"Bang!"

Two dull thuds sounded in succession as bodies hit the ground heavily below. The noise was not loud, yet it was enough to make hearts stop.

The change had happened too fast.

No one on the rooftop reacted in time.

Only after the sound of impact reached them did the few people remaining on the rooftop finally come back to their senses. They stared at the now empty edge, their hearts feeling as though they were being clenched tightly by an invisible hand. Breathing became difficult, almost impossible.

Just as Wen Ruyu could not accept Fu Qingfeng’s death, they could not accept Wen Ruyu’s death either.

They had exhausted every effort to persuade Fu Qingfeng, had calculated step by step to lure Chu Junheng back. From beginning to end, everything had been for Wen Ruyu.

But Wen Ruyu was dead.

Dead right before their eyes.

Dead beneath what they had believed was a flawless plan.

It should not have been like this.

Their bodies trembled uncontrollably. In the next second, eyes bloodshot as if driven mad, they rushed toward the rooftop edge.

The police officer and school leaders’ expressions changed drastically. They snapped back to their senses and immediately held the group down, afraid that more people would fall.

The few could not accept it at all.

The remaining people descended into chaos. Some ran downstairs. Others called emergency services.

But everyone knew the chances of survival were slim.

Eight stories—more than twenty meters. There had been no cushioning measures below. The possibility of surviving such a fall was extremely low.

It might have been instant death.

And the reality was just as the police officer had thought.

A fall from the eighth floor was enough to kill on the spot.

But the one who died was not Wen Ruyu.

Originally, Wen Ruyu had intended to use his own body as a buffer to ensure Fu Qingfeng survived. But in the final few meters before hitting the ground, Fu Qingfeng used every ounce of strength left in him to flip violently.

He forced his own body beneath Wen Ruyu’s.

The enormous impact of the fall, combined with the weight of two people, smashed down ruthlessly onto Fu Qingfeng.

Wen Ruyu was held tightly in Fu Qingfeng’s arms. He did not suffer any fatal injuries. At the moment they struck the ground, Wen Ruyu’s first reaction was not pain.

It was the sound of bones breaking beneath him.

He stiffly lowered his head.

Fu Qingfeng’s clothes were rapidly soaked through by warm, wet blood. It seeped out beneath him, staining the ground red in a horrifying spread.

Not only beneath him.

At the moment of impact, his ribs had shattered completely, piercing viciously into his internal organs. Blood continuously poured from the corner of his pale lips.

He could not stop vomiting blood.

Fu Qingfeng did not die instantly. He looked at Wen Ruyu above him and parted his lips, as if wanting to say something.

But he could not even form a complete syllable.

The moment he opened his mouth, blood streamed out, staining his jaw and neck crimson.

Wen Ruyu panicked to the extreme. His slender body trembled uncontrollably. Tears fell like beads from a broken string, slipping down endlessly.

He instinctively tried to wipe the blood from Fu Qingfeng’s lips, desperately attempting to stop the blinding red.

But it was not a wound at the mouth.

It was massive internal hemorrhaging.

It could not be stopped.

"Please… don’t die…"

Wen Ruyu looked around helplessly. He wanted to shout for help, but despair strangled his voice, leaving it weak and fragile, as though it might shatter in the next second.

"Can someone save him…"

"Is there anyone who can save him?"

"Please… save him…"

Chu Junheng had fallen as well.

He lay not far from them—close enough that blood had splattered onto Wen Ruyu and Fu Qingfeng at the moment of impact.

His limbs were twisted at unnatural angles. He lay on his side, head turned toward them, eyes fixed directly on Wen Ruyu.

Those eyes, usually sharp and domineering, were now unfocused. His dark pupils merely reflected the scene before him.

He did not move.

He simply stared.

Stared at Wen Ruyu kneeling in a pool of blood.

Stared at him humbly begging others to save Fu Qingfeng.

Stared at him weeping helplessly for Fu Qingfeng.

He stared without blinking.

It made those who saw it feel a chill crawl down their spines.

Below, chaos had already erupted. The sound of ambulances and screams shattered the suffocating silence of the campus.

Police officers and bystanders surrounded them. But they were not doctors. They could not offer any help. They could only watch as Wen Ruyu collapsed onto the ground, fragile and helpless, crying and pleading.

Most people present believed themselves to be normal.

Seeing someone fall to their death, they should have felt sympathy.

Seeing someone cry so miserably, they should have felt compassion.

But they did not.

Not even a trace of pity.

Their emotions barely fluctuated.

There was even faint excitement and pleasure hidden within their gazes, as though Fu Qingfeng’s death were a good thing.

But the next second, that excitement abruptly halted.

They stared fixedly at Wen Ruyu sitting on the ground, their pupils widening uncontrollably.

The young man was exquisitely beautiful to begin with. His skin was pale to the point of translucence. Now his eye sockets and the corners of his eyes were flushed red. Tears fell like broken pearls, scattering down his face, impossible to look away from.

Crying… he looked so beautiful.

Wen Ruyu did not notice their gazes.

All of his attention was on Fu Qingfeng. His beautiful tear-filled eyes had grown blurred.

Blood continued to seep from the corner of Fu Qingfeng’s mouth. He had no strength left. His breathing was so faint it was almost imperceptible. Even his pupils began to dilate.

