Anchor Hall
Chapter 519: “Are you there? If you are, come out.”
The livestream was over.
Wen Jianyan opened his eyes to the familiar, vast space before him.
As far as he could see, there was a boundless expanse of white.
Countless cameras of varying sizes floated and arranged themselves in the air, like eyes that were watching him at every moment.
On the giant screen, all the instances had turned gray, including the ‘Yuying Comprehensive University’ instance that had just ended—clearly, their instance had lasted the longest among all the concurrent ones.
The familiar system voice sounded in his ear.
[Would you like to have your body repaired?]
[Estimated cost: 100,000 points]
Previously, repairs were usually done directly, but this time, perhaps because the estimated point cost was too high, the system automatically brought up a confirmation window.
It made sense.
Although Wen Jianyan would get injured to some degree in every instance, it was rare for the injuries to be as severe as this time.
Internal organ damage, bodily disintegration, and numerous fractures in his arms, ribs, and legs… although all these wounds were masked by his nearly 100% alienation level.
He was merely numbed and couldn’t feel the pain, but the injuries still existed.
The unprecedentedly high cost of repair points proved this.
Wen Jianyan’s dry throat moved. “Confirm.”
The system’s automatic repair process began.
The endless cold and pain receded from his body bit by bit, as if they had never been there.
[Congratulations, Anchor, for completing the livestream. Your rewards are now being distributed!]
[Congratulations, Anchor, for clearing an SS-rank high-difficulty instance for the first time. Point reward: 500,000!]
[Achievement Unlocked: SS-Rank instance Clearer!]
[Congratulations, Anchor, for unlocking 100% exploration of an SS-rank high-difficulty instance. Point reward: 2,000,000!]
[Server First Achievement Unlocked: 100% Exploration Unlocked (Advanced)!]
[Congratulations, Anchor, for achieving the peak concurrent viewer count during the entire livestream. Point reward: 1,000,000!]
[Achievement Unlocked: Peak Popularity King! (Intermediate)]
[Congratulations, Anchor…]
Even though Wen Jianyan’s past livestream results were always stunning, and he had broken the Nightmare livestream platform’s historical records multiple times, achieving such a terrifying number of accomplishments at once was a first, even for him.
Dense system announcements overlapped one another, and the “ding-ding-ding” of points being credited was enough to make one’s head spin. Even without opening his livestream interface, Wen Jianyan could clearly feel the massive point rewards pouring into his account—not to mention, due to the unexpected difficulty upgrade of ‘Yuying Comprehensive University’, all the points he earned would be doubled.
The number was frightening.
For a rare change, Wen Jianyan didn’t turn off the point notifications in his ear. Instead, he lay on the ground listening quietly, his gaze fixed on the empty white expanse in the distance, his thoughts unknown.
“Hey, are… are you okay?”
A cautious voice came from the side.
“…?”
Wen Jianyan turned his head to look.
It was Tian Ye.
His face, not yet eroded by the Nightmare environment and still appearing somewhat naive, hovered nearby with a guilty expression.
He looked at Wen Jianyan, his voice trembling with guilt as he stammered, “Um, I’m sorry… there was really no other way. Just now, I…”
Unexpectedly, Wen Jianyan shook his head. “It’s fine.”
He extended a hand, a hint of helpless laughter in his voice. “I’m just a little tired. Give me a hand?”
“…”
His reaction was beyond Tian Ye’s imagination.
He froze for two seconds, unable to process it.
Hugo glanced at the愣 in-place Tian Ye, stepped forward, and grabbed Wen Jianyan’s extended wrist.
He was strong and pulled Wen Jianyan up with ease.
Wen Jianyan tugged at his slightly wrinkled clothes and smiled at Hugo.
“Thanks a lot.”
Wei Cheng frowned as he looked at him.
The man looked no different from his memory. The deathly cold aura had faded from his body, the blackness under his eyes was gone, revealing light and clear brown irises, and his cheeks had become fair and soft again. Apart from looking a little pale, everything else had returned to normal.
Even his expression was the same.
