Chapter 644: Reverse
“Captain, catch!”
Qi Qian raised his hand and, without even needing to glance in that direction, directly caught the gauze that An Xin had tossed to him.
He bit one end of the gauze with his teeth and quickly bandaged his right hand, his falcon-sharp eyes never leaving the infinitely deep corridor before him.
Blood seeped through the gauze—half his palm had already vanished.
This was the second ten minutes of their confrontation with those “passengers.”
After using the oil lamp to lure them away from the narrow passage, they had begun maneuvering through the terrain, doing their best to buy time.
Meanwhile, Wen Jianyan and several other wounded members who had nearly lost combat capability stayed behind at their original position. Once Orange Candy’s team opened the door to the fourth floor, they could continue pushing forward—although they didn’t know why the fourth floor was the key to breaking through, Wen Jianyan’s judgment was always reliable, so they were willing to bet on it.
After parting ways with Wen Jianyan at the Changsheng Building instance, Qi Qian hadn’t remained idle.
He was no longer the person who had once struggled desperately to escape Dark Fire’s internal hunts and had to seek help from outsiders—after all, Dark Fire ranked second in the Nightmare realm and was the guild that believed most in the supremacy of violence. To secure his position as vice president required more than just paperwork and diplomatic skills.
Yet still, “luring away the passengers” was an almost impossible task.
The space available for maneuvering was too small, and there were simply too many of them—back in Changsheng Building, handling two or three customers at most had already pushed them to their limits, but this time they had to face seven “passengers” all at once… It was simply too extreme.
Even with two mediums, Bai Xue and Ma Qi, they had been surrounded multiple times, nearly losing their eyes, ears, or bodies at least three times. Qi Qian’s right hand had been severely damaged in the encounter battle that had just ended.
What’s more, waves of earthquakes kept rolling through the entire building—the one that had just passed was the most intense yet.
“Hey, has that door opened yet?”
An Xin stared fixedly at the corridor not far away, his palm scarred from bowstring wounds, the surrounding skin torn and bloody, blood trickling down his trembling fingertips.
His face had lost its usual carefree expression; his gaze was grave, his voice cold and serious.
“No… no!” Ma Qi’s face had gone pale, her lips trembling. “But, but the door was open before, how could…”
The door that had been open before the earthquake was now somehow tightly shut again. The door panel fit seamlessly into the frame, impossible to budge even an inch.
And just then, from the dark corridor ahead, the stiff, overlapping footsteps sounded once more.
Damn it.
Standing at the front, facing the pitch-black corridor, Qi Qian cursed under his breath.
Just what they feared would happen!
“Tell me where they’re coming from next!”
Qi Qian barked.
But this time, Bai Xue, who always answered every question, didn’t immediately reply.
Qi Qian clenched his teeth. He turned his head and raised his voice urgently: “Where are they—”
The moment he saw Bai Xue, he couldn’t help but freeze slightly.
The pale-skinned young man raised his eyes, staring with those eerie pupils the same color as night into the infinitely deep void before him, as if the depths of those abyssal eyes reflected threads of fate that no one else could see.
And the expression on his face was…
Confusion.
Qi Qian’s heart sank. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“The threads are tangled…”
Bai Xue’s eyes shifted to Qi Qian, but when locked by that pair of eerie pupils, Qi Qian felt a chill run down his spine.
It was as if the other wasn’t looking at him at all, but rather gazing through the darkness at some distant, unknown existence.
“All the threads are tangled…” Bai Xue murmured.
“Something is happening.”
The young man’s voice remained flat, but it couldn’t conceal the rare shock and panic within.
“But this time… I don’t know what it is.”
“BOOM!!!”
Almost the instant Bai Xue’s words fell, the entire building began shaking without warning, emitting earth-shattering sounds.
The next second, the entire world began to spin!!!
Walls twisted, up became down…
The whole world was like building blocks being shaken in a child’s hands, falling apart in the blink of an eye—
“Hold steady!!!”
In the chaos, they heard each other’s shouts.
“Grab me, be careful!!!”
Finally, after who knows how long… the shaking stopped.
The terrifying tremors gradually faded, and the world became quiet again.
Qi Qian and the others lay sprawled on the ground, covered in debris and dust. They shook their heads and staggered to their feet, pulling each other up from the floor.
“Everyone okay?”
“What the hell just happened…?”
However… when they saw their surroundings, everyone was dumbstruck, hardly daring to believe their eyes.
