WTNL Chapter 1 [Arc 1]

Decai Middle School
Chapter 1: Really, bad luck

“Bang!”

A loud noise rang out, and a massive magnesium light suddenly flared up. The blinding, daylight-bright light dispelled the darkness, revealing everything in an instant.

Wen Jianyan subconsciously shrank back, raising a hand to block the sudden intense light.

[The next live broadcast will begin in five minutes.]

An emotionless female voice sounded, the piercing sound waves rolling and echoing within the narrow space.

Wen Jianyan blinked in belated realization.

Although his ears were still buzzing, the messy spots of light at the edges of his vision gradually faded.

…What… is going on?

A few seconds later, his eyes finally adjusted to the excessively glaring light.

This was a room no larger than five square meters.

He was currently standing in the center of the room with nothing around him. The walls on all four sides were completely transparent. A bright red countdown flashed on the glass, slowly rotating and moving around him at this moment.

[04:25]

Four minutes and twenty-five seconds.

The numbers decreased steadily, giving off a sense of imminent unease.

“…”

Wen Jianyan stared thoughtfully at the camera in the room for two seconds.

Immediately after, he retracted his gaze, slowly took a step forward, and looked outside through the gaps between the changing numbers.

Outside was an endless, pure white space. Hundreds of identical small rooms were floating around, each confining one person, with a bright red countdown displayed on the walls.

Outside the small rooms, large and small cameras surrounded them from all directions. Some were as tall as buildings, some required several people to encircle, and some were only the size of a palm. Countless cold metal rings gleamed with an eerie luster under the lights, silently aiming at the prisoners confined in each room, giving the feeling of being monitored by some alien species.

It was simply hair-raising.

The prisoners in the small cubicles had varying expressions.

Wen Jianyan noticed that the trapped people in the circle closest to him all had pale faces and bewildered, terrified expressions. They huddled in the corners of their rooms, some even breaking down in terror, screaming hysterically under the bizarre cameras and desperately pounding on the transparent walls.

The glass blocked the sound.

It was as if he was watching an absurd pantomime.

Meanwhile, the people further away were basically expressionless, calmly waiting for the countdown to end. It was unknown whether they were used to it or had long become numb.

Just then, a lively voice sounded, interrupting Wen Jianyan’s deep thoughts.

“Hello, newbie streamer. I am your personal assistant and will be at your service starting today.”

Wen Jianyan froze and turned to look in the direction of the voice.

He saw a palm-sized light screen rise up, displaying his own resume.

Photo, name, and even…

His resume history.

Detailed and comprehensive, it almost encompassed his entire life, even including experiences that did not belong to the name “Wen Jianyan” but were things he had actually experienced and were known to no one else but himself.

Wen Jianyan subconsciously pursed his lips, skimming down the text rapidly. His gaze paused on the last sentence of the resume for a few seconds.

—”Signed a soul contract with the Nightmare Live Broadcast Room, becoming an active newbie streamer.”

That voice sounded again:

“Opening an E-rank live broadcast room for you…”

“Exclusive live broadcast room 789326qwk has been opened!”

An empty live broadcast backstage appeared on the light screen, with the number of online viewers displayed in the lower right corner: 0.

“Um… can I ask a question?”

Wen Jianyan had a good voice.

Clear, magnetic, and gentle. With a slight suppression, it could become deep and ambiguous. Skillfully controlling a comfortable rhythm of enunciation, he could almost effortlessly gain anyone’s favor and trust.

“Of course.”

The young man raised his eyes.

His eyes were a gentle amber, holding a clear, floating light that looked slightly lighter in color under the bright light, carrying an extremely deceptive sense of harmlessness. He frowned slightly, a hint of well-controlled distress in his eyes:

“Can the live broadcast room be renamed?”

He looked a bit embarrassed and added shyly:

“The current name sounds really ugly.”

“…”

A question that absolutely shouldn’t have appeared in this kind of situation.

After a brief pause of a few seconds, the smart assistant answered:

“Not for the time being.”

“However, after reaching a certain amount of points in your account, the system’s points mall will be opened to you. You can spend points to purchase a rename card then.”

The other party seemed completely devoid of malice, continuing lively:

“I hope to still be of service to you then.”

“Thank you.”

Wen Jianyan raised his eyes, looked at the camera above his head, and gave a short, pleasant laugh.

His thin, light red lips curled into a small arc, revealing a heartfelt smile. His dark pupils shrank slightly under the intense light, appearing sincere and unfeigned.

“I also hope to see you again soon.”

The scarlet countdown on the glass wall finally reached zero.

That voice sounded again, echoing in the empty white world, as if surrounding him layer by layer from all directions, deafening and chilling:

[Welcome to the Nightmare Live Broadcast Room. The next live broadcast will begin immediately.]

