Anchor Hall
Chapter 278: What are you up to this time?!
No one had ever seen a grayed-out name light up again.
Such a thing had never happened in the Nightmare.
Never.
As soon as it occurred, one of the anchors noticed it. Someone took a screenshot of Wen Jianyan’s suddenly illuminated avatar on the ranking board and posted it in the forum in disbelief. Almost immediately, it sparked ridicule.
—“Laughing to death, even if you’re trying to gain attention, at least have some common sense.”
—“This is beyond ridiculous. Can’t you newcomers be a bit more grounded in reality? Are you really so delusional that you’re photoshopping to deceive people now?”
But soon, similar screenshots began to flood the homepage, with the number of posts increasing rapidly. Even the anchors who had mocked it started to grow doubtful. They went to check the ranking board themselves… and were immediately shocked by the icon that had lit up.
They could hardly believe their eyes.
—”What the—? It’s really lit up!”
—“Can people come back from the dead? Is there something wrong with the Nightmare system?”
When they realized it wasn’t a prank but reality, the forum discussion surged once again.
Some anchors believed the reckless newcomer had long been dead, and this was just a system malfunction. Others thought the opposite, believing that the earlier gray screen had been the glitch, and 034 was alive and well. Some veteran anchors weighed in, stating that the system had never malfunctioned from the beginning, and the mysterious 034 simply had some eerie, unknown talent that allowed him to pull himself back from the hands of death.
For a time, the entire forum was in uproar.
The chaos didn’t last long.
Within a minute or so, every anchor monitoring the forum felt their phones vibrate.
In the next second, a message with a gold and red glow suddenly appeared at the top of their screens, continuously scrolling in front of them—an effect familiar to all: [Congratulations to anchor Pinocchio for entering the top ten of the points leaderboard].
Pinocchio was none other than the strongest newcomer at the center of the forum’s whirlwind—the resurrected 034.
No, he could no longer be called 034.
He had now officially entered the top ten of the Nightmare points leaderboard, becoming the new number 008.
“…”
The forum, which had been frantically refreshing, fell into a rare silence. For a full ten seconds, the homepage saw no changes.
Then, after the brief quiet, a new uproar erupted.
—”Wait, what did I just see?”
—”008″
—”Oh my God!!! Did I see that right? He shot straight into the top ten!!!”
—“Wow, that’s terrifying…”
—“Wait, let me sort this out. So, the points he earned in just one instance directly boosted him from 034 to the top ten, right?”
—“…How many points is that even? Can someone calculate?”
—“How amazing must his performance have been to earn that many points?! At this rate, it feels like he’ll be able to redeem his release coupon soon. I’m totally floored.”
As the highest-ranked guild on the Nightmare leaderboard, the Oracle guild’s headquarters was located right in the center of the anchor guild district.
Unlike Wen Jianyan’s small guild, tucked away in an unremarkable building on the outskirts of the city, Oracle’s headquarters was not only massive but also striking in appearance.
From the outside, Oracle’s guild center was an enormous, luxurious Gothic-style structure. Its spires pointed sharply towards the sky, stretching across several blocks. The building was grand and majestic, with intricate details, exuding a strong religious atmosphere that perfectly matched the guild’s name. It was the most eye-catching building in the vast guild district.
Very few people outside of the guild could set foot inside.
Beneath the towering ceiling stood a long, black wooden table with an air of antiquity. Seated around the table were three anchors with grim faces, their eyes fixed on the large screen floating in mid-air.
This was the Oracle’s permanent council room.
In such a large guild, most of the senior members acted independently most of the time. Only a few mid-tier members, who didn’t frequently enter instances, stayed behind as permanent residents, handling various miscellaneous tasks.
The three anchors present were all permanent members of Oracle.
Each one of them looked gloomy, staring at the massive screen in front of them. The atmosphere was so heavy it felt suffocating.
On the table before them was a small tablet displaying the names of recently missing anchors, and Mu Sen was listed among them.
“So, this is why Mu Sen failed?”
One of them, seemingly the leader, spoke slowly, his tone cold.