He gave Wen Ruyu one last look.

That look was filled with unwillingness.

He had only just recognized his own feelings.

He had just said they would return to the dormitory together.

They should have had a happy future.

Unwilling.

So unwilling.

He did not want to die.

But he was going to die.

Fu Qingfeng’s eyes never closed. He continued staring at Wen Ruyu.

His breathing, however, had already ceased.

A breeze passed slowly through the air, carrying the heavy stench of blood.

Fu Qingfeng was dead.

Wen Ruyu felt as though all the blood in his body had frozen. He stood motionless, his heart squeezed tight by an invisible hand.

His trembling hand lifted, but instead of touching Fu Qingfeng, he pressed it tightly against his own chest.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

He was not sad.

He was happy.

He was excited.

How could it be excitement?

Since entering this dungeon, Wen Ruyu had occasionally sensed emotions that did not belong to him.

When they involved Fu Qingfeng, the fluctuations were especially intense—like the lingering obsession of the original host.

That was also why he had tried so hard to protect Fu Qingfeng.

Every time he protected Fu Qingfeng, or did something for him, he could sense a slight emotional ripple.

But now that Fu Qingfeng was dead, what he sensed was not grief or pain.

It was extreme happiness.

Extreme excitement.

As if celebrating Fu Qingfeng’s death.

More importantly, the dungeon had not generated.

Wen Ruyu had not heard the prompt for dungeon generation.

He had not heard any prompt at all.

His voice trembled as he spoke in his mind, filled with uncertainty.

"System… the dungeon… didn’t generate?"

099 responded instantly in its enthusiastic customer-service tone, without the slightest emotional fluctuation.

"No, dear."

Wen Ruyu lowered his head and looked at his slender hands. They were covered in warm liquid, dyed entirely red.

Fu Qingfeng’s blood.

The sensation was unpleasant.

The warm, sticky texture made him deeply uncomfortable.

His long lashes fluttered lightly. His pale fingertips curled slightly. After several seconds of silence, he spoke again in his mind, his trembling voice carrying near certainty.

"The dungeon boss… is me, isn’t it?"

When Wen Ruyu had already reached a conclusion, 099 was never stingy with answers.

"Yes, dear."

Wen Ruyu had long had a faint suspicion.

The one special in this dungeon was not only Fu Qingfeng.

The original host himself was also special.

He had also died in that fire.

He also had the qualification to become the dungeon boss.

And his obsession was easy to guess.

It had to be related to Fu Qingfeng.

Perhaps he wanted Fu Qingfeng to live.

At least, that was what Wen Ruyu had believed.

He had believed that as long as he protected Fu Qingfeng and did not let him die before the original host, the resentment value would not rise so high.

But everything now seemed wrong.

The original host did not seem to love Fu Qingfeng at all.

No one would feel excitement when the person they loved died.

If the original host did not love Fu Qingfeng, and his obsession was not Fu Qingfeng, then everything Wen Ruyu had done since entering this dungeon had been useless.

Wen Ruyu’s fingers tightened until his knuckles turned white. His voice trembled uncontrollably.

"You said the memories you gave me weren’t fake."

099 was puzzled but still answered honestly in its enthusiastic tone.

"They are not fake, dear."

"You’re lying. Fu Qingfeng is dead, and the original host is happy."

Wen Ruyu refuted word by word, his trembling voice pitifully fragile.

"He’s excited."

099 paused.

"Who is excited?"

"The original host."

"Impossible."

099 denied it immediately, its tone firm.

If Fu Qingfeng died, how could the dungeon boss be excited?

099 did not believe a single word. It immediately ran its own detection.

And then the entire system was shocked.

It really was excitement.

But that was impossible.

In this dungeon, the boss was the original host. Fu Qingfeng’s death had no murderer—he had died suddenly from acute illness.

The original host had refused to accept that.

He had burned all the people who pursued him and then set himself on fire.

His resentment had been extreme. After death, he became the dungeon boss, obsessively treating everyone as Fu Qingfeng’s killer and slaughtering them mercilessly.

That was the original setting.

When other Special Players entered this dungeon, it had always been like that.

Because Fu Qingfeng’s death was fixed, and the boss’s obsession was that death, he regarded everyone as the culprit.

Thus, neither Special Players nor ordinary Players could clear this dungeon.

But this time, something seemed off.

099’s first thought was that the detection had malfunctioned.

After multiple scans, the result was the same.

Soon, however, it understood.

A setting was still only a setting. Just like when Players imported character memories, minor deviations were normal.

"Maybe seeing the person he liked die was too much stimulation. Maybe he went mad in an instant."

"The dungeon setting is like that as well. After Fu Qingfeng died, he went insane. In a mentally unstable state, excitement might be normal."

099 was not entirely certain.

It had never specifically checked what emotion the dungeon boss experienced at the moment of Fu Qingfeng’s death when other Special Players entered.

Perhaps it had always been like this.

It should not count as an anomaly.

After backend calculations, 099’s tone grew more certain.

"This is normal."

Just as 099 was about to continue speaking, it watched Wen Ruyu collapse.

The next second, a cold mechanical broadcast echoed, devoid of warmth.

"Dungeon information loading—"

"Ding————!"

"Dungeon loaded successfully!"

099: "…?"

Chapter 63

Comments