someone trying to survive by making a wager.

Wu Zhu watched him without a word.

…He was serious.

This human genuinely thought that way.

He had clearly already realized the irreconcilable hostility between himself and Nightmare. No one knew better than him that if he just handed everything over to this non-human entity, this incomplete evil god without memories, everything he wanted would be achieved.

Although it might take a little longer, at most it would be a century.

As long as he was with him, Wen Jianyan would not die, but would live forever. For a human with a limited lifespan, this was an irresistible temptation.

Yet, he made such a choice.

To face alone a behemoth that spanned this realm and the real world, even transcending physical form and dimensions, and for that, he would even make a deal and a bet with a being like him.

For what?

“If I win, you let me go, and all our old debts are canceled.”

“If I lose.”

He paused, then said in a calm tone:

“Soul, body, anything, all yours. You can own me for as long as you want, do whatever you want, whether it’s revenge or desire, it’s up to you.”

Wen Jianyan stared into the other’s close golden eyes; the distance between their noses was almost imperceptible.

He slowly uttered two words:

“Bet?”

“…”

Wu Zhu didn’t respond to him immediately.

He watched the young man before him, as if examining a novel species he had just encountered.

“What if I still don’t agree?”

After a few seconds, Wu Zhu spoke again. The expression on his face was unreadable, and the emotion in his voice was equally so.

“…Whatever.”

Wen Jianyan suddenly leaned in closer, their foreheads almost bumping.

Perhaps because he was desperate, the chain around Wu Zhu’s neck became more solid and heavy, taut and shimmering with a cold, metallic quality.

The young human’s breathing was unsteady, his teeth clenched, a terrifying desire for survival burning in his eyes, accompanied by a malevolent fierceness, saying, “—Even if I cut your throat, I’ll survive by drinking your blood, understand?”

Too lazy to use any honorifics or respectful terms, too lazy to be evasive, no longer even feigning harmlessness or obedience, only raw directness and sharp edges remained.

At that moment, Wu Zhu’s eyes seemed to light up.

He gave a slight smile: “Is that so?”

The brief burst of strength that had just erupted slowly drained from his body. Wen Jianyan felt countless shadows appearing before his eyes again, and the visible area was being covered by large swathes of darkness.

He felt the world spin, as if everything was swaying, and could only exert all his strength to maintain his current posture.

His fingers holding the knife began to grow cold, and all sensations became distant. It seemed that merely gripping the knife hilt had exhausted all his capabilities.

The chain extending from the ring gradually dimmed, even starting to flicker slightly, as if it would disappear at any second.

“Alright.”

Wu Zhu said.

“…” Wen Jianyan stared at him.

What?

…He didn’t think his negotiation tactics just now were particularly brilliant.

If his sanity hadn’t been so low, and he had seen someone in such a dying state adopt such an attitude, Wen Jianyan would probably have scoffed, thinking the person was crazy.

Of course, with his current sanity, he was probably not far from madness himself.

Wu Zhu leaned in closer and repeated, “I said, alright.”

Wen Jianyan silently watched the man in front of him. The other’s overly compliant attitude made him feel somewhat unreal.

Wu Zhu seemed unfazed by Wen Jianyan’s unenthusiastic reaction.

He raised a hand and brushed over the wound on his neck. As his fingers passed, the golden-blooded gash vanished, replaced by cold, pale, unblemished skin like marble.

Wu Zhu turned his neck, then raised his hand.

The next second, invisible tentacles wrapped around his fingers in the darkness. After the darkness dissipated, only a mineral water bottle with some liquid left in it appeared in his palm.

Wu Zhu: “The wager is set.”

Wen Jianyan looked at him intently for a couple of seconds, then quickly reached out and snatched back what belonged to him from Wu Zhu’s hand.

Wu Zhu indulgently watched the other’s unceremonious action, offering no resistance.

Wen Jianyan quickly twisted open the cap and poured the remaining bit of water into his mouth. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, quickly drinking the last drop of mineral water.

