WTNL Chapter 364

Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 364: I really enjoy doing this kind of thing with you.

Wen Jianyan actually didn’t focus on the last thing Wu Zhu said.

Because before Wu Zhu even spoke, he already felt a bone-chilling sensation pressing down from above his head. That feeling didn’t come from the strange being at his side, but from some distant, vast, and terrifying thing.

In that moment, Wen Jianyan couldn’t help the way his hair stood on end.

Like a drowning man grabbing at driftwood, he also desperately clung to the only tangible thing at his side:

“Wait—”

His throat tightened, and his voice nearly lost its original tone.

Wu Zhu paused and glanced down.

It was as if he was holding a warm, furry, trembling little bird in his arms. He raised his hand and covered Wen Jianyan’s eyes.

The next minute, two minutes, or maybe even longer—whatever happened during that span vanished from his mind. Wen Jianyan didn’t know what had taken place.

When he regained consciousness, Wu Zhu’s arm was already gone.

Darkness—thick, murky, overwhelming darkness—spread out across his field of vision.

That kind of pure blackness made him almost doubt whether his eyes were open at all.

His sight was useless. So was his sense of touch.

There was nothing beneath his feet, no support of any kind. Wen Jianyan wasn’t even sure whether he was lying down, standing, or simply suspended. There was nothing around him—he had no way to struggle. The only clear piece of information was: he was trapped.

Trapped, but where, he didn’t know.

His five senses were stripped away.

The only thing left was an unease that steadily swelled.

Wen Jianyan instinctively tensed up, shivering.

Calm down, calm down, he told himself silently.

He took a deep breath and knocked his forehead against his knees, curling up like a child.

Thinking—that was the only thing he could do right now.

First of all, what had just happened?

The answer was practically self-evident. Based on previous conclusions, the layout of the old Xingwang Hotel instance had basically been understood. In order to fulfill their achievements, the Nightmare brought external interference into the instance and released the sealed deity inside. So, the Nightmare had no choice but to descend into the instance and confine the damage to the smallest scope possible.

Judging from what happened next—

The Nightmare had clearly succeeded.

Whether it was the subsequent anchor recruitment or the suppressed state of Wu Zhu’s fragments, everything confirmed this.

But, different from what had been imagined—

During the confrontation just now, Wu Zhu didn’t seem to be as passive as expected?

Wen Jianyan tried uncertainly to recall the earlier details.

Of course, everything had happened so quickly that there was definitely a chance he saw it wrong. But that didn’t explain his current situation.

Although he had briefly lost consciousness just now, Wen Jianyan was sure he was still inside Wu Zhu’s world. If the Nightmare had really succeeded in sealing the dungeon and cutting off Wu Zhu’s resurrection, then why hadn’t he returned to the hotel?

“Wu Zhu.”

Wen Jianyan raised his voice, testing the waters.

No one responded.

The darkness around him was like a sponge, absorbing all the sound he made. Wen Jianyan wasn’t even sure whether the echo in his ears only existed in his own mind.

“Wu Zhu?”

He called out a few more times.

Still no response.

It was completely pointless.

Wen Jianyan stopped.

No light. No sound. No color.

No concept of time. No physical contact with anything.

Wen Jianyan felt like he was floating in a vast void, and even his own existence seemed to be slipping away.

His awareness began to blur. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were still open—or if he was still awake, or already asleep.

The touch came without warning. Cold fingers fell on the side of his ear.

“…”

The abrupt change in temperature made Wen Jianyan shiver and snap awake.

The previously calm darkness seemed to come alive again, gripping his body like muddy tears, forcing him out of that sealed-off state—like prying open a hard, tightly shut shell.

It was a kind of inorganic, overwhelming power—belonging to a being beyond human, starkly contrasted with the frailty and weakness of human flesh.

Wen Jianyan felt dizzy, his limbs light. “Wu Zhu!” he shouted.

No response from the darkness.

Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth and spoke again. “You—”

The next second, all sound was swallowed by another pair of lips.

It was a kiss that could only be described as terrifying.

Greedy, fiercely aggressive lips and tongue pressed down, shifting angles again and again, prying open his teeth, wrapping around his tongue, sucking, biting, licking—like a violent storm, completely disregarding his feelings.

Wet sounds echoed in the darkness.

Wen Jianyan could barely breathe.

His head was spinning, his tongue was numb from the suction, and his strength was draining away. His waist and abdomen—the place where the mark was—burned intensely, sparks darting like electricity.

Goddamn it—

In that boundless, raging tide, Wen Jianyan struggled to stay conscious, but his senses, sharpened by prolonged darkness and void, had become far too sensitive, unable to withstand any stimulation. Let alone when the other party was so blatant, sharp, and domineering—

Enough. Enough.

He tried to turn his face away, but was quickly chased down and caught again.

From his neck to his cheek, everything was pinned down tightly in a wide palm. He couldn’t move at all.

His whimpers were trapped deep in his throat. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t breathe. His head spun.

“You’re trembling.”

A low male voice rang out by his ear.

Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, adjusting his irregular breathing to stop himself from blurting out curse words.

“We have done plenty of the things humans do with each other, haven’t we?”

Wu Zhu repeated the lie Wen Jianyan had told earlier. “Tell me, what was the first position?”

His fingers gathered around the young man’s violently contracting neck.

Cold, bone-chilling breath surrounded him. Under the warm skin, blood vessels throbbed intensely and irregularly.

