(10/10)
Yuying University
Chapter 424: It’s just a mutual benefit.
In the distance, Orange Candy was plunging a long knife into the bloated belly of a monster at her feet when suddenly, a faint sound drifted over from afar.
“Heehee…”
A strange, chilling giggle echoed out. It was low and soft, but carried an eerie power that inexplicably pierced through the crackling flames and reached Orange Candy’s ears.
“?!”
Startled, Orange Candy instinctively paused and looked toward the source of the sound.
Through the dwindling wall of fire, she saw Wen Jianyan get yanked backward by something and fall heavily to the ground.
In the distance, a dark shadow seemed to be drawing closer.
Damn it!
Orange Candy yanked her knife out forcefully—foul, dark blood spurted out. Though she was petite, she leapt like a nimble leopard, gripping her blade with one hand.
But in the next moment, that once faint, weak giggle suddenly amplified.
Orange Candy faltered.
“Heehee… Heehee…”
That cold, twisted laughter layered upon itself, echoing in the darkness. With every passing second, the sound grew exponentially. In just over ten seconds, she noticed her sanity bar above her head start to flicker—then plummet at a terrifying rate.
During her brief hesitation, more monsters began to stagger closer.
The flickering flames dimmed, reflecting off the pale, bloated faces of the corpses, gleaming in their hollow, chilling eyes. The fire was much weaker than before and no longer had the power to repel them. Beyond their shoulders, Orange Candy could just barely see—behind the crowded tables—a stiff, dark shadow slowly rising.
Even from a distance, the figure was blurry, but its bloated belly—swollen like it was waterlogged—was unmistakable.
Countless writhing, unnatural shapes slithered from its body like clumped, soaking-wet hair. They dripped water and slowly reached toward Wen Jianyan.
Orange Candy’s usual playful expression was gone, replaced by intense worry.
She hacked down two more corpses in front of her. The blade, already rusted, now looked soaked in blood, its crimson edge gleaming. Yet despite her efforts, she still couldn’t close the distance to Wen Jianyan.
No… not enough time.
That terrible “heehee” laughter continued to swell in her ears. Even from so far away, the impact was devastating. Then what about Wen Jianyan, right in the eye of the storm?
Orange Candy’s heart sank.
Just as she cleared all obstacles and prepared to leap over the now paper-thin fire line—everything stopped.
The pale, cold corpses… the terrifying shadows… all vanished without a trace.
The dark, dreadful cafeteria was gone.
In its place was an empty, silent classroom.
“…?”
Orange Candy stood frozen, clutching her bloodstained, rusted blade. She panted, stunned by the sudden shift, her mind slow to catch up.
…What just happened?
Behind her, a sharp screech echoed as a chair scraped against the floor.
Orange Candy whipped her head around.
“!!”
The people behind her flinched under her bloodshot, blade-wielding glare, instinctively taking a step back, nearly knocking into the desks.
“…You?”
Standing in front of her were none other than the members of the team they had previously encountered in the movie A Day in the Life of Wang Ni.
Suosuo’s hair was disheveled, her face blotchy red and pale, chest heaving. One hand gripped a pen, the other a crumpled piece of paper with barely legible handwriting halfway finished.
With a single glance, Orange Candy understood what had happened.
Clearly, they had entered the movie one too many times and ended up colliding with Suosuo’s team on one of their runs. Their attempt had gone terribly wrong, inadvertently triggering the movie’s most dangerous entity.
While Orange Candy and Wen Jianyan had drawn all the attention, the other team had seized the opportunity to finish the word count required to exit.
And since they had used the path created by Orange Candy and Wen Jianyan to escape, it made sense that Orange Candy didn’t reappear at the dormitory entrance—but instead landed in the classroom where Suosuo’s team had been.
“Fancy seeing you again.”
Suosuo swallowed and stepped forward, trying to make small talk.
But the moment he got close, his collar was grabbed roughly—then his world spun.
Orange Candy’s grinning face was inches from his, cheerful but twisted:
“Who told you to end it early?”
His throat was being squeezed tight. Struggling to breathe, Suosuo panicked:
“I-I had no choice! If I didn’t find a way out, we would’ve all died in there!”
Once the giggling started, everyone’s sanity would plummet. Worse, they hadn’t found a way to stop it—other than with rare, high-level tools.
Yes, he’d seen Orange Candy and Wen Jianyan.
Yes, it was because of them that the monsters stopped attacking.
But he didn’t want to take any chances.
“Oh? Afraid of dying?”
Orange Candy yanked him down by the collar. Her lips curled into a smile, but her young face was full of violence.
