WTNL Chapter 599

Lucky Cruise Ship
Chapter 599: What the hell kind of friend is this?!

“…!”

The instant the words fell, Wen Jianyan felt the grip on his waist tighten abruptly, imbued with an uncontrollable bestiality, as if wanting to crush him and chew him up, not stopping until every bit of his bones and blood was swallowed into that chest.

“Yes,” Wu Zhu answered.

He slowly turned his head, pressing his lips against the young man’s bloodstained forehead. His beast-like golden vertical pupils lifted from amidst the hair, looking at the other with possessive intent, and he repeated in a low voice: “…My dear.”

It was like a thunderclap out of a clear sky, striking everyone without warning.

The [Integrity First] livestream room fell into a rare, terrifying blank silence.

After several long seconds, bullet comments finally began to drift across the screen.

[…What?]

[…What did he say?]

[…What ‘dear’?]

[…Is there a connection issue with the stream? No? Oh, so my ears are broken.]

The next second, the comments began to scroll frantically, densely packing the screen and blotting out everything else.

[Holy! Sh*t!!!]

[Ahhhhhhh [Profanity Filtered] [Profanity Filtered] ahhhhhhh!]

[Excuse me? What is the situation!! Ahhhhh Wen Jianyan, what is the situation with you two??!!]

“……”

Dead silence reigned all around.

The countless shadows split from “Carl Bell” froze in place. Their hollow faces faced the group directly; lacking features, it was impossible to see any change in expression.

The temperature in the air was extremely low, almost freezing the blood.

Finally, after an unknown amount of time, the lead “Carl Bell” spoke slowly. His voice was icy, every syllable seemingly carrying suppressed terror mixed with strange clucking noises, enough to make one’s scalp tingle: “Since that is the case, I won’t disturb you.”

Accompanying his voice, the surrounding shadows began to recede until they completely vanished into the depths of the darkness.

The last remaining “Carl Bell” bowed deeply:

“Then, I wish you a pleasant auction.”

Its form lost its original volume and dove back into the areas unlit by light.

At the same time, the “Carl Bell” standing on the auction stage spoke again. He sounded no different from before, as if the little interlude just now had never occurred:

“—Next, the next item we are auctioning is—”

Only then did Wen Jianyan’s body gradually relax, the dizziness from excessive blood loss once again occupying his mind.

He tilted his head toward Wu Zhu, his pale lips moving slightly, and a short, breathy sound rolled out of his throat, audible only to the two of them:

“…Hurts.”

“…!”

The other party seemed to only just realize it. After a moment of being stunned, he hurriedly loosened his grip.

Wu Zhu supported Wen Jianyan with one hand and used the other to pull the hem of his clothes back into place, ensuring all skin was covered.

After doing this, he seemed to remember there were others present. Wu Zhu turned his head to glance at the others. His irises were a cold, sharp pale gold, possessing a creeping, non-human quality—but strangely, his movements when adjusting Wen Jianyan’s clothes just now had been surprisingly gentle.

Wu Zhu withdrew his gaze, indifferent to the others’ wariness, and dropped two words as if they were gold:

“Keep up.”

Simultaneously, the “Tenants” that had been controlling the group’s movements slowly retracted their hands, no longer forcibly trapping them. Chen Cheng rudely snatched his arm back from one of the Tenants, baring his teeth as he rolled his strained shoulder and neck.

Those faces wearing pitch-black masks turned away.

Some “Tenants” returned to their seats, while others turned and followed Wu Zhu, walking together toward the depths of the corridor.

The group exchanged glances and stepped forward to follow.

Passing through the corridor, a staircase leading upward appeared before them.

The “Tenants” ahead did not stop. Soon, following their backs, the group arrived at the second floor.

This was the location of the private boxes.

The door to one box was tightly closed, with two “Tenants” standing guard on the left and right.

One of the “Tenants” turned around and silently raised a hand, signaling them to stop.

The other “Tenant” turned and opened the door to an adjacent box, indicating they could enter and wait.

Figaro leaned in, a fox-like smile on his face, gossiping:

“Hey, what is the relationship between your Guild President and that guy just now—let’s call him a ‘Tenant’ for now?”

“Friends,” Wen Ya said expressionlessly.

“Eh…” Not hearing the answer he imagined, Figaro looked disappointed. “Fine, fine, since you aren’t willing to tell me, I won’t press.”

He looked up to scrutinize the closed box door, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes.

“However, I can give you a piece of news for free. Your Guild President’s ‘friend’ is definitely not an ordinary character—leaving aside the fact that he can control so many Tenants, more importantly, the VIP boxes of the Carl Bell Auction are not so easy to enter.”

A mysterious smile curled on Figaro’s lips.

“Of course, my opinion is for reference only.”

With that, he turned around and leisurely entered that box.

“Hey, hey, Vice President, what you just said…” Seeing Figaro leave, Ma Qi finally couldn’t hold back her curiosity and poked her head out to ask, “For real?”

Friends?

Friends like that?

“For real.”

Wen Ya glanced at her, her tone as peaceful and calm as ever, convincing.

“Don’t forget, he is an ally the Guild President introduced to us.”

“You all saw the situation just now. To avoid conflict, doing that was obviously the optimal solution. Not only were we not forced out of the auction venue, but we also didn’t suffer any casualties and even obtained the qualification to continue participating in the auction… No matter how you look at it, there couldn’t be a better outcome. I think the Guild President made that decision based on such considerations.”

