C52 — Nightmare Ward

Zhuo Yu was suddenly tackled to the ground.

Arthur’s eyes were filled with pure curiosity. He pressed one knee against Zhuo Yu’s back, grabbing the dragon wings like he was catching a butterfly. Zhuo Yu winced in pain, but to his shock, even with the strength of the dragon wings, he couldn’t break free.

“Hiss—can you be a little gentler?!”

Zhuo Yu’s voice finally drew Arthur’s attention to his face.

Arthur tilted his head, seemingly recalling the previous moment, and loosened his grip. He used his free hand to trace along the base of the dragon wing. His fingernails scraping against the dragon scales caused a tingling sensation that made Zhuo Yu blush again.

Zhuo Yu hadn’t expected to end up on the receiving end after trying to flirt with Number One. Now it was Arthur teasing him.

Did Arthur even know what he was doing?

The blond man looked like he had discovered something far more amusing than killing—he continued to stroke the wing membrane like petting a cat, tracing the dark patterns with his fingertips. He didn’t spare the hooked claw at the wing’s bend either, pinching the paw pad like he was playing with a cat’s toe beans.

“!!!”

Zhuo Yu’s face flushed so red it looked like it was about to drip blood. He began to struggle, not wanting to be toyed with anymore. His whole body trembled from the strange sensations radiating from his wings—but Arthur’s strength was overwhelming. Zhuo Yu really was like a butterfly, caught and toyed with at will.

Seeing that Arthur was about to lick again, Zhuo Yu immediately deactivated the skill.

The dragon wings vanished in an instant. Arthur froze momentarily in surprise, giving Zhuo Yu just enough time to twist out from under his knee—a nearly impossible feat for someone in his condition. He was left panting heavily from the effort.

Arthur looked visibly displeased with the current situation. He didn’t understand why Zhuo Yu wasn’t running like everyone else. So, he picked up the willow leaf knife and swiftly hurled it at Zhuo Yu’s face.

A line of blood traced across his cheek. Zhuo Yu touched it.

Arthur was testing him.

Seeing that Zhuo Yu still didn’t run, Arthur finally came to a conclusion: the black-haired, black-eyed man before him was different from the others. He wouldn’t try to tie him up on an operating table or shoot him.

But that didn’t mean Arthur was letting him go.

The light in his eyes faded again. He looked like an executioner about to administer a death sentence—calm, deliberate, walking slowly toward Zhuo Yu. He was thinking about giving this “special person” a special kind of death.

Just as Arthur reached out for him, Zhuo Yu’s wristwatch alarm went off again.

Three o’clock.

The scene in front of him dissolved like mist. A strong smell of tar rushed into Zhuo Yu’s nose, making him cough. When he looked up again, he was no longer in a sealed ward—but in a dilapidated room covered in cobwebs.

He was still in Room 5001. But Zhuo Yu had returned to normal time.

[Guild Channel]

[Zhuo Yu]: Where are you guys? Are you all okay?

[Liu Jingyun]: Aaaaah I was scared to death, scared to death!

[Luo Musheng]: I think I went back to a previous time point?

Zhuo Yu first confirmed his teammates’ safety. Only after making sure they were fine did he struggle to sit up.

[Liu Jingyun]: I really thought I was going to die. One moment I was suddenly in the middle of a bunch of psychiatric patients, and everyone in the hallway was staring at me. I had to run and pretend to be a nurse. Then some old blond man pulled me over to help set up a camera, and I was forced to watch a live brain removal surgery. I seriously almost threw up.

[Luo Musheng]: Same here. I saw everyone welcoming the new director. Luckily no one noticed me, so I found a corner to hide in until now.

Zhuo Yu frowned—could it be that they weren’t all in the same timeline?

A blond old man… could that be an aged Brandt Cornell? And the new director Luo Musheng saw, was he the just-arrived version of Brandt?

This asylum’s time and space were indeed wildly unstable.

[Zhuo Yu]: I’m on the fifth floor, Room 5001. But don’t come looking for me just yet—it’d blow our cover as teammates. By the way, I’ve figured out where the baby is.

With a sigh, Zhuo Yu decided to head back to the first floor to finish the task the ghost woman had given him in the specimen room.

Now seemed to be a safe window in the asylum. He used his Dragon Wings to slowly scale the wall. But just as he reached the third floor, he suddenly heard a familiar sound—crying.

