WTNL Chapter 388

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Anchor Hall
Chapter 388: You look much more beautiful now than before.

Blood dripped onto the cold metallic serpent eye and was silently absorbed.

When Wen Jianyan opened his eyes again, the entire room was shrouded in a dim gray haze. He understood—he had once again entered the interior of the Ouroboros.

However, unlike last time, as soon as he pushed himself up from the bed, a chill shot up his spine. It felt as though he was being intensely, silently watched.

Instinctively, Wen Jianyan turned his head.

In the darkness—were a pair of beast-like golden eyes.

The next second, a freezing gust swept toward him.

Wen Jianyan reacted instantly. His body jerked backward, his upper body landing on the bed, springing him upward with the momentum.

A moment later, a pair of large hands clasped his wrist.

Even though Wen Jianyan had been prepared, the unexpected force still made his breath hitch, and his whole body tensed up.

But he was, after all, very experienced in handling this kind of situation.

“Stop.”

His cool voice echoed through the room.

Clang.

From the darkness came the sound of chains tightening.

At the same time, the hands gripping his wrist were forcibly pulled away by an invisible force. Then came the heavy thud of something hitting the bed, followed by a low, muffled growl—like a grunt, or a beast’s dissatisfied rumble from deep in its throat.

Wen Jianyan let out a long breath and flexed his wrist, which was still sore from the earlier grip. Then he sat up and looked to the side.

Wu Zhu was restrained on the bed. Silver chains coiled around his arms, the ends extending off into the darkness and vanishing from sight.

He stared unblinkingly at Wen Jianyan, golden eyes gleaming with a metallic sheen in the dark.

That look—Wen Jianyan was all too familiar with it.

The look of a predator… hungry, longing.

Sigh…

Wen Jianyan scratched his hair irritably.

Looks like his luck wasn’t so great this time…

He’d entered right when Wu Zhu’s mind was still in an unstable state.

But this time, Wen Jianyan had time to spare—he could afford to wait.

Clearly, he had anticipated a situation like this.

He hopped lightly off the bed, rummaged through his pocket, then walked forward.

Wu Zhu’s gaze remained locked on him, following as he approached.

“Recognize this?” Wen Jianyan waved the item in his hand with a smile.

Wu Zhu, of course, couldn’t answer.

“Looks like you forgot my last promise. What a shame.”

Wen Jianyan sighed theatrically and leaned closer.

The man’s gaze shifted from his face to the fingers stretched halfway toward him. His eyes gleamed in the dark, as if struggling against some inner force. His sculpted muscles tensed, like a bowstring drawn to its limit.

Wen Jianyan paused, his hand lingering mid-air, his expression showing the kind of hesitation one might have when about to place their fingers between a wild beast’s jaws.

“Don’t move.”

Clink.
The silver chains coiled out from the darkness, winding tightly around Wu Zhu’s head.

Only then did Wen Jianyan relax and lean in.

His arm looped around the other’s head, fiddling with something at the back of Wu Zhu’s skull.

Wu Zhu quietly observed the man’s profile up close.

From above, Wen Jianyan lowered his lashes, casting elegant shadows over his face. His expression was focused, the warmth of his fingers brushing over Wu Zhu’s neck and cheek, bringing with them a faint ticklish sensation.

Click.

Something seemed to snap into place.

The human was very close. His loosely worn sleepwear hung open slightly, revealing a glimpse of fair chest and stomach that rose and fell with his breathing.

The soft contours naturally drew attention.

Wu Zhu’s eyes fixed on that spot, and he instinctively leaned forward—but the muzzle cage in front of his mouth bumped against Wen Jianyan’s collarbone.

The cool metal startled Wen Jianyan. He jerked back—

Then realized what Wu Zhu had been trying to do. A smile curled on his lips:

“What, you wanna bite?”

Wu Zhu stared at him.

“Release.”

The chains around Wu Zhu’s neck uncoiled and vanished.

Wen Jianyan leaned in again, cheekily pulling aside the collar of his sleepwear, tilting his neck to the side to expose the pale, warm skin of his throat. He grinned:

“Come on then. Bite me, bite me.”

Wu Zhu moved closer.

