WTNL Chapter 362

Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 362: Mate

In the pitch-black corridor, heavy with the thick scent of blood, countless ghostly figures stood rigidly in the endless depths of the shadows.

In a flash, their gazes met in mid-air, briefly connecting for an instant.

The black-haired, golden-eyed man stepped forward, his expression cold and unreadable.

“!”

Wen Jianyan instinctively took half a step back.

The next second, realizing the implied weakness in his action, he forcibly stopped himself from retreating further.

Wu Zhu’s steps didn’t pause.

He advanced step by step, his pale face illuminated by golden eyes that flickered like ghostly flames in the darkness.

Wen Jianyan’s heart clenched, his mind racing.

The Wu Zhu before him now was likely the same fragment he had encountered in this Xingwang Hotel instance—only this was a version from the past.

Moreover…

The current Wu Zhu existed on a timeline even earlier than their first meeting in the Decai Middle School instance.

If so, he wouldn’t have any memories of their past encounters.

Not just those of the main body, but even the brief interactions they’d shared in the false mirror dimension would be absent.

That… was bad.

Images of the Wu Zhu he’d seen in the mirror instance flashed through Wen Jianyan’s mind.

Dark, sinister, and eerie.

Devoid of humanity or memory, driven solely by endless hunger and malice.

Wen Jianyan felt as if needles were pricking his back, the sense of danger intensifying.

He racked his brains, trying to find a path that wasn’t too risky.

Though Wu Zhu had no memories, and his mental state and intelligence were unknowns, at the very least, one thing remained consistent—

“Wu Zhu!”

Wen Jianyan shouted.

“…”

The other man’s steps abruptly halted.

He stared at the human before him, his face still devoid of expression. Yet, inexplicably, Wen Jianyan sensed a flicker of contemplation and confusion in his gaze, as if puzzled by how this human knew his true name.

Wen Jianyan’s mind briefly wandered.

Was it just his imagination, or was he getting better at reading the subtle emotions on that usually impassive face?

Still, at least the other’s reaction confirmed that he wasn’t entirely driven by instinct and predatory desire. To some extent, communication might still be possible.

But Wen Jianyan found himself at a loss.

His shout had been a spur-of-the-moment act of desperation. As for what to do or say next… he wasn’t entirely sure.

Should he say, “You don’t know me, but I’m actually your bishop—the one who stabbed you and imprisoned your main body?” That… didn’t seem like the right move.

As the two stood locked in stalemate, perhaps because Wu Zhu had stepped away, the previously motionless ghosts began to stir again. Drawn by the scent of blood in the air, they slowly resumed their movements. The rustling of fabric filled the silence as shadows crept forward, inching toward the unconscious Rain on the ground.

Wen Jianyan’s gaze was drawn to the sound, looking past Wu Zhu.

At the sight, his heart leapt into his throat, his breath catching for an instant.

Wu Zhu didn’t turn his head, as if entirely indifferent to the human life hanging in the balance behind him—not even sparing it a glance. His eyes remained fixed on Wen Jianyan as he spoke abruptly:

“You care about him?”

The man’s voice was low, carrying a cold, almost metallic resonance that echoed eerily in the dark, empty space, sending an involuntary shiver down Wen Jianyan’s spine.

“?!”

Wen Jianyan froze, staring at Wu Zhu in shock.

He… could talk?

“No.”

Wen Jianyan quickly snapped out of it.

He tore his gaze away from Rain and shook his head calmly, swiftly denying the assumption. “We’ve only crossed paths once, that’s all.”

Wu Zhu fell silent again.

But behind him, the ghosts’ movements abruptly quickened. If before they had been creeping forward cautiously, drawn by the scent of blood yet still wary of Wu Zhu’s presence, now it was as though some invisible restraint had vanished. The dragging, stiff footsteps resumed.

In just a few breaths, the small buffer zone left by Wu Zhu’s presence had shrunk drastically. Pale faces loomed in the darkness, closing in.

“Wait!”

Wen Jianyan’s pupils contracted slightly. Unthinkingly, he took a step forward.

Wu Zhu watched him.

Behind him, the ghosts continued their advance, unhindered.

“Alright, alright—I do need him alive,” Wen Jianyan spoke faster, his eyes locking back onto Wu Zhu’s face. “But ‘care’ is too strong a word.” At most, he and Hugo had only met once—they were hardly close.

The reason he wanted to keep Hugo alive was primarily due to his own uncertainty about the current situation. If he truly had been sent back to a past timeline, Rain’s death could disrupt everything that followed. Wen Jianyan couldn’t afford that.

The buffer zone had dwindled to a terrifying degree.

“Fine.”

Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, forcing his voice into a calm, measured tone. “Let’s make a deal. Spare his life, and I’ll answer any question you have.”

“For example… why I know your name—”

Wu Zhu remained unmoved.

“—or,” Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, as if steeling himself, then undid a button and tugged up the damp hem of his shirt, “how this mark got here.”

A patch of damp, pale skin glowed faintly in the darkness.