Ruan Weiwei.

Zhuo Yu raised a brow. He hadn’t forgotten his “kind and helpful” persona, so he followed the sound in her direction, landing in the hallway of the third floor.

He pulled a spare electric wheelchair from his inventory, then approached the room where the crying came from. To his surprise, Du Zihao was there too.

“The nurse mistook me for a patient,” Ruan Weiwei said through sobs, still looking pitiful even while crying. “She said I was a type of Asian woman the director hadn’t seen before, and dragged me into the operating room… tied me to the bed.”

As she softly wiped her tears, faint scars on her pale arms were exposed.

Du Zihao’s heart ached for the poor girl, and his voice softened. “They didn’t do anything to you, right?”

“The weird director came in,” Ruan Weiwei bit her lip, face pale, “and said my fat distribution was different from Europeans’…”

“And then?” Du Zihao asked anxiously.

“Then he cut open my arm…”

She turned her head and rolled up her sleeve.

Her arm was covered in wounds, disturbingly beautiful in a way that made Du Zihao ache even more. He hurriedly pulled out a first-aid spray from his inventory and treated her arm.

The wounds quickly healed.

Ruan Weiwei looked deeply moved. Her big doe eyes welled with tears again, but this time she didn’t look away. Instead, she gazed at Du Zihao with glistening eyes, shy and vulnerable. “Thank you… really. I know out of all the actors, you’re the only one with a real heart. A real man who wouldn’t look down on someone weak like me.”

Flattered, Du Zihao was filled with a protective instinct and pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t worry. Even injured, I’ll do my best to protect you.”

“I…” Ruan Weiwei seemed overcome with emotion, her feelings overflowing. Then she leaned in, lips tinted a soft pink, moving toward Du Zihao’s lips.

But just then, a cough interrupted the moment.

The two froze, finally remembering where they were, and awkwardly looked away.

“Sorry for the interruption.” Zhuo Yu stepped out from the corner where he’d been listening, playing the perfect third wheel, wearing an equally awkward expression—like he hadn’t expected to stumble on that scene. “Anyway, I know where the baby is.”

Du Zihao immediately focused on the real mission.

“Where? If we hand it over to the ghost woman, she might unlock the door for us.”

With his attention fully on the task, Ruan Weiwei clenched her fists inside her sleeves, seething with resentment.

Tch, what terrible timing. If Zhuo Yu hadn’t interrupted, she would’ve already triggered her “Beneath My Skirt” skill with that kiss. Once activated, even the strongest actors would become obsessed puppets desperate to please her. It was her biggest survival asset.

Ruan Weiwei sighed inwardly.

Oh well, Du Zihao wasn’t the best choice anyway. With his broken hand, his combat ability was greatly reduced. It was better to set her sights on Liang Sheng instead.

She loved the feeling of controlling powerful figures, watching once-arrogant actors wag their tails like obedient dogs before her. It eased the suffocating pressure of being on set.

Her gaze shifted to Zhuo Yu.

This man was good-looking, but his disability alone disqualified him from consideration.

Meanwhile, Du Zihao was already convinced. “The specimen room, right?”

“Yeah, the innermost part of the third cabinet. There’s a formalin jar with a baby inside—that’s what the ghost wants. Take it and meet back here.”

Du Zihao nodded. With one disabled person and one woman left behind, it made the most sense for him to go. After all, he was the strongest actor in this dungeon.

He was already arrogant, and after Ruan Weiwei’s praise, he now saw himself as a savior. Zhuo Yu didn’t need to say much—Du Zihao volunteered himself as a pawn.

Tightening the bandages on his broken hand, he sprinted downstairs. He knew the ghost on the first floor had disappeared.

Now, only Zhuo Yu and Ruan Weiwei remained in the room.

The air grew awkward.

For some reason, Ruan Weiwei felt that her usual tricks wouldn’t work on Zhuo Yu.

“Du Zihao is such a good guy,” Zhuo Yu suddenly said, breaking the silence. “So there’s no need to pretend. I understand you.”

Ruan Weiwei froze, then feigned innocence.

“What do you mean? Understand what?”

Zhuo Yu gave her an encouraging smile. “Look, I’m disabled. In a film set like this, that puts me in the same vulnerable position as women. So I get what you’re going through.”