“Then you should be more afraid of me.”
Anyone familiar with Orange Candy would know—
She’d snapped.
Suosuo’s actions may have ended the crisis, but they also cut off Orange Candy’s return path. Wen Jianyan, already hanging by a thread, had been completely abandoned.
Feeling the violent aura radiating from her, Suosuo broke into a cold sweat.
“He was so close to the source of the curse—even with full sanity, he’d have dropped to zero in under a minute! He’s definitely dead!”
“I don’t care.”
Orange Candy gave a soft “heehee” laugh, leaning in close like a stubborn child:
“You got my teammate killed. So you’re responsible.”
Faced with her unreasonable insistence, Suosuo’s fear turned to anger.
He shouted:
“I only held back earlier because I didn’t want to trigger something worse in the movie! Don’t think I’m scared of you!”
Behind him, his teammates stepped forward, eyes glinting coldly. They looked ready to fight.
“Really?” Orange Candy blinked and suddenly gave an innocent smile.
“Well, that’s great then.”
Her pale fingers gripped Suosuo’s sweaty neck. Skin pressed against skin.
That was a warning.
She didn’t care about touching his neck anymore.
After all, to Orange Candy, the living were disgusting.
But corpses? Not so much.
And right now, she was truly ready to kill.
She’d spent too long in these nightmares. The moral compass of normal society had long since eroded, twisted and faded by fear and death. Unlike Wen Jianyan, Orange Candy was ruthless. A madwoman who didn’t care how many people she killed.
Just then, a weak coughing sound came from not far away:
“Cough, cough…!”
The tense atmosphere in the classroom froze.
Everyone’s expressions—whether crazed, terrified, or angry—paused. They instinctively turned toward the sound.
From beneath the teacher’s podium, a dusty hand rose and slapped against the surface.
Then, with effort, an exhausted head emerged.
“Cough! Cough cough!”
Wen Jianyan pulled himself up with trembling arms. His glasses were crooked, his face deathly pale, and his lower eyelids red. He looked terrible—but very much alive.
“Ah!” Orange Candy gasped joyfully.
“You’re not dead!”
Wen Jianyan: “Mm.”
Orange Candy released Suosuo’s neck and made a face, wiping her fingers on her clothes several times before skipping over and leaning down to check on Wen Jianyan:
“I knew you wouldn’t die. Cockroaches live forever!”
Wen Jianyan lifted his eyelids weakly, glancing at her:
“…Can’t you wish me well for once?”
As Orange Candy let go, Suosuo collapsed to the side.
His face was flushed from lack of oxygen. Staring in disbelief at Wen Jianyan, he choked:
“You… you’re alive? But how? That’s impossible!”
He’d been at the heart of the curse, surrounded and under attack—his sanity should’ve hit zero long ago.
Wen Jianyan braced himself on the podium and lifted his shirt with one hand.
Plop.
Out fell a doll—similar to the earlier aggro-drawing one, but slightly different in detail. Its limbs were black, as if corroded by evil. Its head and belly had gaping holes filled with wriggling white maggots.
It hit the podium and instantly turned to a pile of rotted black sludge.
“…A substitution doll?”
Orange Candy’s eyes widened slightly.
Unlike the regular decoys sold in stores to attract monsters, substitution dolls were rare black-market tools. Once activated, they absorbed all non-lethal damage on behalf of the user for three minutes.
In other words, unless the user was instantly killed, the doll would take all the hits.
Orange Candy grinned and slapped Wen Jianyan’s shoulder hard:
“You’ve been hiding some tricks, huh?”
“Tsshh!” Wen Jianyan winced, leaning sideways.
“Could you please be gentler…”
He looked down at the ruined doll pieces, visibly pained.
It had cost him a fortune in points. Even though he had plenty, the doll was extremely rare—he had to beg a favor from a vice president of the Black Flame guild just to buy three from their stash.
He’d hoped to use them across several instances… but just in this one, Yuying Comprehensive University, two were already gone.
Wen Jianyan blinked, deep in thought.
Looks like… once he got out of this instance, he’d need to visit Black Flame again.
They still had quite a few good things. If he negotiated a little… he might be able to squeeze more out.
“But you already expected there would be danger over there, didn’t you?” Orange Candy tilted her head and looked at him. “I don’t believe you would take out such a precious item just for ‘precaution.’”
Wen Jianyan smiled lazily, answering vaguely:
“Why not?”
Orange Candy narrowed her eyes and suddenly kicked him hard in the shin.