On it was an intricate, blood-red sigil, its lines shimmering with faint gold, rising and falling with Wen Jianyan’s unsteady breaths.

“…”

This time, Wu Zhu’s expression finally shifted.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between them.

As the distance closed, a chilling aura spread outward, cold enough to freeze one’s blood.

Wen Jianyan stood still, his expression unchanged, though the muscles along his spine tensed slightly from nervousness.

His gaze remained fixed on Wu Zhu, lifting gradually as the other drew closer.

Soon, Wu Zhu halted just a step away.

He lowered his eyes.

His stare lingered briefly on Wen Jianyan’s face before drifting downward, finally settling on the sigil at his hip.

That gaze carried weight and heat, the sensation against his skin so vivid it sent a prickling numbness down Wen Jianyan’s back.

Wu Zhu raised his hand unhurriedly.

Ice-cold fingers closed around the curve of Wen Jianyan’s hip.

His touch was frigid, devoid of any human warmth, while the sigil beneath the skin burned fiercely, as though trying to sear through flesh. The clash of cold and heat was jarring.

Wen Jianyan shivered.

The pale, slightly damp skin instantly tightened, goosebumps rising in response to the stimulation.

He held himself back from retreating.

Wu Zhu leaned in, inhaling lightly at the side of his neck.

“You carry my scent.”

His voice was too close.

Wen Jianyan’s ears tingled, and he fought the urge to shrink back.

Peering over Wu Zhu’s shoulder, he looked toward Hugo in the distance.

From this angle, the other man’s figure was nearly obscured by the dense crowd of ghosts, the air thick with a sinister aura and the heavy stench of blood—clearly, the situation was dire. Wen Jianyan’s anxiety spiked.

He turned back to Wu Zhu.

“Do we have a deal?”

Wu Zhu seemed to consider it.

“Yes.”

The restless ghosts froze as if bound by invisible shackles once more, the oppressive force reasserting itself. They stiffened, retreating a step in unison. The empty circle reformed.

Hugo lay within the vacuum, seemingly safe for now.

Wen Jianyan exhaled imperceptibly in relief.

But the danger wasn’t entirely over.

The real source of trouble was standing right in front of him, staring down at him.

“Now, speak,” Wu Zhu said.

Faced with this, Wen Jianyan had no choice but to press forward.

“I am… your bishop.”

“Lie.”

Those golden eyes bore into him from mere inches away, an intangible pressure bearing down.

“?!”

Wen Jianyan stiffened.

How did Wu Zhu—

Wait, no, that wasn’t even a lie!

Though he hadn’t planned to reveal everything, only selecting what he could safely share, strictly speaking, he hadn’t lied.

At least for a certain period, he had been Wu Zhu’s bishop.

Wu Zhu’s gaze lingered on Wen Jianyan’s face.

“You do not resemble a worshipper.”

He raised his hand again, icy fingertips tracing the golden-red sigil on the human’s warm skin.

“Nor would I brand a worshipper with this mark.”

Wen Jianyan’s breath hitched.

So.

His earlier speculation was confirmed.

Whether in pain or color, the two sigils were clearly different. If the first had been for surveillance and control, then the second—

As he pondered, the rustling of footsteps resumed.

“…”

Wen Jianyan glanced past Wu Zhu.

The ghosts were moving again, the empty circle shrinking once more.

He gritted his teeth.

Damn it, this guy’s impossible to fool!

He was starting to miss the days when Wu Zhu couldn’t speak and barely used his brain.

Wu Zhu watched him impassively.

Wen Jianyan turned back, speeding up his words.

“I’m not lying. I really was your bishop, it’s just—”

He paused, took a deep breath, then clenched his jaw as if steeling himself.

“…I was also your—”

“Your—”

What? How was he supposed to finish this sentence?

“I was also your…”

Wen Jianyan bit down hard and forced out two words through gritted teeth:

“…your wife.”

The rustling footsteps ceased. The corridor plunged into dead silence.

“…”

Wu Zhu studied the human before him thoughtfully.

“Mate?”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

Damn it, that word is so much better!!!

Why had he been possessed to choose those two words earlier?!

Heat flooded his face, the sheer humiliation making him want to dig his toes into the ground. He wished he could slap his past self silly and force those words back down his throat.

Wu Zhu glanced at the human before him, now practically steaming with embarrassment, and seemed to accept the explanation.

“I see.”

“?”

Wen Jianyan blinked, dragging his mind out of the depths of shame.

Huh? He believed it?

Wait, if Wu Zhu accepted this so easily, then the true nature of this sigil might really be—

The thought startled him, and he frowned.

But before he could follow that line of reasoning, the god before him spoke again, tone indifferent.

“Then I should kill him.”

Wen Jianyan: “???”

Wu Zhu saw nothing wrong with his statement.

For the first time, he turned his head to look at the unconscious human man behind him, golden eyes cold as he murmured—

“You care about him, do you not?”

Wen Jianyan’s vision darkened: “…”

He truly hadn’t expected that, after all his “negotiations,” Rain’s already precarious life would now hang by an even thinner thread.

How did it come to this?!

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