“Oh…” Ma QI nodded, seeming to understand but not quite.

She thought about it for a moment and accepted Wen Ya’s explanation without any hurdles, cheering softly with sparkling eyes:

“As expected of the President! The President is awesome! The President’s ally is also awesome!”

Wen Ya pointed to the open box door not far away and said, “Alright, now isn’t the time to let your imagination run wild. Let’s go in.”

She fell to the back. Turning her head, she glanced at the box tightly guarded by two “Tenants,” her expression slightly subtle.

…It should be, right?

Something like allies.

_

Inside the tightly closed box.

Due to excessive blood loss, Wen Jianyan drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness.

He felt cold; his body temperature seemed to drain away with his blood. The Nightmare painkiller was gradually losing its effect. The wound on his right shoulder began to ache with heart-wrenching intensity. The wound caused by Chen Cheng’s talent was like a monster entrenched deep in his flesh, greedily tearing at his nerves without pause.

He vaguely realized his head was resting gently on something. Soon, a ripping sound came from his ear, like fabric tearing.

When the gauze was ripped off, it pulled at the flesh stuck to it.

“—”

Wen Jianyan’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face deathly pale. He curled up uncontrollably, his teeth clenching instantly.

“…Relax.”

A voice came vaguely to his ears, not very clear.

He didn’t know if it was an illusion brought on by blood loss, but the pain in his shoulder was slowly lessening—

No, it wasn’t an illusion.

He could almost hear the strange sound of flesh healing, sticky and soft, like being licked and kissed by a snake’s forked tongue.

As the pain subsided, warmth and strength seemed to return to his body.

“…” Wen Jianyan’s eyelids fluttered. The heavy curtain pressing over his eyes gradually lifted, and his vision and sensation returned together.

He realized he was being clamped in an embrace.

Cold, long, flowing hair trapped him. A large palm pressed against his lower back, forcing his waist to dip and his upper body to lean forward.

On his shoulder, where the wound should have been, was replaced by a wet, cold, bloody kiss.

“…………Thank you. But your timing is bad.” Without even lifting his eyes, Wen Jianyan’s mind began to operate on its own. Everything that had just happened was processed in his brain, turning into clear information. His lips opened and closed, his voice weak. “I didn’t have time to close my livestream. Everything that just happened should have been broadcasted. Nightmare already knows you are here.”

“But forget it; it’s already come to this.”

After all, ever since the Yuying Comprehensive University instance ended and Nightmare’s plan to keep him in the instance forever failed, he and Nightmare had essentially torn off all pretenses.

Hiding Wu Zhu’s existence was naturally safer and more advantageous, but since it was exposed, regretting it wouldn’t help.

Even though his state was still weak, Wen Jianyan’s tone had become calm and meticulous.

“If we play in the dark, there are dark methods; if we play in the open, there are open methods—”

Wu Zhu bit him unhappily.

“Ngh—uh…!” Wen Jianyan shuddered.

The newly grown skin was sensitive and fragile. Whether it was licking or biting, the feedback to the nerves was so intense that it was unbearable.

He instinctively tightened his legs, but accidentally clamped firmly around Wu Zhu’s waist.

Damn it.

Wen Jianyan realized something was wrong and subconsciously wanted to let go, but then suddenly stopped.

Shit, how is this different from… [censored]!

“Let go of me!” He gritted his teeth.

Wu Zhu was unexpectedly obedient this time. He let go, allowing the other to stumble and escape from his body.

Although the wound had healed, the aftereffects of excessive blood loss didn’t vanish so easily. Losing support, Wen Jianyan swayed and nearly collapsed.

However, before he could fall, several strange hands reached out from behind him in time.

One held his waist, one supported his shoulder, and one cupped his elbow.

“—?!”

Wait, what the hell?!

Wen Jianyan’s pupils contracted in horror, and he jerked his head around to look.

Standing behind him were two “Tenants” wrapped tightly from head to toe, wearing pitch-black masks on their faces. They stood silently not far away. If they hadn’t reached out just now, Wen Jianyan wouldn’t have even noticed their existence.

Behind him, Wu Zhu stood up and walked over. “Do not worry.”

He raised his hand and removed the mask from one of the “Tenants”—there was nothing underneath, only flowing, pure darkness.

“They belong to me.”

Wen Jianyan stared at the empty shells of the two “Tenants” controlled by Wu Zhu, and the familiar darkness swirling beneath the pitch-black masks. Although his heart was still pounding wildly in his chest, he finally began to react:

“…These are all parts of you?”

“Mn.”

Wu Zhu lowered his head and kissed his hair.

“I could not follow where you went, so I did some things only I could do.”

Hollowing out, invading, seizing. Quietly cultivating his own power in places Nightmare could not gaze upon.

With a thought, the two “Tenants” moved simultaneously. One caught Wen Jianyan’s hand, and the other moved closer to embrace his waist. Unknowingly, Wen Jianyan was tightly surrounded, unable to advance or retreat.

“Do you like it?”

Wu Zhu asked.

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[……]

[……]

[I have a lot of things I want to ask, including how this guy broke away from his previous instance, how he entered here, how he developed forces in an instance that doesn’t belong to him, and what exactly his goal is in allying with the anchor… But, after watching for so long, I find that right now I only have one sentence to say—Huh?? Friends??]

[You tell me, in what f***ing world does this count as friends?!]

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