Ruan Weiwei thought about it—he had a point. Since entering the movie, Zhuo Yu had always been reassuring her, unlike that arrogant b*tch Liu Jingyun. Though her weakness was an act, she had to admit—Zhuo Yu did seem like someone who understood her.

“You’re beautiful, and in a dangerous place like this, you must’ve suffered a lot. Women get jealous of you, men desire you…” Zhuo Yu sighed heavily. “Am I wrong?”

His words dragged up old memories. In her first movie, wasn’t that exactly what had happened?

She had sought a man’s protection, only to spark another woman’s jealousy. That woman nearly pushed her off a mountain. Back then, she didn’t even have any skills to rely on—just her wounded body and the helplessness of depending on that man.

That was when she first started hating them.

Ruan Weiwei’s eyes truly turned red this time.

“Why bring that up?” Her voice was a little choked.

“Look at me,” Zhuo Yu continued. “I’m disabled, and I look like a pretty boy. I’ve been given the cold shoulder countless times on set. The only reason I survived was because I could talk my way past the movie bosses and collect enough ‘flame points’ to stay alive.”

He even let a few crocodile tears fall.

“I know exactly how much we—people like us—have suffered. That’s why I said Du Zihao is a good guy.”

Ruan Weiwei understood now. Zhuo Yu was suggesting she keep leveraging Du Zihao to secure her survival. Their thought processes were surprisingly alike.

“You don’t think what I’m doing is wrong?” she tested.

“What’s the big deal?” Zhuo Yu snorted coldly. “Although Du Zihao takes care of you, and I can consider him a good person, in this film set, who doesn’t know that those actors are arrogant? They look down on me for being disabled, they look down on you for being a woman. If it works, why not use them to clear the film?”

Zhuo Yu didn’t even activate his “Winning Trust” ability, yet he had already convinced Ruan Weiwei, who nodded repeatedly.

“If those actors only realize they were tricked after the movie ends, just imagining their dumbfounded expressions is so satisfying!”

Ruan Weiwei wiped her tears and laughed. “Exactly!”

The way she looked at Zhuo Yu changed. There was no more scrutiny, only genuine closeness—Zhuo Yu understood her!

“So, I actually envy you. You see, you’re beautiful and have these opportunities,” Zhuo Yu sighed as he gazed at the ceiling. “Unlike me. Look at Liu Jingyun, she won’t even look at me properly. When she talks to me, she’s always sarcastic, acting like she’s the real host of this film.”

【Beast’s Heart ability, “Sowing Discord,” activated.】

【Target: Ruan Weiwei. Status: Affected.】

Ruan Weiwei immediately recalled how Liu Jingyun had kicked her through the door, humiliating her completely. Then she thought about Liu Jingyun’s condescending attitude, and her anger flared. Now that she considered Zhuo Yu one of her own, her hatred for Liu Jingyun deepened.

“Tsk, ugly, short, bad taste in clothes—where does she get that confidence from?” Ruan Weiwei sneered.

In his heart, Zhuo Yu thought, I never said that, okay? He actually found Xiao Liu quite adorable—strong and independent. She was the first teammate he had truly taken a liking to.

But for the sake of his plan, Zhuo Yu could only force himself to say, “Forget it, let’s not talk about her. It’s annoying.”

Ruan Weiwei, however, thought to herself, Hmph, I need to set Liu Jingyun up somehow. I just have to figure out how.

Now that they had a common enemy, they felt even closer.

Ruan Weiwei smiled at Zhuo Yu. “Don’t worry, once I win Liang Sheng over, I’ll have him protect you too.”

Zhuo Yu raised an eyebrow. “Liang Sheng? He looks like a tough one. Doesn’t seem like the type to be swayed.”

Ruan Weiwei scoffed. “Not hard at all. Let me be honest with you—any man I kiss falls under my skill’s effect and becomes my loyal dog.”

Zhuo Yu was stunned. Damn, another dog trainer?

But in his eyes, this method lacked any real technique—it was just a crude and direct skill, nothing impressive.

“No wonder. I was afraid I interrupted you just now!” Zhuo Yu’s expression turned warm. “That’s a great ability! Unfortunately, I’m just a lone wolf actor—nobody wants me. But you’re different. If you applied to join any guild, they’d fight over you, wouldn’t they?”

