WTNL Chapter 456

Yuying University
Chapter 456: You Want Me to Leave

“…”

Wen Jianyan’s brain short-circuited.

He lay where he was, still curled up, staring blankly at the person who shouldn’t have been here at all.

…Wu Zhu?

Wait, that couldn’t be right.

Before Wen Jianyan could react, pitch-black shadows converged from all directions.

An unseen force lifted his body. Caught off guard, Wen Jianyan’s whole frame jolted; the stiffness instantly tugged at the wounds on his palms.

“—!!!”

His vision went dark, and cold sweat dripped down his neck.

When he came back to himself, he was already placed on a sofa.

Wu Zhu leaned down in front of him, scrutinizing him.

The cold, ink-black hair fell forward; the face hidden in shadow bore little expression, yet somehow gave the illusion of displeasure.

Wen Jianyan looked nothing short of a wreck.

Because he had entered the Ouroboros, the badge’s effect had temporarily vanished; he had reverted to his original appearance—cheeks bloodless, forehead beaded with cold sweat, eyelids half-lifted, breathing with great effort.

From his wrists down, there was not an inch of intact flesh; beneath the mangled meat, white bone showed starkly. Blue-black blood gushed from torn wounds; the flesh of his palms had been flayed downward. It was a ghastly sight, terrifying to behold.

The pain finally brought Wen Jianyan fully back.

“You…”

He forced his eyes up. In his darkening vision, the other’s silhouette doubled, making it hard to judge distance.

He asked with effort, weakly, in broken phrases:

“Why the hell… are you here?”

If he remembered correctly, back in the Administration Building, the other had already completely broken free of Ouroboros’s restraints and escaped the prison.

Wu Zhu was no longer a captive forced to obey, and Wen Jianyan no longer held the reins of power.

So when he entered the Ouroboros, Wen Jianyan never imagined…

Wu Zhu would still be here?

After all—how could that be?

The power dynamic created by the prop had been shattered, ten parts gone if not all.

And the verbal pact that remained between them was fragile to the extreme; the bet had no binding force and could be broken at any time.

Especially since the counterpart was a capricious “god.”

So Wen Jianyan had not expected to see Wu Zhu again inside the Ouroboros.

After all… how could that make sense?

This place had been a prison for a god.

With his shackles crushed, why would he voluntarily move back in?

And also…

Wen Jianyan stared at Wu Zhu’s face, utterly baffled.

Why was this guy acting like the master of the house?!

About a minute ago, the other really did ask, “How did you get in?” He didn’t mishear that, right?

Wu Zhu’s attitude was so natural that Wen Jianyan’s mind froze for a split second.

…What was going on?

You’re not actually treating this place as your home, are you???

Whether it was the sheer impossibility of Wu Zhu still being in the Ouroboros, or the shameless way he behaved after seeing Wen Jianyan, Wen Jianyan found himself at a loss, with nothing to say except, “Why are you here?”

He stared fixedly at Wu Zhu’s face and, for a moment, didn’t notice the other reaching toward his wrist.

By the time he did, it was too late.

“…Ugh!”

When his hand was caught, Wen Jianyan didn’t even have the strength to scream, only forcing a short breathy sound from his throat.

In just two seconds, his shirt was soaked through with cold sweat, even the ends of his hair trembling.

Wu Zhu glanced at him. “Hurts?”

“…”

Wen Jianyan’s vision went black. The pain nearly knocked him out; he couldn’t form a single word for a while.

I! F—!

…What do you think?!

“Good. It should.”

Wu Zhu’s expression didn’t change.

“How did it happen?”

“…F—… you… ah!”

The trembling breath scraped out of Wen Jianyan’s throat.

“If you’ve got the breath to swear,” Wu Zhu said, “it’s not that bad.”

“…” Wen Jianyan was angry enough to roll his eyes.

He had to admit, he preferred this guy when he was less “human.”

Easy to trick, easy to coax, easy to control.

“Fine, different question,” Wu Zhu lowered his gaze to Wen Jianyan’s hand. Shadows fell over his face; his expression remained calm, yet somehow turned eerily cold. “Who did it?”

“…”

Drenched in cold sweat, Wen Jianyan lifted his thin, trembling lids and glanced at him.

He tugged a corner of his mouth. “…I did.”

He didn’t want to get entangled with the other, but he wasn’t lying.

No one told him to turn around and close the coffin; every choice was his own, and he would naturally bear the price.

Wu Zhu looked at him and clearly didn’t believe it.

“You care why?” Wen Jianyan stared back and sneered, bluffing with empty bravado. “What’s it to you?”

That sentence seemed to flip a switch that should not be touched.

Wu Zhu suddenly leaned in.

Those shallow, bright golden eyes—cold as ice—fixed on Wen Jianyan. The overwhelming color made him feel devoured.

“I thought I told you.”

The grip tightened, merciless.

“!”

Wen Jianyan’s sight went dark again; he shivered all over.

From the crushing darkness on all sides came that deep, cold voice—like a curse, like words of love:

“You are mine.”

“Your blood, your flesh, your bones—even a single hair on your head—are mine.”

