Changsheng Building [End]
Chapter 661: A colorful dream
Under the dark, lightless sky, Wen Jianyan sprinted forward all the way.
The courtyard at the end of the small path was thrown far behind him. In front of the courtyard gate, bizarre lanterns glowed silently—one red, one white—like two soulless eyeballs.
Terrifying Yin energy rolled out from within, like a massive, all-consuming vortex of death.
Even so, Wen Jianyan still didn’t think Hugo and Anise would die here.
The strength of those two was one thing; more importantly, although the female corpse in red was an unsolvable bug, her only goal was to return to her coffin, killing any entity that blocked her way. Of course, Hugo and the others didn’t know this yet, and by the time they figured it out, Wen Jianyan would have long since escaped.
Wen Jianyan left the path. The ground beneath his feet changed from hard pavement to soft yellow earth. The terrifying soil that could originally devour all living things now posed no obstacle to him whatsoever.
The option to leave the instance wasn’t singular.
Besides going through the Nightmare, there was a second path.
In this vast realm of death, everything was interconnected. Although he had never done this before, as long as he escaped far enough, he could leave this place.
“Zzzt… zzzt…” Intermittent static sounds echoed in his ears.
Wen Jianyan clenched his teeth and quickened his pace once again.
As if in response to his actions, the static in his ears gradually intensified, even becoming urgent.
Logically speaking, the deeper one went into this area, the weaker the Nightmare’s control should be. But this time, this common sense seemed useless, as if… the Nightmare was also desperately, at any cost, extending its territory just to hold him firmly in its grasp.
Not far ahead, at the end of the bottomless dark horizon, a solitary point of light appeared.
As the distance closed, Wen Jianyan could clearly see the source of the light.
—It was a station!
The small station platform stood in the vast wilderness. It was clearly so crude, yet at this moment, it felt like a beacon of hope.
Having experienced so many instances, Wen Jianyan could gradually distinguish the fundamental “differences” between them. Some mutated only after the Nightmare’s intervention; some were pure derivations of the Nightmare’s will; and others were existences far older than the Nightmare, merely hijacked, alienated, and transformed into their current state by it.
Changsheng Building was the most thoroughly twisted and occupied, followed by the rainy town of Xingwang Hotel.
But the station and the train were the most unique.
Even now, they still operated in the realm of death under a self-contained set of rules that the Nightmare could not interfere with.
Boarding the train meant completely isolating oneself from the Nightmare’s influence.
Wen Jianyan’s heart began to pound violently. Ignoring his physical stamina that was already pushed to the limit, he forced himself to speed up once more, rushing towards the light not far ahead!
“Zzzzt——!”
An ear-piercing screech pierced his mind like a long needle.
Pain exploded in his ears. Wen Jianyan arched his back and covered his ears.
Amidst the continuous buzzing, he heard an intermittent mechanical voice:
“Live stream… zzzt… signal… zzzt… recovering…”
Noise and pain went hand in hand. Amidst the spinning world, a clear thought surfaced in Wen Jianyan’s mind:
This is bad.
The [Integrity First] live stream room, which had been offline ever since the Lucky Cruise instance, recovered its signal without any warning. It reappeared on the leaderboards, and the moment the stream reopened, viewers swarmed in.
Bullet screen comments flooded in like a tide, covering the screen within seconds.
[Huh? Ah? It’s live?!]
[Holy shit, holy shit, am I seeing things? The stream signal is back?]
[Ahhhhhhhh!!]
With the prior hype built up in the streams of Gentleman, Anise, and Hugo, the viewers’ curiosity had long been piqued to the maximum. The opening of the [Integrity First] live stream was like finding a release valve for a flood about to break its banks; the number of online viewers skyrocketed.
However, unlike the revelry of the viewers, outside the live stream, Wen Jianyan’s expression was incredibly ugly.
The buzzing in his ears had gradually faded. He straightened up and looked ahead.
This place looked exactly the same as a moment ago.
The surroundings were empty and desolate. The cold, grayish-yellow soil stretched into the distance. Not far ahead, the faint light of the station flickered in the dark, as if waiting for him.
Wen Jianyan took a step in that direction.
Thud.
His forehead seemed to have bumped into something.
