Under the heavy rain, a long string of nearly connected water droplets slid down the eaves at the edge of the platform. The downpour was so intense that it seemed as if something was being poured from above the roof, creating a curtain of rain with a “splashing” sound.
Outside the platform was an old, rust-covered railway track. The wild grass on the tracks was drenched and grew haphazardly, with scattered rocks and sharp edges that made one wonder if a passing train would be scratched. Beyond the tracks was an endless wilderness, with only the winding railway stretching forward, disappearing into the heavy rain and mist.
The inside of the platform was even more dilapidated, with intermittent railings at the edges. A single misstep could easily send someone tumbling onto the tracks.
Zhao Jingchen was quite annoyed by the “splashing” sound.
He wore a pure black hoodie, the hood covering most of his face, leaving only the lower half exposed. His thin lips and delicate jawline hinted at the attractiveness of his face, but the hood obscured the upper half, revealing only the slight downward curve of his mouth.
Zhao Jingchen was not happy.
“What’s the meaning of this? No prompts so far, and they just dumped us on this platform?” Zhao Jingchen’s sharp voice was laced with anger. “Is this how you prepare for an instance? None of the information you gave me matches!”
Beside him, a high-level player from Yue Mang actually shivered at Zhao Jingchen’s mere words, trying to steady his voice as he said, “I’ve reviewed all the recorded instances related to train carriages, but I’ve never encountered this kind before.”
Zhao Jingchen: “This instance has no prompts, and our body index and perception have been completely reset?”
On the other side, a woman in a cheongsam, who appeared to be in her early thirties, smiled. “Zhao Jingchen, are you really this clueless or just pretending? It’s obvious that this is an instance with no prompts and all our body data sealed. We’re just ordinary people now. You’re at the 89th floor, and you’re still pretending not to understand? There’s no need for that.”
Behind this woman stood Xu Miaomiao.
Zhao Jingchen sneered, “Maybe someone here doesn’t get it.”
The woman ignored him.
Xu Miaomiao leaned forward slightly and whispered to the woman, “Sister Ding, it seems not everyone has arrived yet.”
The invitation letter for each instance usually contains information about the approximate number of participants. For this instance, about a dozen invitation letters were sent out, and the instance information mentioned a blood-stained carriage, which everyone knew.
But there were only eight people present, meaning about half were still missing.
Ding Xiao nodded, her fair skin accentuating her gentle smile, which stood in stark contrast to the desolation and eeriness around them. She said softly, “The setting of this instance… it’s probably meant to create the feeling of passengers waiting for a train, so the players are arriving one after another. No rush, let’s wait. After entering the instance, everyone’s data is wiped, and we’re all just ordinary people. Even if the others arrive, they’ll have to walk here like we did.”
Xu Miaomiao already had an idea in mind, and after confirming it, she simply stood behind Ding Xiao, silently waiting.
The others fell silent.
The rain outside the platform eaves continued to pound on their nerves. With their body index and perception completely reset, the long-lost feeling of being an ordinary person made Xu Miaomiao particularly nervous. Even though her mental fortitude wasn’t weak, facing such a silent waiting scene inevitably made her uneasy.
Xu Miaomiao both respected and feared the 89th floor.
The 89th floor instances were always considered the entry ticket to instances above the 90th floor.
The way to ascend floors above the 90th floor was different from those below.
Below the 90th floor, players could use methods like breaking through, ascending, or gambling to obtain invitation letters for instances of varying difficulty and floor levels. The invitation letters would clearly state the corresponding floor number, approximate number of participants, and the instance theme—just like the instance they were entering now, where the invitation letter stated the 89th floor and depicted a blood-stained carriage.
But starting from the 90th floor, the way to enter instances changed.
The invitation letters for floors above the 90th were all the same. The invitation letters were blank, just pure black.
Players needed to write their names and the floor they wanted to challenge on the invitation letter. Only when enough players wanted to enter the corresponding floor would the instance open. In other words, the floor number was chosen by the players, and the invitation letter was only responsible for counting the number of players and opening the instance.
And such a special invitation letter could only be obtained by completely clearing an 89th floor instance.
For instances above the 90th floor, based on existing records, the difficulty gap wasn’t significant; they were all roughly the same. So some high-level players would think about directly writing the 99th floor to aim for the top, while others would choose to fill in the floor numbers sequentially, from the 90th, to the 91st, 92nd…
This led to many players needing multiple such invitation letters.
Thus, for 89th floor instances, apart from their inherently unpredictable content and dangers, each time they opened, players like Xu Miaomiao, who had just ascended, were in the minority. Most were high-level veterans who had descended from the 90s to the 89th floor to obtain invitation letters.
Like Yue Mang’s Zhao Jingchen, like Manjusaka’s Ding Xiao.
And like the rumored Blackbird Lin Qing, who was supposed to enter this time.
Just as she thought of Lin Qing’s name, footsteps came from the front of the platform, and Lin Qing was at the forefront.
