WTNL Chapter 354

by Aria

Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 354: I am alive.

Raising his head, he could see a distant, tiny circular opening.

The inside of the well was pitch black, with only the faint glow of a flashlight barely illuminating the uneven, slippery walls covered in moisture.

Wen Jianyan walked forward, one foot sinking deeper than the other.

The space here was larger than he had imagined. The dim light of the flashlight struggled to penetrate the darkness, making it nearly impossible to see the path ahead. Progress was made blindly, relying on touch alone. The air in the well was thick and foul, the stench of decay and dampness settling heavily at the bottom, making it hard to breathe.

It was too quiet.

So quiet that, apart from the sticky sound of footsteps, Wen Jianyan could almost hear the beating of his own heart.

Thump, thump.

His courage had never been particularly strong. Acting alone like this was pushing the limits of his endurance.

Crack.

Suddenly, Wen Jianyan felt something beneath his foot, accompanied by a faint, brittle sound.

His face turned pale as he froze in place, standing rigidly for several seconds, taking a few deep breaths.

Then, slowly, he lowered his head to look down.

The wavering beam of the flashlight fell at his feet.

In the soft, wet mud, half of a skull was faintly visible, its hollow eye socket partially buried in the muck. Bits of flesh still clung to the bone, along with a clump of filthy hair, appearing even more horrifying under the weak light.

“——!”

Though he had mentally prepared himself before looking down, the sight still made his heart skip a beat.

In the “Integrity First” live room:

[Cardiac arrest!]

[Damn, this environment is way too oppressive. Even if it weren’t the anchor, anyone would be terrified!]

[The anchor is the perfect image of ‘face white as a sheet.’]

[Well, he’s always been relying on his teammates before. At least there was a sense of security. Now he’s got nothing to fall back on. Poor guy.]

Wen Jianyan swallowed hard and carefully lifted his foot off the skull, glancing around guiltily as he muttered under his breath,

“Sorry, sorry…”

He had just taken a step to the side—

Crack.

The familiar sound rang out again.

The noise echoed sharply in the narrow confines of the well, grating on the ears.

“……”

Wen Jianyan froze once more.

In the “Integrity First” live room:

[Damn.]

[As much as I feel bad, I can’t help but laugh.]

Wen Jianyan closed his eyes, turned the flashlight to its brightest setting, and then—face still pale—angled the beam around his feet. The faint, flickering white light illuminated a small patch of the ground around him.

Beneath the soft, wet mud, countless uneven bumps protruded. Upon closer inspection, they were almost all pale skulls.

One, two, three…

Too many to count, stretching into the darkness beyond the light’s reach.

Pairs of hollow eye sockets stared blankly in his direction.

“……”

Wen Jianyan’s vision darkened.

Rui Rui’s talent wasn’t wrong.

There really were corpses at the bottom of this well.

Lots and lots of corpses.

He stood frozen for several seconds, mentally repeating, I’m not scared, over and over before finally calming down. Taking a deep breath, Wen Jianyan lowered his head and focused on examining the skulls half-buried in the mud.

Was it just his imagination…?

But these skulls seemed smaller than he remembered.

Wen Jianyan bent down and placed his hand over one of the skulls for comparison.

He quickly reached a conclusion.

No, it wasn’t his imagination.

These skulls were indeed much smaller than those of an average adult.

Which meant…

Fragmented images flashed through Wen Jianyan’s mind.

An empty classroom covered in chaotic scribbles. The tiny arm that had dragged him into the well just moments ago.

These were all the skulls of children?

Wen Jianyan’s heart skipped a beat.

Just as he was deep in thought, a faint rustling sound emerged from the darkness around him.

“Hehe,” “hehe…”

The sound was soft and low, like the laughter of children at play, reverberating off the walls of the well, sending chills down his spine.

Wen Jianyan shuddered and yanked his hand back. Instinctively, he turned his head, searching for the source of the sound.

Click, click.

A faint, brittle noise arose as the skulls half-submerged in the mud began to shift slowly. Accompanied by the wet squelching of mud, pale, slender arms reached out from below, dragging their nearly decomposed bodies out with sluggish, deliberate movements.

