WTNL Chapter 455

Yuying University
Chapter 455: Seven Feet Under

Darkness pressed down heavily. The Mason stood amidst the ashen-brown grave soil, his wax-like face looking even paler and more sinister. His lips curved slightly to the sides, revealing a smile that sent a chill down the spine.

Whether it was the lighting or not, his eyeballs glimmered with a faint, eerie red.

“……”

Wen Jianyan’s gaze passed over the Mason’s shoulder, silent.

One, two, three.

One after another, figures emerged from behind the Mason, slowly stepping into the empty wasteland.

Wen Jianyan recognized them as the teammates who had gathered with the Mason before boarding the bus.

Their faces were unfamiliar, but that cold and malicious glint in their eyes—Wen Jianyan knew it all too well.

Clearly, as the Mason’s teammates, they were not good people either.

Wen Jianyan’s back tensed quietly.

If it were only the Mason, he might still have some chance of resistance. But once it became one-versus-many, as a mental-type player not good at direct confrontation, Wen Jianyan knew he would have little chance of victory.

The Mason stepped forward with a smile, his gaze slithering over Wen Jianyan’s skin like a sticky snake.

“What’s wrong, don’t you remember me?”

He feigned friendliness.

“You really are the kind of man who forgets easily.”

Wen Jianyan: “……”

Orange Candy was right. This guy’s gaze really was disgusting.

“Of course not,” Wen Jianyan’s face betrayed no emotion, though his mind was spinning so fast it was sparking. “What a joke.”

He returned the same false smile:

“Didn’t you greet us when you first entered the instance?”

His words were polite enough, but anyone with half a brain could tell he was mocking the Mason for retreating without a fight after encountering Hugo earlier.

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[……Holy shit.]
[Ahhh! I swear I almost blacked out. Bro, could you maybe consider the situation? Why are you talking like that at a time like this? Do you really have a death wish?]

Sure enough, the Mason’s smile turned cold at Wen Jianyan’s words.

Wen Jianyan’s eyes were locked onto his face. Detecting the subtle change in expression, his heart sank.

……So it really was true.

That was exactly why he’d provoked the Mason—to test it.

And now it was confirmed. The man wasn’t relying on some deception-type item or indirect trick to locate him. He had truly pierced through the “film” created by the S-class instance’s rules. He could really see Wen Jianyan, hear his words, and respond to him in real time.

This was terrible.

Cold sweat filled Wen Jianyan’s palms.

He hadn’t expected that someone could truly ignore the rules of an SS-level instance and “see” what should not be seen.

As expected, anyone who could climb into Nightmare’s top ten wasn’t easy to deal with.

Should he call for backup, get Orange Candy and the others here?

Not impossible—but almost useless.

His gaze swept over the figures behind the Mason, and his heart sank further.

He was too far from his teammates. Even if they could receive his message instantly, whether they could arrive in time was questionable. This place was full of terrifying supernatural interference. Even if they knew the route, it was easy to get lost. And besides, they didn’t know his exact location.

By the time they found him, his corpse would probably already be cold.

The Mason hadn’t moved yet, but his teammates clearly had less patience. Step by step, they advanced, encircling him from all sides.

Every muscle in Wen Jianyan’s body tightened. He instinctively took a step back.

The encirclement closed tighter and tighter.

The Mason’s gaze lingered on Wen Jianyan, watching him retreat, and he smiled:

“Why run?”

“Stay, play with us.”

Wen Jianyan gave no answer, not sparing him even half his attention.

His brain spun at lightning speed, analyzing his options.

Run?

Impossible.

These people were all veteran anchors, battle-hardened, waiting for him in ambush. They were prepared for his counterattack or escape. To break free unscathed was nearly impossible.

But…

Wen Jianyan’s gaze lingered on the circle of enemies. Something caught his attention.

Wait. These people didn’t seem to see him.

Though their eyes looked in this direction, unlike the Mason’s, their focus wasn’t exact. It was vague, floating in the air. More importantly, their formation was too wide. If they were sure of his exact position, there was no need for such a large perimeter, slowly shrinking.

Unless…

Only the Mason could pinpoint him. The others couldn’t.

That fit more with common sense.

Breaking an SS-level instance’s rules with one person was already absurd. If an entire team could do it, it would be a joke.

As Wen Jianyan pieced this together, the Mason’s voice rang out from not far away:

“You guessed right. I’m the only one who can see you.”

“!”

Wen Jianyan was startled, turning his head instinctively to stare at him.

