WTNL Chapter 438

Yuying University
Chapter 438: Countdown to instance alienation: 00:00:00

As the sudden appearance of several people registered, even Hugo was momentarily stunned.

Before leaving the third floor, he had followed Wen Jianyan’s suggestion and sent a message to Orange Candy, telling them to return to the second floor to assist. However, Hugo hadn’t held out much hope when he sent it. After all, he was well aware of the danger downstairs—just making it out of the administration building alive was already a victory for them.

The current situation far exceeded his expectations.

Wei Cheng’s eyes reddened. “Captain!”

“…You’re late.”

Hugo stood upright, speaking calmly and coolly.

Even though his words were harsh and rational, his expression was unusually relaxed, with even a faint curve at the corner of his lips.

“No shit,” Orange Candy rolled her eyes dramatically. “You waited until we were almost out of the admin building before telling us to come back to the second floor. One second later and you could’ve stayed here and waited to die.”

She skipped over, grumbling as she moved:

“Do you know how dangerous it was just now? I don’t even get why you called us back. If you wanted to die, there are easier ways…”

While they were talking, something strange happened. From the center of the tightly interwoven vines, a blood-red liquid began to seep out. It trickled from between the tangled branches, and as it spread, the vines began to wither and rot at a visible speed.

Soon, a large hole had corroded into the center of the wall.

Behind it appeared the face of the female teacher.

Her expression was pale and cold, but her blood-red lips curled upward into a grotesque smile.

Yun Bilan frowned and whispered, “Be careful, I can’t hold this for long.”

“You naughty students really don’t listen,” the female teacher raised her hand slowly, pressing it into the vines. Her crimson nails dug deep, and the blood-like liquid began to gush more violently, dripping onto the floor. “None of you are leaving today.”

“Damn, you really stirred up a big one!” Orange Candy exclaimed in alarm.

Hugo glanced at her and said coolly, “We have your lovely helper to thank for that.”

“Wait a sec—where is he?” Orange Candy leaned to peer through the smoke behind Hugo, uncharacteristically nervous. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t tell me you lost him?”

“Relax.”

Hugo withdrew his gaze.

His hand hung at his side, fingers blackened like charred coal—his index, thumb, and middle fingers—but a wisp of smoke still clung there, a thin thread of ash-white mist stretching into the darkness.

“He’s doing just fine.”

Elsewhere—

At the back of the office, Wen Jianyan sat in the red-dressed teacher’s usual seat, lashes lowered, casting a deep shadow over his pale face.

He bowed his head and scribbled feverishly on the eerie red paper in front of him.

The air reeked of blood.

Since he hadn’t taken the red capsules Hugo gave him in too long, the wound on his neck had burst open. Crimson blood flowed freely, soaking the gauze that covered it.

Biting his lip and frowning, he tilted his head to the side, dipping his pen into the fresh blood from his own neck wound.

Surrounded by swirling black smoke, the pale-as-a-corpse youth sat in darkness, half his shoulder and collar soaked in blood. His breath was shallow, but his hand was unnervingly steady as he wrote with the bloodied pen.

Ten minutes were halfway through.

It was fine.

He could still make it.

Everything was going just as Wen Jianyan had predicted.

The reason why the original version of the freshman handbook was hidden in the vice principal’s office at Yuying Comprehensive University was precisely because, when a anchor’s SAN value dropped too low, they could see the hidden information not meant to be discovered.

That’s why, when Wen Jianyan deliberately ate food sold in the cafeteria to bring his SAN value into the single digits, he was able to extract the critical information he needed at the exact right time.

If they escaped through the window now, everything would be for nothing. They’d have to wait another seven days to re-enter the administration building and redo everything—only with increased difficulty and the same lack of access to the principal’s office and the key quest item.

It would all be pointless.

To complete the task, they had to break the cycle—using the most extreme, irreversible means.

Wen Jianyan knew everything was proceeding as planned.

Suddenly, he felt something.