The thick black stains on the walls had somehow vanished, along with the wood chips, bricks, tiles, and collapsed beams—everything had disappeared.
The corridor was brand new, bright and clean.
“This…” The shock in everyone’s eyes was indescribable.
What on earth had happened in this instance during those few minutes?!
Why had they suddenly gone from that dilapidated, decaying building to this place?
Had time reversed?
“Wait,” Wen Ya’s breathing was still unsteady. She looked around and seemed to suddenly realize something. “So, where are the ‘passengers’?”
Ma Qi closed her eyes to sense, then quickly opened them, looking astonished:
“I… don’t sense them.”
In this sea of uncertainty and confusion, at least that was the only good news.
But Qi Qian didn’t look much more relaxed.
He frowned, surveying the area for a while, then turned to An Xin. “I remember when we were on the road earlier, you mentioned… there’s another group of people somewhere else in this instance, right?”
An Xin was startled. “Uh, yeah.”
Standing nearby, Bai Xue pulled out his phone from his pocket and lightly swiped his finger through the air—whether it was an illusion or not, his face seemed paler than usual—soon, the sound of “beep beep” came from the receiver.
A moment later, the call connected.
“This instance… bzzt… bzzzzt… what the hell is going on?!”
The signal fluctuation was greater than ever, mechanical static coming through the receiver, making it almost impossible to recognize the voice.
But even so, the shock and bewilderment in the other person’s tone came through clearly.
“What happened on your side?” Bai Xue asked.
“Damn it, I want to ask you that!!!”
Orange Candy gripped her phone tightly, her temples throbbing.
She surveyed the unfamiliar environment around her, her expression terrible.
The light had completely disappeared, as if swallowed by some invisible existence. The walls were pitch black, the ground filthy, broken walls everywhere, as if abandoned for ages. Only the corridor layout made it barely recognizable as still being inside the original orphanage.
After hearing the description, Bai Xue’s distorted voice came through the receiver, barely distinguishable through the static, only a few fragments audible.
“…What did you say?”
Orange Candy looked stunned.
“Positions reversed???”
“Hey, explain clearly, what is—”
Before she could finish, the corridor not far away suddenly darkened. From the chaotic darkness came eerie footsteps.
Orange Candy’s expression immediately turned cold.
“…Ghosts from Changsheng Building? Got it, understood.”
She hung up the phone.
Zhao Ran, beside her, urgently asked: “So what’s the situation?”
“According to Bai Xue, the entire instance seems to have completely flipped over,” Orange Candy’s expression was grave as she walked forward quickly while speaking, “including our positions.”
It was as if the inside and outside of a mirror had been reversed.
“Why?” Wei Cheng was startled.
“They don’t know either.”
“So,” Orange Candy looked deeply at the pitch-black corridor ahead, “I’m afraid we’ll have to deal with the threats Bai Xue’s side is facing.”
Apparently, the ghosts wandering here were from the Changsheng Building instance.
Orange Candy had experienced that instance before.
These were not easy things to deal with.
“However, Bai Xue said we’re not their locked-on targets.” In the distance, the ghostly footsteps echoed, but they didn’t seem particularly purposeful—Orange Candy silently retreated a few steps, waving her hand and whispering:
“So as long as we don’t run into them head-on, we should be fine.”
Without the attraction of the oil lamp or the scent of someone who had taken their ticket, these “passengers” would just wander aimlessly through the building. As long as they didn’t provoke them, there shouldn’t be too much danger.
The three silently retreated into the distance.
In the blink of an eye, they had successfully left the dangerous area.
The cold oppressive feeling gradually disappeared, and only then did they relax slightly.
“Such a shame,” Wei Cheng looked at the unfamiliar yet familiar walls around them, his brow furrowed, his tone full of regret. “We had just made progress over there.”
After realizing Pinocchio might be the key to the instance’s reset, they had prepared to follow that lead in the new cycle, but this situation had occurred, catching them completely off guard.
“In a sense, this is also good news,” Zhao Ran shrugged. “After all, the real Pinocchio is with that team, so they can definitely do more than us.”
“But… why are we still like this!”
Wei Cheng looked down at his short stature and raised a question from the depths of his soul.
“Right, I really miss my six-foot-two height,” Zhao Ran shook his head and sighed. “It would be so much more convenient than this!”
“Wait,” at this point, Wei Cheng seemed to suddenly think of something. “Check if our instance time is progressing.”
Zhao Ran pulled out his phone, glanced at the numbers, and froze. “…Yes.”
