WTNL Chapter 355

Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 355: Anchor is cheating

In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room, a huge screen displayed two flashing words:

[Signal Lost.]

As the screen went black, murmurs began to rise among the audience:

[Did the anchor go offline?]

[Did he die?]

[No way, if he died, the live stream would have been cut off immediately, not like this.]

[What does ‘signal recovering’ even mean?! Nightmare’s been having these issues so often lately!! I’m so pissed!!]

[I’m about to lose it—hurry up and restore the signal! I was just getting into it when the screen suddenly went black. Nightmare really needs to get its act together and fix its servers!]

[I’m filing a complaint, I swear!]

As if sensing the audience’s impatience, the text on the screen soon changed:

[Reconnecting signal, please wait…]

In a narrow corridor, a group of anchors stood at one end, warily watching the white-dressed girl who had suddenly appeared not far away.

She was drenched, her long black hair hanging in clumps, clinging to her pale, bloodless cheeks. The thin dress outlined her delicate figure, and cold droplets fell from the hem of her skirt and the ends of her hair, quickly leaving small, dark patches of dampness on the carpet.

Her large, dark eyes widened slightly as he looked toward the others in panic, appearing pitifully fragile and evoking sympathy.

However, the anchors nearby didn’t seem to relax their guard because of this.

They frowned, staring intently at her:

“Are you an anchor?”

The girl nodded vigorously.

As if afraid the others would doubt her, she hurriedly added, “I—I can show you my anchor interface…”

Before she could finish, she was interrupted.

One of the anchors glanced past Wen Jianyan toward the empty corridor behind him and asked:

“Where are the rest of your teammates?”

The girl seemed momentarily dazed as if she hadn’t processed the question.

Her expression was blank and bewildered, like the calm surface of water suddenly disturbed by a pebble, leaving her at a loss. After a brief pause, pain, sorrow, and fear—like mud stirred from the bottom of a pond—began to surface.

“They…”

He gritted his teeth. “They were left on that street.”

That street.

These three words seemed to trigger something. The anchors exchanged glances.

“You found that street?”

“…Yes.”

The girl twisted her hands together and nodded with difficulty.

“I—I was the only one who managed to escape.”

Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, his gaze fixed on a small patch of carpet nearby, his damp lashes veiling his expression.

Feigning harmlessness was his specialty.

But no one understood better than Wen Jianyan that in Nightmare, “pitiful,” “innocent,” and “beautiful” were useless traits. At best, they might slightly influence others’ subconscious judgments, but they couldn’t sway—let alone determine—the course of events. No one would trust or protect another anchor simply because they appeared fragile and lovable.

Only value was the true currency here.

Appearing harmless was just the first, inconsequential step—one that might succeed but was more likely to fail. Demonstrating one’s usefulness was the first real card Wen Jianyan had to play.

The simplest and most direct method was to reveal some… key information.

Not everything, of course—that would strip away all leverage. Half-truths were a swindler’s most effective rhetoric. With the right keywords, others’ imaginations would always be the best accomplice.

But the question was: which keywords to choose?

After all, based on Wen Jianyan’s speculation, he was now in the real Xingwang Hotel.

Yet he couldn’t immediately determine whether this place was truly a past time point… or just some kind of image, temporarily able to operate logically and respond to intruders’ actions due to some unknown reason.

To confirm which scenario it was, he needed more information.

The Xingwang Hotel of the past was vastly different from the current one.

The past Xingwang Hotel instance wasn’t just an ordinary A-level instance; it also didn’t have elements like versus matches or faction battles—of course, this was precisely why Wen Jianyan had decisively left the room, entered the corridor, and confronted the unfamiliar anchors head-on.

Anchors who could enter an A-level instance wouldn’t be too high-level, and since there wasn’t a strong sense of opposition or competition between them, their wariness toward each other wouldn’t be as intense. The possibility of cooperation would be much higher.

But problems remained.

