Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 332: Surprise!
Inside the room, the air fell into an extreme silence.
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the tightly shut door, their breaths slightly held, nerves stretched to the limit.
“What exactly is going on?”
Anise’s expression was grim as he lowered his voice to ask.
Although the Gentleman still maintained his usual unreadable demeanor, the look in his eyes was just as heavy.
He slowly shook his head and, in a tone different from usual, said:
“I don’t know.”
Upon hearing this answer, everyone in the Black Faction felt a sinking weight in their hearts.
None of them had expected him to say that.
In the past, he had always been completely confident, seemingly knowing everything that would happen next like the back of his hand. This was the first time since entering the instance that he had given such an uncertain answer.
Knock, knock, knock.
The stiff knocking echoed once more, breaking the silence and reverberating through the dimly lit room, making everyone involuntarily shudder.
They didn’t know if it was just their imagination, but it felt like…
The intervals between knocks had gotten shorter.
The Gentleman: “……”
He stared at the door in silence, his expression unreadable, his mood impossible to discern.
…A ghost knocking.
This shouldn’t have happened.
This situation was completely outside all his calculations and expectations. No matter what, this should not be occurring.
Even though he had just meticulously reviewed every single action he had taken up to this point, he still had no clues.
Everything had been moving forward according to plan, and their actions had been nearly flawless.
But the eerie thing was that, despite everything seeming to be in order, an unexplainable crisis had still appeared right in front of them.
His heart sank further, as if into a bottomless pit.
The Gentleman instinctively pressed his lips together, absentmindedly rubbing the torn scrap of paper in his hand, his eyes flickering.
…Had he been too confident after all?
Before entering this instance, he had obtained a great deal of exclusive information that others had no access to. Then, after entering, relying on his knowledge and foresight, he had advanced smoothly and effortlessly.
Perhaps because things had gone too well, he had—consciously or unconsciously—forgotten something crucial…
No matter what, this was still an S-level horror instance.
And in such an instance, any kind of danger was possible. That illusion of “having everything under control” could easily blind them in the end.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The knocking sounded again.
This time, it was even more urgent. The interval had shortened to an alarming degree.
“What… what do we do now?”
One of the Black Faction members turned toward their team leader, lowering his voice as he asked anxiously.
Open the door? Or not?
As the knocking grew more rapid, the question began to haunt everyone’s minds, like a death drumbeat urging them to hurry up and decide.
“…We can’t open it.”
Anise’s expression remained dark as he stared at the door.
The protective rule of this door was still in effect.
As long as the door remained shut, the ghost couldn’t enter the mounting shop.
So, as long as they stayed inside, they were safe.
But…
As anchors, it was impossible for them to stay here forever.
“Don’t forget, this path only exists when the connection between the Xingwamg Hotel and the town is severed,” the Gentleman continued slowly.
“In other words, if we don’t use these three hours to leave this street, the hotel will enter its 12-hour night blackout period—
And then, we’ll be trapped in the ghost realm for an entire night.”
Anise: “And besides, I don’t think a ghost of this level will just give up on us so easily.”
At those words, everyone shuddered.
It was true.
If the ghost outside would simply leave just because they didn’t answer, then waiting here all night, while inefficient, wouldn’t be the worst option.
But the problem was…
Based on the increasing urgency of the knocking, this wasn’t just some random wandering spirit.
It had specifically targeted them.
From what they knew, the mounting shop’s door could block most paranormal perception.
Yet, whatever was outside had still been able to detect them through the door.
This meant that the chance of it giving up was close to zero.
The Gentleman let out a shallow sigh:
“…We have to prepare for a direct confrontation.”
The conclusion fell like a cold stone, shattering into icy shards on the ground.
“Get ready.”
However—
Anise’s tone suddenly shifted.
He turned his head, his gaze landing on a corner of the room.
A blue-haired woman leaned silently against the wall.
Her soaked clothing clung to her body, her complexion was ghastly pale, and she looked utterly miserable.
Yet, despite her wretched appearance, her icy eyes were sharp and blinding—like the gleam of a blade in the dark.
The corners of Anise’s lips curled up slightly, forming a sinister smile.
“…We’re not completely without ways to lower our risk.”
“Isn’t that right, beautiful?”
Outside the door.
The cold, drizzling rain drifted down, and countless pale, rigid corpses swayed and wandered along the bluestone-paved road.
