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Bonus chapter! Thank you to Zzz for the donation! ^^
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The sun was nearly set, its dying light stretching the shadows of the buildings long and dark, a thick, inky blackness swallowing the ground beneath. It carried an inexplicable sense of oppression and danger.
The back wall of the hotel was completely shrouded in shadow, yet it was still possible to make out a man holding a young man in his arms, standing in the narrow alley. Not far from them, another man leaned against the wall, his presence freezing the air between them.
Ruan Qing wasn’t particularly surprised. If he were in their position, he would have blocked every exit too.
The problem was… he was the one being cornered now.
His eyelashes trembled slightly, his fingers stiffening where they clutched Cheng Muyun’s clothes before finally lowering his gaze.
He had been the one carried out of the window—technically, this whole mess had nothing to do with him.
"Care to explain?" Ji Nanyu’s tone was eerily calm, as if he were merely commenting on the weather, yet the words sent a chill down the spine.
Hearing this, Cheng Muyun tightened his grip on Ruan Qing before setting him down. He scratched his head awkwardly. "There might be some misunderstanding here. I didn’t mean to deceive you all on purpose."
He began explaining slowly, "Ling Qishuo lost control in the Nightmare World—he wanted to kill He Qing. I was afraid he’d hurt him, so I took him away before he woke up."
As he spoke, he let out a helpless sigh. "I get that Ling Qishuo’s upset about being tricked, but that doesn’t justify outright murder."
"Tricked?" Ji Nanyu’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Cheng Muyun feigned surprise. "You didn’t know? Ling Qishuo was He Qing’s… uh…"
He trailed off, glancing at the rigid figure beside him before settling on a vague reply. "Just check the school forum. You’ll see."
The school forum was filled with campus gossip, and one post in particular sat pinned at the top of the homepage—a thread exposing how He Qing had scammed over a dozen people.
Nearly everything had been dug up… except for He Qing’s real identity.
Ji Nanyu pulled out his phone, skimmed the post, then fixed his gaze on Ruan Qing. His dark eyes simmered with something unreadable—and dangerous.
Han Feng and Ling Qishuo had already approached, just in time to catch Cheng Muyun’s explanation. Their expressions shifted, but in the end, no one spoke. The matter was seemingly brushed aside.
But everyone knew better.
Beneath the surface of this forced calm lurked a undercurrent of murderous intent—toward Cheng Muyun, toward Ling Qishuo, or perhaps toward someone else entirely.
Killing in reality was a crime, a sin that would shatter any chance of a peaceful life.
But the Nightmare World?
That was a different story.
In the Nightmare World, killing someone leaves no trace—even if it were somehow uncovered, there would be no way to convict the killer.
The Nightmare World was, without a doubt, the perfect place for murder.
Though they had escaped the Nightmare World in time, that dangerous man still existed. If they didn’t deal with him for good, he would eventually kill He Qing.
Death was common in the Nightmare World, but if the victim were He Qing, none of them could accept it. They rationalized it as unfinished business—something they hadn’t yet resolved.
As for how to kill that man, they already had an idea.
A Nightmare Emissary’s power could grow stronger. By killing other Nightmare Emissaries—or even the manifested entities within the Nightmare World—they could absorb their abilities.
This was perfect: they could grow stronger and settle a personal grudge.
It had been three days since Ruan Qing received that phone call. Killing that man couldn’t wait any longer. Without hesitation, they entered the Nightmare World.
This time, they didn’t bring Ruan Qing. Instead, they discreetly locked him away.
They entered the Nightmare World from Ji Nanyu’s private villa. Before crossing over, Ji Nanyu deadbolted the villa’s doors and even assigned servants and bodyguards to watch Ruan Qing—clearly determined not to wake up and find him gone.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to hold Ruan Qing.
He might not be strong enough to fight the System’s avatar, but ordinary people were no match for him.
Once the others had fallen into their dream, he hypnotized the servants and bodyguards and left the villa.
This dungeon was likely truly Su Zhen’s. As long as he didn’t manifest Su Zhen or the players who had died in it again, the risk of fatal danger wasn’t high.
But he didn’t have many chances left.
Altering the Nightmare World drained too much mental energy—each attempt was akin to deep self-hypnosis. If he changed things too many times, he risked losing himself.
The line between reality and nightmare would blur. His memories would fracture.
If he lost his sense of self, he’d be defenseless—and miss his only chance at the truth.
Ruan Qing didn’t recklessly re-enter the dream. Finding clues about "Him" first was the smarter choice.
Everything in the dungeon followed logic. If this was a valid way to clear it, then no matter how difficult, there had to be clues.
