(3/5)
Yuying University
Chapter 433: Damn, it’s so common.
Death Registration Form.
Those glaring, bloody-red five characters flashed briefly and vanished. By the time Wen Jianyan looked again, the thin sheet of paper only displayed the two words: “Registration Form.” The extra characters had completely disappeared.
It was as if the earlier sight was merely his hallucination, and everything had returned to normal.
Half an hour ago, Wen Jianyan might have doubted his own eyes.
But things were different now.
Indeed, even now, he was still plagued by hallucinations and auditory illusions. Shadows flickered at the edges of his vision as he walked; familiar faces and figures from memory would sometimes appear, whispering incomprehensible words that only he could hear.
The shadows of the past never left his side, constantly disturbing his focus. Even now, it was hard for Wen Jianyan to fully distinguish between hallucination and reality.
Yet, at the same time, he had gradually realized something:
Only when his SAN value was low could he faintly glimpse the hidden truths of this instance.
Therefore, regarding those sinister blood-red words he had vaguely seen just now, Wen Jianyan chose to believe in their existence rather than dismiss them.
According to Su Cheng’s divination, whether or not they registered their names, the danger awaiting them wouldn’t lessen. If so, why take the risk?
Orange Candy tilted her head and thought for a moment. “Alright.”
She didn’t particularly care for rule-following anyway. Since someone suggested skipping the registration, she was happy to go along.
“What now?” Tian Ye whispered. “Upstairs?”
“Yes,” Wei Cheng responded in a low voice.
Based on real-world experience, the principal’s office was most likely on the top floor of the administrative building.
This was explicitly hinted at in the instance:
“Do not enter the third floor.”
Clearly, they had no intention of obeying that rule either.
Thus, they not only skipped the first-floor visitor registration but also planned to break the “no unauthorized access” rule—effectively tearing up the instance’s rulebook and barging in head-on.
The first-floor lobby was pitch black, the glass doors wide open, as if indifferent to the intrusion of these uninvited guests.
Deathly silence permeated the place—no movement anywhere in the building.
Everyone held their breath, quietly advancing deeper inside.
According to the floor plan on the lobby wall, to go upstairs, they needed to pass through the first-floor corridor to reach the fire escape stairwell at the end.
The administrative building was different from other areas of Yuying Comprehensive University. Elsewhere, external intrusion was nearly impossible without meeting certain conditions. But curiously, the administrative building—the core of the instance—could be entered directly as long as it was found.
From experience, such places were often the most dangerous.
Thus, even though they had yet to encounter any threats, they maintained maximum vigilance, staying alert to their surroundings.
The corridor was dark. Windows on the left were tightly shut, while a row of sealed offices lined the right.
No lights shone within the offices—everything was eerily quiet, as if unoccupied.
The group proceeded cautiously.
But contrary to their tense anticipation, nothing happened as they traversed the first-floor corridor—no monsters, no accidents.
It was so quiet it felt surreal, like a dream.
Soon, the fire escape stairwell came into view.
It was suffocatingly dark inside.
Opposite the stairwell door, a rusted metal plaque was nailed to the wall, its blackened surface obscuring the text.
Hugo pulled out his phone, holding it up to cast faint light onto the plaque.
“First Floor: Club Activities Office.”
“……”
They all froze, exchanging glances.
They couldn’t help but recall that Monday after entering the instance, the “club recruitment” area that was inaccessible to unmarked anchors, and the building the “senior sister” led them into before recruitment ended…
Could it have been this place?
This administrative building?
“Let’s go,” Hugo said, lowering his voice and turning away.
Regardless of whether that was true, now wasn’t the time to ponder it. What mattered was reaching the principal’s office on the third floor and retrieving the item within.
As long as they managed that, no matter their overall progress in unraveling the instance’s secrets, they could complete their task and exchange for clearance to leave.
However, after just a couple of steps into the stairwell, Hugo, who was leading, suddenly stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Wei Cheng whispered.
“There’s a door,” Hugo’s voice came from ahead. “It’s locked.”
Wen Jianyan looked up, peering past Tian Ye’s shoulder into the dark stairwell. Fortunately, thanks to the glasses tool Orange Candy lent him, he could see clearly: deeper inside, a heavy iron door stood, firmly locked, completely blocking the way upstairs.
Tian Ye suggested, “Should we try the other stairwell?”
After all, there were two fire escapes on the first floor.
“No point,” Hugo shook his head. “If this side is locked, the other will be too.”
He rummaged through his backpack, pulling out something and working on the lock. Wen Jianyan faintly heard metal clinking sounds from the front.
