(2/5)
Chapter 631: Aaah, I hate puzzle solving!
No one could have imagined that they would receive a call from another anchor at a time and place like this.
For them, trapped in this predicament, it was tantamount to a shot in the arm.
“Thank goodness,” Ma Qi let out a long sigh of relief. Her pink hair, soaked with sweat, was plastered listlessly to her cheeks, and she looked as if she had just been fished out of water. “I thought our only option was to get back on the train…”
“Wait, do you really think this is a good thing?”
Chen Cheng crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow, and spoke coldly.
“Leaving aside whether the person on the phone is actually the famous Bai Xue, even if it is, according to him, he isn’t acting alone this time. He’s with another top-ten Nightmare anchor.”
He scoffed, unceremoniously finishing his thought:
“What could possibly force the two of them into a crisis where they have to seek outside help? A cocktail party?”
Everyone’s heart sank.
“That may be true, but we have no other choice,” Wen Jianyan sighed and said.
Since leaving the cruise ship, they hadn’t found any opportunity to recover their status. They were completely out of ammunition and supplies.
Whether they stayed at the station or got back on the train, it was visibly a dead end.
What’s more, the people asking for help were acquaintances, and he found it hard to sit by and watch.
” The train’s route is unknown, the stops are unknown, and the dangers we might encounter are unknown,” Wen Jianyan looked at Chen Cheng and asked, “In this situation, how many more fights can you handle?”
Although returning to the surveillance of the Nightmare App was dangerous, it also meant healing injuries and replenishing resources.
Chen Cheng: “…”
His face darkened, and he looked away without saying a word.
“Let’s go,” Wen Jianyan said. “Before the surrounding ‘passengers’ are woken by the train’s lights, we need to leave here quickly.”
Following the instructions Bai Xue sent via text message, the group left the station and walked into the depths of the unknown darkness.
The train sat motionless on the tracks, its lights bright and steady, seemingly waiting silently for something.
Soon, Wen Jianyan and his group moved far away from the station, swallowed by the boundless darkness until no trace of them could be found.
All around, the thin layer of soil began to surge, bulge, and turn over…
One by one, footprints coated in a thin layer of soil appeared on the station platform.
Invisible passengers began to board the train.
However, between the third and fourth carriages, the area in front of the door that should have been bright was pitch black—the copper lamp had been taken away, leaving the entrance desolate. Not a single passenger boarded from here.
And yet…
On the empty steps, a bright red footprint slowly surfaced.
Unlike the footprints surrounding the train that were moving towards it, this footprint looked like… it was getting off the train.
One.
Two.
Three…
A full seven pairs of bloody footprints left the train.
Inside the cold and eerie station, invisible shadows slowly departed the train, silently walked out of the station, and likewise vanished into the darkness.
The group struggled forward in the dark. The lights of the station had long been left behind, swallowed by the oppressive blackness until not a trace remained.
Lamp oil was precious and couldn’t be replenished, so Wen Jianyan extinguished the light and carefully stowed the copper lamp away.
Without the protection of the light, everyone had to stick close to Wen Jianyan. Once separated, they would likely be swallowed by this burial ground.
Buzz buzz.
The phone vibrated again.
Wen Jianyan turned on the screen and saw only two brief words in the text message.
Turn left.
Since there were no cardinal directions in this graveyard, Bai Xue’s messages were always like this: short, precise, and extremely time-sensitive.
The darkness was vast and boundless, as if it would never end. No matter how far they walked, it felt like they were marching in place, filling them with a frustrating sense of an endless journey.
They gradually lost their perception of time and distance, only able to move forward blindly, turning left or right.
It had been a long time since a message had come through.
Just as they were almost suspecting they had fallen into some vicious trap, led astray only to be sent to their deaths…
Buzz buzz!
The phone rang again.
This time, the content of the text message was much longer than any before:
Stop and look around. There should be a road.
Everyone’s spirits lifted. They began to search cautiously, and soon, Wen Ya raised her voice and shouted, “Over here!”
beneath the thin layer of soil in front of her, a crooked path was hidden—but unlike the bluestone road they had walked on before, the path under the soil here consisted of skewed, gray-brown stone slabs. Although there were traces of artificial paving, it was clearly much rougher and cruder.