The metal muzzle clinked against the side of Wen Jianyan’s neck.

Wen Jianyan burst out laughing: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Wu Zhu: “……”

He stared silently at the human in front of him.

Wen Jianyan looked unabashedly delighted. He studied Wu Zhu’s face behind the muzzle, fingers lazily tracing his jawline with a teasing tone:

“Much prettier now.”

Half the reason he said that was for his own psychological satisfaction.

The other half…

Was because it was true.

Silver chains binding his arms, long black hair falling over eerie, talisman-like markings that wove across his body, and the muzzle designed to restrain large beasts clamped tightly over his mouth—

And yet now, utterly subdued, weak and helpless.

And Wen Jianyan was acutely aware of this fact.

The thrill from that realization was almost enough to make him tremble.

He lowered his eyes, shadows cast by his lashes dimming the pale irises. Unknowingly, the distance between the two of them had shortened considerably.

Wen Jianyan’s warm fingers trailed down Wu Zhu’s neck, gently caressing the cold skin beneath—tracing the rise and fall of the mountainous veins and bones below.

His fingertips came to rest on the hideous scar over Wu Zhu’s chest, idly outlining the raised flesh.

Perhaps it was an illusion…

But the scar seemed deeper now.

As if layers of wounds had overlapped.

When his nose bumped into the metal muzzle, Wen Jianyan suddenly snapped back to awareness. He blinked, rubbed the bridge of his nose awkwardly, and started to retreat.

But before he could pull away completely, the chains clinked again—Wu Zhu’s hand seized his wrist.

Wu Zhu studied him, guiding his hand back to his own chest.

“?!” Wen Jianyan jumped, his instinctive command slipping out: “Let go!”

The sound of chains echoed again as Wu Zhu’s arm tugged tighter.

Taking the opportunity, Wen Jianyan leapt back, putting distance between them. He still looked somewhat rattled.

His brows were tightly knit, his expression dark. The gentle demeanor from earlier had vanished completely.

“…?”

Wu Zhu tilted his head slightly, staring back—he seemed genuinely puzzled by the human’s fickle temper.

It was as if he were saying, Weren’t you the one who started it?

“Close your eyes,” Wen Jianyan gritted out.

Under the force of the command, Wu Zhu closed his eyes.

With the gaze finally gone, Wen Jianyan felt a small sense of relief.

He let out a breath, rolled his shoulders, and walked over to the mini-fridge.

Because he had changed rooms in the upper level, the internal space of the Ouroboros also shifted. The room was now several times larger than before.

Wen Jianyan was delighted to find that all the snacks and drinks he had stashed earlier were still there.

Arms full of snacks, he grabbed a few books and magazines from the balcony, then flopped down onto the soft cashmere carpet beside the bed.

He wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon—who knew what state Wu Zhu would be in when that time came? If the beastly instincts were still dominant, there’d be no communication. Rather than gamble on that, it was better to wait now.

Before entering this place, Wen Jianyan had made ample preparations—even sent a message to the guild saying he’d be out of contact for the next three days.

Rustle.

He tore open a bag of chips and lazily opened a book.

The room was silent, save for the faint sound of pages flipping.

Wen Jianyan opened a second bag of chips.

Suddenly, he had that same feeling again—of being watched. He turned his head slightly.

At some point, the effect of the earlier command had worn off. Wu Zhu was sitting on the bed, staring intently at him without blinking.

Wen Jianyan jumped in surprise.

In fact, he had noticed earlier that the “command” strength and duration were tied closely to his own willpower—it didn’t last indefinitely. Still, for Wu Zhu to open his eyes this soon… that was unexpected.

“You awake?” Wen Jianyan asked.

Wu Zhu didn’t answer.

Looked like he hadn’t recovered yet.

Wen Jianyan disinterestedly withdrew his gaze and turned his attention back to the fashion magazine in front of him.

Wu Zhu’s gaze, however, remained fixed on him, making Wen Jianyan feel prickled all over again.
He hesitated for a moment, then looked up and met the other’s eyes.

That gaze made Wen Jianyan slightly uncomfortable. Still, he had no idea how long he would be stuck here, and he couldn’t keep issuing commands all the time either.
So, he shifted out of Wu Zhu’s line of sight and went back to lazing around.