Hesitantly, he raised his hand, reaching forward bit by bit—even though everywhere he looked was empty air, an invisible wall had appeared out of nowhere, solidly and firmly blocking his path.
No…
Wen Jianyan closed his eyes.
He felt an intense sense of suffocation pressing in from all sides.
Thinking about it now, it made sense.
Although he had entered this area in multiple instances before, not once had he truly stepped out of an instance’s boundaries.
Even when Gentleman and the others wanted to leave their portraits in the gallery, they first had to enter the Xingwang Hotel instance. Although the realm of death had no borders, instances did.
Wen Jianyan applied slight pressure with his hand against the invisible wall. His fingertips turned white, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged.
Through the gaps in his fingers, he could see the station lights still flickering in the distance.
It was clearly just a stone’s throw away, yet at this moment, it seemed so far out of reach.
Inside the [Integrity First] live stream room, the viewers also noticed Wen Jianyan’s strange behavior.
[What’s going on?]
[Wait, what is the anchor trying to do?]
[I remember that conspiracy theory I saw in those other streams… It seems the anchor has been planning to escape all along.]
[Huh? Escape? Why?]
[Yeah, what’s wrong with staying here and streaming for us?]
[And… something like that is impossible, right?]
[Who knows. Rumor has it that when he went offline before, he actually did escape…]
[Fuck, seriously?]
[? The guys above talking about this, aren’t you afraid of getting muted?]
But strangely, statements like these—which would normally result in instant bans in other streams—provoked no major reaction from the Nightmare this time. Perhaps it wasn’t that it didn’t want to react, but rather, compared to pinning Wen Jianyan down within its controllable range, these comments were already inconsequential.
Suddenly, waves stirred up in the chat again.
[!]
[Holy shit, who is this guy?]
On the screen, a second figure suddenly appeared beside the previously empty space next to Wen Jianyan.
The man had black hair and golden eyes, seeming to blend seamlessly with the surrounding darkness.
[I remember him!]
[Isn’t he the instance NPC who interacted with the anchor a long time ago?]
[Him? Why do I remember he had a huge grudge with the anchor? He almost killed the anchor several times…]
[The guy above is way behind on the updates. Haven’t they already progressed to having secret midnight trysts?]
[Huh?]
[Yeah, they’ve even met family and friends.]
[…Huh?!]
“Why are you here?” Seeing Wu Zhu’s sudden appearance, Wen Jianyan was startled, his gaze turning cold. “Didn’t I tell you not to show up until I called for you?”
Wu Zhu didn’t answer. He just looked up and observed the invisible barrier in the air before them.
“It’s trying with all its might to stop you.”
He lowered his head, his fingers grazing the side of Wen Jianyan’s neck. Before the other could flinch away, he pulled a thin chain out from under his collar—a golden, heart-shaped, cold gemstone hung from his pale fingertips, swaying slightly and refracting faint light.
“The power of my heart isn’t enough anymore.”
“Are you not listening to me?” Wen Jianyan grabbed his wrist backhandedly, his tone sharp. “Go back!”
“I can make it a little stronger…” Wu Zhu looked up at him, allowing Wen Jianyan to grip his wrist. The golden gem dangled precariously between them. “But for the road ahead, you’ll have to walk it alone.”
“…” The air fell into a dead silence.
Wen Jianyan stared at him.
“This piece of me is too weak,” Wu Zhu’s tone was calm. “After leaving the Orphanage, the fact that it lasted this long means it has already reached its limit.”
Wen Jianyan still didn’t speak.
He stared fixedly at Wu Zhu, his light-colored eyes cast in shadow.
“Can’t bear to part with me?” Wu Zhu lowered his head, the tips of their noses almost touching.
“…In your dreams,” Wen Jianyan’s voice seemed squeezed through his teeth. “I just don’t want to…”
Wu Zhu: “Don’t want to owe me?”
Wen Jianyan clenched his jaw and fell silent.
Wu Zhu curled his knuckle, lifted Wen Jianyan’s chin, and captured his lips.
It was only a few seconds, but it felt as long as a century.
“Owe me a little more.”
Wu Zhu licked his lips, his gold-crimson eyes burning like flames.
