Chapter 104
Inside the warehouse.
Lilus and Li Lu heard the whistle, their bodies frozen.
Especially Li Lu—her body was even stiffer, no matter how much Lilus shouted, it was useless.
Then Lilus noticed—the arms weren’t going after Li Lu, but were binding him instead.
Huh, he could move?
He had been dazed just now, but once those white arms wrapped him up completely, he suddenly regained clarity.
Could it be that only when these arms treat you as their prey can you wake up?
That thought flashed across his mind instantly.
When the whistle blew, those arms appeared. They bypassed Xi Jiangyuan and the others who had entered the dream, and came straight for him.
Was it because they could only target one player at a time?
And when that happened, only the targeted player regained awareness, while everyone else was “overlooked”?
If that was the case, it explained why on the first day they all forgot about the eleventh teammate—as if that person never existed. But that vanished teammate had still been able to scratch the word “hand” on the inn room wall.
That person had resisted too, but failed. The others couldn’t hear or remember it at all.
Wasn’t that exactly like his situation now?
Within seconds, Lilus had pieced all the clues together.
Don’t panic—stay calm.
Dungeons never put players into completely hopeless situations. There had to be a way out.
He tore at the arms binding him, trying to rip them off, but they were endless—every time he pulled some away, new ones wrapped around him even tighter, like being crushed by a giant python. Anyone else would suffocate under that pressure.
This wasn’t a scripted death. He still had a chance.
He stopped calling Li Lu.
He understood now that she was under dungeon restrictions. Shouting for her was pointless, and would only put him in more danger.
At least the arms knew who was the real target. Between him and Li Lu, clearly he was the one worth grabbing.
Even now, Lilus found the energy to make the comparison and give himself some bitter comfort.
If this were really a forced death event, the system wouldn’t have let him regain his senses, nor given him freedom of movement. The fact that he could think and act meant the system was telling him: Find a way, and you can survive.
The key was the whistle!
The arms appeared when it sounded. Everything else froze.
So—if he could hold out until the whistle stopped, the arms would disappear, and he wouldn’t end up like those teammates who vanished.
Even the slimmest chance was worth fighting for. He wasn’t going to sit and wait to die.
Without hesitation, he pulled oil from his inventory and set himself on fire.
If physical attacks couldn’t hurt these things, then try something else.
These weren’t normal creatures—fire should work!
With his wealth of dungeon experience, Lilus reacted instantly—thought, decided, and acted.
Flames engulfed him.
The searing pain was unbearable, but he clenched his teeth and charged toward the warehouse exit.
He couldn’t stay here—Xi Jiangyuan and the others were inside. What if the arms stopped attacking him and went for them instead?
The fire was so fierce it blurred his vision.
But it slowed the arms.
And because he kept running, it was hard for them to drag him underground.
His eyes burned, nearly blind. His body screamed in agony beyond human limits.
Yet he refused to stop. He didn’t even think of extinguishing the fire. He could still feel the arms clinging—if he put it out, they’d drag him straight to death.
The whistle grew weaker.
As the arms’ grip loosened, he dropped and rolled, dampening the flames, then leapt up to run again.
Each time the fire threatened to flare too high, he’d roll to reduce it, then keep sprinting.
Again and again.
Until every last arm fell away.
The whistle stopped.
Shouts erupted around him.
“Someone’s on fire!”
“Call 119!”
“No, this is 120!”
“Ahhhh! He’s still moving!”
***
The noise was chaotic.
His ears were scorched, barely working.
His whole body was like charred coal. If not for a player’s enhanced physique, he’d already be pronounced dead on arrival.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled a healing item from his inventory and used it.
If he could hold on until it took effect, he’d recover.
That meant he’d survived—and later, he could share how he’d done it.
Heh, so what if the others went into the dream? The intel he gained might be more valuable than theirs.
That was his last hazy thought—though he couldn’t help but worry a little.
He escaped death. But what about Lu Chuan and the rest?
Would they make it through?
*
Inside the dream.
Lu Chuan heard the voice again.
This time, clearer than before.
Something was calling him host?
[Host, you can hear me now! I’m #888!] #888’s voice trembled with relief, on the verge of tears.
It had been so hard—shouting itself hoarse, unable to wake him.
Only because he entered the dream, with some of the outside force cut off, could he finally hear. Yet he still didn’t remember who it was.
Not his fault. #888 blamed itself for being too weak, too slow to level up, unable to keep pace with his dungeon runs. Otherwise, how could the host have forgotten it?
“You can hear me?” Lu Chuan quickly realized, instinctively replying in his mind. “What are you—a servant of a god? The boss of this dungeon?”
[Neither! I’m your system, host!] #888 rushed to explain. [You entered this dungeon and forgot who you are. I can’t tell you directly—if the Main God System notices, it’ll erase me. But think carefully—do you really believe what you’re experiencing now is real?]
It was desperate. It wanted to tell him everything, but the restraints silenced it. All it could do was hint.
“Of course I know this isn’t real. You’re just a voice conjured by the dream.” Lu Chuan wasn’t about to trust some random voice in his head.
Right now, what mattered was surviving the crisis.
He ignored #888 and focused on using his “Touch of Gold” to fight the arms.
As long as the whistle stopped, they’d be safe. Then they could escape the dream.
[Please, host, I’m begging you! Once you leave the dream, you’ll be trapped inside someone else’s shell again, and you won’t hear me anymore!] #888 was frantic.