The young man’s face was calm, his eyes even holding a habitual smile. Even without speaking, he gave off a refreshing feeling.
But the problem was…
This was too normal.
It wasn’t the demeanor of someone who had been forcefully dragged out of an instance at the last second by a teammate who traded their life for his.
As if reading their minds, Wen Jianyan looked up at the group and even comforted them in return.
“It’s okay. I understand. In that situation, you just did what you had to do. Besides, if you hadn’t helped her then, with her personality, she probably would have torn you all apart alive.”
He patted Tian Ye’s shoulder, lowered his eyes, and said gently, “Your talent is terrifying. It can forcibly stimulate the potential of a person’s talent… I imagine its cost isn’t small either. Something like this might happen again in the future. You need to be mentally prepared.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s comfort had the opposite effect. Tian Ye’s pent-up emotions broke free. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he suddenly burst out crying with a “waaah.” A large, burly adult was now crying like a small child.
Wen Jianyan sighed and gave Tian Ye’s shoulder a final pat.
He lifted his head and looked toward a spot not far away.
The black-haired, black-eyed prophet stood silently a few steps away.
He had been there the whole time.
Just at a distance from the group that was neither too far nor too close.
“You foresaw this before we even entered the instance, didn’t you?” Wen Jianyan’s tone was still just as gentle. “You used your talent in the Anchor Hall.”
Hearing this, the others were startled.
Normally, all anchors were unable to use their talents outside of an instance—of course, there were occasional exceptions, but they were very rare, and the restrictions were absurdly high.
Su Cheng didn’t answer.
“Your consumption was massive, and your alienation level became very high. That was probably the reason, right?” Wen Jianyan continued to ask.
Su Cheng still didn’t answer.
“Tell me, what did you prophesize at that time?” Wen Jianyan asked.
This time, Su Cheng finally spoke.
His voice was hoarse and raspy, as if he hadn’t spoken in a very long time. “…You were going to die in this instance.”
Wen Jianyan: “Mm.”
He seemed calm about this death prophecy, merely nodding for the other to continue.
“It was a meticulously woven trap, with a one-in-ten-thousand chance of survival,” Su Cheng said slowly. “It didn’t matter who you entered the instance with this time, or for what reason… The ‘Yuying Comprehensive University’ instance was prepared for you. As long as you started a livestream, you would have entered this instance no matter what. To survive, unless…”
Wen Jianyan finished for him, “Unless I found someone to die in my place. Is that it?”
“…”
Su Cheng fell silent again.
He didn’t answer, but the answer was obvious.
The silence stretched on for so long it was almost suffocating.
After a long while, Su Cheng finally spoke.
This time, the prophet’s voice changed. It was the same timbre, but it became strangely cold and resolute, tinged with a desperate obsession.
“—No matter what, you cannot die.”
Wen Jianyan asked in return, “No matter the cost?”
Su Cheng: “No matter the cost.”
“See, that’s the problem,” Wen Jianyan sighed softly.
He looked at Su Cheng as if looking at a friend who was still lost in delusion.
“To achieve this goal, what price are you truly willing to pay? How many people can become that price?”
Su Cheng was taken aback.
“Today, Yun Bilan can become that price. Who will it be tomorrow?” Wen Jianyan stared at Su Cheng, his emotionless eyes seeming to see through everything, piercing the fog like a sharp sword. “Yourself?”
“Ji Guan? Wen Ya? Blond? Orange Candy?”
“What if it’s everyone but me?”
“What if the price is the collapse of reality?”
Su Cheng stood rooted to the spot, his gaze wavering.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Wen Jianyan raised a hand, a habitual smile returning to his face. “I’m very selfish. I not only want to live, but I enjoy living. I’m definitely not the type to sacrifice myself for the greater good. Although it feels like I don’t have the right to say that, but…”
The smile on Wen Jianyan’s face faded.
“There should be a bottom line, shouldn’t there?”
Wen Jianyan stared at him expressionlessly. “You could have come to me before you received the prophecy. But you didn’t.”
“You could have come to me when you were passing a death sentence on a friend’s life. But you didn’t.”