The already incredibly glaring magnesium light suddenly grew brighter, operating madly in overdrive, as if the radiance of countless suns was condensed into the narrow room. The metal rings of the cameras almost half-melted in the intense light, their lenses zooming in and out like living creatures.

Wen Jianyan had to close his eyes. Even through his thin eyelids, lit bright red by the glare, the light that made his eyeballs ache still couldn’t be completely blocked, bringing a fine, needle-like pain.

That initially robotic female voice became full of emotion:

[Our motto is—Entertainment to Death!]

The live broadcast has begun.

In the massive live broadcast plaza, countless passages connected to different live broadcast halls. Every hall was densely packed with countless small screens. Leaderboards hung empty, and scenes of various colors spun rapidly, waiting to be selected by greedy spectators.

[This time there are actually so many newbie streamers, so excited]

[This is the most newcomers the live broadcast room has brought in at one time, right? I’ve never seen so many live broadcast halls below D-rank appear in the plaza all at once before.]

[With so many newcomers, I guess there shouldn’t be many plazas ranked A or above open this time, right?]

[So disappointed. What’s so good to watch about newcomers? It’s always the same old three routines: screaming, running away, and refusing to believe it’s real. I’ll just wait for the veteran streamers to go live.]

[Veteran streamers are of course more entertaining to watch, but they’re all familiar faces after all, I’m tired of watching them.]

[Besides, those expressions of despair and breakdown on the newcomers’ faces when they realize their current situation… I really can never get enough of it.]

[Hahahahahaha you’re right; screams and blood have their own charm too.]

Amidst this, a live broadcast hall named [Decai Middle School] opened.

A blood-red marker flashed beneath the instance name.

Hall difficulty level: D
Historical highest unlock progress: 72%
Viewing value: E

At the very bottom was a small sign with a few lines of text written in gold lettering:

For your viewing experience and that of others, please observe the rules within the live broadcast room. Spoilers are prohibited.

After a brief moment of dizziness, Wen Jianyan opened his eyes.

The ceiling fan above spun with a creak, emitting an exhausted buzz that would make one dizzy if stared at for too long.

The young man had broad shoulders and long legs. Lying flat on a narrow bed, he was squeezed somewhat tightly.

He propped himself up and silently looked around.

This was an old-fashioned student dormitory.

The walls were crooked and filthy, covered in wallpaper whose original color could no longer be discerned. It was wrinkled, with foul dark brown and dirty yellow water stains seeping out from below.

Four bunk beds were placed in the narrow room, with mottled rust-red flakes peeling off their iron handrails.

A mirror with a missing corner was pasted on the cabinet of the opposite bed.

The surface of the mirror was dirty and still bore greasy handprints, only capable of reflecting blurry figures in the dim light.

Cluttered books were piled on a nearby desk, covered in a thick layer of dust.

And Wen Jianyan was lying on the lower bunk of one of those beds.

An indescribable weird smell permeated the air, making it hard to breathe.

In the lower right corner of his vision was a semi-transparent light screen.

[Live Broadcast Room 789326qwk]
[Status: Live]
[Online Viewers: 3]

The number of online viewers fluctuated between 0 and 3.

No one sent barrage comments; it was as if they were just bored viewers clicking in to see what the fuss was about.

There was no one else in the room besides him.

Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, his long and straight eyelashes casting a small shadow on his fair face. He displayed no excess emotion, appearing as if he were calm to the extreme.

He rolled out of bed.

And then—

He braced himself on the nearby desk and began to dry heave.

The back beneath the young man’s shirt trembled slightly with the sounds of retching. His arm gripping the edge of the desk exerted force, veins popping on his well-defined forearm.

After a long while, he finally stopped.

The mask of ease and calmness from the beginning was shattered, collapsing and disappearing like melting snow. The corners of the young man’s eyes were wet and red, and his previously placid features instantly became vivid and lively, appearing exceptionally fragile and helpless in the dirty mirror.

That’s right.

What composure, what calmness…

It was all fake!

Wen Jianyan’s actual inner thoughts had absolutely nothing to do with those adjectives.

Any normal person would be terrified seeing that previous scene!

A red countdown, a malicious broadcast voice, and bizarre cameras of all sizes.

No matter how you looked at it, it seemed like a scene that would only appear in a horror novel!

Needless to say how scary it was!

Not to mention he was the type of person who valued his life the most!

However, over his years of professional career, Wen Jianyan had developed a habit: no matter how terrified he was on the inside, or how great the external pressure was, his facade would remain absolutely watertight.

You could even say that the closer he was to a desperate situation, the more unflappable he appeared.

