Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 367: Different paths to the same destination
Unlike when Wen Jianyan first fell down, the bottom of the well had now completely returned to how it was supposed to look.
Between the curved well walls, the air was damp and stifling. Only a very faint bit of light fell from above, barely managing to illuminate the narrow space ahead that could barely fit one person, where even turning around felt difficult.
The bottom of the well was deathly silent.
Wen Jianyan was tightly pressed against the uneven, icy, sticky wall behind him, curled up in a corner of the well, staring in terror at the rotting corpse not far away.
The signal of the “Integrity First” livestream finally returned. On the screen that lit up again appeared the current scene.
[Hahahahahaha!]
[Hahahahahahahaha, just think about how Sister Bilan was unfazed touching the corpse just now, and yet her team captain, when faced with the same scene, became weak and pitiful and shrank into a corner.]
[I’m dying laughing. I’m willing to call this prophetic.]
[But it’s so weird. Why did the corpse suddenly start moving? Bilan was in the well for quite a while earlier too. Why didn’t it move then, but it moved now? Could it be that the ghost in this instance also knows how to bully the weak and fear the strong?]
[Because of the blood, probably. Bilan didn’t have any wounds when she went into the well earlier, but the anchor’s injuries are really serious. I saw it just now — a lot of blood mixed into the well water. Maybe that’s what awakened the corpse.]
Wen Jianyan was so startled by the suddenly moving corpse that his hair stood on end, his soul felt like it left his body, and reflexively, he was about to open his inventory and activate an item. However, at the last moment, his movement suddenly stopped and froze in midair.
In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room barrage:
[? Why did the anchor freeze up?]
[Got scared stiff?]
[Yeah, right. You got scared stiff — he definitely didn’t. Don’t think I didn’t see it; this guy runs like a rabbit when he sees a ghost.]
[Clack… clack clack.]
The harsh sound of bones grinding echoed at the bottom of the well.
The corpse, draped in decaying flesh, stood up bit by bit from the icy mud that reached up to its knees, moving in a stiff posture.
Dim, gloomy light fell from the mouth of the well, barely illuminating the narrow space below.
“Clack.”
Its skull tilted grotesquely to one side, and its dark, empty eye sockets stared silently and slantwise at him.
Wen Jianyan’s face was pale, his back tightly pressed to the wall, as if he wanted to embed himself deep into the wall.
His throat moved with difficulty as he swallowed, but he still didn’t move.
Earlier, pushed by the Nightmare, he had entered the original “Diorama” of the Xingwang Hotel and spent a not-so-short amount of time there. Compared to that, the terrifying moment of being dragged into the well by countless ghost hands felt like something that happened in a past life.
But just before activating the item, Wen Jianyan suddenly recalled all those scenes—
The pitch-black darkness where he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, the damp well mud, the countless bones half-buried in the mud.
Whether it was the pale ghost hands stretching out from the well or the rotting corpses that started moving again within the mud, all of them were far smaller than the size of an adult.
In other words, they were all children.
In this small town, the only place where there were only children was just one.
If it had been someone else, they might have only felt confused. But Wen Jianyan was different.
He had once entered the depths of the “Diorama” and had a very in-depth conversation with Hugo, who was about to unlock the full storyline and achieve the platinum completion for the instance. So, he knew very well what these dead children’s corpses actually were—
They were materials.
Meals prepared to break open the prison and send away the jailer.
And the NPC who gave those materials to Hugo was the woman in white hidden in the painting, one of the teachers in that elementary school.
In the dark, many seemingly unrelated pieces of information connected into a line.
Who was it that invisibly guided them through this instance? And who was the one manipulating everything behind the scenes, steering the events toward their final end…
But because many questions remained unanswered, back in the Diorama, Wen Jianyan had left the street as fast as he could and returned to the hotel’s interior. Still, he was one step too slow and failed at the last moment.
By the time he reached the room, the banquet had already started. And as a “guest”, the woman in white with the blurred face had already left, leaving only an empty room behind.
The rotting skeleton lifted its legs and walked forward.
Splash—
The cold, muddy water swayed, and the long-settled sediment was stirred up and began to float.
Watching the scene before him, Wen Jianyan felt ice-cold all over.