Su Cheng clenched his jaw, the muscles in his cheeks tightening, twisting his normally handsome, gentle, and refined face.
He seemed to want to say something. “I…”
Wen Jianyan interrupted him. “Let me finish.”
Su Cheng fell silent.
The air was quiet, so oppressive it felt as if a colossal stone was weighing down on them.
No one spoke.
“You concealed the information you obtained and unilaterally made a decision you thought was ‘best for me.’ More importantly, your bottom line is my life. That’s too uncontrollable. I can’t judge whether you’ll resort to more extreme measures to save me again,” Wen Jianyan said expressionlessly. “This style of operating will greatly interfere with my judgment and affect my plans.”
Sentence by sentence.
The prophet’s face gradually turned pale.
But Wen Jianyan seemed not to see it, his voice turning from gentle to cold. “So, from now on, I will no longer enter the same instance as you.”
A crack appeared in the prophet’s stone-like expression.
He subconsciously took a step forward, his expression frantic. “No, listen to me, I didn’t…”
“That’s enough.”
Wen Jianyan stopped him.
His expression was still calm. “At least for now, we are still friends.”
He smiled, but that smile sent a chill down one’s spine. “Don’t make me not even want to say that.”
Su Cheng froze in place.
The short distance between them now seemed like an insurmountable chasm.
After an unknown amount of time, he lowered his eyes, his voice hoarse.
“Okay.”
After speaking, Su Cheng turned and fled as if escaping.
The others watched this scene, not daring to breathe. Even Tian Ye didn’t dare to cry anymore.
Finally, after Su Cheng’s back disappeared, Wei Cheng cautiously broke the silence.
“Don’t you think… you were a bit too harsh?”
Wen Jianyan turned to look at him.
“I mean, although Su Cheng did something wrong, he was ultimately trying to protect you. And now that Oracle has monopolized all the prophet connections, the instances you enter next will only get harder and harder…”
Wei Cheng chose his words carefully.
“Your anger is understandable, but you also have to consider reality—”
“Anger?”
Wen Jianyan suddenly raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m angry at Su Cheng?”
The others were momentarily speechless.
Wasn’t he?
That scene just now was truly terrifying… They had never seen Wen Jianyan angry before, nor did they know how frightening he could be when his face turned cold.
Wen Jianyan sighed, a look of helplessness on his face. “No, you guessed wrong. I’m actually not angry.”
He turned to look in the direction Su Cheng had left, a strange emotion brewing in his eyes.
“Su Cheng let Yun Bilan go to her death not because he’s heartless. If this matter had required his own life, he wouldn’t have hesitated either.”
“Moreover, before doing so, Su Cheng did not trick Yun Bilan into dying—I know what people who trick others into dying for them look like, and Su Cheng is not one of them.”
“In other words, Yun Bilan already knew the consequences before she did it… This was also her own choice, her own will. If I were to blame Su Cheng for this, it would be an insult to her.”
A look of confusion appeared on Wei Cheng’s face.
“Then…”
“Didn’t you hear just now?” Wen Jianyan turned to look at Wei Cheng and said calmly, “The line about the entire ‘Yuying Comprehensive University’ being a conspiracy against me?”
Wei Cheng was stunned.
He had heard it, but… using an entire instance as a conspiracy? The statement was somewhat incredible to them.
“This isn’t the first time.” Wen Jianyan retracted his gaze, his eyes fixing on a distant point as if recalling something. He spoke softly, thoughtfully, “The choice of each instance isn’t random. There’s a bigger shadow pulling the strings.”
The statement came out of nowhere, and the others were stunned.
But Wen Jianyan didn’t explain further, as if the words weren’t meant for them.
He turned his head, looked at the group, and said lightly, “So, what I just said wasn’t just for Su Cheng—in fact, it’s the same for all of you.”
The young man put one hand in his pocket and said nonchalantly, “If you don’t want to die, it’s best not to do an instance with me.”
“…” The dead silence in the air grew heavier.