“I-I’m afraid so…”
The person next to him lowered their head, a deeply ashamed expression on their face. “S-Sorry, we didn’t expect that this guy would follow them into the last team instance.”
All the rumors and intel they’d gathered, as well as the agents they had monitoring him, indicated that 034 wouldn’t be entering another instance. Even minutes before the stream began, he had been seen flaunting himself at some lavish party, losing a large sum of points, with no apparent intention of meeting the conditions to enter an instance…
But as it turned out, all of this had been a ploy set up by 034.
All the released information, even the public appearances of the “president,” were part of a plan to lull them into a false sense of security, making them believe only the Prophet had entered the instance. Thus, they carelessly sent the same team as last time.
Thinking about this, he couldn’t help but lower his head even more, gritting his teeth as he said, “In the end, it was all because of Mu Sen. I was already planning to replace him, but he just couldn’t let it go and insisted on continuing…”
In fact, Mu Sen’s rank in the guild wasn’t particularly high, but due to his unique talent and his vicious, ruthless methods, he had an exceptionally high success rate in assassinations. This gave him a certain level of influence and say within Oracle. So, when he couldn’t swallow the humiliation of his last failed assassination, they allowed him to continue his pursuit.
But who could have predicted…
They had been completely outplayed this time!
Now, not only was Mu Sen missing in the instance, but the most crucial wooden token had also been lost, its whereabouts entirely unknown.
In Oracle, only anchors who had earned the trust of the higher-ups, passed numerous layers of scrutiny, and received approval were eligible to possess such an incredibly precious and strictly controlled “item.”
Rather than saying they “received” it, it would be more accurate to say they were “renting” it.
For every instance a anchor entered with this item, Oracle’s headquarters would take 25% of their points as a cut. If the item was lost or rendered ineffective from overuse, the holder would face extremely harsh punishment… The specifics of the punishment were known by few, as hardly anyone survived it.
“A-Anyway, we’ve learned our lesson this time,” the person speaking raised his hand, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, and stammered, “Just leave it to me, I’ll definitely take care of—”
Before he could finish, his superior coldly interrupted him:
“Enough. Shut up.”
The superior raised his eyes, his gloomy gaze falling on the screen.
“Do you really think this matter is still within our control?”
On the screen, the updated leaderboard was displayed.
The name “Pinocchio” stood out glaringly, with the number 008 in front of it, and the golden-red full-server announcement above it was a cruel mockery, like a slap across their faces.
“He’s the newest member of the top ten and will soon be inducted into the Secret Council.”
“…”
The subordinate’s face turned pale, and all words caught in his throat.
…The Secret Council.
True to its name, the existence of this organization was a secret. Even within the Nightmare system, those who knew of its existence were few and far between, with only a small number of senior guild leaders aware of it.
Only the top ten on the points leaderboard were eligible to join and become members. Its internal structure and operations were entirely opaque to outsiders.
Even within Oracle, only two individuals were qualified to be part of it.
That was their guild leader and one vice leader.
This meant that the matter had long since surpassed their ability to handle. The threat posed by this anchor had escalated to the highest level.
The superior took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as if finally making up his mind:
“…Say no more. Contact the higher-ups immediately.”
By now, the situation had progressed to the point where they had no other options left.
Meanwhile, the discussion on the forum remained heated, with the intensity not dropping even a bit.
The anchors who had mocked Wen Jianyan when his name grayed out now knew they were in the wrong. Most had already deleted their posts and fled, while a small number stubbornly clung to spreading rumors. But their influence had waned, and they could no longer stir up much controversy.
The Nightmare Live Broadcast environment was filled with bloodshed, violence, and death. It brought out the darkest sides of people, and the anchors who survived this environment had very distinct characteristics:
They had a strong desire to survive, low moral standards, and an intense admiration for strength.
In stark contrast to the malicious comments that had flooded the homepage earlier, the forum had now shifted its tone.
Most of the remaining posts were overwhelmingly positive, filled with praise and respect for this newly crowned god, a top-ten ranked anchor. Some even began to dig into his impressively remarkable track record.