The pain spread violently from his fingertips, gnawing at flesh and skin, bones and sinew. Wen Jianyan clenched his jaw and forced the scream back down.

When the other finally released him, Wen Jianyan slumped and collapsed back onto the sofa.

His hair was drenched with cold sweat, plastered to his pale neck. His lids drooped, hiding unfocused pupils. He trembled pitifully all over.

Wu Zhu leaned closer again.

He seemed to want to brush the strands from Wen Jianyan’s face, the motion gentle.

Wen Jianyan reflexively raised a hand to block—

The moment he swung his hand, a fresh chill swept over him.

No—my hand—!

But the realization came too late.

Even though he pulled his strength, his fingers still bumped forward weakly—and were caught, easily and without mercy, in the other’s firm grasp.

“…”

Wen Jianyan squeezed his eyes shut and bit down, but the expected tidal wave of pain never came.

“?”

He blinked, suddenly aware he could feel the warmth of the other’s palm—the sensation of skin?

His fingers curled slightly.

No pain?

Wen Jianyan opened his eyes and looked carefully.

He was half-reclined on the sofa; Wu Zhu leaned over his waist, watching him from a short distance.

In the man’s cold, broad palm, he held Wen Jianyan’s fully intact fingers.

“…”

They looked at each other.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stop.

Wu Zhu lifted his hand to his cheek, eyes never leaving Wen Jianyan, and pressed his lips to the fair, smooth back of Wen Jianyan’s hand.

“This is mine.”

The cold kiss, light as a feather, fell upon the pads of his fingers, the tips, the sides.

“This is mine, too.”

His voice was a spell.

“Whoever touches it pays the price.”

“…”

Wen Jianyan’s breath hitched for a beat.

But he quickly recovered and said blankly:

“The bet hasn’t been won yet. Isn’t it a little early to declare ownership?”

He gave a cold laugh. “I suggest you think of a different answer before I tear down the Nightmare.”

Wen Jianyan said with biting mockery:

“…At least make sure you won’t lose too ugly.”

For some reason, ever since he’d torn masks with Wu Zhu in the Administration Building, Wen Jianyan could no longer be bothered to put on that obedient, pliant face in front of him. He didn’t even maintain his usual gentle, courteous demeanor.

Though his complexion was still bloodless, his black hair sweat-soaked, so weak he looked on the verge of death—every word came barbed and caustic, giving no quarter.

“And another thing,” Wen Jianyan’s gaze was cold. “Why are you still here?”

“This is my prop, my room. Since you’ve broken free, you should get out. What do you think you’re doing squatting here?”

Wu Zhu: “…You want me to leave?”

Wen Jianyan couldn’t tell if he was hurt.

He didn’t care.

“Yes. Can’t you tell?”

Wu Zhu tilted his head, and his cheek pressed against Wen Jianyan’s hand. “If I leave here, the Nightmare will immediately sense my presence. Wouldn’t that reveal everything? And how would we complete our bet?”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

He stared without speaking.

The question didn’t sound like a threat, but rather genuine confusion.

Which only made it more infuriating.

“Of course, if you want, once I find a way to block the Nightmare, I’ll leave.”

Wu Zhu suddenly lowered his head and gave Wen Jianyan’s index fingertip a small bite.

“?!”

He didn’t bite hard.

But the newly formed skin was so tender and sensitive that the touch of hard teeth was far too distinct. Wen Jianyan shuddered; he could even feel that damp tongue and cold mouth. The sudden sensation made him flinch and draw a sharp breath.

“Until then, I’ll stay here.”

Wu Zhu looked up, laced his own fingers naturally through Wen Jianyan’s, and squeezed:

With those cold, emotionless golden eyes, he watched Wen Jianyan.

In the shadows, it was impossible to tell if he was smiling.

“—But, I can pay rent.”

Wen Jianyan left as abruptly as he had come.

Wu Zhu watched his hurriedly vanishing back for a long time, then lowered his gaze and looked down at his own hand.

At some point, his pale, cold fingertips had started to turn blue, then black, and were slowly rotting inward. On a hand like polished marble, it was shockingly conspicuous.

It looked less like he had healed a human’s injuries, and more like he had transferred the human’s damage onto himself.

He withdrew his gaze, indifferent, and lowered his hand again.

It didn’t matter. Not the first time.

It only looked a bit obvious because his power hadn’t recovered yet.

Overall, it wasn’t worth mentioning.

Wu Zhu frowned slightly.

He just wondered whether it would fade before Wen Jianyan came in next time.

After all, like this, he couldn’t touch the other’s skin or feel his warmth.

That was unacceptable.

Wu Zhu raised his head and looked gloomily at the dark sky.

What a pity.

He couldn’t find the culprit behind all this.

Losing the Ouroboros’s shackles was a double-edged sword.

Once he had completely broken free of it, he lost the connection to the prop’s owner. Because of that, he could no longer vaguely sense the outside world or know what was happening out there as he had before.

This wouldn’t do in the long run.

The image of the human falling painfully into the Ouroboros flashed before his eyes, and his expression grew colder.

The bet would continue, of course.

But that didn’t mean he would allow others to bypass him and turn the human he cared about into that—especially under such malicious erosion.