Wen Jianyan, however, acted as if nothing was wrong. He waved at the group. “Alright, everyone go home. After an SS-rank instance, aren’t you all tired? I’m about to die from exhaustion.”
He waved his hand and said cheerfully, “Bye-bye.”
After leaving the pure white settlement space, Wen Jianyan didn’t immediately return to his temporary residence.
He walked slowly through the Anchor Hall, his phone in his pocket, which now had a signal again, buzzing nonstop. It buzzed for several minutes without stopping.
Friends, enemies, acquaintances, members of his own guild, members of other guilds, and even complete strangers who had somehow gotten his contact information.
Although only one instance had passed, too much had happened.
Anchors couldn’t watch livestreams, but their attention to them was no less than any other audience member’s. They watched the point rankings, especially the point changes of every anchor at the top, and they also paid attention to changes in the Hall of Fame.
Wen Jianyan activated his cosmetic appearance and strolled down the street.
Every anchor around him was talking about the livestream that had just ended.
“Have you heard? That Pinocchio guy actually got a platinum clear on another instance, and it was an SS-rank one!”
“Damn, is that guy a monster… which instance has he not gotten a platinum clear on since he joined?”
“Fucking incredible.”
“Is his guild still recruiting? I want to join!!”
“Speaking of which, a friend of mine in another guild seems to have done an instance with him before…”
“What, what? Tell me more…”
Those people walked past.
Their voices faded away.
A few more anchors came from the right.
“…The Mason’s name turned gray??? Seriously??”
“Holy shit, that’s a top-ten anchor, for real?”
“Absolutely. The top circles of all the guilds are in an uproar right now. All the high-level anchors have been called into meetings. After all, I can’t remember hearing about a top-ten anchor dying in all my time here…”
“Then who will be the new number six?”
“Not sure, but I heard there might be a selection tournament…”
“Hey, do you think his death might be related to that new hotshot?”
“Who the hell knows, but if you ask me, the anchor world is probably about to change.”
Their voices faded away again.
Wen Jianyan stopped and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
The moment he turned on the screen, he was inundated with a flood of messages.
[Gentleman: Congrats, congra…]
Wen Jianyan closed it without a change in expression, not even bothering to read it.
He opened the guild interface and sent a message to Chen Mo and Wen Ya, briefly summarizing what had happened in the last instance, and then scheduled a meeting for seven days later.
After all, based on past experience, he would need to sleep for at least two days.
This time he might need to rest even longer.
The message had just been sent when a long reply came back instantly. Clearly, they had also been watching the guild roster changes… and had naturally witnessed the moment Yun Bilan’s name turned gray.
Wen Jianyan glanced at it but didn’t reply again.
“Buzz buzz.”
The phone vibrated again.
[Orange Candy: You out?]
Wen Jianyan thought for a moment and replied, “I’m out.”
Orange Candy replied instantly as always: [Where are you? I’ll come find you.]
Wen Jianyan sent his location.
[Orange Candy: Wait there.]
He closed the phone interface and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.
Wen Jianyan leaned nonchalantly against a wall, waiting for Orange Candy to arrive.
He lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on his right hand.
A speck of crimson blood seeped out from under his cuff.
He had to take care of it first.
That girl, Orange Candy, had a keen sense of smell. It wouldn’t be good if she found out.
With that thought, Wen Jianyan rolled up his sleeve.
On his fair wrist was a wound that had not been healed.
Thorny vines had torn the skin and cut through the muscle, revealing the white of his wrist bone—it was a terrifying gash, but one the system could easily heal.
It would only cost five points.
Wen Jianyan ignored the treatment query that popped up again, exchanged for bandages and wound medicine, and skillfully bandaged himself.
In the blink of an eye, the wound was covered by the white bandage.
He flexed his wrist to confirm it couldn’t be seen, then rolled his sleeve back down.
Wen Jianyan leaned back against the wall, his gaze on the sky.
Above was a clean blue sky with white clouds, a false illusion created by Nightmare.
Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes.
He hadn’t lied just now.
He really didn’t blame Su Cheng… not at all.
It wasn’t Su Cheng’s fault; he had just done what he thought was the right thing.
