Thank you @Renea for the Kofi ❤️.
Infinite Train
Chapter 675: Uninvited guest
In the pitch-black darkness, Wen Jianyan felt himself being lifted from the ground by a tremendous force. His weight seemed as light as a feather in that person’s hands, not even worth mentioning. Accompanied by heavy footsteps, he felt himself being carried off the train.
“…”
Wen Jianyan could hear his heart beating rapidly, his blood roaring as it crashed against his eardrums. Countless chaotic emotions and thoughts intertwined in his mind.
The burlap sack over his head was yanked off.
A long-lost light fell upon his face.
“He’s injured?”
The woman’s voice turned cold.
“What did I order you to do earlier?”
“Sorry… Principal,” the voice Wen Jianyan had heard earlier sounded again, but this time it was terrified and deferential. “Before we found him, he was already…”
Wen Jianyan looked up. In the somewhat dim light, his gaze locked onto that familiar silhouette.
…It really was her. She looked almost exactly the same as when they had last parted—a very agile and neat figure, her blue hair tied high behind her head, with ferocious thorns coiling around the side of her face and sinking deeply into her neck.
It seemed everything was as it used to be.
Nothing had changed.
Wen Jianyan opened his mouth and heard his own dry voice ring in his ears: “Yun… Bilan.”
This time, Yun Bilan finally looked over.
“What, you don’t remember me already?” She raised an eyebrow, a smile spilling out as she teased in her usual tone, “Important people really do have short memories.”
Wen Jianyan’s throat felt blocked, his voice tight and dry.
“I thought…”
“Thought I was a goner?” Yun Bilan smiled. “Sorry, not yet.”
“But as for you…”
She lowered her head, her gaze falling on his horrifyingly battered wrists, and frowned. “Why do you always manage to get yourself into such a sorry state every time?”
“And where are your teammates?”
“Why are you acting alone?”
Yun Bilan’s brows furrowed tightly, her expression turning ugly: “How many times have I told you, don’t always—”
Before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by an unreserved hug.
Wen Jianyan opened his arms and hugged her tightly.
The struggles, the life-and-death situations, the estrangement, and the despair spanning across two instances… seemed to all melt into this embrace.
The reprimands that had yet to leave her lips were choked back deep in her throat.
Yun Bilan paused, raised her hands to hug him back, and patted his back.
“Alright…” Her tone involuntarily softened. “But don’t think this gets you out of a beating.”
The embrace of their long-awaited reunion ended.
“Sorry…” When Wen Jianyan let go of Yun Bilan, the rims of his eyes were still slightly red. He sniffled, his voice a bit hoarse:
“I’m just so happy.”
After Yuying Comprehensive University ended, he truly thought Yun Bilan had died.
And died in such an extreme and resolute manner.
Seeing her standing in front of him again, alive and well just like this, Wen Jianyan found it almost hard to describe how overjoyed he was right now.
“Alright, then stop looking so miserable.”
Yun Bilan lifted her chin. Only then did Wen Jianyan notice that the two people standing beside her were clearly not human. Judging by the red badges on their cuffs, they were actually both Student Council members—however, unlike the arrogant and malicious attitudes in his memory, right now they looked absolutely terrified and exceptionally subservient.
“I’m the Principal now.”
“But,” Wen Jianyan blinked, unable to hide the confusion in his expression, “what exactly is going on? I remember…”
“We can put that aside and talk about it later,” Yun Bilan unhesitatingly cut him off and turned sideways.
“The top priority right now is to treat your wounds—let’s go, come inside with me.”
Just like that, under Yun Bilan’s lead, Wen Jianyan walked into the campus with her.
Everything here felt both familiar and strange.
He recognized the plaza where they had previously lined up for enrollment, as well as the sports field, teaching buildings, and dormitories in the back. The times they had spent fleeing and maneuvering between these buildings seemed to have happened only recently. But aside from that, everything else seemed to have changed.
Ferocious cracks ran across the ground, extending all the way up the brick-grey walls. The massive fissures were a shocking sight.
Many buildings leaned askew, their roofs tottering. The excessive angle of inclination made it hard for Wen Jianyan to figure out exactly how they managed to remain standing without collapsing.
The entire school looked as if it had been ravaged by a hurricane or an earthquake.
The sky was as pitch-black as ever, with only three or five streetlamps still lit, barely illuminating the path ahead.
Seemingly noticing Wen Jianyan’s gaze, Yun Bilan said, “Don’t mind how awful it looks now. This is actually what it looks like after being rebuilt. Before this, it was pretty much reduced to a pile of rubble; the workload was immense… Alright, we’re here.”
Saying that, she stopped and pointed to a room not far away with a “Clinic” sign hanging on it.
“Go in.”