The last time their instance duration had progressed was when they had escaped the orphanage with Pinocchio, but when the cycle reset and they returned to the beginning of the loop, the instance’s completion progress had stopped again.
Until now.
“This means we’re actually still inside the instance, not swapped to the edge of the instance where Bai Xue is—only the inside and outside of the building have been reversed, but our actual position hasn’t changed.” Wei Cheng’s eyes sparkled with insight.
“Wait, if that’s the case, then as long as we stay for the remaining instance time, we can complete it directly?!”
Zhao Ran gasped.
“Probably.” Wei Cheng nodded solemnly.
Although the instance’s sudden reversal had interrupted their original plan, it was an incomparable stroke of luck for their completion.
It could be said that through this method, they had completely escaped the inescapable loop from before.
Both immediately became excited.
However, at this moment, Orange Candy’s attention wasn’t on their conversation.
Her gaze passed through the gap between Wei Cheng and Zhao Ran, staring fixedly into the dark depths of a room not far away, as if studying something.
A few seconds later, she suddenly spoke:
“Hey.”
“?” The two in conversation instinctively stopped talking and turned to look. “What?”
“Look over there.” Orange Candy pointed in the direction she had been staring at, her brow furrowed tightly, her tone somewhat uncertain. “Is there a figure over there?”
Wei Cheng and Zhao Ran froze, simultaneously looking in the direction Orange Candy pointed.
In the room, all the furniture that should have been there had been corroded into tattered fragments, ghostly shadows stacked upon each other. The further in, the darker the light became.
And in the depths of the room, a vague black shadow could be seen, curled motionless in a corner. If you didn’t look carefully, it would be almost impossible to spot.
“That’s…” Wei Cheng was astonished.
“Let’s go see.” Orange Candy made the decision immediately.
The three cautiously entered the dark room, gradually approaching the shadow.
As they drew closer, they gradually made out that it was a small child’s figure, curled at the foot of a crooked, toppled bed, thin shoulders trembling, silently burying their head in their arms.
“…” The group exchanged astonished glances.
Orange Candy stepped forward, reaching her hand toward the child’s shoulder: “Hey, kid, you…”
Her movement met empty air.
The outstretched palm passed straight through the child’s shoulder, as if passing through insubstantial air.
Orange Candy looked down, staring in amazement at her own palm, then at the child’s form.
…What’s going on?
Perhaps sensing the hand that had passed through their body, the child slowly raised their head, revealing a wet, skinny face.
Because they were so thin, their eyes looked especially large.
Pinocchio?
Orange Candy was startled.
“Momma, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” the child cried and begged. “Don’t hit me anymore, please…”
Like a kitten with wet fur, the child curled back up, as if only this way could protect their vulnerable belly.
The group exchanged glances, sharing looks of disbelief.
Although a young Pinocchio had existed in the instance before, this time, he seemed… not to see them.
What on earth was going on?
“I’ve encountered this situation in previous instances,” Wei Cheng frowned deeply and said slowly. “Based on the state he’s presenting, I think… this is most likely a residual shadow of a memory.”
“Mm.” Orange Candy nodded in agreement with Wei Cheng’s statement. “I think the same.”
Having experienced quite a few instances, she had naturally seen similar existences.
Sometimes… when certain memories were too vivid, they would leave residual shadows in space in the form of images.
However, this situation generally appeared with the dead, not the living.
But then again…
The fact that Pinocchio, a living person, would leave his childhood form in the instance was strange to begin with.
“If it really is as you guessed,” Zhao Ran said thoughtfully, “then there must be more than one of these shadows.”
“Exactly.”
Orange Candy took one last deep look at the small child’s phantom curled in the corner and stepped back.
“Let’s go find the others.”
On the other side,
Bai Xue hung up the phone and raised his head: “Orange Candy’s side has become where we were before.”
“I heard.” Qi Qian nodded.
It seemed that their positions had been swapped with Orange Candy’s team.
This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
After all, their lamp oil was almost depleted and could hardly withstand another round of attacks. Although they had entered another side of the instance, it did give them a chance to catch their breath.
“So what do we do now?” Ma Qi looked confused, as if still not fully recovered.
“Go to the fourth floor and meet up with the others…”
Qi Qian’s words weren’t finished when a clear, childish voice came from behind.
“What are you doing here?”
“?!” The voice came so suddenly that everyone jumped. They whipped around to look in the direction of the sound.