“Let’s go,” Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and put the phone back in his pocket. “If I’m guessing correctly, we should be close to the destination.”
After stepping onto the stone path, the surrounding scenery finally began to change.
From the deep, bottomless darkness, it slowly turned into a grayish-white mist. Although visibility was still pathetic, it was an improvement.
The group subconsciously quickened their pace.
“Look,” Ma Qi suddenly screamed. “Ahead!”
Looking in the direction she pointed, Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but freeze.
Amidst the gray haze, a massive black building was faintly visible. Although they couldn’t see the full picture due to the low visibility, they could clearly feel the treacherous aura emanating from the structure.
They exchanged glances, seeing the same wariness in each other’s eyes.
It seemed this was their destination.
In front of the building stood a gray-white marble slab. It was pitted and weathered beyond recognition, the text on it completely illegible.
The steel gates were tightly shut. There were no keyholes, looking as if they were cast from solid copper and iron. Even pushing with force wouldn’t budge them an inch.
“Where is Bai Xue? Did he send you any more messages?”
Chen Mo thought of something and turned to look at Wen Jianyan.
Wen Jianyan looked up from the marble plaque: “…Not yet.”
“Over here!” An Xin’s voice came from the side. “There seems to be an entrance here!”
The group hurried over.
Sure enough, just as An Xin said, there was a huge breach in the wall next to the iron gate, large enough for a person to pass through—it looked like it had been violently broken from the inside, torn open by a sharp weapon.
Chen Cheng rubbed the wall skin with his finger, feeling the texture, and frowned:
“…It’s new.”
“Traces left by Orange Candy?” Wen Ya asked.
“Possible.”
These traces didn’t look like something a human could create, but if it were an anchor of Orange Candy’s level, it wouldn’t be surprising.
“Let’s go,” she took a deep breath, looking up at the boundless darkness the small opening led to. “Everyone stay alert… there’s no telling what’s inside.”
Through the narrow breach in the door, the group squeezed in one by one—most passed through smoothly, only Kong Wei was too bulky. One person had to push from behind while another pulled from the front to barely drag him into the building.
They hadn’t even done anything yet, but everyone was already panting with exhaustion.
“Sorry…”
Kong Wei mumbled.
Despite his large size, he looked pitiful.
Chen Mo patted his shoulder silently: “Eat less in the future. Save the guild some funds.”
The light inside was very dim, and the air was murky, as if covered by a strange filter. Heavy dust motes floated in the air, tickling their noses.
The color of the walls was indistinguishable, and the floor was thick with dust. Only a huge, spiraling staircase led deeper down.
An Xin’s gaze fell on the stairs, and he slowly walked forward two steps.
Suddenly, without warning, a familiar mechanical voice exploded in his ear:
“Wel-wel-welcome to en-en-enter—Nightmare, Nightmare, Nightmare—Li-li-live Stream—”
What?
An Xin’s pupils constricted, revealing a look of astonishment.
Evidently, the others heard the same thing.
“Wait, what’s the situation??!” The yellow-haired guy sucked in a breath of cold air, unable to hide the shock on his face.
“Quick, check your live streams!” Wen Ya seemed to realize something.
Everyone opened their stream interfaces.
The live streams, which had consistently shown “Connection Failed,” now had a weak signal. Large patches of static snow filled the screens, and the words “Reconnecting…” stood out prominently.
An Xin frowned and shook his head: “The system shop is still inaccessible.”
“Some items in the backpack can be used now,” Chen Cheng’s brow was furrowed tight, clearly because he didn’t find what he was looking for. “But the usable level is too low… painkillers of this grade are useless. Damn it.”
In their ears, the intermittent voice continued:
“Welcome an-anchor to en-en-enter ▅▅—” Buzzing static obscured most of the information, leaving only that hair-raising voice repeating over and over, “In-in-instance, instance, instance—”
“Wait…” Chen Mo pressed his fingers against his temples, looking troubled. “So, have we actually entered an instance or not?”
A cold, youthful voice came from not far away:
“Barely counts.”
“?!” The voice came abruptly, causing everyone to shudder. They reflexively tensed their bodies and jerked their heads toward the source of the sound.