Soon, Hugo looked up. “No good.”
“The master key won’t open it.”
This wasn’t some crude lockpick—it was a instance item of considerable level.
“Tch.” Orange Candy scoffed and stepped forward, stretching her limbs. “Useless thing. Let me break it down.”
“No use,” Hugo stopped her with a shake of his head.
If even the master key couldn’t open it, then the lock was obviously part of the instance’s rules and couldn’t be bypassed with external tools.
“Besides,” Hugo glanced at her with some disdain, “you’re too loud.”
Orange Candy was about to snap: “You—!”
“Shh.”
Hugo placed a finger to his lips. “Keep quiet.”
Even though they had already broken two of the three rules, that didn’t mean making a racket was wise.
Though annoyed, Orange Candy restrained herself, glaring fiercely at Hugo before turning away.
Just then, a soft cough sounded behind them.
It was light—just enough to draw their attention.
They paused and turned.
Wen Jianyan stood at the back. His complexion hadn’t improved much, but his spirit seemed better—at least he didn’t need support to move anymore.
“A lock that can’t be opened must have a matching key somewhere, right?”
His voice was faint and weak.
“But this floor is too big,” Wei Cheng frowned, shaking his head. “We don’t have much time. A thorough search might not get us to the principal’s office before the Morality class ends.”
Wen Jianyan: “Who said we need to search the whole floor?”
At this, Hugo—silent till now—asked, “What do you mean?”
“The guardroom,” Wen Jianyan answered simply.
The others froze.
Of course.
In the real world, the guardroom typically held keys to all the locks.
It was the most logical conclusion. If they weren’t in a instance, or if they hadn’t been desensitized by so much instance experience, this might have been their first thought.
But was it really that simple?
Hugo said, “Wait here—I’ll be quick.”
He turned to leave, but Wen Jianyan’s voice stopped him:
“Wait.”
Hugo paused and looked back.
Wen Jianyan stepped forward. “I’m coming with you.”
“……”
Hugo frowned, about to refuse.
But Wen Jianyan seemed to read his mind.
“Don’t forget,” Wen Jianyan raised a hand, tapping his eyes, “how we got here in the first place.”
True, his SAN was dangerously low, but that also granted him a crucial edge—the instance’s truth.
Hugo stared at him. Wen Jianyan returned the gaze silently.
Pale and cold, the young man’s face was like marble in the dark—unyielding and steadfast.
After a few seconds, Hugo looked away.
He exhaled. “Fine.”
Su Cheng frowned slightly.
But Wen Jianyan seemed to have expected this. He turned his head and smiled faintly. “Don’t worry—Hugo’s combat power is high. With him, I’m probably safer than staying here.”
“……”
The half-long-haired prophet froze his steps.
His dark eyes locked on Wen Jianyan, and he nodded slightly:
“Be careful.”
Wen Jianyan nodded. “Of course.”
Hugo stood ahead, waiting. As Wen Jianyan approached, Hugo turned and walked back the way they came, the two figures disappearing into the darkness.
Orange Candy tilted her head and glanced at Su Cheng. “Hey.”
Su Cheng withdrew his gaze, lowering his head. “…?”
He looked the same as before, but somehow like a different person.
“Watch your emotions,” Orange Candy said casually, tilting her head, “getting carried away ruins things.”
She grinned:
“Though I shouldn’t be the one saying this, Nightmare anchors tend to go off the deep end— the more potential, the easier to snap. That’s common knowledge.”
Su Cheng remained expressionless. “What? I don’t understand.”
“If you don’t, forget it.” Orange Candy looked away, uninterested.
Other teams’ business wasn’t her concern.
Elsewhere, Wen Jianyan and Hugo walked forward, retracing their steps.
Just like on their way in, the corridor remained unchanged—no new threats appeared, and the surrounding doors stayed tightly shut. Everything was as silent as death, with only the steady, monotonous sound of their footsteps echoing.
Previously, fearing that a door might suddenly swing open with some deadly threat inside, the group had stayed close to the window side while advancing.
But since spotting the writing on the shadow wall near the stairwell earlier, Wen Jianyan dared to edge closer to the office side on their return.
Soon, Wen Jianyan noticed that, just like on the shadow wall, plaques were also mounted beside the tightly closed office doors.
Holding his breath, he cautiously took a few steps forward.
In the deep darkness, he could faintly make out blurred characters:
[Guidance Teacher’s Office]
[Club Members’ Office]
Further along, the office names became more specific:
[Art Club Activity Room]
[Literature Club Activity Room]
[Dance Club Activity Room]
……
It seemed that just like the anchors who followed the normal route, the club members here had different clubs to choose from, each corresponding to the elective courses within the instance.