He carelessly pecked and kissed the human’s moist, scalding, slightly trembling, plump lips. “We can do it all over again, one by one.”

“You f*cking—”

Wen Jianyan had just recovered from that kiss.

His throat was hoarse, the trailing syllables still carried a slight tremble, laced with wet, disordered breaths.

He didn’t even know where the strength came from—he suddenly raised his hand, grabbed the man in front of him tightly, pulled him closer, and gritted his teeth:

“You have memories, don’t you?!”

That kissing technique was definitely not something he had never taught!

“…”

Darkness returned to stillness.

The other party seemed to fall into silence.

The barrier impenetrable to human sight clearly posed no obstacle to the other party.

But without light, the liar had no way to guess the other’s intentions.

The young man’s exposed chest and abdomen, still holding remnants of warmth, rose and fell violently as he glared into the darkness before him in vain.

“Memory?”

Wu Zhu repeated.

In the darkness, the other seemed to laugh, but Wen Jianyan wasn’t sure if it was just his illusion. “Not yet.”

Not yet?

Wen Jianyan froze for a moment.

Yes or no, have or have not—those he could understand. But what did “not yet” mean? What kind of answer was that?

Before he could react, Wu Zhu’s voice sounded again.

“But soon.”

His voice was very calm, but it seemed to conceal some kind of unknown and dangerous thing, making Wen Jianyan tremble for a second.

“What do you mean?” Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but press.

Before his ears heard a reply, his side hip first felt the sudden temperature and weight.

A palm landed atop the mark.

The young man jolted all over, instinctively springing up like a fish.

Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but arch his body, grabbing the other’s wrist, seemingly wanting to stop his next move.

Wu Zhu let him grab without trying to pull away. His cold fingers landed on the mark, rubbing it faintly, aimlessly. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

“…”

Wen Jianyan fell silent for a moment, then spoke somewhat uncertainly: “Your name?”

“Yes.” Wu Zhu clearly smiled this time. “But it’s not just that.”

“It’s a rule.”

“I am not human, not a living creature. There’s no such thing as individual distinction. Every version of me is me. I am a concept bound by a single rule.” His words sounded like an incantation.

Simple, and clear, but it felt like an unspeakable, predetermined truth.

“You’ve been brought into my rule and become my anchor point.”

A cold, broad palm grasped the back of his neck, stroking the fine, soft hair.

As if sensing danger approaching, Wen Jianyan’s breathing involuntarily quickened.

Suddenly, a sharp pain at the side of his neck.

The other’s fingers applied force, seemingly using nails to tear open the skin.

Wen Jianyan bit back the cry of pain that nearly escaped.

Without vision, he could still feel the itchy sensation of warm blood sliding down his neck, as well as—

A tongue, like a cold snake, climbed from bottom to top, licking up toward the wound.

“There is my blood inside your body.”

At the side of his abdomen, Wu Zhu’s hand pressed harder. Through a thin, warm layer of skin, it was as though it were about to merge with the mark beneath. “My name is on your body.”

“As long as you are nearby, I am me.”

“Or, in your words—”

He paused, seemingly unwilling to use this phrasing, but still repeated Wen Jianyan’s own words: “Regain memory.”

The amount of information was overwhelming. Wen Jianyan felt like his brain hadn’t yet recovered from the earlier chaos and couldn’t understand the meaning of the other’s words. He could only freeze in place, images flashing through his mind from just before the end of the Changsheng Building instance.

Scalding, molten-gold blood poured down his throat and merged with him, engraving the rule of the Other into his very bones and blood—

So this was why Wu Zhu had done it.

Even though his true body was sealed inside the Ouroboros ring, as long as Wen Jianyan remained alive, any Wu Zhu fragment encountered in future instances—so long as it remained in contact with him long enough—could become the true body. What a clever idea.

Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth in hatred.

Wu Zhu’s lips fell to his ear again, carrying a touch of carelessness: “No wonder we never got to the final step. The mark on your body was written with my blood.” 

He traced the talisman’s lines with his fingers and added, “So, the rule is protecting you equally, rather than controlling or devouring you.”

He seemed a little regretful.

“What’s the final step?” An intense sense of foreboding surged.

Wen Jianyan suppressed his gradually accelerating heartbeat and asked.

“To merge with me.” Wu Zhu let out a laugh. “Become part of me.”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

This matched exactly with the end of the Decai High School instance—when Wu Zhu was dominated by the Fruit of Lies: love was appetite, and he wanted to devour him, to make him a part of himself. You’re seriously a pervert.

He took a deep breath and said dryly, “Thank you for the invitation, but I’ll pass.”

Wu Zhu let out a calm monosyllable:

“Hm?”

“Sorry, but I still prefer to be a bit more myself.” Wen Jianyan showed a fake smile, though it was unclear if the other could see it, and spoke with a sort of insincere politeness.

“Mm.”

Wu Zhu’s response was actually very calm. “Then forget it.”

Wen Jianyan: “?”

Well, you’re surprisingly reasonable.

“I’ve gradually realized why I never took the next step,” Wu Zhu lifted his hand again, gently cupping the chin of the human in front of him, studying him with what seemed like curiosity.

“You’re a very interesting individual.”

“And also…”

He paused.

The pad of his finger pressed against the young man’s plump lower lip, kneading it carelessly.

“I really enjoy doing this kind of thing with you.”

“Is there anything else? Tell me, what comes next?”

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