His tone was straightforward, showing not a hint of concealment for his wicked intentions.
“This is exactly what I am after.”
Debt after debt, owing more and more, until it could never be repaid, leaving him with no choice but to be firmly imprisoned by his side, forced to pay it back with his body, soul, and love.
The intermittent mechanical voice sounded in his ears again.
[Changsheng Building Instance—Zzzt—Main Mission… Zzzt…]
It seemed that Hugo, Anise, and the others had finally realized the true goal of the female corpse in red—as long as the corpse returned to its coffin, the Changsheng Building instance would become self-contained once again, and the Nightmare Live Stream’s control over it would come to an end.
When the instance closed, all anchors inside would automatically be returned to the Anchor Hall.
Wen Jianyan clenched his jaw fiercely. Looking straight into Wu Zhu’s eyes, he slowly, bit by bit, released his grip on the other man’s wrist, enunciating every word clearly:
“…Do what you have to do.”
Wu Zhu smiled soundlessly.
His fingers moved down and grasped the heart. A faint trace of golden light overflowed from between his fingers.
He lowered his head and bit Wen Jianyan’s ear lightly:
“I’ll wait for you on the ship.”
Abundant golden light flowed out, reaching an absolute bursting limit in an instant. The light stung Wen Jianyan’s eyes, forcing him to close them.
The golden light dimmed.
With a tiny clink, the golden heart dropped back against his chest.
“…”
Wen Jianyan opened his eyes.
In the darkness, there was no one in front of him.
Wu Zhu had disappeared.
In his place, the gemstone below his collarbone emitted a fiery heat, as if it wanted to burn the flesh beneath it to ashes.
Wen Jianyan turned his head and strode toward the station not far away.
The invisible wall that had been impenetrable just moments ago was now like a piece of water-soaked paper; poked by a chopstick, it tore right through, unable to serve any purpose anymore.
“Zzzt… zzzt… zzzzzzt!”
The mechanical voice in his ears rang out madly, as if still putting up a dying struggle.
But Wen Jianyan’s footsteps were unstoppable.
He took great strides, forging ahead without looking back.
The moment Wen Jianyan stepped onto the platform, it was as if a switch had been flipped. All sounds vanished.
The Nightmare’s interference, the clamor of the live stream… everything was replaced by a boundless, deadly silence.
Inside the stream, the words [NO SIGNAL] glowed in a piercing red.
In the end, the Nightmare failed to trap Wen Jianyan inside Changsheng Building.
He had successfully escaped.
Once again.
Wen Jianyan stood alone on the platform.
“Rumble—” The ground began to vibrate.
Accompanied by the roaring sound of metal clashing against rails, a sharp, glaring white light lit up from the other end of the tracks—a train was entering the station.
The train stopped in front of him, and its doors slowly slid open.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, raised his eyes, and stepped aboard.
It wasn’t his first time boarding this train; choosing a seat was a process he couldn’t be more familiar with.
Wen Jianyan sat down in one of the seats.
He lowered his head, trying to organize his tangled thoughts.
Wu Zhu…
The thoughts heading in that direction were a bit too complex. Thinking about it right now was still too difficult for Wen Jianyan.
It was better to start with things he was absolutely certain of.
Wen Jianyan opened his backpack and took out the [Dead Sea Scrolls] he had obtained from the Lucky Cruise. Admittedly, since he had broken free from the Nightmare’s control, his system inventory could no longer be used. However, the special items he acquired in various instances were unaffected, whether it was the brass knife, the Ouroboros ring, or the Dead Sea Scrolls. They didn’t belong to the Nightmare in the first place, so naturally, they weren’t restricted by it.
Wen Jianyan spread the book out on his lap, found where the page was missing, and located the crumpled piece of human skin paper he had gotten from Gentleman.
As the irregular torn edges matched up with each other, the torn page and the stub finally fit perfectly together.
Under the faint light, the two parts of the page wriggled and grew together like a living organism, eventually fusing completely. One couldn’t even see the trace of the tear.
The Dead Sea Scrolls were finally complete.
The moment it became whole, the complex text originally written on it vanished in an instant, leaving only completely blank pages.
And then…?