“I don’t remember there being a clinic here…” Wen Jianyan looked around as he obediently sat down under Yun Bilan’s instruction.
“It was always here,” Yun Bilan said. “It’s just that the Nightmare didn’t need it, so it was excluded from the instance.”
She snapped her fingers at the “doctor” not far away and commanded in the same chilling tone Wen Jianyan had heard on the school bus earlier: “Take a look at his hands.”
Then, Yun Bilan looked at Wen Jianyan, returning to her usual tone:
“When the Nightmare’s control disappeared, these places that ‘didn’t need to exist’ originally reintegrated with the school.”
Wen Jianyan extended his hand, letting the “doctor” who walked over treat his wounds.
The other party’s skin was cold and stiff, their movements rigid—clearly not a living person.
“Ugh!” Under the other party’s less-than-gentle movements, Wen Jianyan gasped, a layer of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“Lighter.”
Yun Bilan, standing to the side, cast a glance over, her tone quite oppressive.
“Yes, Principal.” To the highest standard a dead person could achieve, the doctor carefully lightened their movements.
Wen Jianyan exhaled a breath of stale air, forcing himself to shift his attention away from the pain in his wrist. He twitched the corners of his mouth:
“So, you’re the Principal now?”
“Yeah.”
Yun Bilan leaned against the desk and chuckled.
“Being the principal of a bunch of ghosts is a novel experience even for me.”
“So, what happened after we left?”
Wen Jianyan asked the question that had been troubling him since they met.
“You don’t know?” Yun Bilan looked at him intently, her expression somewhat surprised, seemingly not expecting Wen Jianyan to be unaware of this.
Wen Jianyan shook his head.
“Wait until your wounds are treated,” Yun Bilan glanced at him. “You can see for yourself.”
Even though it was a ghost school, there was nothing supernatural about how they handled this matter.
And clearly, they hadn’t inherited the Nightmare’s ability to heal wounds instantly.
Wen Jianyan’s broken arm was put in a splint and hung up with a bandage. He shook his head and refused the doctor’s attempt to treat his other dislocated wrist in the same way—he had to keep one hand mobile, otherwise he would be no different from a cripple. He stood up and carefully moved it around.
“Done?” Yun Bilan asked.
Wen Jianyan nodded: “Mhm.”
In such rudimentary conditions, this degree of treatment was probably the limit of what could be done.
Yun Bilan nodded and turned to walk out the door: “Alright, let’s go.”
Wen Jianyan followed her.
Under Yun Bilan’s lead, the two left the clinic and walked toward one of the buildings not far away.
A massive fissure ran through the entire building from top to bottom, making one almost suspect it had been cleaved in half right down the middle by something. Between the concrete, messy steel rebars jutted out, looking like a tangled mess of hair. But even so, it still stood tenaciously, not scattering and disintegrating as Wen Jianyan had imagined.
Yun Bilan stopped her steps: “Look closely.”
Wen Jianyan paused, seeming to realize something. He stepped closer and peered deeply into the crack.
His pupils shrank.
Wait… that’s…
He saw a pale golden substance flowing between the concrete.
It traveled through the crevices like magma, using a bizarre cohesive force to glue the chunks of rock that should have crumbled apart together. It could be said that it was entirely because of this substance that the entire building was able to stand and remain in such a dilapidated state.
Yun Bilan’s voice rang in his ears:
“Our reconstruction speed is very fast. Up until now, we’ve probably completed at least 60%, but the remaining 40% hasn’t been started yet—until a building is completely rebuilt, this will ensure that everything on campus is fixed in place and won’t collapse due to the Nightmare’s withdrawal.”
Wen Jianyan took a step back, gazing at the building.
He opened his mouth:
“Do you know… the specific reason?”
“More or less,” Yun Bilan said.
“Something… or someone, helped.”
Yun Bilan’s answer was very concise. “We haven’t met, but I roughly know of his existence.”
During the process of the instance collapsing, as the newly appointed principal, she felt the intervention of an external force—but there was no formal meeting. After stabilizing the condition of the school, that figure quickly left.
In fact, even without asking this question, Wen Jianyan knew who the person that helped was.
“…”
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, trying to hide his inner turmoil.
Up until the end of Yuying Comprehensive University, the relationship between him and Wu Zhu… wasn’t as harmonious as it became later. Even during the course of the instance, the other party had still tried to kill him—and almost succeeded—only reluctantly holding back because of the life-and-death bet he proposed.
Wu Zhu’s hatred for humans was long-standing, so much so that even he himself had forgotten the origin of this emotion. He maintained contempt and loathing for all humans. Whether the instance collapsed, whether the people left in the instance survived, and where the ghosts here would go after the collapse, made no difference to him whatsoever.
But even so, he still did it.
Was it because he stabilized the campus that he became so restricted by the internal rules of the cruise ship later on?