A strong sense of fear fermented in his heart, urging him to do something…
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to hold down his slightly trembling fingers with sheer willpower.
Splash—
The sound of water continued.
Wen Jianyan forced himself to fix his gaze on the slowly approaching corpse in front of him. He held his breath and used all of his willpower to observe carefully.
That’s right — unlike the children’s bones he had seen before, this one clearly had the physique of an adult.
On the skeleton covered in mud and decaying flesh, there were still some scattered scraps of fabric. Although it was nearly impossible to make out the original form, a faint trace of color could still be vaguely seen.
It looked like… a white dress.
“……”
Wen Jianyan could hear his heart pounding rapidly, thumping against his ribs. His breathing grew unsteady. The blood in his body seemed to boil with tension, then freeze from fear.
That’s right.
The woman in the painting he had once gone through so much trouble to find in the diorama — although she could hardly be called “alive” —she now stood truly and unmistakably right before him.
The time for thinking slipped away in a flash.
Wen Jianyan had only been distracted for a few seconds, but the terrifying corpse, reeking of decay and with a face beyond recognition, was already right in front of him.
Even though he had mentally prepared himself, the physiological fear was still impossible to fully overcome. A chill surged up his spine, and his stomach felt like it was weighed down by a heavy stone, sending him into a panic.
Without any warning, the female corpse stopped moving.
It stood upright on the spot, its cervical spine twisted at a bizarre angle to the side, head tilted, hollow eye sockets lifeless.
It just stood there, motionless like a puppet on strings.
“…?”
The fear that seemed capable of swallowing him whole gradually cooled, eventually replaced by a rising sense of confusion.
Why did it stop moving?
Wen Jianyan cleared his throat, “Um…”
The female corpse still didn’t move, standing like a pillar in the center of the well’s bottom.
Trembling, he added, “…Hello?”
The corpse still didn’t move at all, showing no sign of being affected by his words.
Its half-rotted skull, with exposed bone, looked even more horrifying under the faint light.
As expected, just like the other ghosts in this instance, this corpse was no exception—merely acting based on rules and primal instincts, not an NPC like the hotel manager with whom communication was possible.
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan froze, as if something had dawned on him.
He raised his hand and touched the mask on his face.
It was cold and pale, looking like hard porcelain, but to the touch, it had a soft texture akin to human skin.
A guess slowly rose in his mind.
In this instance, the function of the mask was to disguise humans as ghosts, preventing the ghosts from recognizing them.
If he followed this line of reasoning…
Could it be that the corpse had stopped moving because it couldn’t distinguish whether the figure in front of it was human or ghost?
With that thought, Wen Jianyan hesitated for a moment, then slowly raised his hand and pressed it against the mask on his face.
Bit by bit, he removed the mask.
“Ge—”
The corpse seemed to sense something and turned its head toward Wen Jianyan.
As it resumed moving, the splashing sound of water echoed again. Wen Jianyan’s heartbeat skyrocketed as he watched the corpse get closer and closer.
Although he remained frozen in place, Wen Jianyan had already prepared to activate a prop at any moment to create an opportunity to escape.
As the distance narrowed, Wen Jianyan noticed very distinct signs of crushing pressure along its spine—like it had been forcibly snapped in half.
The corpse slowly raised its decayed arm, and then…
Extended its hand.
The flesh on its fingers had completely rotted away, leaving only white, bony joints.
Wen Jianyan’s heart was in his throat.
He stared at the corpse’s half-clenched hand and seemed to realize something.
He swallowed hard, gathered his courage, and reached out his hand.
The corpse’s fingers dropped something cold into his palm.
In the next second, like a puppet with its strings cut, the corpse that had been standing stiffly in front of him suddenly collapsed.
Startled, Wen Jianyan reflexively reached out to catch it.
A nauseating stench of rot and decay rushed into his nostrils.
Wen Jianyan stood frozen, his face pale, blankly lowering his head to look at what he was holding.
The shattered remains of the corpse lay in his arms, slick and drenched in blood and filth. Its long black hair, soaked and tangled with grime, disgustingly wrapped around its skull and draped over his arm. The hollow eye sockets seemed to still be staring at him.
“!!!”
Wen Jianyan’s breath hitched.
He looked utterly hopeless, already anticipating the many nightmares he would suffer after leaving this instance.