Wen Jianyan lowered his head, staring at the blank book before him, feeling a bit uncertain for a moment.
Back then, Orange Candy only told him that if he wanted to decipher the message inside the iron box from Yuying Comprehensive University, he had to find the Dead Sea Scrolls. But she hadn’t told him exactly how to do it…
Could it be that, just like with those “human skin papers,” he had to offer a soul to get an answer?
Wen Jianyan didn’t know.
He hesitated for a second, then opened his backpack, took out the yellowing, brittle paper covered in countless bizarre symbols from the iron box, and placed it next to the Dead Sea Scrolls.
“Do you know how to decipher the contents on this?” he asked tentatively.
However, unlike the human skin paper torn from it, this Dead Sea Scroll didn’t demand anything from him, nor did it give any instructions.
There was only silence.
Wen Jianyan paused, then tried placing the paper on top of the book.
This time, his attempt yielded results. In the next second, crooked text slowly surfaced on the blank page.
[Volume Five]
[Contract]
Wen Jianyan’s pupils shrank.
He stared intently at the contents on the page, his mind spinning rapidly, out of control.
Contract—?
A contract for what?
Before he could figure anything out, he felt the seat beneath him suddenly jolt violently.
Accompanied by the accelerating sound of metal clashing, the train let out a familiar roar and set off once again.
The train departed the platform. The blinding white light ahead pierced the darkness as it headed toward the unknown end of the tracks.
Not far away, cold, sinister footsteps could be heard approaching from the closed door.
The conductor was coming.
Wen Jianyan snapped back to his senses and slowly exhaled.
He did have spirit money on him. However, this spirit money didn’t belong to him; it had appeared in his own pocket when Wu Zhu boarded the train. Because the use of spirit money was bound to its owner, it was hard to say whether it would work. But even if it didn’t, it made little difference to Wen Jianyan—the worst-case scenario was simply getting off at the next stop and finding another way.
Wen Jianyan reached into his pocket to look for the spirit money.
However, his fingertips first brushed against something hard and round…
He was slightly startled.
…What is it?
Action preceded thought. By the time he realized it, his fingers had already pulled the unfamiliar object out of his pocket.
It was a piece of candy.
Round and small, it was wrapped in a colorful wrapper, refracting a strange and dazzling brilliance under the dim light.
“Ugh…”
Wen Jianyan suddenly felt a sharp pain in his forehead, as if something had smashed violently against his temple.
He raised his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose hard.
Behind his closed eyelids, faint sparks seemed to jump.
Images, both unfamiliar and familiar, came surging back like a tidal wave.
The cold corridors of the orphanage.
A massive silhouette chasing from behind, leaning down from above with a blank, eerie face.
Followed by a storm of raging fire and death.
After the Orphanage instance had ended, Wu Zhu’s cold fingers seemed to still linger against his temple.
“Give it some time,” he had whispered in his ear.
After all, no memory could ever disappear completely.
Sometimes, they were just buried temporarily, waiting for the right trigger to be awakened…
Now, all those images—distant or recent, blurry or vivid—surfaced all at once. Childhood memories, bizarre hallucinations, everything played out vividly before his eyes.
This single piece of candy left behind from the hallucinations of the last instance became the breach in the dam.
The soul fragments thoroughly merged.
Wen Jianyan saw the part of himself that had been twisted into an instance: a childhood stuck in eternal darkness, dying repeatedly. Every time the instance reset, every time he died—
When all of this was remembered, he would feel it intimately, experiencing every minute and every second of it again.
But…
Even though the “awareness” remained, surprisingly, the pain wasn’t that acute.
Wen Jianyan looked at his past from afar, as if he were staring through a window at experiences that didn’t belong to him.
Because a delicate, gentle dream had blanketed it all, making everything that happened there feel more real and vivid than anything else.
—What do you want?
—Say it, and I will make it happen for you.
The tall shadow leaned down, embracing him gently.
“Will you be my friend?”
“…Okay.”
Buildings rose from the ground around them. Pitch-black shadows melted to form the framework, forging a colossal world that obliterated all sorrow.
“Since we’re already friends, could you help me put these away?”
“Okay.”
And so, colorful candies were poured, clattering into his pockets, like a cherished dream.