A cold, unseen force crept in from afar. A chilling dread crept silently toward him, making Wen Jianyan shiver. He jerked his head up and stared into the distance.

His grip faltered. The pen scratched a deep diagonal line across the red paper.

The ink ran dry.

Still not fast enough.

Wen Jianyan tilted his head, raised his trembling pale fingers, and with gritted teeth, tore off the gauze from his neck.

Without the bandage to stem it, blood poured out freely, running down into his collar.

His forehead was soaked in cold sweat, and his whole body shook faintly.

——He no longer had the full ten minutes.

Elsewhere—

With Orange Candy and the others joining, Hugo was no longer at a complete disadvantage against the red-dressed teacher.

The scattered team was finally whole again.

With Orange Candy attacking, Hugo backing her up, Yun Bilan supporting, Wei Cheng sensing, and Su Cheng predicting, they returned to their original formation—a fluid, balanced team that could advance or retreat as needed. With their experience, synergy, and skill, they could handle almost any threat.

Even though they still couldn’t defeat the NPC due to the nature of the instance, they could buy Wen Jianyan enough time.

But then, something strange happened.

Like a chill wind had crept in through the open door, silently sweeping across the wrecked office—no obvious change, but the air felt wrong, a quiet, creeping danger already arriving.

The first to notice was the prophet.

Su Cheng looked uneasy, turning to face the open door. His pitch-black eyes flickered with a strange light, reflecting his growing unease.

“Hey—”

He hadn’t even finished speaking when a soft sound echoed from outside the door.

Tap.

The sound was faint, like a leather shoe striking a hard floor—but there was something terrifyingly sharp about it, slicing straight into their ears.

Tap.

Again.

Someone was walking slowly toward them.

“Watch out!” Su Cheng shouted, his voice tight. “The Tower is here.”

The instant he spoke, a figure emerged from the darkness outside the office.

Everyone’s hair stood on end.

After so long in the administration building, their SAN values had already eroded. Even if they weren’t prophets like Su Cheng, they could sense the oncoming threat.

“Wait, that can’t be—” Tian Ye held his breath, his voice cracking with tension.

A second later, their fears were confirmed.

A pale, familiar face of a middle-aged man emerged from the dark hall beyond—paired with a beer belly oddly bloated for his frame.

It was the vice principal!!!

Compared to their first encounter in the lecture hall, his face hadn’t changed, but now, framed by endless darkness and lit by the red office lights, it looked horrifying.

Alarms blared in everyone’s minds.

This was bad.

They had stayed too long in the office. Now that the vice principal had arrived, they were truly in trouble.

“Vice Principal, you’re back,”

The red-dressed teacher grinned, her crimson lips peeling into a ghastly smile.

“Look, a few naughty students snuck into the administration building while you were teaching.”

The vice principal said nothing.

He took a single step forward.

Tap.

The soft sound echoed, loud as thunder in their ears. As he entered the office, the overhead red light flickered ominously, making everyone’s skin crawl.

The light blinked between red and black, illuminating the man’s face in flashes. The air turned icy cold—like a morgue.

“…Shit.”

Orange Candy crouched slightly, every muscle tensed like a leopard about to pounce.

She stared at the vice principal, her feline eyes flashing. “Hey, you’ve fought this guy before?”

Hugo’s expression didn’t change, but his jaw clenched.

“No.”

The moment the man appeared, everyone’s guard was up, an unspeakable fear pressing on them like a physical weight.

The female teacher no longer attacked, instead stepping back with a faint smile, lazily stroking her cheek with crimson nails—ready to hand over the troublemakers.

Though they no longer faced two threats at once, no one felt relief.

In this instance, the terror of NPCs was proportional to their in-game status. A single mildly special teacher had nearly wiped them out—

So what would facing the vice principal, second only to the principal, mean?

“Get ready,” Orange Candy whispered, voice low and tight like air between clenched teeth. “Stay close to me.”

She was ready to activate her ability.

Hugo responded in a matching whisper: “…Wait. Hold for four more minutes.”

That was all that remained of the promised ten.