The door of the painting mounting shop was tightly shut.
Only one person stood stiffly at the entrance, draped in human skin clothing and wearing a smiling mask.
Wen Jianyan held a phone in one hand, staring intently at the stopwatch ticking on the screen. His other hand hovered steadily in the air, waiting for the exact moment to knock on the door.
3, 2, 1—time was up.
His curled knuckles rapped against the wooden door.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The stiff knocking sound echoed.
After experiencing the “Changsheng Building” instance, Wen Jianyan could almost be considered half an expert in replicating the kind of knocking that only an inhuman existence could produce.
However, theory and practice were always different.
Even in undisturbed conditions, perfectly recreating that mechanical and terrifying knock was already exceptionally difficult… Let alone now, under these circumstances—it was even harder.
Beneath the thick mask, fine beads of cold sweat seeped from Wen Jianyan’s forehead.
From the moment he stood at the door, he could already feel the overwhelming force of the compulsory rules emanating from it, an oppressive power he could barely resist.
The muscles and tendons in his fingers trembled, as if driven by an uncontrollable urge to push the door open at all costs. However, the moment his fingers fell, a searing pain flared from his hip bones, spreading through his internal organs like wildfire, forcibly dragging him back from his daze.
The stopwatch on the phone screen blurred and cleared intermittently.
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth so tightly he could almost taste the metallic tang of blood rising from his throat. A chilling sensation washed over him, like walking a tightrope over an abyss.
Even so, he did not dare to let his focus waver for even a second.
If his guess was correct, then the Black Faction team was currently behind this door.
They were all highly experienced anchors with extensive instance knowledge. Fooling them by pretending to be a ghost was far more difficult than deceiving rookie anchors in lower-tier instances. Any slight mistake, any slip of the mask, could lead to complete failure and total ruin. That was why Wen Jianyan had to perfect even the most seemingly insignificant details.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The knocking came again, with a slightly shorter interval this time.
Wen Jianyan felt the taste of blood rising in his throat.
The burning pain in his hip bones had become a constant torment.
It was as if his consciousness had detached, floating above his body, watching from above as his own uncooperative flesh moved on its own.
Wen Jianyan calmly reviewed his plan.
Yes, the Black Faction anchors were experienced and highly perceptive.
But the problem was…
They were too experienced, and they knew too much.
That was the only foundation upon which Wen Jianyan’s deception could be built.
A “Door” capable of making Wu Zhu’s mark heat up was undoubtedly a rule-enforcing mechanism beyond the difficulty of the instance—possibly even approaching the essence of the Nightmare itself. No item within the Nightmare could possibly nullify its effects.
Wen Jianyan knew this.
And the people inside undoubtedly knew it too.
After all, as seasoned veterans ranking in the top ten of the Nightmare, they couldn’t possibly lack items that enforced clarity of mind or warded off interference. Yet they had not used those items. Instead, they had chosen a far more difficult and cumbersome approach: sacrificing a teammate.
That meant only one thing—
They were absolutely certain that the rules of this door were unbreakable.
And they would never doubt this fact.
What they would never expect was that Wen Jianyan, bearing Wu Zhu’s mark, could actually withstand the door’s compulsion.
Which left them with only one possible conclusion:
The one knocking outside was a ghost.
And not just any ghost, but a terrifying existence powerful enough to perceive the anchors through the door’s rules—an entity beyond the standard classification of vengeful spirits.
Under these circumstances, how would a person react?
Pray that the ghost would leave?
If the anchors inside were just ordinary B-rank or even A-rank players, there was a high probability that they would choose to do exactly that. Lacking the courage or means to resist, they would follow their instincts and opt for the most conservative approach—choosing to wait rather than confront the entity head-on.
However, for a seasoned team like Black Faction, they would definitely recognize that a ghost blocking the door in such a situation wouldn’t be simple. Simply waiting wouldn’t yield any results.
They would have to choose direct confrontation.
After all, if Wen Jianyan were in their position, he would make the same choice.
However…
Unlike Wen Jianyan, Black Faction had a significant advantage.
A pawn.
A human tool, forced to push open the door and expose the “ghost” for what it really was.
Yun Bilan.
Since the phone hadn’t disappeared, she had to be alive.