Rotting, disfigured faces turned toward Wen Jianyan. Their broken lips stretched upward into stiff, eerie smiles.

“Hehehe…”

In the enclosed darkness, it was all unbearably horrifying, enough to make one’s hair stand on end.

Wen Jianyan’s scalp prickled, and he nearly screamed.

The air grew even colder, biting into his skin and making him shiver. An overwhelming sense of danger closed in.

Corpse after corpse stretched their hands toward the young man, their hollow eye sockets fixed on him as they advanced mechanically. Everything around him screamed the same message: You can’t stay here any longer.

His face ghostly pale, sweat beading on his forehead, Wen Jianyan stared blankly at the horde of child corpses before stumbling back a couple of steps. Then, as if snapping back to reality, he tightened his grip on his phone, whirled around, and bolted headlong into the darkness ahead.

The darkness stretched endlessly into the distance.

“Hehehehe…”

The laughter of children—seemingly innocent but dripping with eerie malice—echoed right behind him.

Darkness, silence, isolation.

Only the pale-faced young man staggered forward, struggling desperately to flee, while behind him, a dense horde of rotting corpses gave chase.

In the “Integrity First” live room:

[Damn, this is way too sanity-draining!]

[Wuwuwu so scary, what can he even do? Just keep running until there’s nowhere left to go?]

As if confirming the viewers’ fears—

Splash!

Wen Jianyan suddenly stumbled, his foot plunging into an icy puddle. Then, without warning, the familiar system prompt rang in his ears:

[Ding!]
[Plot Deviation: 29% |nReward: 100,000 points.]

He paused, looking down.

The soft, wet mud had vanished, replaced by a pitch-black, bottomless pool.

The stench of decay grew even stronger.

The water stretched endlessly ahead, with no visible edge or bottom.

Behind him, the eerie laughter and stiff footsteps drew closer.

Wen Jianyan’s face turned ghostly pale. He turned his head, glancing back.

Countless corpses were closing in.

Instinctively, he took a step back—and immediately, the water rose past his calves.

His eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t expected the pool behind him to be so deep.

Then, the system prompt sounded again:

[Ding!]
[Plot Deviation: 42% | Reward: 400,000 points.]

In the “Integrity First” live room:

[Wait, what? Did I miss something? Why did the deviation jump so suddenly?!]

[No idea! Holy crap, that was out of nowhere! What did the anchor do?!]

[Wait—maybe it’s because of this well?]

[Could be! The deviation started when he first stepped into the water, and it spiked even higher on the second step!]

Clearly, Wen Jianyan had noticed it too.

He turned to stare at the inky-black water behind him, his expression flickering with uncertainty.

As he hesitated, the corpses drew even closer.

In the dim, suffocating darkness, countless pale, rotting faces grinned at him, their childlike giggles creeping closer with every step.

“Damn it.” Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath. Then, as if making up his mind—

The pale-faced young man took another step back.

Just one more step, and most of his body was submerged.

Then—

Without warning, a whirlpool erupted at the center of the pool.

Black, deep, spinning violently—a powerful undercurrent surged up.

“Ah—!”

Wen Jianyan’s pupils shrank in horror.

In an instant, the force beneath the water coiled around him, dragging him under with irresistible strength.

“No—mmph—!”

He barely had time to make a sound before the water swallowed him whole.

In the “Integrity First” live room:

[???]

[WHAT JUST HAPPENED?]

[Wait—look at the whirlpool!]

Though Wen Jianyan had vanished beneath the water, the camera remained fixed on the surface, allowing viewers to see—

The whirlpool still spun slowly on the black water, perfectly round…

Almost like…

“A pupil.”

Just like in Rui Rui’s drawing.

The pool at the bottom of the well resembled a massive eye, and the whirlpool that had dragged Wen Jianyan under was its pupil—black, hollow, unfathomable, staring unblinkingly into the void.

Utterly terrifying.

Above the Well.