Orange Candy growled, “Easy for you to say! How the hell are we supposed to hold?!”

Tap.

Another step.

The vice principal drew closer.

Those emotionless eyes stared at them unblinkingly. The deathly pale face bore no expression—it was like a sheet of human skin stretched over a skull, merely mimicking the appearance of a human.

Something deeper, something more terrifying, was peering out through those two holes in the human mask.

The scarlet light overhead suddenly flared violently. With a sharp “crack,” the overhead light abruptly went out, replaced by endless darkness and silence.

Orange Candy blinked.

The next second, in the pitch black, a huge, cold, and eerie face pressed up against hers.

“!!”

Orange Candy’s pupils shrank dramatically:

“Shi—”

When the lights came back on, everything had changed.

At some point, the Vice Principal had appeared right in front of them. His icy, corpse-like fingers were clamped tightly around Orange Candy’s neck, lifting her high off the ground. Her face flushed red, and she grasped desperately at his wrist. Her slender legs kicked in the air, but her eyes still burned with unyielding light, glaring hatefully at the terrifying being in front of her.

“Screw… you…”

Gritting her teeth, Orange Candy raised a trembling middle finger.

The moment she spoke, her talent activated.

But then, something terrifying happened.

Or rather…

Nothing happened at all.

Orange Candy’s pupils contracted.

—Impossible!!

Until now, no matter what kind of scenario or crisis she had faced, this had never happened—her talent had never failed to activate!

What’s more, as one of the top ten players, her talent was extremely overpowered.

She could rewind time by consuming her own lifespan.

After countless upgrades and enhancements, her talent could now affect the entire instance—possibly even the nightmare itself. But now, it had failed?!

The Vice Principal stared at her through the black crevices of his eyes, and finally spoke his first words since appearing:

“As a student of Yuying Comprehensive University, you’ve violated our ‘Moral and Ideological Guidelines’…”

He opened his mouth.

Inside, there were no teeth, no tongue—only a deep, fleshy abyss, like a passage leading to another horrifying dimension.

“You’re a disobedient student. You will be punished.”

His arm pulled back, and his mouth opened wider and wider, stretching to the size of a basketball.

But just then, he suddenly froze.

Or rather… became paralyzed.

At that same moment, everyone heard a familiar, soul-deep mechanical voice:

[Plot Deviation Rate: 10%]

[Plot Deviation Rate: 20%]

It kept broadcasting, the percentage climbing rapidly.

[Plot Deviation Rate: 60%]

Within the Yuying Comprehensive University instance, every active livestream was stunned as viewers watched the deviation rate skyrocket from 0 to 60% in just a few seconds, hardly believing their eyes.

“Wait—what the hell?”

“Is the nightmare bugging out?”

“Wasn’t the deviation rate just 0? What happened?! That was barely a few seconds—holy shit!”

[Ding! Plot deviation threshold detected. Instance undergoing uncontrollable change!]

[New plotline unlocking…]

[Instance mutation countdown: 00:00:10]

[10, 9, 8…]

No one knew what was happening. Even those in the thick of it—Hugo, Orange Candy—had no idea how things had escalated so wildly in mere seconds.

The Vice Principal stood frozen in place, his mouth still open, unable to bite down, despite Orange Candy being right in front of him.

His eyes slowly rolled… and then landed on the back of the office.

He saw something.

Someone who had been there all along—but whom they had all ignored.

“…Hey.”

From the back of the office came a weak voice, as if the speaker had exhausted all their strength.

Everyone turned toward the source of the sound.

Wen Jianyan stood up from behind the last desk in the office. His breath was unsteady, blood still oozing from the wound on his neck. He wavered as he stood, his pale face marred by burns of sickly red on his cheekbones and around his eyes. His unfocused light-colored eyes glowed with a piercing coldness.

He raised one bloodied hand, holding a stack of red, ominous-looking papers between his fingers.

“For you.”

Despite his failing breath, the young man pulled out a crooked, almost mocking smile. He looked exhausted, yet eerily composed, exuding sharp confidence.