Clearly, his earlier speculation was correct. Different choices at the start of the instance would lead anchors to encounter different aspects of it, exposing them to completely opposite mechanisms.
This also explained why, despite progressing through most of the process, many buildings remained inaccessible to them.
……Yuying Comprehensive University’s open-world instance was absurdly massive.
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan halted, his gaze fixed on one of the tightly shut doors, the text above it immediately grabbing his full attention.
[Film Club Activity Room]
“……”
Wen Jianyan squinted slightly.
Looks like this was the club the weasel had joined, which explained why he appeared as an antagonist in the movie they experienced.
Just as he was deep in thought, Hugo’s voice interrupted him:
“By the way.”
Wen Jianyan paused and turned his head.
Not far away, Hugo glanced at him. Through the dense darkness, Wen Jianyan couldn’t see his expression, but he could still feel the scrutinizing gaze.
“You feel familiar to me,” Hugo said. “Have we met before?”
“……”
Wen Jianyan’s heart tightened slightly.
In a sense, they had met before.
But the problem was, their encounter had occurred inside the Prosperity Hotel, within the garden of the past time gate.
That time gate was far too troublesome and sensitive… More importantly, Wen Jianyan was self-aware enough to know that his role in that timeline wasn’t exactly endearing.
To survive as a seasoned liar, the first rule was to avoid too much contact with your victims.
“Really?” His expression remained calm. “Maybe it’s just that sense of instant familiarity.”
Hugo stared at him for a few seconds but said nothing further.
Wen Jianyan remained composed.
He wasn’t too worried—in fact, even if Hugo did connect him to that memory, it might work in his favor.
After all, Hugo’s experience in the Prosperity Hotel’s time gate occurred before Wen Jianyan even entered Nightmare. At that time, Wen Jianyan was still living freely in the real world, with no apparent connection to what happened within the instance.
Soon, the lobby appeared before them once again.
The dim glass doors stood wide open, endless darkness stretching beyond. The entire hall was tomb-like in its silence.
They headed straight for the guardroom.
Just like when they left, the guardroom was still empty.
Wen Jianyan turned on his flashlight and shone it through the half-open window. The interior was sparsely furnished—just a wooden desk, a wooden chair, and a small cabinet.
The tightly shut door was on the opposite side of the room.
“Anything unusual?” Hugo asked.
Wen Jianyan replied, “Nothing.”
Hugo nodded and approached the door, pulling out his master key once more. But before he could insert it, Wen Jianyan stopped him:
“Let me try.”
“?”
Hugo glanced back at him, silently questioning.
“You may be rich, but that doesn’t mean you should waste resources,” Wen Jianyan’s voice remained weak, but he chuckled. “I have a hunch this door isn’t special… just an ordinary lock.”
Hugo stepped back to give him space.
Wen Jianyan stepped forward and fiddled briefly with the lock. After a few soft metallic clicks, the door slid open without a sound.
He turned, looking pleasantly surprised: “Wow, seems like my hunch was spot on.”
Hugo: “……”
The “Integrity First” livestream chat:
[Classic Wen Jianyan, even on the brink of collapse, lockpicking is still second nature!]
[LOL, even Hugo is stunned.]
Calling it a hunch was more like an experienced judgment.
After countless encounters with locked doors in Nightmare, Wen Jianyan had figured out some basic rules: since the guardroom window was half-open and they could theoretically climb in, the door lock was likely just a regular one.
And if not? Well, trying wouldn’t hurt.
“I’ll handle it from here. Wait outside.”
Seeing the door open, Hugo said this and decisively stepped inside.
Wen Jianyan nodded and stayed outside.
Though he maintained a relatively safe distance from the guardroom, his nerves were taut, his alertness unwavering.
Suddenly, without warning, a chill ran down his spine—a cold breeze brushing the back of his head, making him shiver involuntarily.
“……!”
Wen Jianyan instinctively looked toward the guardroom.
Through the narrow window, he could faintly hear the sounds of Hugo rummaging inside, his silhouette visible in the dark.
There was no visible threat.
Yet unease gnawed at Wen Jianyan.
“Did you find it yet?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“Not yet,” Hugo’s voice answered from within.
…Was it just his imagination?
Wen Jianyan flexed his fingers, feeling his palms already slick with sweat.
The chill didn’t fade. In fact, it deepened as time passed, amplifying his anxiety.
