Chapter 645: Wen Jianyan
Finding Pinocchio’s phantom images turned out to be far easier than expected.
After all, his figure was scattered throughout the entire orphanage—from a tiny child to gradually growing up, some images blurry, others crystal clear.
Here was the brief moment when he was brought into the orphanage.
A child, only three or four years old, was tightly gripped by one wrist, stumbling along behind some force moving forward. Even with all his effort, he could barely keep up, then his whole body was lifted into the air and roughly thrown through the door.
The child’s form was blurry; only a pair of bewildered eyes was clear, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings in panic.
Here were the oppressive, dark, fragmented silhouettes.
Endless hard labor, fists and kicks coming at any moment, punishment without reason.
Such an environment was enough to destroy anyone’s sanity.
But…
The most numerous scenes were not these.
Because he learned too quickly.
And adapted too quickly.
“Steal the key to the restroom from Momma?” Little Wen Jianyan’s eyes sparkled brightly, crafty to the extreme and mischievous to the extreme. “Of course I can.”
…
“I know that place is a restricted area,” the skinny child shrugged, completely unconcerned. “So what?—As long as no one finds out, right?”
…
“Be the boss?” The little guy swung his legs and tilted his head thinking. “Sure! I’ll cover you!”
…
“After growing up? Of course!” Surrounded by phantoms, the child proudly puffed out his chest, describing his wild ambitions for the future. “I’ll make lots and lots of money, live in the prettiest house, and never ever go hungry again!”
…
“It hurts…” Little Wen Jianyan staggered to his feet, covered in mud, one leg planted on the ground, trembling slightly, the other streaming with blood.
His head was split open, bright red blood soaking his hair, matting it into clumps.
Above the slide, the blurred black shadows merged together, all letting out mocking laughter.
Little Wen Jianyan steadied himself.
His eyes slowly lifted, revealing a cold, bright gleam inappropriate for his age.
All at once, the blurred laughter above stopped.
“I’m really afraid of pain,” he said.
…
In the corridor,
Little Wen Jianyan’s eyes were downcast, the wounds on his forehead and leg not yet healed. Not far away were screaming blurred shadows.
It was hard to see exactly what he had done, only that he tilted his head:
“What, so you’re afraid of pain too?”
He revealed a sweet smile. “How nice.”
…
The longer they stayed in the orphanage and the more phantoms they saw, the more they understood them.
Just as they had initially guessed.
This place was like a river of memories, with the splashes frozen and turned into an endless corridor.
If the memories were more distant and the impressions vaguer, the related phantoms would be fainter and shorter in duration. But if the memories were more recent and the impressions deeper, the related phantoms would be very vivid and solid, with more related images and sounds.
Especially certain key locations—
Outside the verdigris-colored door that emitted an eerie aura, a child’s back was pressed tightly against the corner wall. His face was covered in shadow, his chest heaving irregularly and violently, his tense shoulders trembling slightly.
Not far away came the sharp, piercing screams of children—no one knew what was actually happening inside.
Soon, the sounds stopped, leaving only deadly silence all around.
And after turning a stairway corner,
A new phantom appeared again.
“Without my guidance, no one is to approach the second floor or above.”
Facing the phantoms surrounding him, little Wen Jianyan warned in a low voice.
“Understand?”
After seeing the phantoms nod one after another, he took a deep breath:
“And also…”
The child’s expression had never been so grave. Some dark shadow seemed to have settled in his pupils. His voice was very soft, like a whisper, as if afraid of disturbing something:
“I… I want to escape.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
…
Not far away,
“No wonder…” Wei Cheng was dazed.
Even though life in the orphanage was oppressive and torturous, having lived here so long, the children had already grown accustomed to it and even evolved their own coping mechanisms.
Until—they had a reason they had no choice but to run.
Even though Pinocchio at this time was still young, with his level of awareness he probably couldn’t realize just how massive and terrifying the secret hidden beneath the orphanage was. But even so, he could still notice the large-scale disappearance of children from the orphanage and deduce the terrifying future they might face.
Because of this, they had to escape.
They had no choice but to escape.
“Wait…” Zhao Ran seemed to think of something. “Remember those cycles we went through before?”
Every time, they had tried to push toward higher floors.
Every time, it was Pinocchio’s appearance that blocked their progress.