“Ow!” Wen Jianyan winced. “What was that for?!”
“Didn’t you sprain your ankle?” Orange Candy asked with a smile. “But I saw you running over there just fine.”
Wen Jianyan: “…”
“Enough.”
Orange Candy hopped onto the lecture table:
“You’ve clearly figured something out. Speak.”
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[?]
[Whoa, I didn’t expect this. Don’t be fooled by how crazy Orange Candy usually acts—she’s sharp as a tack.]
[Wait, what’s going on?]
[Didn’t you realize? Ever since the start of today’s movie instance, the anchor must’ve noticed something. Every move he made afterward was intentional. He just didn’t say it out loud.]
[He didn’t even tell his teammate?]
[I’ve been following him since the ‘Moral-Talent High School’ instance. He’s always like this—his words are half-truths, slippery as hell. He talks a lot of nonsense, but when it comes to what he truly cares about, he turns into a sealed gourd. Not a word.]
[He faked a sprained ankle to stay with Orange Candy, then insisted on splitting up later—definitely had a plan. It might’ve looked like she went to the more dangerous area, but actually, the place he went to was the most dangerous. He activated one decoy doll to mask his presence, then silently prepared a second. He clearly anticipated it all.]
[Damn… you guys really analyze the hell out of this.]
[But what did he find out? I went back to rewatch the previous footage while you were chatting, but couldn’t find anything.]
“It’s nothing.” Wen Jianyan blinked innocently.
Orange Candy squinted at him, her gaze slowly drifting across his body like she was looking for a new place to kick.
“Ahem.”
Wen Jianyan seemed to sense danger. He hunched his shoulders and turned toward Suo Suo, changing the subject:
“So, what exactly did you find?”
Suo Suo: “…What?”
“Don’t play dumb.” Wen Jianyan walked around the lecture table toward Suo Suo. “The ‘movie protagonist’ doesn’t just show up for no reason. You guys must have done something—found something—to lure her out.”
He had experience with this. In the past, while completing Brave Richard, the protagonist only appeared after Wen Jianyan discovered Richard’s diary.
Suo Suo and his teammates exchanged glances, looking hesitant.
After all, they had paid a hefty price for what they found—one teammate had even died. Could they just hand it over?
They had already fallen out with Orange Candy and didn’t plan to keep cooperating. Besides, the other team only had two people. If they played tough, they might not have to give in…
Wen Jianyan swept his gaze across the team, catching every flicker of emotion.
“Relax,” he said with a sudden smile, “we’re not here to steal your loot. Just want to share a little intel, that’s all.”
He had a rough idea of what kind of item they might have—probably encrypted information, not a tool or collectible. Useful for deep-diving future instances, but not something they could understand right now.
Taking a photo would suffice—no need to take the item itself.
“Right?” Wen Jianyan turned to the bored little girl behind him, grinning. “Captain Orange Candy?”
…Orange Candy?
Suo Suo froze.
Why did that name sound… familiar?
He lifted his eyes and looked at the girl sitting lazily on the desk, legs swinging. She looked about thirteen or fourteen, with a bright orange ponytail. Just a kid, not at all like the wild beast who had choked him out moments ago.
His pupils shrank.
Top Ten…
Could it be?
He’d heard of a certain female anchor, rumored to be in the top ten. Girl, orange hair… Orange Candy.
As a mid-tier anchor, Suo Suo had never expected to encounter someone of that level in an instance. Those kinds of players weren’t even supposed to be in the same queue.
But he had heard whispers on forums or from other anchors… and now everything matched.
Suo Suo stared at Orange Candy, swallowing dryly.
Orange Candy glanced at Wen Jianyan and said with a smirk:
“Whatever.”
At that moment, a teammate leaned in and whispered:
“Captain… should we…”
“Enough!” Suo Suo suddenly raised his voice, startling everyone.
He turned to Wen Jianyan with a complete attitude shift:
“We’re all anchors in the same instance. Working together is fate! Info-sharing? Of course, of course!”
He turned to his stunned teammates and barked:
“Hurry up and hand it over!”
“O-okay!”
The teammate was bewildered but obeyed, pulling out a faded envelope with no markings.
“Here, if you need it, it’s all yours,” Suo Suo said with a smile, more cooperative than ever.
“No need.” Wen Jianyan smiled and shook his head. “We said we’d just look. We’re not bandits.”
He opened the envelope, snapped a picture of the cryptic, unreadable writing, then handed it back.
“Great, great!”
Suo Suo took the envelope with both hands and bowed slightly. “Here’s my contact info. If you ever need anything, feel free to reach out.”