Suddenly, a thought struck him.
He slowly turned his head, subtly glancing at the full-length mirror in the lobby.
The flashlight’s beam wavered slightly, reflecting his still-standing figure and the seemingly empty guardroom window—no, that was wrong.
The window wasn’t empty.
Wen Jianyan’s breath caught.
In the blurry reflection, through the half-open window, besides Hugo, there was a faint, shadowy figure seated in the chair, utterly motionless and silent. A fleeting glance could easily dismiss it as a trick of the eye.
Wen Jianyan quickly turned his head toward the guardroom.
Inside the cramped space, only Hugo was visible, checking the cabinet.
No one else.
Yet…
Wen Jianyan hesitated, then glanced back at the mirror.
The shadow was now standing behind the window, more solid than before.
His pupils contracted, cold sweat breaking out down his back.
Just moments ago, it had been sitting—he was certain!
“Quickly. We need to leave,” Wen Jianyan said in a low, urgent voice.
“…Almost,” Hugo’s reply was low and tense.
Clearly, he understood Wen Jianyan’s warning and sensed the looming danger, yet he still risked it.
Wen Jianyan’s heart pounded violently as he turned, catching the mirror from the corner of his eye.
The dark shadow had moved again—this time, it was walking toward Hugo.
“Now!” Wen Jianyan suddenly shouted.
At his voice, the shadow in the mirror abruptly stopped.
Then, slowly, ever so slowly, it began to turn, until it was fully facing Wen Jianyan.
The hall was pitch black. The shadow had no discernible features, but Wen Jianyan knew it was “looking.”
A chilling terror shot through him.
For a moment, his limbs turned icy, his vision dimmed, as if something unseen was gripping his throat, making it hard to breathe.
The next second, hurried footsteps echoed.
Wen Jianyan sluggishly turned his head towards the sound.
It was Hugo.
He had left the guardroom and reached Wen Jianyan.
Hugo’s expression was calm, but his gaze was serious. He grabbed Wen Jianyan’s arm and whispered sharply:
“Go.”
Wen Jianyan nearly stumbled from the pull.
Without hesitation, Hugo slung him over his shoulder, half-dragging, half-carrying him as he dashed forward. Despite the burden of an adult man, Hugo moved with impressive speed and strength.
Unlike Su Cheng, Hugo had his own style of moving people—
Direct, rough, and efficient.
“W-wait,” Wen Jianyan gasped, dizzy from the jostling, but still managed to ask, “Th-the keys…?”
“Got them,” Hugo replied succinctly.
He held out his hand, revealing a heavy ring of cold, metallic keys—plenty of them.
Wen Jianyan sighed in relief.
—Reliable.
The hall was once again deserted.
But in the mirror’s reflection, the figure from the guardroom remained—it hadn’t vanished along with them.
In the dark mirror, its eerie form was stark and menacing.
It walked slowly and stiffly, step by step, emerging from the guardroom.
Meanwhile, Orange Candy and the others waited in boredom.
Suddenly, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed from the corridor, rushing toward them.
Everyone was startled, instinctively turning toward the approaching noise.
Soon, two figures emerged from the darkness.
It was Hugo, striding briskly, and Wen Jianyan, who looked like he was about to throw up from being jostled.
“Are you guys insane?!” Orange Candy’s brows shot up, her voice low but seething with anger. “Running that fast in the corridor? Did you forget the second rule?”
“Relax.”
Hugo let go of Wen Jianyan’s wrist, setting down the dizzy and disoriented young man. He looked at Orange Candy and succinctly explained:
“I used a prop before running. Nothing will be alerted.”
That was also why Hugo did the running while Wen Jianyan was just the oversized, weak ‘backpack’ being carried—because Hugo’s prop only worked on himself, silencing any sound he made.
So only Hugo could run, while Wen Jianyan had to be carried.
He raised his hand and tossed the key ring to Orange Candy. “Hurry up.”
“What’s the rush,” Orange Candy snapped back while rummaging through the keys, searching for the one that would fit the iron door on the first floor. “If you’re so capable, you do it.”
Hugo said no more and turned back toward Wen Jianyan.
“…I’m fine.”
Wen Jianyan braced himself against the wall, pale-faced, shaking his head to refuse Su Cheng’s offer of support.
He took a few breaths and finally seemed to recover somewhat.
“What did you see?” Hugo asked, looking at him.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and briefly recounted what he saw.
Upon hearing about the second shadow in the guardroom, Hugo’s expression grew visibly grave. While in the guardroom, he had sensed the presence of danger, but he didn’t fully understand what it was. Clearly, if not for Wen Jianyan’s warning, he might have ended up in a direct confrontation with that unknown entity.