And the plan he proposed to preserve the cruise ship in those final moments on board—was it because he had already done it once before that he knew so clearly that doing so would be effective?
Was it…
“So,”
Yun Bilan turned her head, looking at Wen Jianyan with an evaluating expression.
“What is your relationship?”
“?!” Wen Jianyan shuddered. All his chaotic thoughts came to an abrupt halt at this moment. He whipped his head around to look, unable to hide the astonishment in his expression.
Wait?
Wen Jianyan wracked his brains, rapidly searching through his memory—Yun Bilan shouldn’t know of Wu Zhu’s existence, right?
Perhaps his shocked expression was too obvious, because Yun Bilan couldn’t help but sneer.
“What, do you think I’m stupid?”
Yun Bilan spoke coolly, “Some power inexplicably and for no reason suddenly decides to be merciful, intervenes in the world, and saves everything. I stopped believing in fairy tales like that when I was five.”
“Besides you, I can’t imagine anyone else having the ability to cross paths with something like this inside the Nightmare.”
“Also,” Yun Bilan crossed her arms and let out a laugh, “guess how I knew you were outside?”
Wen Jianyan said somewhat uncertainly:
“…Because you’re the Principal?”
“That’s only the Principal of this school,” Yun Bilan corrected. “My control is only effective inside this school.”
She pointed at the building behind her:
“About forty minutes ago, the stuff inside here wasn’t as quiet as it is now. It was thrashing wildly deep inside the walls, shaking the building so hard it almost collapsed. It looked as if it wanted to go out and look for something… So, just in case, I sent the Student Council members out to do a carpet search, and then they dragged you back.”
Wen Jianyan froze.
Forty minutes ago…
That was exactly when his wrist was broken.
It was indeed also from that point in time that the heart pendant hanging below his neck began to grow scorching hot—until he entered the school, then it stopped.
“Relationship, um,” Wen Jianyan mumbled vaguely, lowering his eyes to avoid Yun Bilan’s gaze, “…It’s relatively complicated.”
If it were in the past, he probably would have answered with much less hesitation.
“Just acquaintances,” “the enemy of my enemy,” “allies”… he could conjure up these kinds of excuses effortlessly.
But now, all the facts, emotions, and karma seemed to have been shattered. Fragments of different colors were mixed together, ultimately making it hard to distinguish love from hate, or where one ended and the other began.
Complicated…?
Hearing this answer, Yun Bilan couldn’t help but narrow her eyes, revealing a thoughtful expression.
This wasn’t just because of the content of the answer.
More importantly, usually, when encountering a truly ‘complicated’ problem, Wen Jianyan would just find a random excuse to brush it off.
And given this guy’s usual ability to lie casually without changing his expression, regardless of whether he was telling the truth or lying, it would probably be hard for anyone to see through it.
If she combined this with other details…
Just as Wen Jianyan thought this question was over and was preparing to move on to the next topic, he heard the other party suddenly speak up: “Speaking of which, when I just asked that question, why were you so shocked?”
Wen Jianyan: “…”
Yun Bilan crossed her arms, her probing gaze sweeping over Wen Jianyan’s face inch by inch: “As far as I know, this question shouldn’t be that sensitive, right?”
From her standpoint, asking about their relationship was very normal—after all, if they had absolutely no relationship, how could the other party inexplicably intervene to stabilize the instance? But Wen Jianyan’s reaction was highly unusual—it didn’t look at all like he had heard a normal inquiry, but rather as if some scandalous secret had been exposed.
Seeing the questions the other party threw at him getting sharper one by one, Wen Jianyan broke into a cold sweat: “No, it’s just…”
Yun Bilan raised an eyebrow and picked up where he left off: “It’s just that the answer is very complicated?”
Wen Jianyan: “…”
“Alright then.” Yun Bilan shot him a half-smile, then raised a hand and patted Wen Jianyan’s shoulder. With an expression as if she were watching a good show, she said lightly, “Then keep thinking hard.”
Wen Jianyan: “…………”
The atmosphere between the two of them had originally been very relaxed and harmonious, but in the next second, Yun Bilan’s expression suddenly changed.
She turned her head. Her gentle expression from just a moment ago turned ice-cold almost instantly. Her emotionless gaze fixed intently on a certain direction in the darkness, looking at who knows what.
Wen Jianyan noticed the change in her expression and couldn’t help but pause slightly: “What’s wrong?”
Yun Bilan’s face was freezing, and she enunciated every word clearly: “Someone is here.”
—They were uninvited guests.
Outside the campus.
Anise’s expression was exceedingly gloomy.
The situation just now could be described as a fine line between life and death. The space available to maneuver at the station was too small, and the number of “passengers” was simply too high.