Ruan Weiwei hesitated. Zhuo Yu’s gaze seemed sincere, and his words came straight from the heart. There was no harm in telling him, right?

If a disabled man like Zhuo Yu could survive purely on his silver tongue, he might actually have talent in this field. Maybe she could even recruit him into her guild.

“I already have a guild,” Ruan Weiwei said, feeling like Zhuo Yu was a kindred spirit. She wanted to pull him up. “How about this—when this film ends, you join us?”

Zhuo Yu smirked inwardly. Gotcha.

He had long suspected that Ruan Weiwei’s delicate act was fake. No one could survive three films still pretending to be some fragile little flower. She was clearly a man-eating plant disguised as a white lotus. If she was this crafty, there was a high chance she belonged to another guild.

He had only been testing her—and to his surprise, she actually took the bait.

Zhuo Yu thought to himself—he was supposed to be recruiting people, so how did he end up being recruited instead?

“This doesn’t seem right. I’m just a disabled person,” Zhuo Yu put on a somber expression.

But the more Ruan Weiwei looked at him, the more she felt he was a perfect fit. “Hmph, our guild is none other than the famous Sea of Desire. Your disability? A little flame energy and it’ll be healed in no time. You complimented my looks, but aren’t you even better looking? Never underestimate the value of appearance.”

“Sea of Desire?” Zhuo Yu blinked. “The system mentioned that two guilds are participating in this mission, along with four independent actors, including me. So one of those guilds is Sea of Desire?”

Seeing his interest, Ruan Weiwei seized the opportunity. “That’s right. Our guild doesn’t care for that rough, brute-force nonsense. Our members have personalities similar to mine—you and I would definitely get along.”

Zhuo Yu seemed tempted. “That means there are four other members of Sea of Desire in this film, right? The system did say each guild can send up to five people at a time.”

Ruan Weiwei was cautious. She didn’t reveal anything about her teammates—not because she distrusted Zhuo Yu, but because she didn’t want others to get information from him.

“Anyway, don’t worry about it. With your looks, you’ll have no trouble fitting in. Sea of Desire welcomes talents like you.”

Zhuo Yu nodded gratefully. “Thank you. Once this film ends, I’ll trouble you to introduce me. That way, I can finally have a guild.”

As they were chatting, footsteps echoed from the entrance—Du Zihao had returned.

He was carrying a glass jar in one hand. Inside was a preserved fetus, floating in aged formalin.

This was Mary’s child.

Du Zihao glanced at Zhuo Yu and Ruan Weiwei, who seemed much closer than before. He couldn’t figure out when their relationship had progressed to this level.

Zhuo Yu explained, “I was just comforting her. She’s feeling much better now. Let’s continue the livestream—don’t forget the system’s mission.”

“We need to find the cameraman and Liu Jingyun first.” Du Zihao handed the jar to Zhuo Yu. “Is this the thing we need?”

Ruan Weiwei pretended to be startled and backed away from the jar. Du Zihao chuckled. “Don’t be scared. It’s been dead for a long time—it’s not going to jump out at you.”

Only then did Ruan Weiwei muster the courage to step closer. “You’re amazing! You found it all by yourself? If it were me and Zhuo Yu, we wouldn’t have dared to go down there alone.”

Zhuo Yu smirked. This Ruan Weiwei—if you want to praise someone, just do it. Why drag me into it? What, have you really started treating me like a bestie?

But he couldn’t embarrass her in front of Du Zihao. “Yeah, those ghosts we ran into earlier were scary enough to nearly give me a heart attack.”

Hearing the two of them praise him, Du Zihao felt so flattered that even the pain in his wrist seemed to ease a little.

“By the way, since we’re on this topic, I might as well stop hiding this,” Zhuo Yu said. He took out a snake-shaped staff from his storage. “Actually, my main skill is healing. I might be able to fix your injury.”

Du Zihao looked at him skeptically. Ruan Weiwei, however, nodded at him reassuringly, signaling that Zhuo Yu could be trusted.

A soft green glow flickered.

To Du Zihao’s shock, his wound rapidly closed up. His flesh seemed to be regenerating—his hand was back!

Du Zihao stared at Zhuo Yu in astonishment. A rare healer!