What angered them most was the time they had advanced the farthest—because of Pinocchio’s extortion, they had to terminate their operation midway.
Recalling what he had just warned his companions about—
“Could it be…” Zhao Ran said uncertainly, “he was trying to warn us back then?”
“Possibly.”
Orange Candy said slowly.
A soft heart always habitually wrapped itself in a shell of malice.
“Let’s go, let’s keep looking for others.”
“…What exactly is the situation now?”
An Xin muttered quietly.
Not far ahead was Wen Jianyan’s small figure.
Their group followed far behind him, maintaining a distance that wouldn’t lose him but also wouldn’t be detected—for them, this obviously wasn’t difficult.
Qi Qian shook his head without answering.
In fact, he hadn’t figured out the current situation either—everything happening around them exceeded his understanding. All they could do was stick close to him and act according to circumstances.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?” An Xin frowned, asking in a confused low voice. “Didn’t Orange Candy say the instance environment on their side was very harsh? But looking at it now… it doesn’t seem that bad?”
Since both sides’ environments had swapped, and they were dealing with those passengers, then by that logic, they should be facing the same situation.
The orphanage was quiet and bright, the Mommas in charge of management “wore smiles” and were quite friendly.
On the dining hall tables sat abundant food—various snacks, lots of candy, and an abnormally large amount of chips. Although it was hard to judge what kind of life those faceless shadow children lived, judging from Wen Jianyan’s state when he had just talked with them, it was hard to say they were suffering any abuse…
All of this was far removed from what Orange Candy had described before.
“Bai Xue, do you know what’s going on?”
“…”
Bai Xue shook his head.
His face was expressionless, his gaze directed into the distance, his pitch-black pupils reflecting infinite void.
“The threads are still very tangled…”
His answer was irrelevant to the question.
“Sigh, this…” After discovering it was hard to get any information from Bai Xue, An Xin couldn’t help feeling discouraged. “Forget it.”
“By the way,” just then, Chen Cheng thought of something and turned to Ma Qi. “That black shadow you said was following that guy before, is it still there?”
For them, there was nothing beside Wen Jianyan. Obviously, that “shadow” could only be seen by someone with sensitive spirit vision like Ma Qi.
Ma Qi took a deep breath, quickly glanced at Wen Jianyan’s side, then immediately withdrew her gaze as if burned, nodding slightly: “…Mm, still there.”
And that terrifying form followed like a shadow.
Never leaving Wen Jianyan’s side for even half a step.
“Speaking of which, have you noticed…” Wen Ya looked around thoughtfully and suddenly spoke. “He seems to be avoiding crowds and heading outside?”
Everyone froze.
It really seemed that way…
Chen Mo keenly realized something:
“Wait, is he trying to escape?”
Soon, the child had arrived at the orphanage’s main gate.
The tall door was tightly closed, blocking his way.
Little Wen Jianyan stopped and looked up at the tall door before him, seemingly thinking about something.
At the same time, Ma Qi’s face went pale with some panic:
“It moved, that shadow moved!”
Under the medium’s spirit vision talent, Ma Qi saw that the figure emitting a cold, terrifying aura finally made a move—
It raised its hand, fingers wrapped in black energy reaching toward the distance—
At the same time, little Wen Jianyan slowly raised his hand, reaching toward the door.
But just before his fingers could touch the door, a mechanical voice came from not far behind.
“Good af-af-af-afternoon.”
The child jumped, quickly withdrew his hand, and turned to look.
A Momma with a crooked smiley face drawn in pen stood not far behind.
Thick black shadows flowed at its joints:
“Ba-ba-baby, where are you go-go-going?”
“I… I don’t know.” Confusion seemed to flash through the child’s eyes.
“Don’t stay there, out-out-outside isn’t safe.”
Like a controlled puppet, Momma slowly extended its hand and said: “Co-co-come.”
In its stiff tone was a certain eerie, spine-chilling tenderness.
“I will pro-pro-protect you.”
“Stay here, no one will hurt hurt hurt you…”
Little Wen Jianyan’s hand was taken by Momma.
They walked together into the distance.
Behind them, darkness followed like a shadow.
From the distance came Momma’s gentle, eerie voice.
“Want candy… you can have as much as…”
Its voice gradually faded into the distance and disappeared.
“…” The group stood in place, looking at each other.
And Ma Qi also stammered through what she had just seen.