The moment she saw those papers, the red-dressed female teacher drew a sharp breath. Her crimson lips twisted in horror:

“How did you find it—how dare you—”

But some invisible rule had already taken effect.

As if pulled by an irresistible force, the teacher stiffly stepped forward, one step at a time, toward Wen Jianyan. The sharp clacking of her heels, usually like a countdown to death, now seemed weak and reluctant.

One step… two steps… three…

Soon, she stood before Wen Jianyan. Her face was grim, but still—under the rule’s control—her hand slowly lifted toward the red papers in his grasp.

The papers reeked of blood.

Written on them in blood was a single line:

[Application for Advancement]

The anchors entered the instance as freshmen of Yuying Comprehensive University. From the moment they stepped onto campus, there was only one stated option.

At the start, every anchor had learned the same goal from their identity card:

Earn 100 credits to exchange for the right to drop out.

Which meant that no matter how many cycles they went through in this instance, they would always remain freshmen.

Even if they earned enough credits, they could only exchange them to leave. Advancement within the university was impossible. Why?

Because the path to advancement had been sealed. The only surviving advancement procedure had been hidden in the Vice Principal’s office within the administrative building. With that in place, this university would only ever have an endless stream of freshmen, and no upperclassmen.

—Until now.

On the desk, a bloodstained student handbook lay open.

The once-fuzzy text had become clear:

[To ensure your well-rounded development, our school uses a credit system. When enough credits are earned, students may choose to either drop out or advance in grade. If you choose to drop out, your remaining credits will be void. If you choose to advance, your semester duration will be halved.

Please proceed to the second floor of the administrative building to complete your advancement paperwork.]

The second floor of the administrative building was the student council’s office. No teachers were supposed to have offices there. When the students earlier used noise to lure out NPCs on that floor, only student council members appeared—not teachers.

Except… one exception.

The red-dressed woman in heels.

She looked different from every other teacher.

Outside her office, beneath the flickering red light, the once-illegible sign above the door had now become clear.

It read:

[Advancement Office]

The red-polished fingers of the female teacher slowly, stiffly closed around the bloody red papers.

At that moment, a familiar series of electronic announcements rang in Wen Jianyan’s ears:

[Ding!]

[Instance Exploration: 68% – Bonus Points: 300,000]

“Congratulations on breaking the exploration record of Yuying Comprehensive University once again. You’ve made history—keep it up!”

“Congratulations on successfully advancing to Second Year, unlocking the mutated-level instance. You are now the first historical figure of this instance. You will receive Hall of Fame exposure for the remainder of your time here!”

At the same time, all anchors inside the instance heard the same notification:

[Ding!]

[Yuying Comprehensive University] First Year complete. Second Year will begin in 6 hours. These 6 hours are designated as safe time. Please enjoy a moment of peace before the next challenge!]

[Instance mutation successful. Difficulty increasing…]

Outside the instance, the difficulty label flickered once—then changed.

[Yuying Comprehensive University]

Lobby Difficulty: SS
Historical Max Exploration: 68%
Viewer Value: SS

“Difficulty increased—holy SHIT!!!!”

“Double SS!! HOLY SHIT!!!”

The entire instance was in an uproar. Whether currently streaming inside or watching from outside, no one had expected the story to take such a bizarre, explosive turn. They stared in shock, struggling to believe what they were seeing and hearing.

Some were stunned: “What the hell just happened? What is going on??”

Others were panicking: “Didn’t it say 100 credits could let you leave? Why is the option to drop out greyed out?!”

Amid the chaos, the mechanical voice echoed once more:

[Instance upgraded. Hidden map unlocking…]

Under the stunned eyes of the viewers, the instance began to change. Many areas that had been hidden in earlier cycles, unreachable unless specific conditions were met, now appeared in full view—and could no longer be concealed.

An abandoned mini-mart appeared among the weeds.

The library doors opened silently.