Perhaps it was because there hadn’t been time to kill her yet, or perhaps she was still useful for something. Either way, Yun Bilan was still a resource to be used.
Based on what Wen Jianyan knew of Black Faction, they wouldn’t be ignorant of the level of danger outside the door. That meant they wouldn’t care about the pawn’s survival.
If they could gauge the ghost’s power and nature through the death of one person…
Then why wouldn’t they do it?
Of course, all of this was Wen Jianyan’s deduction. He couldn’t be completely certain what decision the people inside would ultimately make.
But…
No matter what, this was the most probable outcome.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The knocking grew urgent.
Would everything proceed as he had planned?
Wen Jianyan wasn’t sure.
Through the slits in his mask, his pale eyes burned with an endless fire.
But he would find out soon enough.
—Inside the room.
Yun Bilan stumbled forward with stiff steps, her muscles unused for too long.
The cold, piercing gazes of numerous anchors bored into her back like invisible arrows.
“……”
Expressionless, Yun Bilan continued forward.
The crooked wooden door loomed closer. In the dim light, she could make out the rough texture of the wood and feel the eerie air seeping in from outside.
Ah. So this was it.
Staring at the door now within reach, Yun Bilan let out a long breath.
Was it regret? Fear? Reluctance…? Or simply relief?
No one was coming.
She had made sure of that herself.
From the moment she left her phone behind, Yun Bilan had already accepted the fate awaiting her. Honestly, even she hadn’t expected that after throwing herself into the rain, she would still survive for another two hours… That had already far exceeded her expectations.
Looking back, she didn’t know how long she had clung to life. The faces of those she once knew had blurred, fading into the distance, until she was the only one left, walking alone.
And now, no matter what, this was the end of the road.
Yun Bilan halted, staring at the slightly ajar door, her expression eerily calm.
Perhaps, with death so close, memories of her life before the Nightmare surfaced for the first time in ages.
A family with a suffocating need for control, an iron grip that never loosened, constant surveillance that choked her spirit—her rebellion had only grown sharper and more desperate in response. She had fought, struggled with everything she had, and finally, bleeding and battered, she had broken free of the cage that had bound her for half her life. She had finally begun to carve out the vision she had always dreamed of.
And so, for the first time, she had dyed her hair a brilliant shade of blue.
But just when the bird was about to escape the thorns and soar into the sky—she was caught and locked inside a second cage.
Yun Bilan took a deep breath, pulling herself out of those faded memories.
No matter what, at least the others had survived.
The timid but surprisingly brave Huang Mao, the ever-calm and rational Chen Mo, who rarely showed his emotions but was always reliable, and…
Wen Jianyan.
A weak human who had sold his soul, no different from any other anchor in the Nightmare, yet one who delusionally believed he could destroy the entire system.
It was hard to tell whether he was mad or simply too skilled at weaving dreams—spinning his grand visions with a silver tongue, planting seeds of insanity in others’ minds, luring one desperate soul after another to his side, willingly letting themselves be used by him.
Maybe she had been bewitched.
Yun Bilan admitted it.
For those of them who had sunk too deep into the Nightmare, with no future in sight, Wen Jianyan’s vision was both salvation and poison.
For her, it was even more so.
She had thought this was the end of the line for her. That she would meet her fate, as expected. But then… that bastard had appeared, bringing with him a spark of hope.
Yun Bilan was selfish.
She had never imagined she would sacrifice herself for someone else.
Yet this time, that was exactly what she was doing.
Freedom.
A word dipped in honey and laced with poison, yet one she had chased after once more, like a moth to flame.
Yun Bilan lifted her hand and pressed it against the door.
Then, with force, she pulled it open.
…At the very least, this time, death would finally grant her what she had always longed for.
“Creak—”
The heavy wooden door let out a piercing screech.
A chilling gust of wind swept in, carrying icy raindrops that tangled in her brilliant blue hair.
A pale face loomed at the entrance—cold, eerie, and twisted into an unsettling smile. Even without a second thought, it was clear—this was no human.
The figure lunged forward, gripping Yun Bilan’s arm.
But it wasn’t cold as she had expected.
Instead, its palm was scorching hot, damp with rain, pressing tightly against her wrist with a force that sent pain shooting through her bones.
“?!”
Yun Bilan froze.
A familiar, warm voice—laced with laughter—whispered beside her ear:
“Surprise.”
