Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 372.2: Land of the Dead
Wen Jianyan walked forward with a food tray in his hands.
The farther he went, the stronger the stench of blood became.
The pool of blood ahead shimmered strangely, glaring scarlet, as if it could swallow a person whole.
Chen Mo sat motionless with his back to him, his spine straight like a wooden plank. Behind him, a faint white silhouette loomed vaguely.
Wen Jianyan felt the weight on his wrist growing heavier. An invisible hand was tightening its grip, dragging him toward the death trap ahead.
One step, two steps, three steps.
The suffocating pressure felt like a heavy stone crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Finally, he stopped beside Chen Mo.
Balancing the food tray with one hand, Wen Jianyan bent down and picked up a match.
With a sharp “crack,” a flame fueled by blood flared to life, lighting the half-burnt candle in front of Chen Mo.
The moment the candle was lit, the atmosphere around the long table changed abruptly.
The air turned icy cold, the putrid stench of long-decomposed corpses lingered in the air, and under the ghostly red glow, Wen Jianyan saw—every “guest” sitting at the table slowly began to move their heads.
“Clack, clack—”
A grating sound of bone grinding against bone echoed.
Pale faces turned in his direction, hollow, lifeless eye sockets “staring” at him.
Even though he had mentally prepared himself, Wen Jianyan couldn’t suppress the goosebumps crawling all over his body.
According to the prior arrangement, he quickly signaled Bai Xue.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his wrist.
“Hiss—!”
Wen Jianyan gasped in pain and instinctively turned to look.
In the crimson light, a bluish-white hand slowly materialized. It clamped onto his wrist like a cold iron shackle, sending waves of sharp pain through his arm.
Hand, wrist, forearm, torso…
A human figure slowly emerged.
A filthy white dress, a pale, stiff face, and pitch-black, hollow eyes.
It was the woman in white.
She stood beside Wen Jianyan, her rotting, chilling scent wafting through the air. Wen Jianyan could even feel the icy coldness emanating from her body.
Too close.
Aaaaaaah!!!!
Wen Jianyan screamed silently.
Hurry, please hurry.
He prayed in his heart, hoping Bai Xue’s ability would soon take effect.
Time stretched endlessly, yet also seemed to pass in an instant.
“Clack.”
The sound of bones grinding was right beside him.
The woman in white slowly turned her head.
Faster!!!
As if responding to his prayer, a drop of blood oozed from the bronze plate nearby, trickled down the bloodstained tablecloth, and hit the ground with a “drip.”
Just that single drop easily connected the two separated pools of blood into one.
A large, complete, sticky pool of blood spread beneath him, completely enveloping the area where Wen Jianyan stood.
At that moment, an ominous feeling surged over him.
He shivered and instinctively looked down.
In the blood-red glow, Wen Jianyan could vaguely make out the scene within.
Roads, houses… human figures…
Among them, only the figure of the woman in white was crystal clear, standing motionless beside him, radiating a chilling aura.
The next second, a sensation of weightlessness hit.
The ground seemed to crack open.
“Ah!!”
A scream escaped his throat, and Wen Jianyan fell straight in.
The pool of blood beneath his feet was like a massive, dark tunnel, covered with a thin layer of ice that easily gave way and swallowed the young man standing above.
—As if the hotel had swallowed him whole.
The downward pull was far stronger than the woman in white’s grip, tearing Wen Jianyan from her hand and dragging him into the crimson world.
At the same time, as some hidden probability shifted, Chen Mo—who had been sitting rigidly at the long table—suddenly snapped awake.
Cold sweat drenched his forehead, and his previously numb face twisted with fear.
Though still groggy, his reflexes as a veteran anchor saved him.
Chen Mo activated a prop, stumbled backward, and quickly retreated from the terrifying area. His hand brushed against the bronze plate Wen Jianyan had dropped nearby.
In a flash, realization struck.
Gritting his teeth, Chen Mo grabbed the plate and placed it where he had just been sitting.
He had no idea what had just happened, but based on his experience, he instinctively took action.
On the dark long table, one crimson lamp went out.
A seat at the table was now empty.
Wen Jianyan was falling.
The taste of blood flooded his mouth and nose, suffocating him, preventing him from screaming. His head spun, and he felt nauseous.
It was like falling into a massive vat of thick blood.
When he asked Bai Xue to alter the probability, Wen Jianyan had known what he was doing.
It all started when he realized something was wrong.
To be precise, from the moment he was lured into the real hotel—before the Black Team threatened him—he had already sensed a strange inconsistency.
He couldn’t quite explain it then, but now, things were different.
As time passed, he began piecing these anomalies together and even…
Started seeing a pattern.
In the past, he might have turned a blind eye to minor inconsistencies. But as these details accumulated, Wen Jianyan felt an overwhelming sense of unease.
The woman in white was a projection of some higher-dimensional consciousness—the only ghost in the entire instance that might possess autonomous awareness.
Her appearance and the emergence of the hotel were likely connected.
After all, before she appeared as the “second personality” of the diary’s owner, the town had no trace of the “Xingwang Hotel”.