In the dark graveyard, the Mason’s wax-like face looked ready to melt. His venomous eyes locked onto Wen Jianyan, filled with unhidden greed.

“So, you see, you’re not completely without hope. You can struggle all you want.”

His smile widened, and Wen Jianyan felt a chill crawling from his spine to his toes.

“Struggle, my dear.”

That sticky gaze caressed Wen Jianyan, inch by inch, like a tongue licking his skin.

The Mason’s face twisted with a shiver of pleasure, his voice rising shrill and unstable, enough to make one’s hair stand on end:

“The more you struggle, the prettier you are.”

“The prettier you are, the more excited I get.”

Wen Jianyan: “……”

Bro, I beg you, act normal. You’re scaring me.

Every time he thought this guy had reached peak perversion, the Mason proved he could always go further.

But this wasn’t the time to be distracted.

Wen Jianyan’s focus snapped back to the enemies closing in.

One, two, three…

Five people in total, including the Mason.

Should he try?

The four others couldn’t pinpoint him. They were only moving on the Mason’s guidance. That meant he still had a chance. If he could create even a moment of confusion—

In mere seconds, Wen Jianyan had sketched at least three escape routes in his mind.

But…

Every route would force him to pass near the Mason.

“……”

Cold fear climbed his back. Even if the others weren’t present, he didn’t dare face a top-ten veteran directly. And now, with a whole team behind him, even if they couldn’t see him, there was no way they’d just stand aside if he fought their captain.

He was stuck in a dilemma.

The circle closed tighter. Wen Jianyan was forced back step by step.

The nearest opponent was only three meters away.

He had to decide now.

Wen Jianyan clenched his teeth.

He retreated another step.

The soil beneath his feet was damp and cold, oozing eerie chill. Suddenly, his foot slipped.

He glanced down.

In the yellow-brown dirt lay a bluish-purple hand—belonging to a corpse.

At night, the sight alone could stop a person’s breath.

“……!”

Even though he was mentally prepared, Wen Jianyan still broke into a cold sweat, nearly gasping aloud.

——Wait.

Suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind like lightning splitting the dark sky. He froze, eyes widening.

Ah.

The encounter with the Mason had been too unexpected. The “Integrity First” live room was in chaos. No one had imagined the Mason could circumvent instance rules, much less that he had lain in wait until Wen Jianyan was separated.

Loyal viewers panicked, fearing Wen Jianyan would finally fall. Others who disliked his style gloated, saying they had waited for this day.

And more thrill-seekers flooded in.

They wanted to see Wen Jianyan’s reaction, to watch what would happen if he was captured.

The criticisms once suppressed by his proven strength now resurfaced.

They wanted to see anchors kill each other, to watch blood and betrayal unfold before them.

After all, as the Mason said, Wen Jianyan was “too pretty.”

Not only because of his face, but because of something more destructive, more alluring: dominance, freedom, yet fragility.

Such people always attracted greed and malice.

On the live feed, that overly beautiful face lifted.

Pale skin. Light-colored eyes. Thin lips that curved slightly upward.

The young man looked straight at the Mason.

Unwavering.

Through the thin “film” of rules, the two locked eyes.

Their gazes met for only a second.

Then, Wen Jianyan raised his hand.

His pale, slender fingers moved smoothly, brushing past his collar as though flicking away dust.

But when he lowered his hand, something gleamed at his chest, pinned to the soft fabric of his clothes—

A silver badge.

Its surface was rough and uneven. A grotesque, blurry head bulged faintly, as though it were writhing.

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[…Ah?]

[…Ah???]

[Why the hell is the anchor putting on the badge? Does he actually have a death wish?]

[The only reason he still has a chance right now is because those anchors with the Mason don’t know where he is, okay? But now he puts on the badge—this isn’t just about being completely exposed. Like this, he can’t use any items or talents at all!!! He doesn’t have enough badges to control more monsters, he’s one against many. Isn’t this just plain suicide?]

[I say good job. Saves us time. Hurry up already, I wanna see the premium content!]

The instant Wen Jianyan put on the badge, the thin membrane separating them vanished.

In that moment, the young man’s figure was fully revealed among the desolate graves.

Even though he was draped in a monster’s skin, one could still faintly make out his tall, refined silhouette. In the midst of the cold, eerie burial grounds, he stood out strikingly, like a shadow torn open and carved deep into the darkness.

The Mason and his men couldn’t see him, but the livestream audience could see it all clearly—

Wen Jianyan looked at the Mason and suddenly gave a faint smile.

His thin lips parted slightly, formed words in silence:

“Bye-bye.”