He had said those things earlier only to persuade him to back off.
After all, facts had proven that as long as someone entered an instance with him, they would also become a target of Nightmare. And Su Cheng’s obsession was too strong, his alienation level too high. Other than using their friendship to emotionally blackmail him, Wen Jianyan had no other way to stop him from taking risks.
“…”
A sharp pain came from his wrist.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, withdrew his gaze, his expression indifferent and calm.
No one should be blamed.
Except for himself and his own powerlessness.
Not long after he sent the message, a familiar figure appeared in the distance.
—Fiery orange hair, a bouncy, cheerful walk. The features were so distinct that he could recognize who it was at a glance.
She arrived so quickly that Wen Jianyan almost suspected she had been nearby from the start.
He deactivated his cosmetic appearance, walked forward, and waved with a smile.
“Over here!”
Orange Candy recognized him at a glance and rushed over. “Ha!”
She kicked Wen Jianyan in the shin.
“…?!”
Wen Jianyan’s face twisted, and he winced. “Grandma, what are you doing?”
“I’m angry!” Orange Candy ground her teeth and kicked him again, but this time Wen Jianyan dodged it nimbly.
“Damn it, after I left, did that old bastard, Mason, come looking for trouble with you again?” Orange Candy interrogated. “Did he do anything?”
Wen Jianyan told Orange Candy everything that happened afterward, one by one.
As Orange Candy listened, she jumped around in anger.
In the end, she even grabbed a nearby trash can that was her height and started kicking it violently.
“Ahhh, I’m so pissed!” Orange Candy kicked the trash can furiously. “That idiot got off too easy with his death. If I had done it, he would have—”
“Alright, alright,”
Wen Jianyan hurriedly soothed her, subtly rescuing the poor trash can. “He’s already dead now, isn’t he? Don’t be angry, don’t be angry.”
Orange Candy took several deep breaths before finally calming down.
She looked at Wen Jianyan.
“Did you guys get the thing?”
Wen Jianyan knew she was asking about the contents of the box.
He nodded.
“We got it.”
As he spoke, he took the box out of his backpack.
The surface of the black box was still stained with a thick, dark red liquid, as if it had initially been submerged in some kind of viscous fluid. The piece of paper on top was still there.
[Happy Graduation].
It was Yun Bilan’s handwriting.
A bit messy.
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s gaze lingered on it for a moment before he discreetly put it away.
“You haven’t opened it yet?” Orange Candy gave him a surprised look.
Wen Jianyan shook his head.
“Perfect.” Orange Candy lifted her chin arrogantly and said, “Open it now.”
Wen Jianyan placed the box on the crooked trash can, found the lid, and slowly lifted it.
The rusty hinge made a “creak” as it slowly opened.
Wen Jianyan unconsciously held his breath and looked down into the box.
He was genuinely curious… what exactly was inside the box.
All signs indicated that the item in here should be closely related to the core of the ‘Yuying Comprehensive University’ instance—just like the ‘Holy Infant’s Remains’ he had obtained from the Fukang General Hospital.
It was precisely because of it that the entire instance could be alienated from a “school” into a “womb” for gestating a god. Otherwise, the principal wouldn’t have had the “mirror image” take it away before each plan succeeded.
What was it?
What was it to be used for after being taken?
And where was “Zhang Yunsheng” now?
Although the instance was over, none of these questions had been answered.
Perhaps…
The contents of the box could give them the answers.
However, the moment they saw what was inside, both Wen Jianyan and Orange Candy were stunned.
Inside was a strange-looking cube, with bizarre line patterns carved on all four sides. It looked like some kind of container, but they couldn’t be sure what it was.
And next to the cube lay a stack of old, yellowed manuscripts.
Wen Jianyan and Orange Candy exchanged a glance, and he reached out to take the manuscript.
The moment he touched the surface of the manuscript, Wen Jianyan’s eyes sharpened.
This texture…
“What is it?” Orange Candy noticed his expression.
Wen Jianyan: “It’s human skin.”
Orange Candy’s eyes flickered. “Let’s see what’s written on it.”