Although anchors weren’t allowed to share details of their instances with each other, once a platinum achievement had been earned in an instance, the restriction was lifted. After all, instances with platinum achievements were no longer available to be opened again in the future, so there was no need for anti-spoiler mechanisms.
—“I just looked through his completion records. Though he’s cleared few instances, each one was platinum! Even the last team instance he just cleared, the Changsheng Building, was platinum!”
—”Wait, ‘Changsheng Building’? No way. Isn’t that the bizarre team instance with an unlock rate that can’t even be displayed? My former guild leader went in there once with seven others, and none of them made it out… The death rate in there is terrifying. And he still managed to score platinum?!”
—“And don’t forget, once you earn a platinum achievement, the difficulty of the next instance generally doubles. And this anchor hasn’t broken his platinum streak yet, which means the difficulty factor of his instances has increased at least sixfold in the system! Maybe even exponentially…”
“…I’m floored.”
“…I’m floored too.”
“No offense, but… how is this guy not dead? Is there no justice?”
“You all keep chatting. Meanwhile, I’ve already submitted my application to his guild.”
“…Isn’t that a bit too fast, my friend?”
“I’m not that fast, to be honest. I won’t lie, the number of applicants ahead of me has already hit triple digits, and it’s still rising.”
“Ahhh, do they accept missions in that guild? If they do, I’m going for it!! My next instance will be a rank-up, and I really need a god to carry me!!”
“Buzz buzz buzz—”
A flood of guild applications and recruitment offers poured into Chen Mo’s inbox like snowflakes.
Ever since Wen Jianyan leapt into the top ten, Chen Mo, who managed the guild’s actual affairs, hadn’t had a moment of peace as his phone constantly vibrated.
Chen Mo, overwhelmed by the nonstop notifications, had to mute his phone to avoid being drowned in a sea of messages.
He shoved his silenced phone into his pocket and turned to Su Cheng beside him: “How about it? Did he answer your call?”
Su Cheng shook his head and turned off his phone: “No.”
From the moment Wen Jianyan’s name turned from gray to normal, Su Cheng had been trying to reach him, but it seemed Wen Jianyan had manually turned off his notifications. Despite several attempts, none of the calls got through. Left with no choice, the four of them decided to leave the guild and head to Wen Jianyan’s residence to check on him.
“It’s fine, we’re almost there anyway.”
Su Cheng glanced ahead. While his face showed no visible emotion, there was a deeply buried worry in his eyes.
Although Wen Jianyan was now back online, the fact that his name had been grayed out for over twenty minutes couldn’t be erased. Coupled with Wen Jianyan’s unusually odd behavior just before finishing the last instance…
Su Cheng took a deep breath, his grip tightening on his phone, the worry in his eyes deepening.
In the Nightmare instances, it wasn’t just physical harm that anchors had to endure, and not every injury could be indiscriminately healed by the system. On top of that, Wen Jianyan was the type to constantly take solo risks, always dancing on the edge of life and death. The fact that he hadn’t answered his phone for so long made Su Cheng incredibly anxious. Countless dangerous scenarios flashed through his mind, causing him to become tense.
—He hoped nothing had gone wrong.
In the dimly lit room.
Wen Jianyan lowered his head, studying the Ouroboros ring on his finger.
The black metal ring coiled tightly around his pale finger, the slender snake body slightly curved, its mouth biting down on the tip of its tail. The intricately carved eyes gleamed with a cold, eerie light.
A fragment of a foreign god’s soul was currently trapped within the ring, lying dormant, waiting for the moment it would awaken once again.
He took a deep breath and averted his gaze.
No matter how much Wu Zhu’s response had exceeded expectations, for the success of his plan… another encounter was inevitable sooner or later. As for how to handle it, and what unpredictable changes might arise afterward, he could only take it step by step.
“Knock, knock, knock!”
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan’s door was knocked on.
Wen Jianyan was startled.
Who could it be?
Logically, Su Cheng should have gone to rest after leaving the instance. Could it be Ji Guan?
Thinking of the little cake that might be coming, Wen Jianyan’s spirits lifted. He straightened up from the bed, slid on his slippers, and walked to the door, reaching out to open it.