“No—!” The Mason seemed to realize something all of a sudden. He took a step forward and roared, “Stop him, now!!”

Before the others could react, the youth in the monster’s guise suddenly stepped back.

No one knew what he had done, but the next second, the once-flat grave soil cracked open into a pitch-black rift. He retreated lightly once more—under everyone’s gaze, as the Mason’s furious shout echoed, his body fell straight down, swallowed whole by the fissure, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

The “Integrity First” livestream fell into dead silence.

[…]

[Wait, what?]

[…F*ck!! That grave soil is insanely cursed. Only ghosts could maybe resist it; any human that gets near is corroded. Even if the Mason is strong, he can’t fight this thing at all!]

[Damn… he actually found a way to escape without a direct confrontation. I’m speechless.]

[My review: don’t celebrate too soon.]

Wen Jianyan had fallen deep into the grave soil.

The sensation was bizarre.

Most likely because of the badge on his chest, Wen Jianyan entered a very peculiar state.

It was like a thick layer of wax had been poured from head to toe, forming a heavy shell that sealed him off from the surrounding soil.

Because of that, the soil’s obstruction wasn’t as severe. The wax membrane separated him from the outside, giving him the illusion of floating in something dense and gelatinous, almost like gluey water.

Wen Jianyan knew—compared to a human, right now, he was closer to a ghost.

It was also the first time he experienced firsthand the horror of this grave soil.

Even with the badge’s protection, the dangerous, icy ghostly aura continued to seep in, piercing through the waxy shell, stealing his warmth, his breath, his vitality.

Only a few seconds after entering the grave soil, Wen Jianyan already felt an irresistible drowsiness, tugging at his consciousness, forcing him into an eternal slumber.

He jolted awake, alarm bells ringing in his mind.

Forcing himself to stay alert, he raised his eyes.

The soil above his head was very thin, less than half a foot. Through the loose layer, he could still see shifting lights above.

—And he hadn’t even gone that deep yet.

Clearly, even with the badge, he couldn’t linger here long.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps overhead. Soon after, with a rustling sound, the icy grave soil began to be dug away bit by bit.

It seemed the Mason and his team weren’t ready to let go of such a good opportunity.

After all, if he escaped this time, catching him alone again would be difficult.

Wen Jianyan wasn’t surprised.

As the soil above was gradually cleared, he slowly exhaled, lowered his eyes, and slipped further down.

It became a tug-of-war.

As humans, the Mason’s group could never enter the soil themselves. But with their abilities, digging through the upper layers was far from impossible.

And Wen Jianyan absolutely did not want to be “dug out.”

The anchor was still nearby. By the rules, even if Wen Jianyan surfaced, he couldn’t remove the badge. That meant, from the moment he put it on, he gave up his anchor identity, losing access to items and talents…

In other words—completely at their mercy.

As time passed, the pit above grew deeper.

With each shovelful, more of that suffocating yin energy seeped out, thickening, curdling. The invisible black aura grew stronger, as if something unknown below was stirring, ready to awaken.

Meanwhile, Wen Jianyan, too, was pushed to his limit.

The cold invaded his bones. He nearly fell asleep, barely holding on by sheer will. He couldn’t just move sideways either—for some reason, the Mason always managed to track his location. Parallel movement wouldn’t widen the gap.

So he had only one gamble.

That they wouldn’t dare dig deeper.

Because…

Wen Jianyan’s fingers stretched downward, brushing against something solid.

He lowered his eyes.

Buried in the depths was a pitch-black coffin.

Though it was impossible to tell how long it had been here, the coffin’s surface was smooth and pristine. That chilling black wood lay sunk in the darkness, exuding a suffocating, terrifying aura.

This was a gamble.

A gamble between total annihilation—or survival.

Wen Jianyan drew his hand back. Whether from excitement or fear, his fingertips trembled.

—Seven feet below lay a true ghost.

“Wait.”

Above, the Mason suddenly spoke, shattering the silence.

His teeth clenched, his words forced out reluctantly:

“Stop.”

The others froze.

The Mason stepped up to the pit, lowered his head, staring into the depths. A red glimmer flickered in his eyes. After a few seconds, he inhaled deeply, closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the red glow was gone.

“We can’t dig any further.”

His voice was heavy, grim.

—If they did, they would unearth something that should never exist in this world.

The Mason could feel it.

Go further, and none of them would leave alive.

“Then what?” One teammate muttered, unwilling. His pale fingers caked in soil, he looked toward the deep pit. His body reeked of corpse rot. Beside him lay an empty water bottle.