The dungeon hadn’t reset in too long. The Nightmare World had begun killing indiscriminately, obscuring vital evidence.
Now, uninterrupted, Ruan Qing revisited the records of the earliest victims, searching for a common thread—or the Nightmare World’s original rules of death.
There seemed to be no clear pattern—the students who died were from various departments and backgrounds. The only thing they had in common was that they were all from the same graduating class.
But simply being in the same class couldn’t be the condition for their deaths. These people must have gathered together at some point and been involved in something.
Ruan Qing pulled up the records of every student from that year and looked into possible events where they might have gathered.
There was only one: the freshman orientation ceremony.
The school’s surveillance footage was typically retained for about three months. Since that ceremony had taken place two years ago, finding any video evidence was nearly impossible.
However, for major events like orientation, the school usually published official bulletins.
But Ruan Qing noticed something strange—bulletins existed for every other year’s ceremony, except for the one two years ago.
Something must have happened during that orientation.
He dug deeper into the records but found nothing. Even when he asked students who had attended that year’s ceremony, they hesitated, unable to give a clear answer.
It wasn’t that they were too afraid to speak—it was more like they couldn’t remember. The entire graduating class seemed to have forgotten what happened that day.
And it wasn’t just the students. The school’s faculty also seemed affected.
After that ceremony, many staff members resigned, and quite a few even left City A entirely.
Ruan Qing pulled the records of those who had resigned and discovered that most of them were already dead—just like the students, their deaths ruled as suicides.
The only one still alive was the school’s former president.
His address wasn’t far from the university. Without hesitation, Ruan Qing headed there.
But with limited money, he had no choice but to take the bus.
The bus rattled along, its motion lulling passengers into drowsiness. To keep himself awake, Ruan Qing put on his headphones and played eerie horror movie music from his phone.
Suddenly, the default ringtone cut through the unsettling soundtrack—an incoming call from 4444.
Ruan Qing paused, then answered.
This time, there were no suggestive moans—just a low, hoarse voice.
"Are you investigating me?"
Ruan Qing’s slender, pale fingers twitched slightly. He pressed his lips together nervously and stayed silent.
The man on the other end of the phone didn’t mind his lack of response and continued speaking, his low, husky voice carrying an inexplicable magnetism.
"You’re clever. You’re the first one to figure out there was something wrong with the orientation ceremony."
The man’s words confirmed Ruan Qing’s suspicions. His eyelashes fluttered faintly before he spoke cautiously, "...What really happened that day?"
The man paused at the sound of Ruan Qing’s voice—this was the first time he had heard it. Unlike those sweet, breathless moans, yet just as pleasing to the ear.
Clear and melodious, like an intoxicating whisper of music.
Instead of answering, the man said, "You won’t find anything. The old principal won’t give you any clues."
"Because he’ll be dead before you reach him." His tone was utterly certain, as if stating a simple fact.
"However." The man’s voice shifted, turning languid. "If you beg me, I might give you a few hints."
Without hesitation, Ruan Qing whispered, "Please."
Silence filled the other end of the line.
The man seemed amused, letting out a low chuckle, his deep, velvety voice almost unbearably intoxicating.
"Do you really think that’s enough?"
Only the sound of breathing answered him. The man didn’t press further and offered a simpler condition instead.
"How about this—listen to my prediction in full."
"If you hear it out, I’ll give you the clues you want."
"No hanging up. No muting the call."
He stopped abruptly after saying this, realizing his call already enforced those restrictions.
Ever since last night, he had been acting out of character—first by responding to the call at all, then by obsessing over it long after hanging up.
That sweet, panting voice had inexplicably taken root in his mind, impossible to shake off.
The more he thought about it, the more it consumed him.
Time, which usually passed in the blink of an eye for him, now dragged unbearably. The wait for nightfall—for midnight—felt endless.
In the end, as if guided by some unseen force, he dialed the number. It was the first time he had taken the initiative to make the call—and the first time he had done so in broad daylight.
After listening to the man’s demand, Ruan Qing pressed his lips together. His voice was hushed, laced with hesitation and reluctance. "I’m on the bus right now… Can it wait until I get off—?"
"Aren’t you wearing headphones?" The man cut him off sharply, as if he could see Ruan Qing’s every move.
"You have three seconds to decide. After that, the offer expires."
Without waiting for a response, the man began his countdown. "Three."
A flicker of distress crossed Ruan Qing’s delicate features, but the man showed no intention of letting him stall. His voice continued at an even pace, calm yet carrying an undeniable weight.
"Two."
Ruan Qing’s slender fingers tensed against the headphones. Finally, just before the last second slipped away, he answered in a whisper.
"...Okay."