At the end of the academic building, a pale gray three-story structure appeared, its plaque clearly marked:

[Administrative Building]

“The new school year begins in 6 hours. Additional anchors will be deployed—”

In the anchor lobby, a massive screen flickered on, and a line of black text slowly emerged:

[Yuying Comprehensive University] Admissions Brochure now available.

Difficulty: SS
Recruitment Quota: 100

All the anchors walking through the lobby froze in place, looking up in astonishment.

Wait a second… this instance isn’t even over yet. Why is the system already recruiting for a new batch?! What the hell is happening inside??

__

Inside the Admissions Office.

Under the faintly flickering red light, the entire office was deathly silent. As if in the calm eye of a hurricane, no one present knew how chaotic the outside world had become.

Wen Jianyan loosened his grip, allowing the female teacher to pull the bloodstained red paper from his hand.

Not far away, the vice-principal’s face was expressionless, but the pressure radiating from him was more oppressive than ever before. His pitch-black, terrifying eyes were fixed on Wen Jianyan, as if trying to tear him apart inch by inch with just his gaze.

For them, there could be no worse situation than this.

With the instance about to enter its second academic year, it meant the first year was coming to an end, followed by a brief vacation. And during the vacation period, students were no longer under their jurisdiction.

This also meant that during the next six hours of guaranteed safety, even if these troublesome students stood right within their reach, they couldn’t do a thing.

Rules are mutual.

Their terrifying power came from the rules—and naturally, they were bound by them too.

For Wen Jianyan and the others, the previously hidden building—normally inaccessible until Friday’s Moral Education class—was now permanently revealed on the instance’s surface.

Even though they couldn’t act during these six hours, once the second academic year began, they wouldn’t have to wait until next Friday to redo everything they had just accomplished.

“I think… you can put my friend down now.”

Wen Jianyan’s voice was weak.

It carried no threat, and yet, upon hearing it, the vice-principal’s expression grew even darker.

His mouth, which had been wide open, slowly closed. The human skin draped back over his face. One by one, his stiff fingers unclenched.

Despite having been fiercely strangled, Orange Candy still reacted quickly.

She broke free from the vice-principal’s icy grip, landing lightly and silently on the ground. She swiftly retreated to her teammates’ side—but her gaze remained locked on the vice-principal, still wary and alert.

“Congratulations on advancing to the second academic year.”

The vice-principal gave a twisted smile. “Although you’ve broken quite a few rules, you are still some of our most outstanding students. Before the new term begins, we’ll give you some recognition.”

“However, the Administration Building is still not a place where you should be. May I ask you to leave?”

At some point, several student council members wearing armbands had appeared behind the vice-principal. They stared at the group like predators, and the moment the vice-principal finished speaking, they took a step forward, clearly preparing to act.

“No, no.” The vice-principal raised a hand to stop them.

He gave a fake, benevolent smile. “I’ll personally see them out.”

The next second, he lifted his hand.

No one knew what happened. They only felt their vision blur—and then, suddenly, the scenery around them had changed.

A gray, three-story building now stood silently in front of them. Its doors were shut tight, and the interior was completely dark.

In the blink of an eye, they had been ejected from the Administration Building.

Freed from danger, everyone felt a disorienting sense of survival after catastrophe. Their tense bodies slowly relaxed. As the fear began to subside, they finally became aware of the deep fatigue and soreness seeping from their very bones.

Even Hugo let out a breath.

He relaxed the fingers hanging by his side. The remaining cigarette butt slipped from his grasp and was crushed underfoot.

Once moved, the butt vanished—as if it had never existed.

“Six hours left. We’d better take the chance to recover—”

Hugo didn’t get to finish his sentence before a voice cut in.

The voice was familiar—but strangely cold, with a metallic, unyielding edge to it.

“…We’re missing someone.”

Everyone froze, then quickly turned to look.

It was Su Cheng.

His expression was grim as he stared fixedly at the tightly shut doors of the Administration Building, speaking each word clearly and slowly:

“…My team captain didn’t come out.”

In that instant, everyone’s expressions changed. They all gasped sharply.

Only then did they realize—they were missing someone from their team.