In the top right corner, the number slowly climbed.

From a dangerous 3 points, it slowly rose back to 9 points.

Although still below the danger line, at least the terrible state of all values continuously dropping had been stopped.

Wen Jianyan paused, pulled out the capsule Hugo had given him earlier from his pocket, and was about to take another one when Wu Zhu suddenly caught his hand, throwing it backward with a sharp toss.

The capsule disappeared into the darkness without hitting the ground, as if swept away by something.

“?!?” Wen Jianyan was startled, raising his voice, “What are you doing?”

Even when Wen Jianyan had a knife to him, Wu Zhu hadn’t looked this displeased.

“Inferior stuff.”

Wu Zhu frowned, evaluating with an expressionless face.

It was unclear if he was evaluating the item or the person who gave it to Wen Jianyan.

Wen Jianyan: “?”

The next second, the hand that had been resting on his lower back tightened its grip. The still-weak human youth uncontrollably fell into the other’s embrace. Wen Jianyan was startled and instinctively reached out to brace himself against the other’s shoulder, but Wu Zhu caught his hand first.

“Don’t move.”

Soon, cold lips and tongue descended upon his neck, bringing a piercing pain and a tingling itch like skin growing under the damp licking.

“You—ugh!”

The rest of the sound caught in his throat, only a short gasp escaping.

The entire process was quick, almost over in a blink of an eye.

Soon, Wu Zhu lifted his head, licked the blood from his lips, and said:

“There.”

“…”

Wen Jianyan instinctively raised his hand and pressed it to his neck.

The area where the wound had been was completely healed. Not only was it no longer bleeding, but the lost flesh had grown back perfectly.

—Healed?

Wen Jianyan was stunned.

In a instance with such fixed rules, a wound that could only be healed with instance-provided items had just vanished so easily?

This was simply too…

Wu Zhu seemed to be in a better mood.

“Much better, isn’t it?”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

Wu Zhu emphasized, “Isn’t it?”

Wen Jianyan: “……………Yes.”

“So, you won’t need that inferior stuff in the future,” Wu Zhu said.

Including the person who gave it to him, it would be best if they also disappeared.

Wen Jianyan: “…”

So, you’re not giving me my stuff back, are you?

However, Wen Jianyan was no longer going to dwell on this issue. He had wasted too much time here. Although no NPCs would attack him in the next six hours, this didn’t mean the administrative building was a good place to stay.

He propped himself up on a nearby table, rising from Wu Zhu’s embrace. He stumbled but managed to steady himself.

Wu Zhu watched his every move.

It was hard to tell if he was disappointed that his plan had fallen through.

Wen Jianyan shuffled towards the door, but just before stepping out, he was suddenly called out by Wu Zhu: “Wait.”

“…”

Every nerve in Wen Jianyan’s body tensed.

He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then turned his head, doing his best to maintain a calm demeanor: “What is it?”

“Didn’t you notice something?”

Wu Zhu had stood up at some point. The shirt on his side was already soaked with blood. His cold, handsome face was hidden in the darkness, and his golden eyes stared at him unblinkingly, possessing an eerie malevolence.

Wen Jianyan was on full alert, ready to deal with any terrifying actions from the other.

He calmly repeated:

“…Notice what?”

Wu Zhu didn’t speak.

Wen Jianyan chose his words carefully: “You are no longer bound by the Ouroboros, and I won’t pose any further threat to you. I know past grievances won’t be wiped clean, but I won’t break the wager—

After all, you know how to find me anytime.”

Wu Zhu still didn’t speak.

Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, and patiently asked, “Can I go now?”

Wu Zhu: “…”

After a few seconds, he let out a low, unenthusiastic “Mhm.”

Wen Jianyan gave him a steady look. After confirming that he wouldn’t pull any more tricks, he finally turned around and slowly, step by step, walked out of the classroom.

Wu Zhu stood in the center of the classroom, looking down at his carefully chosen human attire, appearing somewhat disappointed.

Didn’t he notice?

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