It was she who appeared in the room where Wen Jianyan first entered the instance.
According to the instance’s rules, no matter how many rooms he explored afterward, he would always enter the town through the painting she inhabited.
Then, by tracking the Black Team, Wen Jianyan got an early lead on the next task location.
In the gallery’s hallway, she pointed the way again—this time, to the dry well behind the house.
Inside the well, Wen Jianyan entered the instance’s diorama, uncovered the truth behind it, and made contact with the white-clothed woman’s corpse, acquiring a critical item.
She seemed… quite helpful.
Always guiding him along the way.
Of course, Wen Jianyan hadn’t strictly followed that script, but looking back, he realized that every action he took still fell within her framework.
That influence was subtle, yet terrifying.
Because Wen Jianyan realized… much of the instance’s information had been spoon-fed to him.
Once he understood this, he knew he had to take a risk.
He hated being a puppet.
Especially a puppet manipulated by something terrifying, indifferent, and vastly more powerful.
So, Wen Jianyan chose to resist.
But with his teammates restricted and a ghostly grip on his wrist, any resistance seemed futile.
Thankfully, Bai Xue was in the team.
Her talent might be the key to breaking the deadlock.
Wen Jianyan realized: although the ghost had used Chen Mo as bait to lure him over, she clearly had no intention of killing him—otherwise, all of it would be meaningless.
And Bai Xue’s “sight” confirmed this.
Chen Mo was doomed. Everyone who got close to that area would die—except Wen Jianyan.
He was the only one uniquely able to survive.
That’s why Wen Jianyan had Bai Xue alter the odds.
Because he understood that the woman in white wanted him to live, and wouldn’t willingly harm him. So if he was “destined” to die, it had to be due to an unforeseen variable.
And that variable must stem from a force even more powerful than the woman in white—otherwise, her influence wouldn’t have been so easily overridden.
Wen Jianyan sensed that behind this lay…
An opportunity.
A chance to break free from the puppet strings—and uncover the instance’s deeper secrets.
Of course, it was risky.
But under the circumstances, he thought it was worth the gamble—if all else failed, he could still confront Nightmare directly and activate the Ouroboros Ring. Though that would carry a price, it was better than dying here.
A leap of faith.
A gamble.
To see if he could survive.
“Cough, cough!”
Wen Jianyan coughed hard.
His mouth and nose were filled with the metallic taste of blood. His whole body ached as if his bones had shattered, making him tremble uncontrollably.
He might have broken a few ribs.
He pressed against his chest and struggled to his feet.
Under his rolled-up sleeve, the dark bruise of a handprint still lingered on his wrist—but the eerie cold weight it once carried was gone.
Wen Jianyan looked around.
And his heart sank. His blood nearly froze.
An endless, impenetrable darkness stretched before him. Beneath his feet was soft, loamy earth—stepping on it felt disturbingly like stepping on human corpses.
In the distance, countless mounds of graves rose and fell in the shadows.
Darkness. Cold. Deathly silence. A fear that seeped deep into the bones.
Even worse, Wen Jianyan immediately recognized where he was.
—This was the space outside that endless, shadowy road that extended into the void.
That road, though its length and width were subjective, was still created by humans. As long as you walked on it, you’d be relatively safe from being devoured by the darkness. But the moment you deviated from it, you’d step into a boundless black void with no way to return.
Wen Jianyan had once used visual tricks to lure members of the Black Team into this very place—but never thought he’d end up here himself.
And all alone, at that.
As far as the eye could see, there was no road—only countless mounds of graves, and a deathly, pitch-black silence.
Wen Jianyan glanced around nervously, then couldn’t help but shiver.
That leap just now was…
Effective.
He’d indeed escaped the manipulation.
But at the same time… he had undeniably ended up in a place of certain death.
Wen Jianyan let out a bitter laugh in his heart.
He looked up at the place he’d fallen from, a slight frown forming beneath his mask.
But the strange thing was—why had he fallen here?
More specifically, why had that pool of blood, created by the woman in white, been connected to this place?
Wen Jianyan couldn’t figure it out—and didn’t plan to waste energy trying.
Right now, getting out was the top priority.
Because merely standing there for a few dozen seconds had already made him feel like he was freezing to the bone. The cold here was so eerie, so soul-piercing, it felt as if it could erode his very essence.
Wen Jianyan raised a trembling hand to touch the mask on his face.
Thank goodness this mask was a genuine item he’d bought with ghost money in a legitimate instance. If it had been some pirated copy obtained through shady means in a mirror instance, there was no guarantee it would’ve fallen in with him—much less offered any protection.
Honestly, if not for this mask, Wen Jianyan suspected he might’ve turned into one of the ghostly residents of the hotel the moment he set foot here.
However…
Wen Jianyan lowered his hand and let out a long sigh.
While the mask could keep him alive for now, as long as he didn’t find a way out, death was still only a matter of time.
Still…
Wen Jianyan considered for a moment and opened his livestream interface.
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[AAAAAAAHHHH!!]
[AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!]
[BULLET COMMENTS ARE BACK ON AAAAAAHHH!]