Ruan Weiwei was also impressed by Zhuo Yu’s ability. The three of them didn’t say it out loud, but they all understood—they had now become allies.

Du Zihao would be the attacker, Zhuo Yu the healer, and as for Ruan Weiwei… well, as a girl, they wouldn’t expect too much from her.

Du Zihao was very satisfied with the current arrangement.

Zhuo Yu put on an exhausted expression. “Regrowing a severed limb is pretty difficult. I had to use my mental energy to control it. I don’t think I can move on my own for now.”

“No worries.” Du Zihao pounded his chest. “I’ll carry you until you recover.”

Zhuo Yu responded with another round of grateful words, making Du Zihao float on air from all the praise.

With their team formed, the three of them began searching for their missing teammates in the darkness of the asylum. Meanwhile, as Zhuo Yu lay on Du Zihao’s back, he thought to himself—his preliminary mission was complete.

He had successfully identified the other guild. That meant Du Zihao, Liang Sheng, and Ye Zhiping were clearly not members of Sea of Desire—they were true independent actors.

As for Du Zihao… Zhuo Yu decided to pass on him. He might be a strong actor, but he wasn’t a good fit for Knight Flame.

The best candidates were Liang Sheng and Ye Zhiping. There was also one more actor still outside the asylum, likely back at the camp.

Zhuo Yu had a good impression of Liang Sheng but needed to observe him more.

If Liang Sheng fell into Ruan Weiwei’s grasp, then his value would drop significantly. But if he resisted her, then Zhuo Yu would make his move at the right time. After all, guild rankings were determined by the total points of five members—recruiting people was Zhuo Yu’s top priority.

Luo Musheng’s suggestion had been brilliant. Playing the “good guy” to earn trust, while pretending not to know each other, had worked perfectly. He had infiltrated the enemy ranks without raising suspicion.

Now, all he needed was to figure out Sea of Desire’s guild mission.

“Is the first floor still dangerous?” Ruan Weiwei asked cautiously.

Du Zihao shook his head. “The tar is still there, but that ghost is gone. It should be safe now.”

“We desperately need Liu Jingyun’s spirit board,” Zhuo Yu said, storing the infant jar into his inventory. “Let’s find her quickly.”

— [Guild Channel] —

[Zhuo Yu:] Where are you two hiding?

[Liu Jingyun:] In the stairwell.

[Zhuo Yu:] Come out and wait on the second floor. Just say you came looking for us. I’ve figured out the other guild’s composition—doesn’t seem like they have any strong attackers. Most of them are control types, like Ruan Weiwei.

[Luo Musheng:] I knew she was faking it. If that’s the case, there must be another actor back at the camp.

[Zhuo Yu:] No rush. We’ll eliminate them slowly.

Just then, they heard shouting from the second floor.

“Zhuo Yu! Ruan Weiwei! Where are you?!”

It was the cameraman’s voice.

Du Zihao was overjoyed and immediately carried Zhuo Yu downstairs.

They found Luo Musheng covered in soot, his pants stained with tar—he looked like a complete mess. Liu Jingyun was beside him, panting and leaning against the wall for support.

There was no time for reunions. Zhuo Yu quickly retrieved the spirit board, and the group moved to the asylum’s front entrance. Once again, they placed their fingers on the wooden planchette.

“Mary, I’ve found your child,” Zhuo Yu said, placing the infant’s remains on the ground. “Can you open the door for us now?”

 

This time, the planchette didn’t move. Instead, a heavy creaking sound echoed through the asylum.

The massive iron door slowly swung open on its own, revealing a narrow gap.

Zhuo Yu glanced around. “We need to leave together. Liang Sheng and Ye Zhiping aren’t back yet.”

Now that they had the main camera back, Zhuo Yu resumed his usual role.

“Dear viewers, as you can see, this might be Nightly Terror’s most horrifying crisis yet. We have no choice but to retreat for now.”

He took out the expedition team’s radio and pressed the button.

“Liang Sheng, Ye Zhiping, move now. The first-floor entrance is open. Come meet us.”

Zhuo Yu sent out the call.

But there was no response.

Thirty seconds passed in eerie silence.

Then, a voice spoke—one unfamiliar to everyone else but disturbingly familiar to Zhuo Yu.

“You… finally came back to see me…”

—It was Arthur’s voice.

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