For some reason, when the vice-principal raised his hand and teleported the entire team out of the building, one person had been left behind:

The person who had orchestrated the entire plan and turned the tide at the most critical moment—

Wen Jianyan.

---

At the same time, inside the Administration Building.

The teammates were gone.

In the entire office, only one human remained.

Wen Jianyan swayed, gasping violently for air. One blood-covered hand supported him on the desk, while the other clutched his neck—but the blood, uncontrollable, continued gushing out, dripping through his fingers and pooling quickly on the surface.

His face was as pale as snow, his gaze nearly losing focus—clouded and scattered.

“I’ve already sent the others away.”

Not far off, the vice-principal stared at him with a cryptic smile on his face. “As for you, I believe you don’t need my help.”

He beckoned to the red-clothed teacher, whose expression was cold and dark: “Let’s go.”

“The rest of the path, I trust our excellent student knows how to walk on his own.” The vice-principal’s voice grew faint and distant in Wen Jianyan’s ears, like it was coming from another world.

Click.

The sound of a lock turning echoed.

Wen Jianyan, clutching his bleeding neck, trembled as he slowly lifted his eyes.

The office was now completely empty.

He was the only one left.

Though his mind was a fog, he still clearly understood why they had done this.

Right now, these were the six hours of guaranteed safety. The NPCs couldn’t touch him no matter what. So instead… they chose a more subtle, more malicious method.

They did nothing.

They simply sent his teammates away—and left him here to die.

The method was absurd and crude, and at first glance, it didn’t seem particularly effective.

But…

Wen Jianyan raised his blurry gaze. In his dazed vision, it took him several seconds to finally see his stats clearly.

SAN value: 4
HP: 46

And worse—his HP was still dropping slowly over time.

He struggled to breathe, thick red blood spilling from his fingers, the metallic stench choking his nostrils. His vision was filled with warped, horrifying hallucinations.

He tried to take a step—but his legs refused to obey.

By the time Wen Jianyan realized it, everything had already flipped—no, not the world. He had fallen to the ground.

He forced a bitter smile.

Damn.

He had to admit… it was very effective.

Without his teammates’ support, it was like he had lost his arms and legs. Even if there was no longer any threat inside the building, he was now so weak that he couldn’t even stand, only lie in his own blood and wait to die.

His face was deathly pale as he coughed in the puddle of his own blood. He reached out with trembling fingers toward his backpack.

It took him a full minute just to unzip it.

“…”

Wen Jianyan lay on the ground, forehead drenched in sweat, half his face stained with blood. He panted heavily, rested for a while, then slowly reached into the backpack, fumbling through it with great difficulty.

Finally, he found what he was looking for.

He took a deep breath, then tried to pull it out inch by inch.

But just as his hand left the backpack—his fingers began to spasm.

The lightweight object instantly became heavy, slipping easily from his grasp.

“No… no!”

Wen Jianyan panicked.

In his blurred vision, he watched helplessly as the nearly empty bottle of water rolled farther and farther away, beyond his reach.

“…Shit.”

He pressed his forehead to the cold floor, wet eyelashes trembling as they obscured his fading vision.

His lips moved weakly, cursing under his breath.

The blow of losing hope and strength crushed him.

Especially now—when he was already at his absolute limit.

Tears welled up and rolled down from his eyes as Wen Jianyan bit down hard on his lip.

Unwilling.

He was really… unwilling to give up.

He sobbed, mixing tears with blood.

Suddenly, the sound of the bottle rolling stopped—without warning.

It wasn’t as if it had rolled out of reach—but like it had been caught mid-motion.

…?

Wen Jianyan blinked, stunned. He forced his blurry eyes to turn, slowly craning his head toward the direction where the bottle had rolled.

There, he saw—

A hand.

Pale, slender, with sharply defined joints. There was something inhuman and cold about it.

Following the wrist upward, there was a muscular forearm, its unnaturally white skin marked by inky black patterns, like talismans or runes, stretching all the way under the rolled-up shirt sleeve.

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