The host was never one to trust easily. It had taken months of working together for him to start considering its advice seriously. Now all that hard-won trust was gone.
#888 could only watch helplessly as Lu Chuan fought the arms.
Meanwhile, Xi Jiangyuan and the others were locked in battle too.
Time in the dream dragged on endlessly.
The whistle still hadn’t stopped.
Through a mirror-like surface, they saw the arms invade the town outside, dragging people underground one after another.
They heard countless screams.
Some cried for their parents. Some begged for help.
Others, unaware, were pulled under in their sleep.
And their friends and relatives — even if they were standing right in front of them — had no idea what their companions were going through.
Of course, the mirror also reflected what was happening inside the warehouse.
But at the moment, Lu Chuan and the others had no time to pay attention to that. They could only trust that Lilus would manage to escape, because they themselves still had to fend off the attacks of those arms.
Xi Jiangyuan found the whole situation absurd.
He had thought they might escape by entering the dream, only to have the arms invade along with them; and in the real warehouse, Lilus was being attacked as well.
Maybe, by the time they left this dream, only eight of them would be left.
And then they would forget everything again.
Xi Jiangyuan clutched his head, his mental state heavily affecting the dream.
“Captain, don’t lose heart. Lilus is strong,” Lu Chuan said while fighting, sparing a bit of focus to speak to Xi Jiangyuan.
The entire dream was being held together by the captain; it was also Xi Jiangyuan who filtered out the terrifying power so they could resist.
If he couldn’t hold on, they would have to face all those arms directly — and that would be real trouble.
Xi Jiangyuan was startled awake by Lu Chuan’s voice.
He looked toward the mirror and saw Lilus unhesitatingly set himself alight, with no intention of surrendering.
Likewise, in the dream, Xi Jiangyuan saw that none of his teammates were giving up. Instead, they were gradually turning the tide, slowly climbing back from their earlier disadvantage.
The abilities they were using now were different from their original powers, yet their fighting strength was not a bit weaker — even stronger than many top players Xi Jiangyuan remembered.
Were these truly his teammates? Or was he just having a nightmare?
Xi Jiangyuan stared at them blankly. No matter how many doubts he had, he didn’t stop sustaining the dream.
They were his teammates. They had to be. Absolutely.
If they weren’t, then why would they call him “Captain”?
The whistle wasn’t endless.
No one knew how much time had passed when Lu Chuan, using “Touch of Gold,” had turned who knows how many arms into solid gold. From a distance, the once-white ground was becoming dazzlingly golden.
The arm in the sky slowly retracted, and fewer and fewer arms remained on the ground.
The whistle stopped.
All the arms disappeared.
“Captain, we’re all still alive.” Lu Chuan waved to Xi Jiangyuan. “Relax — we’re not that fragile.”
Xi Jiangyuan froze, then after a moment finally reacted. When he fully understood what had happened, a faint smile appeared on his face, as though praising Lu Chuan and the others for their good work.
[Host, this dream is about to shatter,] #888 hurriedly reminded him. [You need to think carefully — who are you, really?]
Lu Chuan ignored the voice.
What was going on? The arms were gone, but that voice hadn’t vanished.
Before any of them could respond, they heard a loud cracking sound.
The dream could no longer hold.
[Host, you’ve got tens of billions stored with me! You really don’t remember?] #888, sensing its link with Lu Chuan about to break, spoke in desperation.
[Think fast! I’m still holding a few tons of your gold!]
It was grasping at straws, hoping the host would remember. It didn’t matter if it was forgotten, but those funds absolutely could not be.
That was all it could try.
#888’s voice cut off completely.
Lu Chuan stood there, stunned by those last words.
He didn’t know if it was the “tens of billions” that shocked him, or the thought that, in this world, gold could still be measured in tons.
A few tons of gold — was that really so valuable?
Could it be that he had forgotten something important?
If he had truly forgotten so much money, he’d never forgive himself, even in death.
But before Lu Chuan could snap out of it, the entire dream dissolved.
Xi Jiangyuan couldn’t hold on any longer.
Everyone was ejected from the dream.
A moment later, Xi Jiangyuan, Lu Chuan, and the others awoke in the warehouse.
They all opened their eyes at the same time.
Nearby, Li Lu also seemed to wake up. Seeing them, she hurried over. “Captain, you’re awake! Are you all right?”
“Where’s Lilus?” Lu Chuan asked at once.
“Huh?” Li Lu looked puzzled. “He was just here. Strange, where did he go?”
“Could it be…” Vivian’s face tightened, realizing something bad.
“No,” Lu Chuan said firmly. “We still remember him — he’s fine.”
“In the dream, I saw Lilus set himself on fire. He should be okay,” Xi Jiangyuan added.
“Fire?”
Lu Chuan and the others were confused. None of them had noticed what happened in the mirror — who would have been calm enough to watch it under those circumstances?
“I’m right here. You didn’t think I was dead, did you?”
Lilus walked in wearing brand-new clothes, a hat on his head and sunglasses over his eyes, wrapping himself up tightly.
Everyone was startled by his getup.
Had they really just slept, not hibernated for a year?
What kind of fashion was this?
Messiah stared at Lilus for a while, then recalled what Xi Jiangyuan had said earlier. Understanding dawned.
“I get it! Lil, did you burn off all your body hair? Even if healing tools can fix injuries, the hair has to grow back slowly.”
Lilus gritted his teeth.
This guy — never clever when he should be, and impossibly sharp when he shouldn’t!