Time ticked by.

Wen Jianyan finished off three bags of chips and flipped through the entire magazine.
It took him…

About three hours?

Wen Jianyan poked his head out from behind the sofa and, as expected, met that pair of golden eyes still staring in his direction.

“Awake yet?”

“?”

Wu Zhu tilted his head slightly.

Guess not.

Wen Jianyan climbed back onto the sofa, crossed his arms on the backrest, and furrowed his brows.

This time, the period of lost rationality seemed unusually long…
Why?

Could it be that he’d just been lucky the previous few times?

Or maybe…

Wen Jianyan’s gaze dropped to Wu Zhu’s chest.
The scar left by a blade wound was grotesquely prominent against his pale skin, jarring and harsh.

Could it be related to what happened in that last instance of the dungeon?

Either way, Wen Jianyan was starting to get bored.

He picked up the half-read magazine and flung it across the room, creating a loud crash. But it didn’t change the direction of Wu Zhu’s gaze at all.
He was still staring this way.

“…”

Sigh.

Wen Jianyan flopped down again.

He wandered back to his blanket and resumed reading.

But this time, he didn’t get far before his eyelids began to droop, and his head started nodding.

Eventually, he lay down completely—and fell asleep.

After he dozed off, the once tightly-bound silver chain began to slacken bit by bit.

Wu Zhu silently sat up.

In the darkness, his golden eyes flickered as they landed on the slender, slightly curled spine of the young man.

Shadows writhed behind him.

He tugged at the muzzle on his face.
It didn’t budge.
Wouldn’t come off.

After all, his current strength was under heavy suppression, and the muzzle was something bought from the system shop—its quality and the rules bound to it were extremely restrictive.

Wu Zhu gave up trying to remove the iron cage from his face.

He looked at Wen Jianyan again and tried to stand—but the chain rattled as soon as he moved.

Clink.

Wen Jianyan frowned slightly and turned over.

Wu Zhu froze.

Had Wen Jianyan been awake, he might have noticed that while the other still seemed irrational, he was far more restrained than before.

Almost… as if he were gradually recovering.

After confirming Wen Jianyan had no further reaction, Wu Zhu hesitated, glanced at the chain beside him, and ultimately refrained from doing anything else.

But the shadows around him began to move—like being manipulated by some invisible force—toward Wen Jianyan.

Invisible tendrils extended from below, gently lifting the young man’s body, and slowly moved him closer.

Wen Jianyan was placed on the bed.

Perhaps the familiar touch of pillow and mattress made his guard drop…

He curled his knees, buried his face in the pillow, and fell into a deep sleep.

When Wen Jianyan woke up, his head was splitting.
Probably from sleeping too long…

He pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his eyes—only to be met with a pair of golden eyes staring back at him.

“!”

Wen Jianyan’s breath caught.

Only then did he realize, to his shock, that at some point he’d been moved onto the bed—and was now lying beside Wu Zhu, who had shamelessly snuggled close.
One arm was draped over his waist, trapping him in a firm embrace he couldn’t escape.

However, the muzzle was still securely fastened to Wu Zhu’s face.
Wen Jianyan was well aware that the only reason he’d managed to sleep safely for so long was thanks to that restraint. Even if the guy wanted to bite, he couldn’t.

Wen Jianyan lifted a hand and patted Wu Zhu’s cheek with a bright smile. “Let go of me.”

With a jingle of chains, Wu Zhu obediently released him.

Wen Jianyan sat up and checked himself over.
Other than his clothes being a bit messy, there didn’t seem to be anything else out of the ordinary.

He scratched at his tousled hair, puzzled, and looked at Wu Zhu. “I’ve been here at least half a day already. Why haven’t you shown any signs of recovery?”

Still, now that he was already lying down, Wen Jianyan couldn’t be bothered to move back to the floor—it’d seem overly dramatic anyway.

He kicked Wu Zhu’s shin and said,
“Bring my stuff over.”

As if he understood the command, the surrounding shadows began to move, gently lifting everything that had been on the blanket and shifting it next to Wen Jianyan.

Crinkle.

He opened another bag of chips.