Then, turning to his team:
“Let’s go.”
Under Suo Suo’s lead, the group practically fled the room.
Orange Candy watched them leave, then casually picked up a chalkboard eraser and chucked it at Wen Jianyan’s head.
Wen Jianyan dodged swiftly.
He straightened his collar and feigned innocence:
“What’s wrong, Captain?”
“You’re good at playing games, huh?” Orange Candy rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t you report your name? Not top ten or something?”
Wen Jianyan looked innocent: “I don’t have that kind of weight.”
“Besides…” He leaned closer, placing the eraser back on the table like a good boy. “Rather than being the tiger, I prefer borrowing one’s might.”
He said, shamelessly.
Orange Candy: “…”
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[…]
[Shameless.]
[Shameless.]
[SHAMELESS!!]
“By the way,” Wen Jianyan said, changing the subject with a serious face, “did you collect any more badges?”
“Nope.”
Orange Candy’s expression darkened.
Strangely enough, even though she’d fought more monsters after splitting with Wen Jianyan, she hadn’t seen a single badge drop.
Wen Jianyan didn’t seem surprised.
He lowered his gaze. The silver-framed fake glasses Orange Candy had loaned him glinted, hiding his eyes.
Just as Orange Candy was about to question him further, her phone buzzed.
She paused and took it out.
Her eyes widened after a glance, and she jumped down from the table.
“What is it?”
Wen Jianyan looked over.
“It’s Wei Cheng,” Orange Candy said, waving the phone with a rare happy look on her face. “He just messaged. The lecture hall is found!”
—
With Wei Cheng’s directions, they quickly regrouped.
Though it was daytime in the instance, the sky had grown heavy and overcast, pressing down like a weight.
“Here!”
Wei Cheng waved them over.
Orange Candy looked around.
“So, where’s the lecture hall?”
She tilted her head, scanning the area, but saw nothing resembling a building.
But Wen Jianyan’s gaze paused.
He was staring at a nearby lawn.
There was no real “season” in the instance, but the grass looked unhealthy—thin, grayish, and sickly.
On the lawn stood a sign:
Please keep off the grass.
“Come with me.”
Wei Cheng turned and walked in a specific direction.
Wen Jianyan followed.
After dozens of steps, their view suddenly opened up.
A small, gloomy building appeared.
Clearly, this was the lecture hall from the first scene in Brave Richard.
“This is a hidden area. Not marked on the map. It’s like that mini-mart we found before, though this one’s a bit less well hidden.”
Wei Cheng turned back to the others, looking slightly sheepish. “Even knowing the rough location, I still had to use some inspiration-enhancing items to find it.”
He paused.
He thought of Su Cheng.
As a Seer, Su Cheng had found the mini-mart without any tools.
Only now, after searching for himself, did Wei Cheng realize how valuable Su Cheng’s ability truly was.
“I see,” Orange Candy nodded.
“Nice,” she stretched lazily. “At least we know where our last class of the day is.”
She pulled out her phone.
Still no word from Hugo.
Orange Candy pouted but still summarized their progress and sent it to him.
Wen Jianyan looked up at the building.
“Hey, what are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
He looked away and turned to Wei Cheng:
“Tell me, is this location hard for other anchors to find?”
Wei Cheng thought for a second. “Hard to say.”
“Why?”
“Unlike the mini-mart, this place isn’t too deeply hidden. If a team has a medium or a Seer, they can find it. But this instance is massive. We can narrow the search area. Other teams can’t.
To find it, they’d have to spend big and sweep the whole place with tools.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, a thought crossing his mind.
Then he smiled.
“In that case, mind if I… exploit that little info gap?”
“?”
Orange Candy and Wei Cheng both blinked.
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing much.”
Wen Jianyan smiled.
Behind his silver glasses, his face looked elegant and harmless—though anyone paying attention would sense the cunning underneath.
“Just some good old mutual profit, is all.”
—
At Yuying Comprehensive University, the dorms were to the west, classrooms to the east and north, and the sports field to the south. The cafeteria sat right in the center.
It wasn’t open now.
But oddly enough, two sets of tables and chairs had been placed outside the cafeteria doors.
Wen Jianyan sat behind one of them, unbothered by the curious stares around him—cool, relaxed, and thick-skinned beyond normal human capacity.
Next to the table stood a sign, its calligraphy like a dancing dragon:
【INTELLIGENCE TRADING】
【INQUIRIES WELCOME】
【DISCOUNTED INFO ON LECTURE HALL LOCATION!】