Inside the decrepit house, the members of Wen Jianyan’s team waited, some sitting, some standing, all with their gazes fixed on the broken well outside.

Only Zhong Shan sat lazily, scrolling through his live stream.

Then, as if noticing something, he suddenly exclaimed:

“Hey! We’ve overtaken them!”

The others froze, quickly opening their own live-stream interfaces.

Zhong Shan was right.

Before their eyes, the red and black lines representing their earnings began to shift. The red line, which had been slightly behind the black, steadily rose—first matching, then surpassing it.

And it kept climbing…

Until it stopped, far ahead of the black line.

“It’s real!!”

Blond gasped, hardly daring to believe it.

“Didn’t expect the other two teams to pull their weight so well,” Zhong Shan mused, clicking his tongue. “To overtake them this fast… Now we just have to maintain this lead—”

Before he could finish speaking, a buzzing sound interrupted him.

Chen Mo paused, then pulled out his phone from his pocket.

After reading the message, he seemed momentarily stunned.

“What’s wrong?” Yun Bilan, sensing something off, pressed.

Chen Mo stayed silent for a few seconds before replying, “It’s from the other two red-faction squads.”

“What did they say?” Blond asked eagerly.

“They congratulated us on earning a high turnover,” Chen Mo said calmly.

The room fell silent.

“Wait a minute—” Blond frowned. “They congratulated us? That doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t they be the ones—”

Bai Xue, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, pulled out the black employee handbook from his pocket. He flipped it open, gave it a shake, and several blood-red spirit bills fluttered out, scattering across the floor.

Lifting his dark, fathomless eyes, Bai Xue looked at the stunned group and said,

“It is us.”

Everyone hurriedly opened their own handbooks—sure enough, they found the same amount of spirit money inside.

Unlike the previous day, when earnings had been distributed per team, the new rule now stated that only the top ten streamers with the highest “turnover” would qualify for the third-day banquet.

Revenue had shifted from team-based to individual-based.

So, when a team completed a task, their earnings would multiply based on the number of members. Overtaking—or falling behind—had become much easier.

Seeing the spirit money in front of them, the group quickly grasped the situation, their spirits lifting.

“It’s the captain!” Blond shouted, unable to contain his excitement. “The captain completed the real request of Room 408’s guest and got the ‘tip’!”

Wen Jianyan’s guess had been correct.

The real source of income wasn’t luring guests into the hotel or entering the locations they specified—it was uncovering their true requests, fulfilling them, and receiving tips.

This time, each of them had earned five yuan!

With seven members on their team, that totaled thirty-five yuan!

In the “Xingwang Hotel” live-stream lobby, the atmosphere was a mix of celebration and despair after the updated progress bars appeared.

[Damn it, I bet all my points on the black team! Why haven’t they made a move yet? Just letting the red team overtake them like this?!]

[I’m so pissed. How did I bet wrong again? Why is Gentleman’s side so weak this time? They’ve been played from the start, and every advantage they gain gets snatched away. It’s infuriating—they’re just handing the win to the red team!]

Meanwhile, red-team supporters were jubilant:

[Hehe, I knew it—red team’s got this!]

[Keep going, widen the gap!]

Neutral viewers chimed in with sarcasm:

[Red-team fans, don’t get too cocky. With the current rules, the lead can flip easily. This tug-of-war isn’t over until the very end!]
[And you do realize this temporary lead came at a cost, right?]
[LOL, you guys don’t even know—the red team’s only pillar is gone!]

[Huh? Wait, what do you mean?]

Back in the dilapidated house, excitement buzzed in the air—everyone’s faces were alight with triumph, except for Chen Mo.

Yun Bilan turned to him.

“Wait, why did the other red-faction squads message you?”

Earlier, due to time constraints, only Wen Jianyan had exchanged contact info with the other squad leaders—Chen Mo hadn’t.

Yet, for some reason, the congratulatory message hadn’t gone to Wen Jianyan in the well.

It had gone to Chen Mo, who hadn’t exchanged contacts with anyone.

Their phones were generated by the Nightmare system—”no signal” issues shouldn’t happen. Even if they did, messages wouldn’t reroute like this.