Wen Jianyan nodded and opened the human skin scroll, but what appeared before him were some strangely shaped symbols.
He was taken aback.
Could it have been distorted along with the text in the instance? That shouldn’t be right.
Unexpectedly, the moment Orange Candy saw those symbols, her expression became strange.
“This kind of writing…”
Wen Jianyan: “You’ve seen it before?”
“Yeah,” Orange Candy nodded. “In a previous instance.”
Wen Jianyan’s breathing unconsciously hitched. He leaned forward slightly, staring intently at Orange Candy, and said, “I need to know what’s written on it.”
Orange Candy looked at him for a couple of seconds.
“How much do you need to know?”
Wen Jianyan’s voice grew heavier. “Must know.”
Each instance was not only closely related to reality but also intricately connected to each other.
More importantly, they were not randomly selected.
Wen Jianyan needed to know how they were connected. Only then could he figure out…
What exactly Nightmare was?
And what it was trying to do?
And the contents of this box might just be the key to answering these questions.
“…” Orange Candy gave him a long, deep look, then retracted her gaze. “Fine.”
She held out her hand. “Give me the human skin. I’ll contact you when I have the answer.”
Wen Jianyan handed her the human skin paper. Orange Candy took it, crumpled it into a ball, stuffed it in her pocket, and turned to leave.
However, after taking just two steps, Orange Candy seemed to remember something, stopped abruptly, and turned to look at Wen Jianyan.
“Oh, right.”
“?”
Wen Jianyan looked at her.
“Yun Bilan is dead, right?” As always, Orange Candy didn’t know the meaning of tact or politeness. Even on the subject of a person’s life, she was just as direct, as if she had no regard for others’ feelings.
Wen Jianyan didn’t mind.
He nodded in an equally rational manner and said calmly, “Right.”
“…”
Orange Candy stood there, silent for a few seconds.
A few seconds later, she spoke again.
“We always have to watch many people leave us,” Orange Candy’s voice was low for the first time. She glanced sullenly at the sky, her demeanor a maturity and gloominess completely different from her current physical state. “Remember who took them, but don’t wallow in their deaths. We have more important things to do.”
Wen Jianyan’s eyes curved, and he smiled pleasantly.
“Thank you for your comfort.”
“Fuck you, who’s comforting you?”
Orange Candy jumped up as if her fur was on end, glared at him fiercely, and turned away in a huff.
After parting with Orange Candy, Wen Jianyan returned to his residence.
Just like the previous times, he took a shower, changed into clean clothes, then turned off the lights, ready to sleep.
The ‘Yuying Comprehensive University’ instance had lasted for a very, very long time. The high-intensity, high-pressure, high-risk environment had taken a huge toll on him—physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Wen Jianyan had never been so exhausted.
He desperately needed rest.
Every bone in his body, every inch of his skin, and every cell was screaming for rest.
Rest. Sleep.
He had to sleep. If he didn’t sleep, his mind wouldn’t become clear, and his energy wouldn’t recover.
Time to sleep.
Empty the mind; time to sleep.
Darkness enveloped the room, so quiet it was suffocating. Only the sound of the young man’s even breathing could be heard.
An hour passed.
Two hours.
…
Then the fifth hour.
In the darkness.
Wen Jianyan had his arm over his forehead, his chest rising and falling evenly, but his gaze was utterly clear.
How strange… he was clearly exhausted, but he wasn’t sleepy.
He couldn’t sleep at all.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and lowered his arm.
The room was still pitch black, as silent as a tomb, with only his own breathing and heartbeat audible, creating an almost palpable discomfort.
He thoughtfully turned the Ouroboros ring on his finger.
His thoughts unknown, Wen Jianyan brought it to his lips and said casually, “Are you there? If you are, come out.”
Wen Jianyan was expressionless, staring at the pitch-black ceiling above.
His eyes were calm, and his voice was indifferent, as if he were saying “I want to eat later.” In a very ordinary, even somewhat weary tone, he said:
“Make love with me.”
He definitely blames himself for Yun bilian death 🥺