The moment the door opened, he was completely startled.
…There were so many people.
Su Cheng, Chen Mo, Ji Guan, Yun Bilan… nearly half the guild members were standing at his door, and in an instant, the once spacious corridor became completely crowded. They seemed equally stunned.
The door in front of them opened just a crack, and the figure they had worried about for so long appeared belatedly behind it.
The young man wore a pair of huge, fluffy green frog slippers on his feet, his damp hair messily sticking up, clearly just out of the shower. He had a loose T-shirt on, with dark spots from dripping water still visible on his shoulders. Across the T-shirt was printed a large, rude message in English:
“F*ckoff.”
“…”
Everyone stared at each other in awkward silence, and the air became completely still.
“Uh, what are you all doing here?” Wen Jianyan scratched his head, looking confused. “Is there a new flavor of cake?”
Ji Guang: “…”
Just moments ago, they had been overwhelmed with worry, but now it was stuck in their throats, neither able to go up nor down, making them incredibly uncomfortable. They stared at Wen Jianyan with expressionless faces.
The clueless look on his handsome face, unaware of the chaos he’d caused outside, only made him seem more aggravating.
…
His fists were clenched. Very clenched.
Five minutes later.
Wen Jianyan, having been thoroughly scolded, sat sulkily on the couch. His back was straight, and his hands rested neatly on his knees.
He hadn’t expected that while he was alone with Wu Zhu, his anchor name in the Nightmare system would turn gray. With so much on his mind lately… Nightmare, Wu Zhu, the layers upon layers of schemes and calculations, all of it had consumed most of his mental bandwidth.
So, upon returning to Nightmare, Wen Jianyan had habitually muted the system’s notifications. As for his phone… he had always kept that on silent, so he genuinely hadn’t realized that he’d “died” in Nightmare for half an hour.
Now, he hung his head in pity, as if he had fully absorbed the lesson and was deeply reflecting on his irresponsible behavior.
“Alright, alright, let’s get back to business.”
Chen Mo, the most level-headed among them, cleared his throat and brought the conversation back on track.
He looked at Wen Jianyan: “So, what exactly happened in the last instance? Why did your name suddenly turn gray?”
“Hmm?”
Wen Jianyan thought for a moment, then looked up at the group and said, “I guess it might have something to do with me killing a special boss in the instance.”
“Huh??”
The four of them were stunned.
“Wait,” Su Cheng seemed to realize something, “Do you mean that…”
Wen Jianyan turned to Su Cheng and nodded, confirming his suspicion: “Yes, it was him.”
Yun Bilan blinked: “What? Who are you guys talking about?”
“A boss that can appear in different instances,” noticing the bewildered expressions of the others, Su Cheng quickly raised his hand, “I don’t know the full details either, you’ll have to ask him.”
Once again, all eyes turned toward Wen Jianyan.
Wen Jianyan gave a brief summary of the grudge between him and Wu Zhu—though, of course, he left out many… uh, unnecessary details.
“…In short, that’s it. I found the weapon to kill Pao in the last instance and ended that grudge completely.”
Wen Jianyan summed it up with a calm expression.
As he spoke, the black ouroboros ring on his left middle finger glimmered with a metallic sheen.
That was all his teammates needed to know.
As for the fact that he had secretly kept a fragment of Wu Zhu’s soul, and the deeper plans he was making, he had no intention of telling anyone.
It was important to note that, whether in the instances or the anchor hall, Nightmare’s control and surveillance were omnipresent. Unless certain mechanisms were triggered, like banning private fights or anti-entrapment protocols, it remained mostly silent, as if nonexistent, so much so that no one noticed its presence, let alone had their actions restricted by it.
However, for Nightmare, monitoring a anchor’s behavior at any time was a piece of cake, especially after Wen Jianyan expressed interest in replacing the Oracle and getting closer to Nightmare’s core.
Clearly, even though he had proven with his actions that he was not aligned with Wu Zhu, Nightmare still didn’t fully trust him. At such a critical juncture, Wen Jianyan was even more cautious, ensuring that he wouldn’t reveal anything that might give him away.