“In my opinion, the truth is gradually surfacing.”
Qi Qian pondered for a while and spoke.
“This place is very likely a false world created by that shadow, and we’re trapped here.”
“Isn’t that simple?” Chen Cheng showed a somewhat fierce smile. “Break through here and we can rescue that guy, then we can get out too.”
“But… why?” Wen Ya frowned. “Why create such a harmless illusion?”
“Not sure.”
Qi Qian shook his head.
“Anyway, let’s try to break through the door first.”
Since that black shadow had stopped Wen Jianyan from touching the door, this might very well be the key to breaking through.
“No, no—let me go!!”
The child struggled violently, punching and kicking, trying to break free from the Momma’s grip on his arm, but to no avail.
He was dragged toward the fourth floor.
“Sir, are you really planning to shut down the orphanage?”
A phantom asked.
“Yes.”
The faceless phantom slowly spoke in the voice of that “director.”
“The last person to make a deal has died. This place is useless now.”
“What about the furnace? What about these children here?”
“Let’s burn one last batch.” The phantom answered, his voice light and airy, as if dealing with lifeless objects. “Make the most of what’s left.”
The memory phantom disappeared.
The three hurried forward to keep up.
They knew what they were seeing now was the content they had missed in their last cycle.
“Damn!”
Running at the front, Zhao Ran saw something that made him curse and retreat sharply.
“What?” Wei Cheng was startled.
Orange Candy stepped forward and looked into the distance.
The corridor had at some point been shrouded in unnatural darkness.
Stiff, chaotic footsteps came from within.
In the darkness, scattered pale limbs could vaguely be seen.
Dead hands covered in bluish corpse spots, stiff pale feet, and even… skull outlines hidden in the chaotic darkness.
It was those passengers.
They were starting to become more complete.
Damn it.
Orange Candy couldn’t help cursing under her breath and retreated.
“What’s going on?” Zhao Ran asked.
Although he hadn’t experienced the Changsheng Building instance, he could still sense the change in the aura of those “things” ahead.
His expression was grave:
“Why do they look different from before?”
Orange Candy’s expression was grim:
“These ghosts seize human bodies.”
And they had forgotten that those anchors had also been flipped into the current building along with them. Although they had the ability to protect themselves when not targeted, those anchors didn’t.
And these limb fragments appearing in the darkness obviously came from those unfortunate victims.
“The more complete these ghosts are, the higher their terror level.” Orange Candy said.
And they had no time to deal with this trouble.
She took one last deep look in that direction, then chased after where the phantom had disappeared. “Let’s go, speed up.”
The three followed the stairs all the way up.
Finally, the familiar fourth floor appeared before them.
As soon as they went up, everyone shuddered and instinctively retreated.
“This…” Wei Cheng was astonished. “This is…”
Countless people shuttled before them, faces clear, movements natural.
Orange Candy stepped forward and directly reached out her hand.
Her hand passed straight through one person’s body without feeling anything.
“…Right.” Orange Candy glanced at her empty hand. “They’re phantoms, no doubt.”
“But… they’re too clear.” Zhao Ran slowly surveyed the surroundings, instinctively lowering his voice.
At this moment, what appeared before them were countless unprecedentedly massive and unprecedentedly real phantoms.
Even the faceless Mommas from the official instance had clear, distinct features here. Everything was like a one-to-one replica of reality, everything so lifelike that at first glance, one would almost doubt they had returned to the real world.
“Mm.”
Orange Candy responded briefly. She gazed at this unprecedented scene, her eyes flickering slightly.
Based on previous experience…
For these phantoms to be so solid, there were two possibilities.
Either this event had just happened not long ago.
Or…
The pain and despair it brought were too deep and far-reaching.
So much so that no matter how much time passed, not a single detail could be forgotten.
“Let’s go see.” Orange Candy said.
Among the crowd, the three Mommas’ faces were the clearest, so they became the first objects to approach.
As they drew closer, they heard the three conversing.
“…Easy to say, but there’s only one furnace. How do we handle so many children?” A short Momma muttered quietly. “And they can’t just be burned directly. Before burning, they have to be made ‘compliant.’ The space over there isn’t enough no matter what…”
“Can only do them in batches.” Another fatter Momma answered. “First concentrate them all on this floor to process them as ‘compliant,’ then move them down to burn together later.”
“Makes sense.”