He had no time to worry about Hugo’s situation, but on his end, even someone as skilled at dealing with ghosts as him had nearly lost his life several times. If the live stream signal hadn’t finally come back online at the last moment, it really would have been difficult for them to escape the “passengers'” siege completely intact.
He thought that this time, just like the last, they had let the Pinocchio brat escape to a place they couldn’t find him… But unexpectedly, according to the intel from the Nightmare, this guy seemed to still be nearby this time.
Thus, after barely shaking off the pursuit of the “passengers,” they continued to track forward according to the Nightmare’s intel.
This land was barren, dead silent, and boundless. Both time and space seemed to have lost their meaning. This feeling was incredibly frustrating… After an unknown amount of time, just when Anise was almost beginning to suspect they had gone the wrong way, a bizarre building complex appeared on the horizon not far away.
“That brat is definitely hiding in there…” Anise’s expression twisted slightly. “This time, when I catch him, I won’t be as easy to talk to as last time.”
After the lesson at the station just now, he could be said to be deeply regretful.
Although he didn’t know when Pinocchio planted the tickets on them, facts proved that snapping one wrist and dislocating the other still couldn’t stop him from pulling petty tricks.
Therefore, Anise decided that after catching that guy, there would be no negotiating terms, and no chances given for him to run his mouth. The first thing he would do is slice off all ten of his fingers, one by one, with a knife.
And this time, no matter what Hugo said, he would show absolutely no mercy.
“…”
Hugo frowned deeply, carefully scrutinizing the building complex in front of him. Suddenly, he spoke up:
“I’ve been here before.”
Anise paused: “What?”
“Yuying Comprehensive University,” Hugo said. “This used to be an instance.”
Moreover, it was an instance he and Pinocchio had once teamed up in.
However…
Hugo stared at the building complex submerged in darkness not far away, his frown deepening.
If his memory served him right, this place should have already collapsed… Why was it appearing here now?
“How difficult was the instance?” Anise asked.
“Class A.” Hugo pulled out a fresh cigarette and clamped it between his teeth.
A hint of disdain flashed in Anise’s eyes: “That’s not too bad…”
Before he could finish his sentence, he heard Hugo continue:
“Upgraded after mutation, rated Double S.”
“…” Anise choked, the rest of his words swallowed back down his throat.
The highest difficulty instance he had ever experienced was exactly this rating.
S-class was already considered a near-death experience; Double S… this was simply hell-level difficulty.
Hugo glanced at him, the emotion in his eyes flat—but Anise inexplicably felt a sense of humiliation, as if he had been directly slapped in the face—but before Anise could argue back, Hugo had already withdrawn his gaze, looking again at the dead silent campus in front of them: “Let’s go.”
Thus, the two walked into the campus, one after the other.
All around was dead silence.
The buildings leaned askew. The depths of the door frames and windows were pitch black, teeming with ghostly silhouettes that made one feel uneasy.
A bizarre layer of black fog shrouded the sky, making even that blood-red wound appear ethereal.
“The Nightmare’s signal has weakened.” Anise lowered his head, frowning as he fiddled with his phone.
Ever since they walked into the campus, the Nightmare’s signal had started acting up again, connecting and disconnecting intermittently. Although it didn’t completely disappear like it did on the train, the response speed was far slower than before, as if it was suffering from some kind of shielding or interference.
While he was fiddling with his phone, Hugo was looking around.
Everything around them was similar yet different from his memory. The earth-shattering, gradually collapsing scene had been frozen; everything seemed to have solidified at the exact moment they left the instance.
It seemed like just a second ago, he and their team were still here, sharing life and death, cooperating with each other, and now…
Everything had changed, and the people were gone.
Even Hugo couldn’t help but zone out for half a second when faced with this scene.
—However, it was precisely in this half-second.
A loud crash came from behind as the main gates behind them were pulled by an invisible force, finally slamming tightly shut.
In the next second, all the lights turned on simultaneously. Cold, bright, pale light cascaded down, illuminating the massive plaza brilliantly. Anise was shocked; he whipped his head up, looking around:
“…What’s going on?!”
Hugo seemed to realize something and slowly looked up.
A blue-haired woman stood not far away, looking down at them from above.
Her skin no longer had any luster, as deathly pale as paper, seemingly drained of all vitality. Her eyes rarely blinked, displaying the color of clotted blood. Her complexion was as chilling and bizarre as a corpse’s.
And the prey they had been tracking for so long was standing perfectly well right beside her. Although his face was still a bit pale, the wounds on his body had clearly been properly treated.
“Are they the ones who broke your hand?” she asked coldly.
The young man sidled closer to her and nodded decisively:
“That’s right!”
“Especially the ugly one on the left.”
He waved his bandage-wrapped wrist, put on a pitiful expression, and tattled:
“Look here, here, and here… he did all of this!”
Yes tell on them!! How dare they