Wen Jianyan was momentarily stunned by the barrage of messages.
Honestly, he hadn’t expected that even in a place like this, the livestream signal would still be intact. It was such a stark contrast to the last instance.
But he had to admit…
These comments genuinely eased his anxiety. He let out a deep breath.
Noisy, yes. But definitely less terrifying than silence.
[Waaahhh hubby hubby you scared me to death!!]
[100% death rate and you still went for it?! We really thought this was it for you!!]
[Hey, don’t lump us all together—I always believed in the anchor’s ability to survive!]
Wen Jianyan snapped out of his daze almost instantly and slipped into his familiar, professional host mode.
“So you’re all still here.”
His voice carried a warm smile.
“Sorry, I can’t take off the mask right now.”
On screen, only a pair of light-colored eyes could be seen smiling gently through the holes in the mask. “Can’t be honest and open with you all—my apologies.”
[AAAAHHHHH!!]
[No need to apologize, really!!]
[‘Honest and open’… damn… that’s hot…]
Wen Jianyan stepped back slightly and turned sideways to give a better view. “By the way, you guys remember where this is, right?”
[…wait a sec, this looks familiar.]
[!!!]
[Holy crap! Isn’t this that cursed place outside the ghost road?!]
Sure enough, someone recognized it—pretty quickly, too.
So…
“I remember a Black Team anchor fell in here before, didn’t they?” Wen Jianyan asked calmly.
[……]
[……]
[Bro, don’t act innocent. You were the one who lured them in here, remember?!]
Wen Jianyan easily ignored that comment.
[How long did they survive? Did anyone make it out?]
He didn’t really expect a direct answer. The system would censor anything it deemed a “spoiler”. But that didn’t stop him from getting the information he wanted from the comments.
If the anchor was still alive and viewers were sharing their experiences, the spoiler filter would kick in, and the number of comments would drop sharply.
But if the anchor had already died, then the system wouldn’t bother, and everything would show.
Unfortunately, the comment flow remained steady.
[No one made it out.]
[I really haven’t seen any of them again. Their streams all seem to be down.]
[Yeah, I just checked—they’re completely blacked out.]
Wen Jianyan’s heart sank.
So no one had survived this place.
It truly was a one-way ticket to death.
[Wait, one of the livestreams is still running!]
What?
Wen Jianyan perked up instantly.
[And that anchor seems to have used a massive amount of points to lift the confidentiality and issue a coordinate-based SOS!]
That was a feature only veteran anchors could access—more symbolic than practical.
After all, if someone had to resort to that feature, they were usually far beyond saving.
“Oh? How do I view it?”
Wen Jianyan’s interest was piqued.
With the audience’s guidance, he soon located the direction indicated by the request.
After accepting the task, a small red arrow appeared in the dark sky.
Wen Jianyan trudged through the yellow dirt, following the arrow’s direction.
The darkness was thick, the soil heavy, and the mounds of graves varied in height, with no trace of human activity—only endless cold and terror.
He chatted with the bullet comments to keep his courage up while following the guide.
Eventually, the arrow stopped.
It pointed to the far side of a large grave mound.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath to steady himself, then closed the livestream interface and walked around the mound.
Behind it lay a man, half-buried in yellow earth. A cracked white mask covered his face, and a bright red talisman was stuck to his motionless chest. He looked completely lifeless.
Wen Jianyan frowned.
Dead?
He crouched down and touched the man’s body.
Cold as ice.
Definitely dead.
But the man’s stream still seemed to be online. Nightmare wouldn’t waste resources on directing help to a corpse.
With that in mind, Wen Jianyan cautiously reached out and peeled the talisman from his chest.
“—!!”
The man who had been deathly still suddenly gasped sharply and sat bolt upright, scaring Wen Jianyan half to death.
As expected.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze lingered on the man’s mask.
A mask not bought with ghost money wouldn’t last long in this place.
This guy had probably survived by using the talisman to fake death, entering a suspended state.
“You—It’s you—”
The man seemed to recognize the one who had “saved” him and raised his voice in surprise.
“Yes, it’s me.”
Wen Jianyan made a gesture, calmly cutting him off. “But stop.”
“Time is short. I don’t want to waste words in a place like this.”
“Let’s make a deal.”
The young man in the white mask stood above him, backlit by the infinite darkness and grave soil.
He looked down at the “corpse” beneath him. His voice was as warm and smiling as ever—but carried an unmistakable pressure.
“Follow every one of my orders and tell me everything you know. I’ll get you out of here. Deal?”
The other man, though from the Black Team, was clearly a veteran who’d survived many instances. He quickly understood that survival mattered far more right now than faction loyalties—or who had landed him here in the first place.
He took a deep breath, recovering from the fake-death state, and after a brief moment of composure, cautiously asked:
“You… you actually know a way out?”
Behind the mask, Wen Jianyan seemed to smile silently.
“Of course.”
His voice was calm and cool, full of quiet confidence and undeniable authority—enough to make anyone instinctively believe him.
“Otherwise, why would I offer this deal?”
He countered.
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[……]
[……]
[…Wow. You really lie without batting an eye, huh?]