Something was wrong.

The only plausible explanation was—

Yun Bilan’s expression darkened.

When a captain was judged dead by the instance, the vice-captain automatically inherited their position.

This way, if a team lost their captain, communication wouldn’t break down.

Chen Mo didn’t answer.

Expressionless, Yun Bilan lowered her head and opened her live-stream interface, searching for her team info.

At some point—

Wen Jianyan’s name had grayed out.

The air in the room turned deathly still.

Zhong Shan seemed to realize what was happening. He looked around, his face slack with shock.

“Wait… no way… no way?! Did the boss die in the well?!”

His words shattered the suffocating silence.

Instantly, several murderous glares locked onto him.

“Bullshit! Shut your mouth!” Blond, unusually agitated, snapped.

His face flushed red. “The captain can’t be dead! Besides, his name turned gray before, and he was fine! Don’t act like you don’t know!”

The incident had caused an uproar on the forums—almost no streamer was unaware of it.

“I know, I know—” Zhong Shan stammered, voicing the doubt in everyone’s minds: “But… will the same miracle happen this time?”

The atmosphere in the house was suffocating.

Without a word, Yun Bilan stood and strode toward the door.

Chen Mo swiftly grabbed her arm.

“Wait! Where are you going?!”

“To test a theory,” Yun Bilan replied coldly.

She shook off his grip and kept walking.

Chen Mo stared at his empty hand in shock.

As an attack-type streamer, his strength was amplified by his talent—this was the first time someone had broken free so easily.

He quickly snapped out of it. “Wait, don’t be rash—!”

The group hurried after Yun Bilan as she left the house.

Chen Mo blocked her path to the well, trying to reason with her.

“This well isn’t normal. Even the captain might not have survived it. We can’t act recklessly—we need to strategize!”

Blond tugged at Yun Bilan’s sleeve, frantic.

“Sister Bilan, I’m just as worried as you are, but charging in like this is pointless—”

Then, Bai Xue’s cold, raspy voice cut in:

“No need to stop her.”

Everyone froze, turning to look.

The pale-haired, pale-skinned boy stood at the doorway, his gaze fixed on them.

He repeated, “No need to stop her.”

Then, he lowered his eyes and fell silent.

The group exchanged hesitant glances but ultimately stepped aside.

They knew Bai Xue’s judgment carried weight—if he said so, there must be a reason.

Meanwhile, Bai Xue’s live-stream exploded:

[???]

[HOLY—This is the first time I’ve seen Bai Xue actively use his talent to advise on something like this! Did he have a change of heart?!]

[Ever since following No. 08 into this instance, Bai Xue’s been doing things he’d never do before… Did last night’s con job brainwash him?!]

[That damn scammer next door can go to hell!]

With no one stopping her, Yun Bilan strode to the edge of the well.

Unlike before, this time, even as she pressed her hands against the well’s rim and peered inside, there was no response from within.

The others exchanged uneasy glances.

“Come help me hold this,” Yun Bilan said, tugging at the nearby rope to test its sturdiness before turning to the group.

Snapping out of their daze, they hurried forward to secure the rope.

Though her decision to descend was bold, Yun Bilan was still an experienced veteran.

After thorough preparation and carefully selecting all potentially useful items, she gripped the rope, braced her feet against the well’s inner wall, and slowly lowered herself down.

Above, the others held the rope tightly to prevent the pulley from snapping.

Soon, the weight on the rope vanished.

Chen Mo immediately shouted into the well, “Bilan! Are you okay?!”

A muffled voice echoed back after a moment: “I’m fine.”

Everyone on the surface exhaled in relief.

Blond leaned over the well and yelled, “Did you find the captain?!”

The ensuing silence made their hearts pound.

“…No.”

Yun Bilan’s answer plunged them all into silence.

The faint hope in their hearts was crushed, replaced by a mix of disappointment that Wen Jianyan was missing—and relief that his body hadn’t been found.

Behind them, Bai Xue quietly retreated a step, melting back into the shadows of the dilapidated house.