But Xu Miaomiao’s focus wasn’t on Lin Qing, who was likely to appear, but on the two people behind Lin Qing. She knew them.
She raised an eyebrow, “What are you doing here?”
Yan Mingguang remained silent, and Lin Qing always had a serious demeanor. Yan Wei stood behind the two, wearing a gray-blue trench coat and loosely wrapped in a gray scarf, as simple and low-key as before. Yet, his contradictory mix of乖巧 and cleverness in his features made him impossible to ignore. Even though he was hidden behind the obviously formidable Yan Mingguang and Lin Qing, including Xu Miaomiao, all the other players’ gazes immediately fell on Yan Wei.
As if oblivious to the scrutiny, Yan Wei’s lips curved slightly, and he tilted his head from behind Yan Mingguang to look at Xu Miaomiao, smiling, “Little sister, long time no see.”
Xu Miaomiao: “…”
Yan Wei seemed to enjoy Xu Miaomiao’s speechlessness, chuckling a few times before shifting his gaze to another person—Ding Xiao, who stood beside Xu Miaomiao.
Ding Xiao was also looking at Yan Wei.
Her gentle smile froze on her face, her expression one of shock. She seemed to open her mouth but ultimately said nothing, only giving Yan Wei a barely perceptible nod.
Yan Wei returned the smile, also silent, and quickly walked to Lin Qing and Yan Mingguang’s side, standing at one end of the platform.
The other players continued to observe them, but Lin Qing was already a familiar face, and Yan Mingguang, who had been leading Lin Qing and Yu Feizhou straight up over the past six months, was somewhat known even to high-level players who no longer paid attention to instance records. Only Yan Wei, who looked very young and carried not a trace of aggression, seemed like someone Lin Qing had brought to the 89th floor for experience.
The configuration of the three of them wasn’t particularly strange, and soon, only the sound of the pouring rain remained.
Yan Wei gazed at the tracks outside the platform, pondering the current situation and the meaning of the blood-stained carriage, when he heard Lin Qing ask softly, “What happened just now?”
“What?”
“Ding Xiao.”
“Oh,” Yan Wei’s eyes curved slightly, “Nothing much, just an old acquaintance.” He paused, then added in a low voice, “From the first time.”
Lin Qing understood and didn’t ask further.
Not long after, a few more people arrived. Just as they took their places on the platform, a distant horn sound approached, mingling with the rain, creating a cacophony.
Yan Wei’s heart tightened—it seemed everyone had arrived, the train was coming, and the instance was about to begin.
He let out a silent, cold laugh.
Upon entering this instance, the three of them immediately realized that there were no prompt sounds to guide them, and all their body index and perception had been wiped, leaving only their skills and items usable.
Walking to the platform, they already understood the reason—of course, it was to suppress Yan Mingguang and Yan Wei, who had top-tier data.
So afraid of his success?
Unfortunately, the rules of the Tower were ironclad. Even if their data was suppressed, his One-Half Immortality and Moon Wheel were still intact.
He just wondered what tricks this instance, devoid of any prompts, had up its sleeve.
Yan Wei glanced around, noticing that the others’ reactions were similar—a state of complete tension. He felt as if something sinister was lingering nearby, and even the cold wind that slipped through the gaps in his scarf and brushed his neck seemed tainted with something foul.
His back felt cold.
In the distance, a train with no visible end pulled into the platform. The train was old and filthy, its metal body covered in old, mottled bloodstains that even the pouring rain couldn’t wash away.
Finally, the train stopped in front of them.
The door of the carriage directly in front of them slowly began to open.
The door seemed to be pushed open by the wind, creaking and groaning as it gradually revealed itself, the sound of rusted metal scraping against itself. But there was no one visible behind the door.
A thunderclap echoed in the gloomy, overcast sky, momentarily illuminating the scene with a ghastly light.
In the flash of lightning, Yan Wei looked inside the carriage and saw a figure sitting there. The figure’s neck was half-broken, its head hanging limply to one side, the face pale and the eyes bulging.
The lightning passed, and the carriage returned to its previous state, the figure nowhere to be seen, the door now fully open.
Xu Miaomiao suddenly let out a cry, stumbling forward a few steps before being steadied by Ding Xiao.
Ding Xiao smiled gently, “What’s wrong?”
Xu Miaomiao frowned, “…Someone pushed me.”
But just moments ago, the only person behind her was Ding Xiao, who was now holding her.
At the same time, Yan Wei’s eyes flickered.
A cold touch brushed his chin, sliding into his neck, lightly tugging at his scarf, the rough, icy sensation like the fingers of a corpse.
“They’re urging us to board,” Lin Qing said gravely. “No prompts, no body index or perception enhancements, unseen filth… this is a death oppression instance.”
A death oppression instance, where brute force isn’t the solution, with no physical challenges, only the ever-present threat of death.