Deep beneath the thick grave soil.

The pitch-black coffin was tightly sealed once more. The peeling black lacquer had, at some point, begun to restore itself. The cold breath had been sealed back within the coffin, as if drifting into slumber again.

In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room chat:
[?]
[!!]
[Signal’s back?]
[Ahhhh—it’s back! It’s back!]
[Damn, the anchor is actually alive? That’s rare. I thought he was dead. Tsk, tsk.]
[Ahhh you scared me to death. Wuwuwu anchor, do you know what the last ten minutes were like for me!!!]

With intermittent static, the giant screen in the livestream room flashed back to life.

Deep beneath the dark grave soil.

Wen Jianyan’s eyelids trembled as he opened his eyes.

After leaving the Ouroboros space, a thick waxy film once again covered him, cutting everything off—like a wall between him and reality.

There was no time to think about what had just happened. An overwhelming drowsiness—like being dragged into eternal night—surged back. If he hesitated for even a second, he might never wake again.

Fortunately, Wen Jianyan had prepared for this.

The instant his consciousness returned, he activated a reward time without hesitation.

“…zz… Does the anchor confirm activation… zz… of the system reward duration?”

“Yes!”

Wen Jianyan’s answer was firm.

In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room chat:
[Crap, I forgot invincibility time was a thing—damn…]
[Hahahaha the Mason on the other side clearly didn’t expect the anchor to have this as a safety net. Get wrecked!]
[Don’t underestimate the value of the record-holder for highest instance exploration! And don’t forget—this instance is his aberration!]
[But it’s weird—if he only activated it now, where was he for those few minutes? Not dying under the weight of soil and coffin is insane.]
[No idea… also, did you notice? Even his hand is healed!]
[??? So he still has trump cards he hasn’t used? What on earth happened during those minutes of blackout!]
[No one knows!!!]

While the barrage argued, Wen Jianyan had already activated the safety time.

It was like hitting pause on reality.

The cold, the pain, even the chaos and fear driven by his SAN value—all vanished. Since entering the instance, he had never felt this healthy and strong.

Well then, worthy of being the Nightmare’s system invincibility time.

But this wasn’t the time to marvel.

Wen Jianyan quickly refocused.

The duration was limited; he needed to return to the surface within a single minute.

He looked up at the thick layer of soil, surged with power, and shot upward at top speed. The cold, damp earth—reeking of rot—slid past. With each passing second, he drew closer to the surface.

[00:00]

The minute ended.

But it was enough.

The layer of grave soil was thin now. Though drowsiness still tugged at him, it wasn’t as irresistible as before.

A system voice sounded in his ear:

“Reward duration expired.”

“You have two reward durations remaining.”

[Cooldown: 3 hours]

Suddenly, Wen Jianyan’s head struck something hard above with a dull thud.

“…”

He paused and looked up.

He was clearly very close to the surface.

Through the looser soil, faint light seeped in. Perhaps only two or three finger-widths separated him from open air, but—

Wen Jianyan hesitated, lifted his hand, and felt above his head.

The dirt that should have been soft felt like heavy, solid stone—as if a massive lid was pressed tightly over him.

In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room chat:
[…Huh?]
[Huh??? He can’t get out???]
[I just relaxed for a second! And now it’s blocked again?! Ahhhhh I love this stream but there’s no need to force drama like this!!]

On the screen, the youth twisted beneath the soil, drew his long legs in, then kicked upward—

“Thud!”

“Thud!”

The sound was heavy and muffled—solid—no movement or give at all.

A thin layer of soil… and yet it sat on the surface like Mount Tai, unmoving, black and suffocating.

[Guys, I just came back from the other room. You won’t believe what they did…]
[Huh?]
[What? Spit it out! Don’t tease!]
[The Mason used a prop before leaving—one from the system shop made to ward off “monsters.” It’s cheap, so he threw it over the whole area—a radius of about 100 meters.]
[…]
[…]
[HUH???? Was that necessary???]

Yep. The Mason used a low-level prop from the shop to seal the entire grave field.

If it were a high-tier horror, it wouldn’t be blocked by such a prop—but for Wen Jianyan’s current state, it was more than enough.

Because right now, thanks to the badge, Wen Jianyan counted as a “monster.”

So if he wanted to use the anchor’s props and talents, he’d have to remove the badge and turn back into a “student.”

Problem: humans can’t survive under grave soil.

The Mason’s move was vicious.

If he kept the badge, he could never leave the earth, nor catch the school bus returning soon.

If Wen Jianyan wanted out, he’d have to remove the badge—at which point he’d be buried alive.

Unless… he found a way underground to exit the Mason’s sealed zone.

But that was a 100-meter radius.

People get lost on the surface—finding a way below ground was next to impossible.

[He really wants to bury the anchor alive.]
[Cold sweat down my back, folks.]
[Wait, wait, don’t panic—there must be a solution! The anchor still has two reward durations left, right? If he activates one and then removes the badge, he can get out—]
[Aaah are you stupid? The system just said the cooldown is three hours!!]
[How long until the bus leaves?]
[…Twenty minutes.]

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