He lifted his eerily dark eyes, staring into the void.

Countless transparent threads, invisible to others, crisscrossed the air. If he was willing to pay the price, he could discern their answers and the paths they might take.

But—

One thread had been abruptly severed.

It hadn’t disappeared—it simply eluded his grasp.

No content, no continuation, no answers. A complete unknown.

In other words, he didn’t know whether Wen Jianyan was alive, where he was now, or what he might encounter next.

This unpredictability, this complete deviation from comprehension, was both unfamiliar and intriguing.

Ever since entering this instance, he’d been experiencing this sensation more and more frequently.

A variable.

Unforeseeable, unguessable, beyond control.

A rare glint flickered in Bai Xue’s eyes.

Focusing only on the immediate clues while forgetting the bigger picture…

At the Bottom of the Well.

Yun Bilan stood in the cramped, narrow space of the well’s base, where even stretching her arms fully was impossible.

The slanted walls were slick with algae, and icy water reached her calves. The darkness was absolute, save for the faint light from above, barely illuminating a small patch in front of her.

Squinting, she stared at the grotesque skeleton slumped against the well wall, its mouth agape, tattered scraps of rotting fabric clinging to its bones.

She raised her voice:

“But I found something else.”

–

Wen Jianyan landed with a thud.

The impact was so severe that he lay dazed for several seconds, struggling to process what had happened.

Wasn’t I just in the water?

Yet beneath him was unmistakably solid ground—and the texture felt oddly familiar.

His fingers twitched, brushing against the surface.

It felt like…

Carpet?

Wen Jianyan blinked in confusion.

Shaking his head to clear the lingering dizziness, he surveyed his surroundings.

A narrow, seemingly endless hallway. Faded wallpaper. Dim red lighting.

Everything looked familiar.

The Xingwang Hotel?!

He glanced down at himself.

In stark contrast to the dry, gloomy environment, he was soaked from head to toe, as if freshly hauled out of a lake. Cold well water dripped from his clothes, forming a small puddle on the floor.

Wen Jianyan frowned, pushing himself up with one hand against the wall.

First, he checked his live-stream interface.

Signal lost.

No chat. No access to the store.

But the items already in his backpack were still usable.

This wasn’t what he’d expected.

If his earlier theory was correct—that this “instance” and the well within it existed specifically for him—then Nightmare’s goal wasn’t just to lure him into the well but to push him further forward.

So, Wen Jianyan had played along with the script…

Of course, his performance at the bottom of the well had only been 30% acting. The rest was pure, unfiltered terror.

Because it was genuinely terrifying!!!

But if his earlier logic held, Nightmare shouldn’t have sent him to a place beyond its control.

Had it dumped him into the real Xingwang Hotel?

That didn’t make sense either.

If it had gone to such lengths to create an entire mirrored replica, why guide him to the truth? What was the point of leading him from the fake hotel to the real one?

“……”

Wen Jianyan lowered his damp lashes, masking the thoughts in his eyes.

Just as he was lost in contemplation, the sound of footsteps echoed from around the corner of the hallway.

The noise snapped him back to reality, sending a chill down his spine.

Someone’s here!

Without hesitation, he turned and pulled open the nearest door, slipping inside.

Though entering a random hotel room carried risks, he hadn’t yet grasped the full situation—and facing an unknown entity head-on was far more dangerous.

Pressing against the door, he held his breath and listened.

Outside, the footsteps drew closer. Voices murmured in conversation.

“This instance has gone on long enough. It’s time to wrap it up.”

“Right. Most of the puzzles have already been solved. Once we complete the ritual…”

“Perfect. That means the platinum achievement is as good as ours.”

Wen Jianyan’s eyes widened.

A bold, almost unbelievable hypothesis formed in his mind—one that, under these circumstances, was the only logical explanation.

Was he… in the Xingwang Hotel instance from the past? The one that had nearly unlocked the platinum achievement?

The footsteps outside continued, gradually fading into the distance.

Wen Jianyan lowered his gaze, resolve hardening.

Then—

Creak.