A short child stood not far away, a pair of clear, pale eyes gazing at them with his head tilted, watching them curiously.
His face was very clean, his features childish but already showing handsome contours.
Between his brows was an expression very familiar to them all…
Pinocchio?!
Everyone’s pupils contracted, gasping in unison.
“It’s almost dinnertime, aren’t you coming?” Little Wen Jianyan blinked and asked.
“…Coming.” Wen Ya quickly reacted. “But we got lost, can you take us there?”
“You’re new here?” Little Wen Jianyan looked at them inquiringly.
“Mm.” Wen Ya cautiously responded.
“Oh, okay then.”
The child smiled, his eyes curving like flickering light.
“Follow me!”
With that, he turned around and bounced forward to lead the way, while the others exchanged glances and followed behind him, full of questions.
“What’s going on?”
An Xin lowered his voice.
“Is this really Wen Wen? Or just an NPC?”
“Don’t know.” Qi Qian shook his head slightly.
Ahead, little Wen Jianyan walked forward while chattering non-stop: “Don’t worry, even though you’re new here, as long as I’m around, no one will dare bully you—”
Not far ahead, a cold figure gradually approached.
“Ah, it’s Momma!”
Little Wen Jianyan’s steps paused.
Seeing the full appearance of the newcomer, everyone’s hearts clenched tightly.
It was a woman in a pinafore with no facial features.
Though her face was completely blank, it had been drawn on with red crayon in a crooked, twisted smile that looked quite creepy.
At the joints, pitch-black shadows surged and flowed, like puppet strings tightly binding it.
It moved with stiff steps, nodding to them, the painted smile on its face twisted, speaking word by word in a mechanical voice as if controlled by something:
“Hel-lo-lo-lo.”
Having said that, it resumed its steps and swayed off into the distance.
As it passed by, everyone could clearly hear the creaking sound of joints turning stiffly, like rusted hinges.
This situation was way too wrong.
But little Wen Jianyan acted as if he hadn’t noticed anything and continued forward.
He stopped and pointed with a smile at the open door ahead:
“The dining hall is right here!”
Qi Qian and the others exchanged glances: “…”
They took steps forward and cautiously entered.
On both sides of the tables sat countless faceless black shadows, each shaped like a child, sitting motionless in their seats.
Because of this, the few adult figures stood out conspicuously.
“Chen Cheng?!”
Chen Cheng and Blond sat stiffly at the table, looking just as uncomfortable as they were.
But…
Strangely, Wen Jianyan wasn’t among them.
“Where is he?” Qi Qian sent over a look, silently mouthing the words.
“How the hell should I know?!” Chen Cheng looked irritated, seemingly on the verge of an outburst.
He had disappeared from the fourth floor when he picked up that piece of glass, then the earthquake came. Before they could react to what was happening, their surroundings had already become like this.
While they were further communicating, Ma Qi suddenly spoke up quietly:
“Hey… hey!”
Her voice trembled as she tugged at Wen Ya’s sleeve with her finger.
“What’s wrong?” Wen Ya was startled and turned to look.
“Do you… do you see…” Ma Qi’s expression was terrified, her face pale as she pointed at little Wen Jianyan not far away. “Is there… something following behind him?”
Wen Ya looked in the direction Ma Qi pointed.
Behind little Wen Jianyan was empty space.
“No.” Wen Ya shook her head and pressed, “What did you see?”
Ma Qi’s voice dropped even lower, her tone trembling:
“A… shadow.”
“Shadow?” Wen Ya was stunned.
“Mm.” Ma Qi nodded vigorously, very certain.
Her voice became even quieter, as if afraid of disturbing something.
“A very… terrifying shadow.”
The child faced sideways, and behind his thin, small body closely followed a tall shadow.
That shadow was clearly not of this world, emanating a terrifying aura. Just watching from afar was enough to send chills down one’s spine.
It lowered its head, its gaze as substantial as reality following the small child’s figure in front, never leaving for a moment.
Hearing Ma Qi’s description, Wen Ya’s breath caught.
This was not a good sign.
From the looks of it, the child appearing before them was probably their president himself.
And he was clearly in a terrifying, deadly crisis right now. It seemed they had to act immediately—
“But…” Ma Qi paused, speaking somewhat confusedly.
Wen Ya: “But what?”
“I don’t know why…” Ma Qi hesitated, carefully choosing her words. “I feel it might not hurt the president?”
The shadow spread endlessly, like open black wings, firmly sheltering him in front.
Both terrifying and gentle.