Regardless of what the outcome would’ve been, at least Wen Jianyan’s insight saved him the time and resources it would’ve taken to deal with the crisis.
Hugo lowered his eyes, thought for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Thanks.”
“…It’s nothing.”
Wen Jianyan shook his head weakly.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a transparent capsule box. With trembling, pale fingers, he took out a red pill and swallowed it with difficulty.
It had been nearly ten minutes since his last dose, and he was starting to feel the wound on his neck itching and aching, like it was about to awaken again.
He shook the box. “Consider it my thanks.”
Hugo nodded.
He retrieved a small cloth pouch from his system backpack, opened it, and carefully sprinkled a layer of greyish-white powder on the ground.
It looked like ashes or burnt paper residue.
Wen Jianyan watched the process closely.
Noticing Wen Jianyan’s gaze, Hugo explained, “It’s to cover our tracks, so that thing in the guardroom won’t be able to follow us.”
Afterward, he stood up, repacked the pouch, and put it away.
Hugo added, “The effect won’t last long. We’d better leave as soon as possible.”
He turned to Orange Candy. “How’s it going?”
“Shut up,” Orange Candy shot back without hesitation.
Though her words were sharp, her hands never stopped moving. Soon, she finally found a rusty iron key. She inserted it into the keyhole, and with a faint metallic creak, the tightly locked stairwell door was opened.
“Let’s go.”
The group entered the stairwell.
They held their breath and proceeded cautiously, soon reaching the second floor.
However, just as they were about to ascend to the third floor, they encountered another locked iron door.
“Wait.”
Orange Candy spoke up.
She turned on her flashlight, lowered her head, and started sifting through the keys, the clinking sound echoing softly. But after a long search, she couldn’t find a second rusty iron key.
Unconvinced, she tried every key on the door, one after another—but none worked.
Not a single key could unlock the stairwell door to the third floor.
“Typical,” Orange Candy sneered coldly.
Wen Jianyan wasn’t surprised.
He knew these instances wouldn’t let them take shortcuts to the third floor via the stairwell so easily.
Hugo turned his head toward the second-floor exit. “Let’s check it out first.”
Everyone nodded.
The moment they stepped out of the second-floor stairwell, all of them immediately sensed that something was off.
According to the floor plan, the fire escapes should be at both ends of each floor. But after they used one stairwell to reach the second floor, the entire layout seemed inverted—where the wall should have been was now a corridor, and vice versa.
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan noticed something. He brightened his flashlight and aimed it at the shadow wall in front of them.
The weak beam slowly moved upwards, stopping at a piece of metal embedded in the wall.
On the metal plate were some faint, barely legible characters:
[Second Floor: Student Council Office]
Seeing those words made everyone’s heart skip a beat.
Upon learning the real purpose of the administrative building’s second floor, the cold, pale faces of the “student council members” and their emotionless, chilling stares resurfaced vividly in their minds, sending shivers down their spines.
In the “Integrity First” livestream chat:
[Damn, I got goosebumps all over.]
[Now I get why the prophet’s tarot card was ‘The Tower’ earlier… This place is a freaking deathtrap!]
[Maybe we should retreat… If we leave now, we might still make it out alive.]
[?? Are you serious? We’ve finally reached an interesting, unfamiliar area and you wanna bail? Quit playing around—keep going!!!]
“Given that,” Wei Cheng slowly said, staring at the characters on the wall, “the key to the third floor is probably kept by the student council, right?”
“Most likely,” Orange Candy answered grimly, staring into the distance.
Knowing how these Nightmare instances worked, there probably wasn’t any other possibility.
While the others whispered among themselves, Wen Jianyan carefully stepped forward, peering cautiously down the corridor.
A moment later, he felt his limbs turn cold again.
“…Look.”
He spoke in a low voice.
The others paused, then turned their heads to follow Wen Jianyan’s gaze.
Not far away, in the pitch-black corridor, a few faint points of red light were visible.
The lights were dim and eerie, but undeniably real.
They seeped through the cracks of the office doors and windows, staining the cold floor like slithering scarlet serpents in the distant dark.
Clearly, although some student council members were maintaining order in the Ethics class, the student council office itself was not empty…
Unlike the relatively lax club activities area on the first floor, this floor was tightly guarded and fraught with danger.
Staring at the scattered points of light in the distance, everyone’s expression stiffened, the atmosphere dropping to freezing.
Damn it.
This place really was out to kill them.