Since the instances were different, the keywords chosen to demonstrate value had to be even more carefully selected.

“Well” and “woman in white”?

This idea was quickly dismissed by Wen Jianyan.

It wasn’t a suitable option.

Especially since Wen Jianyan’s initial suspicions hadn’t been dispelled.

If the “well” and the “woman in white” were both deliberately created by Nightmare in the false Xingwang Hotel instance—clues meant to guide him into the real hotel—then their importance in the real instance might not be as great as imagined.

So, what existed in both the real and false instances that held equal significance?

There was only one answer.

The street leading to nothingness.

It was the only area Nightmare couldn’t fully control. Otherwise, the corpses of anchors who had died there wouldn’t have appeared so blatantly. Within this zone, the boundaries between reflections blurred and could even be broken at will, not to mention the fragment of an evil god lurking within.

Thus, that street became the foundation of Wen Jianyan’s lie.

Clearly, judging by the reactions of the anchors before him, he had chosen correctly.

“How did you survive that street alone?” One of the anchors furrowed his brows even tighter, scrutinizing the slender, fragile-looking girl before him.

“Well…”

Wen Jianyan hesitated slightly.

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “If I tell you… can I join your team afterward?”

The anchors exchanged glances again.

Surprisingly, they replied:

“That’s not our call.”

“But,” the one who had asked spoke again, looking at Wen Jianyan, “if your answer is valuable, I can take you to our captain. Whether you can join us is up to him.”

Though this wasn’t exactly what Wen Jianyan had initially hoped for, it was enough.

“I used my talent to uncover some of the street’s secrets.”

Wen Jianyan spoke.

Talent?

The anchors perked up.

Then, Wen Jianyan pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and unfolded it for them to see.

It was a drawing that looked like it had been made by a child, covered in messy, crooked lines. Only vague patterns could barely be discerned—it resembled a shopping street.

In one corner of the drawing, the lines suddenly thickened, overlapping in circles to form a pitch-black, bottomless hole.

This was what he had taken from Rui Rui.

Back in the corridor, he had borrowed it to examine and forgotten to return it.

Of course, they had soon left the corridor, and this sketched drawing was no longer needed, so it had remained in Wen Jianyan’s possession.

Even the later sketch Rui Rui had made by the well was still in his pocket.

“Your talent is…”

“Psychography.”

Without a shred of guilt, Wen Jianyan “borrowed” Rui Rui’s talent and calmly explained:

“I can uncover secrets through Psychography, and only I can interpret the clues in this drawing.”

Next, Wen Jianyan skipped over some key details and summarized hi escape process in a vague, non-revealing way:

“…Later, I used an item to disguise myself as a corpse, and that’s how I managed to leave that street.”

A lie, of course, was most effective when mixed with truth.

Not only would it be harder to debunk, but it would also be more convincing.

“…”

Hearing this, the expressions of the anchors visibly wavered.

They exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves for a moment before finally reaching a decision.

One of them looked up, his demeanor noticeably softened.

He waved at Wen Jianyan:

“Alright, come with us.”

See? That’s how it’s done.

Wen Jianyan chuckled inwardly.

But on the surface, he wore an expression of delighted surprise, brimming with gratitude as he stumbled forward eagerly. “R-really? Thank you!”

“Don’t thank us yet. The captain hasn’t agreed.”

The man said.

Inside the “Integrity First” live broadcast room.

The massive screen flickered, and amidst a flurry of static, the broadcast finally managed to reconnect.

[Damn, it’s finally back. I’ve never been so pissed watching a stream before.]

[This resolution… whatever, at least we can see something.]

Bzz… bzz.

Amidst the noise, the image on the screen, though blurry, gradually became discernible.

[Huh? Why is it inside the hotel now? What’s going on?]

[And why did the host suddenly change his appearance??? Nightmare, get your system together. If you can’t handle it, don’t even try. This is ridiculous.]