“So we just let him run?”

His teeth ground audibly. Digging this deep had cost them dearly. To give up now, empty-handed, was bitter, infuriating.

“…As if.” The Mason sneered coldly.

“If we can’t catch him, fine.”

His eyes gleamed with malice. “But at the very least, we’ll make sure he never climbs out.”

“Bury it!!”

“Yes!!”

Beneath the soil, Wen Jianyan immediately felt the weight above grow heavier, thicker. Instantly, he understood what they meant to do—bury him alive!

At that same moment, he moved.

But as he turned, a faint sound came from behind.

“Creak—”

Like wooden planks grinding, or something inside pushing upward against the coffin lid.

“?!”

Wen Jianyan froze, horrified. His head snapped toward the sound.

They hadn’t reached the coffin yet, so why—

Below, the once-pristine coffin began to corrode, its surface mottling rapidly. Paint flaked off at a terrifying speed. A chilling aura seeped out.

“Creak!”

The coffin lid shifted, opening a narrow slit.

Every hair on Wen Jianyan’s body stood on end.

And instantly, he realized why.

Damn it.

It was the grave soil.

It didn’t just target humans, but ghosts as well.

Humans buried in it were corroded to death. Ghosts suppressed under it were forced into eternal slumber.

Before, the soil had been enough to suppress the ghost. But when the Mason kept digging, clearing away the suppressive soil above, even if they hadn’t uncovered the coffin, the ghost beneath was waking.

He had to leave. Now.

A primal sense of danger gripped his nerves, making his fingers tremble uncontrollably.

If he fled now, there was still time.

Wen Jianyan spun around, ready to rush upward at full speed—when he suddenly stopped.

A thought struck him.

An old memory stirred, resurfacing things best left forgotten.

What was the Changsheng Building?

A tomb.

And the woman in red, sleeping eternally in the courtyard of the fifth floor, suppressing the building with her ghostly body—

An Soul Guide.

One link chained to the next, one life chained to another. Ghosts lured down that small road, eternally buried in graves.

But after the Changsheng Building was taken over by the Nightmare Stream, and the woman in red divided, suppressed—where did the ghosts that could no longer be led into graves go?

Reality.

And the Xingwang Hotel?

A setup.

A replacement for the little town guarding the path to death, fabricated by higher malice, its true goal to steal power, siphon the supernatural.

And the ghosts lured into the hotel, fattened over and over—where did they end up?

Reality.

Nightmare and reality were like two sides of a mirror.

Those sealed horrors outside reality, under the manipulations of the Nightmare Stream, flowed into the real world wave after wave, endlessly.

The schools, hospitals, residential blocks that had been invaded… after the slaughter, they once again became instances in the Nightmare livestream.

It was a terrifying cycle.

Wen Jianyan lowered his head, his gaze falling on the coffin beneath him.

The black paint on the outside had almost all peeled away, and the gaps along the coffin’s edges were widening. From below, something horrifying stirred, brewed, and spread.

“Creak.”

The coffin lid groaned under strain, as if it would split open the next second.

If—

The answer was obvious, without need of words.

——Reality.

Of course it was reality. Where else could it be?

Above his head, fistfuls of soil fell. As the weight of the earth pressing down grew heavier, Wen Jianyan once again felt that irresistible, suffocating drowsiness. The suppression of the grave soil was intensifying. Which meant that once the earth above was fully packed, his half-“ghost” self might really sink into eternal slumber beneath the dirt.

But perhaps because of that, the coffin lid no longer moved, and the peeling of paint on its surface slowed.

Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth and drew his gaze back.

He could barely keep himself alive—how could he have the strength to deal with a ghost about to break free of its restraints? Surviving without being hunted down was already the best he could hope for.

Besides, as long as he kept his own life, he could keep fighting against the Nightmare.

Where there is life, there is hope.

What’s more, the coffin lid was no longer as fragile as before. Even if the ghost had awakened, it wouldn’t be easy to completely break free.

And besides, whether it could even enter reality wasn’t certain.

The graveyard was vast and confusing; it might wander there for at least a year or more before finding its way out into the real world.

And even if it did… so what?

There were plenty of people who deserved to die. A few more wouldn’t matter.

Reality had done far worse things to him. The fact that he hadn’t repaid blood with blood already counted as “repaying kindness with kindness.”

Wen Jianyan looked upward.

Soil fell, cutting off the faint light bit by bit.

“……”

F*ck.

He clenched his teeth so hard he could taste blood in his mouth.