Wen Jianyan climbed out of the well like a wandering soul.
His face was bluish, clothes soaked through, and the sensation of holding a corpse still clung to him vividly, leaving a deep psychological scar.
Staggering and pale, Wen Jianyan walked toward a nearby building that could provide temporary shelter from the rain.
The house was empty.
Clearly, after he had been dragged into the diorama, his teammates had also left. But they hadn’t given up waiting because they thought their captain was dead—instead, they had actively left to achieve some goal.
Wen Jianyan lifted his eyes, bent down, and picked up a damp piece of paper from the floor.
Clearly, this was a piece of paper carried by the anchor with the “word inscription” talent. It had been folded into a small square and tucked behind a secret door at the back of the room.
Only by pushing the door open from the direction of the well would the paper naturally fall out—otherwise, it would stay hidden in the door’s hinge.
A line was written on it:
“We’ve figured out how to win. Contact us immediately.”
It was Chen Mo’s handwriting.
Wen Jianyan paused but didn’t act on the message right away. Instead, he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.
He lowered his head and examined the item he had just received from the corpse in the well.
It was a small, black box.
Though covered in filth and grime, the strange yet familiar metallic sheen underneath could still faintly be seen.
Wait a minute.
This material…
Wen Jianyan was slightly taken aback.
He hastily wiped the mud off the surface of the box with his sleeve, lifted it toward the light, and examined it carefully.
There was no mistake.
Wen Jianyan stared intently at the box in his hands.
The last time he had seen something similar was inside the Ping’an Sanatorium instance.
He remembered clearly: in that instance, a very similar box had contained an epic-level hidden item, and the box had been opened using the Ouroboros ring. After opening it, he had obtained a piece of parchment—the parchment clearly wasn’t unique, as the Gentleman had also possessed a similar item.
And it was precisely the clues written on that parchment that guided the Gentleman into this instance, revealed the path into the Framing Shop, and explained how to leave a portrait of oneself behind.
As if… all paths led to the same destination.
As if, in the unseen world, everything was subtly connected.
Invisible threads were deeply buried within the seemingly chaotic and complex instance, as if some vast, unseen force was manipulating everything behind the scenes.
Wen Jianyan’s breathing unconsciously quickened, and in front of him, it was as if he could glimpse something eerie.
He flipped the box over with practiced ease, but to his disappointment, this time, the black box had no Ouroboros-shaped indentation. Instead, there was a clearly defined keyhole.
Wen Jianyan let out a sigh, though he wasn’t exactly surprised.
Well, fair enough.
The Fantasy Amusement Park and Ping An Asylum were already closely connected. The key item, the Ouroboros, found in the Fantasy Amusement Park, had originated from the Ping An Asylum. The two were inherently linked and had a very clear chronological relationship. So, the black box in Ping An Asylum could be opened with the item from the Fantasy Amusement Park.
However, between the Xingwamg Hotel and Ping An Asylum, there didn’t seem to be that same level of connection.
Now it seemed that the two instances had merely been influenced and interfered with by the same system or force, but there was no actual cause-and-effect relationship between them. In fact, due to the presence of those brass components and certain rules, the Xingwang Hotel instance was even more closely related to the Changsheng Building instance.
So, it made perfect sense that the Ouroboros from the Fantasy Amusement Park couldn’t open this box.
Wen Jianyan didn’t feel discouraged. He tucked the box back into his pocket.
These scattered clues were spread across different instances. He wasn’t even sure whether the key to this box existed within the Xingwang Hotel instance at all. Even if he couldn’t open it now, there would always be a chance in the future.
However…
Wen Jianyan paused, then pulled out the note from his pocket and glanced at the message. His eyes lingered for a moment on the words “Contact us immediately.”
He hesitated, but in the end, did not take out his phone to message his teammates.
If it had been before seeing the black box, he definitely would have done so.
But the unexpected item he received from the corpse changed Wen Jianyan’s mind.
That pitch-black box, made of unknown material, was closely linked to some mysterious, terrifying, and otherworldly force. The surreal, god-making experiment he had once personally experienced now bizarrely tied itself to this old, decaying town—a place that shared neither time, location, nor aesthetic with the sanatorium.