In the shadows at the edge of the stairs stood a boy entirely white—from his hair and eyelashes to his skin, completely bloodless and pale. Only his eyes were pitch black and eerie, deep and lightless, striking fear into the heart.
With such distinct characteristics, it was almost impossible to confuse him with any other anchor.
It really was Bai Xue!
“Hell, when did this guy appear?”
Chen Cheng was clearly badly startled.
“For a while.”
Bai Xue was as reticent as ever. He walked out of the darkness, his steps soundless.
“M-Mr. Bai Xue, h-hello!” Watching Bai Xue approach, Ma Qi swallowed and stammered, “I’m Ma Qi, a medium just like you… haha, of course, my level can’t compare to yours…” She got more nervous as she spoke, eventually becoming incoherent.
After all, for all mediums, Bai Xue’s existence was practically a legend; rarely did a medium not feel nervous upon seeing him.
Bai Xue passed Ma Qi like a ghost.
“…Boo hoo.”
Ma Qi looked dejected.
“Looks like you got off the ship alive.” Bai Xue stopped in front of Wen Jianyan, his dark eyes quietly assessing him.
For some reason, since entering this building, Wen Jianyan had been strangely quiet.
It wasn’t until Bai Xue stood before him that he seemed to return to normal.
“Yeah,” Wen Jianyan gave a bitter laugh and shrugged. “Why, surprised?”
“Mn.” Bai Xue nodded honestly. “A little.”
“…” Wen Jianyan was choked by his bluntness.
Before the Lucky Cruise set sail, Bai Xue had warned him.
Don’t get off the ship, or you’ll die.
—And he clearly hadn’t listened to that advice.
“Anyway,” Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, pulling the topic back on track. “Why are you here, and with Orange Candy?”
Both Bai Xue and Orange Candy were in the Nightmare top ten. Given their rankings, neither needed to enter instances frequently. Orange Candy was one thing—she occasionally took commissions or side jobs, proactively choosing a few team battle instances to play around in. But Bai Xue was different; he was basically in a state of total retirement.
Unless absolutely necessary, Bai Xue would never enter an instance.
His instance entry count was among the lowest in the entire Nightmare top ten, only slightly more than the top three… His viewers waited for him to start a stream with desperate longing.
“Did Orange Candy invite you?”
Bai Xue shook his head.
Although they were both in the top ten, strictly speaking, Orange Candy and Bai Xue weren’t close. Bai Xue was indifferently cold to everyone; otherwise, before the Yuying Comprehensive University instance, Orange Candy wouldn’t have used her connection with Wen Jianyan to get a prophecy from Bai Xue.
Bai Xue said, “—I invited her.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan was stunned.
He clearly hadn’t expected that answer.
Bai Xue looked up at Wen Jianyan. He suddenly spoke:
“The Prophet didn’t get off the ship, right?”
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s heart tightened.
He took a deep breath: “Right.”
“No wonder,” Bai Xue nodded. “Your friend is more than just a prophet. Just like I am not merely a medium.”
Under the boy’s white eyelashes, his pupils were as black as deep wells—Wen Jianyan suddenly realized that the more Su Cheng used his talent, the darker his eyes became, and the more… they resembled Bai Xue’s eyes.
They could do more than just see the future.
They could influence, even manipulate it.
“Those who toy with fate are all like this. I will eventually meet the same end.”
“Even after you got off the ship, I’ve been watching the ‘lines’ on you,” Bai Xue said. “So, I invited Orange Candy and chose the current instance.”
Chen Cheng seemed to realize something.
He frowned and took a step forward. “Wait, you mean the main reason you and Orange Candy entered this instance together was for Pinocchio?”
And all of this seemed inextricably linked to the prophet left on the boat…
Bai Xue glanced at the stranger who had suddenly spoken nearby, frowned slightly, and quickly withdrew his gaze. He not only ignored Chen Cheng’s question with his usual indifference but even subtly took a small step closer to Wen Jianyan.
Chen Cheng, inexplicably despised: “…………”
Excuse me? This brat is so damn irritating!
“You just said this place ‘barely counts’ as an instance,” Chen Mo frowned just then, asking the question that had been bothering him for a long time. “What does that mean?”
Perhaps because he had been in an instance with Chen Mo before, Bai Xue wasn’t very resistant to him and answered:
“We are not inside the real instance right now.”