[It was only ten minutes offline… why does it feel like I missed an entire century??]

[And who are these people in front of the host? I don’t recognize them…]

[They look kinda familiar, though. Weird, were they in the stream before? Which faction are they from?]

As the chat erupted into chaos, trying to figure out what was happening, the slightly flickering, interference-distorted image showed the girl raising her damp eyes to look at the person before her.

The flush of joy still hadn’t faded from his cheeks as he whispered, “No… th-thank you anyway.”

The man’s gaze flickered slightly. “It’s nothing.”

“…”

The “Integrity First” livestream room fell into a rare silence for a few seconds.

[As soon as the signal’s back, the host is already scamming people.]

[As soon as the signal’s back, the host is already playing with people’s emotions.]

[As soon as the signal’s back, the host is acting innocent while scamming people’s emotions!!!]

[So when is it my turn to get scammed?!!!]

Under the guidance of these anchors, Wen Jianyan moved forward.

As he walked, he subtly observed his surroundings.

Though everything looked strikingly similar to the Xingwang Hotel he knew—almost as if carved from the same mold—as someone who had memorized the map thoroughly, Wen Jianyan still noticed discrepancies.

The layout was different.

He turned his head, listening intently to the anchors’ conversations, absorbing information while occasionally engaging with those who seemed more receptive, skillfully extracting details from them.

Since Wen Jianyan knew too little about this version of the “Xingwang Hotel”, and the instance was already in its late stages, most questions couldn’t be asked outright. He had to rely on observation and indirect probing to piece together more clues.

Even so, the information was limited.

“By the way, there’s something I’m curious about.”

One of the anchors turned to Wen Jianyan, his gaze casual but probing:

“Why are you all wet?”

“?!”

Wen Jianyan’s pupils contracted slightly, nearly revealing his shock.

He instinctively controlled his reaction, quickly scanning the others—each of them was completely dry, with no trace of having been in the rain.

Even if they had changed out of wet clothes, their hair shouldn’t have dried so quickly.

Which meant…

An unexpected conclusion surfaced.

—In the real Xingwang Hotel instance, there was no rain.

Wen Jianyan lifted a hand, tucking a damp lock of hair behind his ear, and said softly:

“It’s a side effect of the item I activated. A water film covering my body masked my living scent, which is how I survived leaving that street.”

“Oh.” The anchor nodded, seemingly accepting the answer without further questions.

By now, the group had reached the elevator.

One of them pressed the button to call it, and they waited for its arrival.

Wen Jianyan stood at the back of the group, lowering his eyes slightly to conceal the complexity in his gaze.

So far, he had only gleaned two pieces of information:

First, the instance’s completion rate had reached “100%,” with only a so-called “ritual” left. The ritual’s execution was clearly tied to the street leading to the otherworld—otherwise, these anchors wouldn’t have reacted so pointedly when he mentioned it.

Second…

The “rain,” a key element in the false “Xingwang Hotel,” hadn’t existed in the original A-level instance…

In the “Integrity First” livestream room:

[Holy shit, I think I know why these people look familiar…]

[Huh?]

[No way, no way, NO WAY!]

[Spit it out already!]

[But that doesn’t make sense… they should’ve died long ago…]

[Stop being cryptic and just say it!]

Soon, a soft ding sounded—the elevator had arrived.

The doors slid open before them.

Surprisingly, the elevator wasn’t empty.

A few anchors stepped out.

The group showed surprise. “Captain!”

The man at the front nodded.

He was tall—so tall it was almost imposing.

His expression was weary, but his features still carried a trace of youthful inexperience, far from the seasoned, blood-soaked demeanor of memory.

At the back of the group, Wen Jianyan’s pupils constricted.

He quickly lowered his gaze, hiding the shock in his eyes.

The captain of the team that had nearly achieved the platinum trophy in the forcibly terminated “Xingwang Hotel” instance was…

Hugo.

Support me on Ko-fi

Join my Discord