This deeply unsettled Wen Jianyan.
Unanswered questions from before began to resurface in his mind, growing too loud to ignore.
Now might not be the right time.
Countless thoughts spun through his mind, appearing and disappearing one after another.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, stuffed the note back into his pocket, and walked toward the door.
Although he had decided to act alone for now and not inform his teammates of his current situation, one thing was still certain:
He had to return to the Xingwang Hotel within the limited remaining time.
The banquet was about to begin.
If he failed to return to the hotel within the allotted time and receive an invitation to the third-day banquet from the hotel manager, he might lose his chance to participate in the final—and most crucial—part of the instance.
So, Wen Jianyan’s top priority was to find a painting as quickly as possible and use it to leave the town.
Rain poured steadily from the sky.
Wen Jianyan, wearing a mask, moved swiftly through the rain.
This mask was something he had purchased using ghost coins in the original instance, so it posed no risk of any potential killing effects.
Because of this, Wen Jianyan was able to walk in the rain for a longer period without dying.
As time passed, the mirror instance seemed to be gradually converging with the original instance.
Compared to the first day, the sky was now as dark as ink, and countless faint shadows stiffly wandered through the rain—it was practically a ghost town.
Soon, Wen Jianyan successfully found a double portrait inside a low bungalow.
Once he obtained this painting, the path back to the Xingwang Hotel would reopen. By welcoming the “guest” in the painting into the hotel, he would be able to return as well.
Although he was alone this time and the difficulty was far higher than moving as a full team, Wen Jianyan had long since mastered the rules. He had already led his team to successfully clear instances multiple times. So even alone, this kind of task wouldn’t be too hard for him.
Wen Jianyan glanced at the time.
There was still time left.
He took a deep breath, grasped the edge of the painting’s frame with one hand, and was just about to take it down—
But right then, a creaking sound came from behind as the door was pushed open.
“…?!”
Wen Jianyan was startled. He turned quickly in the direction of the sound.
Because the sound of the rain outside was too loud, he hadn’t heard any approaching footsteps. It wasn’t until the door was opened that he realized another team was entering the room.
The floorboards creaked—creak, creak—as more than one person appeared to be walking into the room.
Wen Jianyan darted away, quickly hiding behind a cabinet.
He took a deep breath, rapidly calculating in his mind.
In truth, encountering anchors wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. If they were from the Red Faction, then for Wen Jianyan, who was acting alone, they would be rare reinforcements that could greatly improve his efficiency—
Through the narrow crack, Wen Jianyan discreetly peeked outside.
Soon, within his limited field of view, a four-person team slowly approached.
“……”
Wen Jianyan’s gaze swept over their faces, and his heart sank.
Not Red Faction.
Talk about misfortune piling on.
It seemed he’d have to wait for them to leave and then find another—
……
Hmm, wait a second.
Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes, a glint of light flashing in his pale irises.
This… might work too?
“Captain, found it!”
One of the Black Faction members pointed excitedly at the nearby oil painting.
“It’s a double portrait!”
“Perfect, it’s the last one. Let’s hurry—if we don’t act now, we’ll be out of time—”
The group hurried forward, just about to grab the painting, when suddenly the floor behind them creaked without warning. Then came the steady, unhurried sound of approaching footsteps.
“?!”
The group was startled. They quickly turned toward the source of the sound.
A lone figure slowly emerged from the darkness.
Faint light fell across a pale, blurred face—like a vengeful ghost—sending chills down their spines.
Everyone instinctively took a step back, muscles tensed, immediately assuming a combat stance, ready for confrontation.
However, the figure stopped walking.
He raised a pale hand, spread his fingers over his face, and removed the mask.
Beneath the mask was a very familiar face.
Extremely pale—nearly the same color as the mask—with slightly bulging eyes, a sinister and chilling expression that sent shivers down the spine, and the signature, insect-like long limbs.
The man slowly turned his head, his cold eyes sweeping over the group, and asked in a slightly hoarse, icy tone, unhurriedly:
“What are you doing?”
The group’s faces changed dramatically. “M-Mr. Anise?!”
“……”
The man turned his head to look at the one who spoke first and let out a bone-chilling, sinister laugh.
“What else could I be doing?”
Close to endinggg. Curious what happens to the gentleman