Otherwise, he figured he would have been stuffed into a cement barrel eight hundred years ago.

Who would’ve thought that one day, he would open his eyes and become a newbie streamer in a horror live broadcast room without any warning.

“…”

Could anyone ask if there was someone in the world more unlucky than him?

Wen Jianyan’s facial features scrunched together as he forcefully suppressed the surge of frustration rising in his heart.

He wiped the corners of his mouth and straightened up.

Right at this moment, that emotionless voice sounded again:

[To improve your live broadcast experience, the live broadcast room will custom-make a unique newbie gift for you based on the streamer’s soul quality!!]

Under such a creepy surrounding environment, this mechanical voice seemed even more bizarre this time.

However, keywords like “soul quality” and “custom-make” in this passage immediately made Wen Jianyan sense the extraordinary nature of it.

He subconsciously lightened his breathing.

Based on his years of professional experience, this so-called “newbie gift” very likely played a crucial role in his fate.

[Ding! The newbie gift pack has been delivered. Does the streamer wish to sign for it?]

Wen Jianyan composed himself and said, “Sign for it.”

He saw the light screen in front of him flash, and a colorful gift box automatically popped open.

Amidst festive sound effects, the gorgeous long silk ribbon was automatically untied, the gift box popped open with a “bang”, the animation interface disappeared, revealing a—

Flower pot.

A dusty gray flower pot with brownish-black soil. It was extremely ordinary, without any distinguishing features.

Other than that, it was empty; there was nothing else.

Wen Jianyan: “…”

What?

In disbelief, he poked at the flower pot on his screen, hoping to find something else.

A line of text popped up.

[Item Name: Apple Seedling]

Wen Jianyan: “…………”

So, this “custom-made based on soul attributes”, intimidatingly high-end-sounding gift pack, was just an apple seedling that hadn’t even sprouted yet?

What kind of trash is this?!

The newbie gift is just this?

You must be sick!

Wen Jianyan closed the light screen expressionlessly.

He raised his head, subconsciously sweeping his peripheral vision over the spot where he had just been lying, and his gaze involuntarily paused slightly.

A card lay quietly on the pillow.

The card was very thin, only the size of a palm, with perfectly straight edges. Its texture didn’t seem like paper, but rather more like metal.

Wen Jianyan hesitated for two seconds, stepped forward, and carefully picked up the piece of card.

[Identity Card]
Name: Cheng Wei

Age: 16

Occupation: 1st Year High School Student at Decai Middle School

Related Plot: Not yet unlocked

Wen Jianyan flipped the card to its back.

There was also a line of text on the back: Initial survival time being allocated…

Wen Jianyan: ?

He flipped the card over and over a few times, but couldn’t find any more information.

That’s it?

Wen Jianyan frowned and raised his head in confusion.

The moment he raised his head, his heart couldn’t help but jump.

The cabinet door on the opposite bed seemed to have seamlessly slid open a bit more than before, and the mirror hanging on it happened to be facing him directly.

Wen Jianyan could clearly see the reflection of his own face.

As well as…

Under the bed he had just been lying on, a smiling, ghastly pale face.

Pure black pupils stared straight at him, and the corners of its mouth, curving upward like a mask, gradually widened—

In that instant, Wen Jianyan felt a layer of cold sweat immediately break out on his back.

His heart pounded violently, as if it was going to jump right out of his throat.

—Ahhhhhhh!!!

However, in the very next second, that blurred face faded into the darkness. As if it had just been a hallucination, it disappeared without a trace in the blink of an eye.

The screen, which had been quiet all along, finally had some activity.

A few barrage comments drifted by sparsely.

[He actually didn’t scream, the streamer’s psychological quality is pretty good.]

[Even I was startled.]

Wen Jianyan: “…”

No, I’m just calm on my face.

Actually, my legs have already started shaking.

He slowly took a deep breath, lowering his head to glance at the card in his hand again.

Unbeknownst to him when it started, the line of text on the back of the card had already changed.

[Survival time allocation completed.]

Below it was a blood-red 20-minute countdown.

The number of live broadcast viewers had unknowingly reached double digits.

[No way, no way? Am I seeing this right? The newbie streamer’s survival time is twenty minutes?]

[LMAO, what kind of luck is this hahahahahaha]

[The only one among this batch of newcomers, right? Not even an hour, that’s way too tragic.]

[Hahahahahahaha LOL, is this a true hell-mode start?]

[I’ve never seen a streamer get targeted by a ghost right after waking up, I’ve broadened my horizons.]

[…]

Wen Jianyan stared despondently at the “twenty minutes” text, his heart like dead ashes, and fell into a brief silence.

Truly, a classic unlucky bastard.

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