The third Momma spoke.
“Where’s that candy left from last time?…”
Little Wen Jianyan was dragged by his collar, stumbling through between them, brought into the director’s office.
The director’s office door slowly closed behind him.
Suddenly, before anyone could react, the child who had seemed to give up struggling violently twisted his body and vanished from the Momma’s grip in the blink of an eye, rushing toward the director’s office door!
All at once, the previously orderly scene became chaotic.
“Quick, grab him!”
“Don’t let him get away!!!”
The small child moved with lightning speed, incredibly agile, slippery as a fish. No matter how the Mommas tried, they couldn’t catch him.
Until—
The child crashed heavily into someone’s figure. His body tilted and he was lifted up entirely.
A figure emanating a cold aura blocked the doorway.
It had no face—where its features should be was a pitch-black hole.
That person slowly lowered their head, gazing at him with that huge black hole on their face.
“Just now outside, your friends begged me to let you go.”
The child’s struggling movements paused.
Through the figure’s body, through the slowly closing director’s office door, he saw not far away the extremely terrified pale faces of his companions.
He suddenly clenched his teeth hard.
“What about you?” The black shadow’s figure bent lower, endless oppressive pressure bearing down. The black hole of a face seemed to release infinite malice from its depths. Its voice became lower: “Do you want them to live?”
“…”
Little Wen Jianyan slowly raised his head, a pair of piercingly sharp eyes staring tightly at the other.
Finally, he stopped struggling.
“Good,” seemingly sensing Wen Jianyan’s compliance, the shadow nodded and said to the others, “You can leave now. Don’t disturb me before I’m finished.”
The Mommas all fell silent and turned to leave the director’s office.
The door slammed shut with a “bang.”
The entire director’s office was left in deathly silence.
“…”
That shadow looked again at little Wen Jianyan before it, bending down. The huge cavity on its face was like a bottomless pit, cold wind howling out from within.
“Perfect…” it murmured. “Perhaps… the new god… completely possible…”
It seemed to be talking to itself, and also seemed to be talking to some more ethereal, more terrifying existence.
“Yes, the Mother of the World… that’s right.”
“The needed new god…”
“Yes, will succeed…”
After muttering many strange words that no one understood intermittently, that shadow finally reached into its pocket and pulled out a huge parchment. At the top were five characters written properly:
[Soul Contract]
It released its hand. Little Wen Jianyan didn’t flee.
He just gasped heavily for breath, standing straight in place, staring tightly at the other.
“Sign this.” The shadow said.
“Here.” It pointed to the blank space at the bottom.
A pen was stuffed into the child’s small hand.
“…I have no name.” Little Wen Jianyan gripped the pen and raised his head. “Here, I’m only called Number 26.”
“Let me find it…” The shadow turned around and began searching the file shelves behind it. “Momma told me before that you were sold here, so your batch code should be 7893…”
It pulled out a file, its gaze sliding down.
“Number 26… Number 26…”
It turned its head, the cavity on its face cold and pitch-black.
“Ah, here it is.”
“Your parents, who traded you for money to pay gambling debts, sure know how to pick names.”
“…Wen Jianyan.”
Little Wen Jianyan was brought back to his room by Momma.
Rumble.
The entire world seemed to shake violently.
“Momma, I want cake.” The child sat on a high chair, contentedly swinging both legs.
Momma slowly nodded, its stiff neck making “crack crack” sounds.
“O-okay.”
It turned around and left step by step.
Soon, only the child’s figure remained in the room.
“…”
Little Wen Jianyan tilted his head, turned around, and looked at the empty space beside him, a pair of pale eyes clear as a mirror.
He suddenly spoke:
“Who are you?”
His voice echoed in the empty room.
“Why do you keep following me?”
“Why can’t anyone else see you?”
“Are you a ghost?”
“What do you want to do?”
Each syllable dropped alone to the floor without receiving any echo.
The chair made “creak creak” sounds with the amplitude of the child’s swinging legs. Suddenly, it lost its center of gravity and tilted sharply to the side—!
The hard floor he imagined didn’t appear. Instead, there was a cold embrace.
“…”
The man hidden in darkness had at some point materialized.
He lowered his head, a pair of eyes like burning golden flames looking somewhat startled at the child before him.
“Tricked you.”
Little Wen Jianyan revealed a smile of successful mischief.