That explained why the Nightmare signal was so poor, and why most items in the backpack and the system shop couldn’t be used.
“But Orange Candy is,” Bai Xue said.
Wen Jianyan was stunned. He remembered what Bai Xue said on the phone earlier—“So, you need my help?”
“Mn.”
Bai Xue nodded.
He lowered his head, took out his phone from his pocket, and skillfully dialed a number.
The phone screen displayed a large [NO SIGNAL].
But Bai Xue raised his hand and rubbed the air above the phone twice, as if plucking some invisible strings. Immediately, the [NO SIGNAL] on the screen vanished, replaced by [DIALING].
Wen Jianyan instantly understood why Bai Xue could call him in that no-man’s-land—in this world, apart from him, probably no one else could do such a thing.
Beep beep…
The phone rang twice and was quickly picked up.
The next second, Orange Candy’s furious scream exploded from the receiver: “Bai Xue?! Where did you go! Do you know that over here I %￥&…”
Bai Xue turned off the speakerphone and expressionlessly handed the phone to Wen Jianyan.
Wen Jianyan: “…”
He helplessly took the phone and held it to his ear. “Hello, it’s me.”
The other end of the line went quiet for a moment.
“Wait, Wen Jianyan?! Is it really you?” Orange Candy gasped in shock. “Aren’t you on the cruise? What about the auction? Did you get the item you wanted?”
“I left the cruise, and I got the item, but…”
Wen Jianyan pinched the bridge of his nose and said:
“Uh, the situation is a bit complicated. If you want to know, I’ll tell you in detail when we meet. The most important thing now is your situation—what exactly happened?”
“It’s all because of that shameless piece of trash, Bai Xue!!”
Mentioning this, Orange Candy gritted her teeth. “He used you as an excuse to trick me into the instance, saying this instance is closely related to your mission, bringing up everyone’s future and whatnot, the whole world blah blah blah. I actually got wrapped up in his logic and agreed… As a result, after entering the instance, I haven’t even seen him! He’s not even in the same world as me!!”
Her voice got louder and louder, so loud that even Bai Xue, standing away from the phone, could hear it.
The boy explained with an aggrieved, expressionless face: “I told her. The survival rate of acting together with me is very—”
In his left ear was Bai Xue’s voice, and in his right was Orange Candy’s scream:
“—Do you know what kind of life I’m living in this instance?!”
“Okay, okay.” Wen Jianyan sighed, comforting the left side then the right. “Don’t fight, speak one at a time.”
“What exactly is the structure of the instance on your side?”
On the other end of the line, Orange Candy finally seemed to calm down.
“The difficulty of the instance itself isn’t huge. It’s a 5-day time loop instance. My team members and I, including all the matched anchors, have been shrunk to the physique of twelve or thirteen-year-olds. Except for talents, almost all items have been banned. The mortality rate isn’t too high—after all, look who’s here—but the problem is we can’t get out! No matter what efforts we make in these few days, everything resets after 5 days! Damn it!”
“Aaah, I hate puzzle solving! I super hate puzzle solving!”
Orange Candy was visibly losing her mind.
“And you don’t know, the NPC brats in this instance are more vicious than the last. There’s one specifically detestable one. Do you know? I’ve looped a total of 11 times, and I’ve been tricked by him 59 times!!! I really want to skin him alive—”
Suddenly, Bai Xue’s gaze changed.
He turned his head, his eyes fixed firmly outside the door.
“What is it?” Chen Mo noticed the change in his expression.
“Something is coming.” Bai Xue’s voice was cold and certain, his pitch-black eyes reflecting not a shred of light.
He turned to Wen Jianyan: “End the call quickly. We need to leave here.”
Otherwise…
Things would get very bad.
Wen Jianyan nodded. He interrupted Orange Candy’s endless complaints on the other end:
“Alright, I have to go. Let’s contact again when we have time.”
“But before that…”
He paused.
The young man lowered his eyes, his expression trancelike for a split second, as if briefly immersed in some distant past. But soon, he came back to his senses and whispered:
“Try going to… the activity ground, under the slide. Dig under the left pillar.”
“You might be able to find that… ‘detestable brat’s’ treasure.”