Suddenly, something seemed to occur to him. He turned and looked at Wu Zhu, waving the chips in his hand. “Want some?”

Wu Zhu didn’t seem to understand.

“Wait—you can eat human food, right?” Wen Jianyan looked skeptical.

Wu Zhu still didn’t respond.

Wen Jianyan sat up, his eyes clearly lighting up.
“I’ll unlock it for a bit, but you’re not allowed to bite me. If you do, I don’t care what happens next—you’re staying here by yourself, and I won’t come near you again, got it?”

Wu Zhu stared at him. Whether he understood or not was unclear.

Wen Jianyan leaned forward and undid the metal latch on the muzzle.

The moment it clicked open, he was already prepared for a retaliatory chomp—just in case.

But Wu Zhu didn’t bite him.

…Did he actually understand?

Or was he just pretending?

Wen Jianyan gave him a suspicious look.

If it was the latter, then this guy’s act was way too convincing. Compared to how he behaved in the dungeon, it was like night and day—completely flawless.

Oh well, whatever.

He picked up a chip and brought it close.

Wu Zhu obediently opened his mouth and ate it.

“How is it?”
Wen Jianyan studied Wu Zhu’s face with some expectation.
Wu Zhu didn’t say anything—he simply swallowed what Wen Jianyan had fed him, and his gaze remained fixed on Wen Jianyan’s fingers. He didn’t seem particularly satisfied with the chips and appeared far more interested in the person feeding them.

“Hah, forget it.”
Wen Jianyan sneered coldly.
“Chips are okay—but I’m off-limits.”

He fed over another chip and, before the other could swallow, pinched his cheeks. “Chew.”

Crunch. Crunch.

Wen Jianyan stared at him intently.
Looks like… he really had understood some of it.

Could it be… he was recovering?
But if that were the case, why was verbal communication still impossible?

Absentmindedly, Wen Jianyan fed another chip over.

One chip from him, one eaten by Wu Zhu.
Even Wen Jianyan himself didn’t realize—this was the first time the atmosphere between them had remained peaceful for so long, without being interrupted by chaos, violence, or bloodshed.

Perhaps he was just far too bored, so Wen Jianyan simply carried over all the chips he had stashed away, tore open every bag, and started seriously observing Wu Zhu’s reactions to each flavor.
Like a bratty kid forcing their pet dog to eat weird things—wasting tons of time doing silly experiments.

Unfortunately for him, Wu Zhu showed almost no reaction to any flavor—no matter how strange. He didn’t seem to care about the taste at all.
Whatever Wen Jianyan fed him, he ate it.

However…

Wen Jianyan waved a chip in the air and noticed Wu Zhu’s gaze following it.
That seemed… like a bit of a reaction?

He looked down at the chip.
Tomato flavor.

Then glanced at the color…
Ah, red.

That explains it.
So Wu Zhu’s reaction probably wasn’t to the flavor, but to the color.

After popping the last chip into his mouth, Wen Jianyan lost interest.
He was starting to feel sleepy too.

He swept the snacks aside, refastened the metal muzzle over Wu Zhu’s face, and was about to lie down for another nap. But just as he finished doing all that, Wu Zhu suddenly frowned.
The surrounding darkness stirred with the motion, gathering and scattering irregularly, as if disturbed by some invisible force.

“?”
Wen Jianyan froze.
He realized—this was probably a sign that Wu Zhu was waking up.

He glanced at the half-finished bag of chips and blinked in surprise.
No way. Could junk food really have this kind of effect?

While he was deep in thought, the turbulence in the surrounding darkness gradually subsided.
Wu Zhu opened his eyes.

This time, the look in his eyes was calm and rational, like a cold flame burning deep within the shadows—carrying an inexplicable sense of pressure.

He looked at Wen Jianyan, as if somewhat surprised, and the corners of his thin lips lifted slightly in unconcealed delight.

“You…”

Just as he uttered a single word, Wu Zhu frowned.

Wen Jianyan: “?”

Wu Zhu pressed his lips together in hesitation, his expression faintly puzzled.
“…What did you feed me?”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

He averted his gaze, guiltily shoving the half-eaten bag of chips behind his back.

Nothing.
Nothing at all.

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