Face dark, he cursed savagely in his heart.

Damn it, what the hell was he doing.

He suddenly spun around, his long body darting like a fish, plunging swiftly downward again.

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[?]

[Huh? Did the anchor lose his mind?]

[What is he doing—suicide??]

[I’m losing it! Can’t you just go back up right now?!]

The deeper he sank, the heavier the pressure, the denser the yin energy. By the time Wen Jianyan returned to the coffin, he could hardly breathe.

From its depths, the coffin released a chilling aura. Though he was still in his “ghost” state, the protective wax membrane could no longer shield him from such pure, terrifying force.

His body trembled uncontrollably. His face had gone deathly pale.

He stretched out a hand and pressed it against the coffin lid.

The instant he touched it, his palm turned a ghastly blue-green. The coffin’s jagged edges pierced deep into his flesh, and black blood oozed out.

With the slightest added force, a layer of flesh was eaten away by unseen yin energy, stripped clean.

Skin flayed from bone, agony beyond words.

Even the buff from his badge could no longer protect him. The wax layer, a mere product of instance rules, couldn’t withstand such unbridled power. Beneath the ghostly facade, his human flesh began to collapse.

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[Wait… he’s not trying to close the coffin, is he??!!]

[You’re fucking insane???]

Gritting his teeth, Wen Jianyan braced a foot against the coffin and pushed hard!

Creeeeak—

A sharp, grating sound set teeth on edge. The heavy coffin lid, pried open by another “ghost,” began sliding back, inch by inch, under Wen Jianyan’s force.

The paint on the surface grew smooth again. The chill from below receded.

Sealed by both soil and coffin, the not-yet-fully-awakened ghost was forced back into dormancy.

“……”

When Wen Jianyan finally let go, the flesh of his palm was completely gone.

Summoning the last of his strength, he glanced upward.

Only darkness.

The soil above must already have been filled in.

In the silent graveyard, seven feet underground lay half a man, and one coffin.

He wanted… to close his eyes…

So tired.

He just wanted…

To fall asleep and never wake up.

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[Oh no, no no—the signal’s cutting out! What’s happening?]

[Is the anchor done for??]

[F*ck no—don’t black out—]

The next second, the screen went black.

Signal lost.

Half-conscious, Wen Jianyan opened his eyes.

…Dead?

No, not dead.

Because the pain was unbearable.

A torment that seeped from bone to nerve, forcing his whole body to shudder.

With difficulty, weakly, he lifted his gaze.

Memories returned.

What had he been trying to do just now?

Ah, right—he’d meant to use the invincibility period granted to sophomores by the Nightmare.

Three times in total, each lasting one minute.

Short, but more than enough for him in that moment.

Enough to escape the grave soil and return to the surface.

——Wen Jianyan might be reckless at times, but he was never stupid.

If he dared dive back down to close the coffin, of course he had a backup plan.

It was just…

He frowned, trying to recall. Before he had time to trigger his final safety measure, something unexpected had happened.

And then—he had left the grave, arriving in a strange place.

Struggling to breathe, he slowly looked around.

No, not strange.

On the contrary—so familiar it was overwhelming.

Sofa, coffee table, carpet… It was the exact same as his livestream room.

His sluggish mind processed this slowly.

Wen Jianyan froze for a few seconds before realization dawned.

Ah. This… seemed to be the Ouroboros’s space.

His trembling lashes lowered, gaze falling on his hand.

From fingertip to palm, nothing but ruined flesh. Blue-black, torn skin exposed stark white bone. At the base of his fingers, a heavy metal ring gleamed, smeared with blood.

Clearly, his blood had fallen on the Ouroboros, pulling him back into its space once again.

As expected, the artifact broke rules. Though it no longer imprisoned anyone, it was still useful—though who knew how many times it could be used within one instance.

Of course, leaving this space would still send him back beneath the crushing grave soil.

But at least here, he had a moment to breathe.

“……”

Curled on the ground, Wen Jianyan drew in deep, steadying breaths.

Good.

At least the tool still had its uses.

It couldn’t heal or improve his situation, but it gave him breathing room, time to adjust.

And as long as his emotions stabilized, so would his state—only then could his next moves succeed.

Suddenly, from the darkness, a familiar voice sounded.

Low, puzzled:

“…Why did you come in here?”

“?!”

That voice was far too familiar. Wen Jianyan almost thought he’d misheard. Startled, he snapped his head up.

…What?

Not far away, from the darkness, a pair of golden eyes stared down at him.

“How did you end up like this?”

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