As for the ouroboros ring on his hand, as long as he didn’t expose it, Nightmare likely wouldn’t notice it.
After all, Wu Zhu’s existence could already cause some of Nightmare’s control to fail. Moreover, back at the end of the Fantasy Amusement Park instance, Wen Jianyan had unknowingly tested this. The ouroboros, still not fully activated at the time, had accidentally absorbed a fragment of Wu Zhu into the anchor space, and somehow placed it within Mr. Mirror, which then led to the distortion and invasion of the Peaceful Asylum instance. This caused a series of troubles for him—if Nightmare could detect the fragment of Wu Zhu within the ouroboros, it would not have let all that happen without intervening.
So, Wen Jianyan wasn’t too worried about that.
“Then… what’s your plan now?” Chen Mo, standing nearby, broke the silence with a question.
“Plan?”
Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes lazily and glanced over.
He suddenly smiled. “Didn’t I mention it before?”
His irises were naturally light in color, and under the excessively bright living room lights, they appeared almost translucent, a shade of champagne, luxurious and sweet.
There was a spark of ambition in his eyes, burning like a wildfire.
“Of course, to become the number one in the Nightmare Guild rankings.”
“…”
Chen Mo was momentarily stunned.
He had heard this “grand ambition” from Wen Jianyan before the end of the last instance, but honestly, at the time, he didn’t take it seriously.
After all, although Wen Jianyan had an impressive track record so far, his time in the Nightmare Live Broadcast world hadn’t been that long. He likely didn’t fully grasp what the Oracle guild represented in Nightmare or how unshakable its position was. It was understandable for him to make such bold claims in that context.
But now…
Chen Mo looked at the young man before him.
He was sitting lazily on the couch, wearing a ridiculously oversized T-shirt, with his long legs crossed, his green frog slippers swinging back and forth, giving off a strangely cute yet annoying vibe.
Anyone else would find it impossible to associate this carefree youth with the most fearsome new anchor in Nightmare, the quickest to enter the top ten of Nightmare’s ranks, and all the terrifying titles that came with it.
Chen Mo took a deep breath and solemnly nodded:
“Alright, I understand.”
It was the first time he truly believed that Wen Jianyan’s vision might one day become a reality.
“By the way, you must have received quite a few messages by now,” Wen Jianyan tilted his head towards Chen Mo and suddenly asked.
“Ah, yes.” Chen Mo blinked, then replied, “Did they also…”
“No, not really,” Wen Jianyan’s expression didn’t change. “The guild’s official contact only has your number listed. I was just guessing.” He didn’t feel the least bit guilty about leaving all the guild affairs in Chen Mo’s hands. “Since I’m now ranked eighth on the leaderboard, your phone should have blown up by now, right?”
Chen Mo: “…”
You had to admit, reaching this level of shamelessness was no small feat.
Wen Jianyan cleared his throat, effortlessly avoiding Chen Mo’s cold stare, and continued:
“Anyway, don’t deal with any of those messages for now.”
Chen Mo frowned. “Just leave them hanging?”
As a highly responsible guild administrator, Chen Mo had only ignored those messages earlier because confirming their guild leader’s situation was more urgent at the time. Now that Wen Jianyan was fine, he was ready to head back to the guild and start processing the flood of messages and invitations. But unexpectedly, Wen Jianyan gave him an unexpected instruction:
Ignore them for now.
“Yes.”
Wen Jianyan absentmindedly fiddled with his phone as he nodded, confirming Chen Mo’s suspicions.
“Just wait until after I attend… what’s it called?” He glanced down at the only system message on his phone.
Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes, a fleeting smile crossing his lips, like a breeze rippling across a lake, there and gone in an instant. His expression seemed innocent, with no hint of ill intent.
He added, “…the secret council, and we’ll talk afterward.”
Su Cheng: “…”
A familiar chill crept up his spine.
The last time he felt this way was when Wen Jianyan had entered a instance disguised in the “Wen Wen” skin.
—Bro, what are you up to this time?!
