Chapter 108
It was close to dawn.
If the whistle didn’t sound now, it would mean the fifth day had begun.
Everyone’s nerves were taut, knowing they were about to face it again.
Even Xi Jiangyuan was awake, no longer resting. His face looked calmer, better than before—almost unnervingly serene.
“When the whistle sounds, whoever it targets—protect yourselves.” He warned. “I may not be able to help much, but you must fight to survive. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“Captain, we’ll do our best.”
“Yeah, we escaped once, we can do it again.”
***
Xi Jiangyuan smiled faintly, saying no more.
Everyone strained against their fear, pretending calm, using chatter and little distractions to cope.
Lu Chuan, meanwhile, pulled out his wallet and began counting his money.
Roughly three thousand in cash, plus a few gold ingots.
“…Lu Chuan, didn’t I give you tens of thousands just days ago?” Xi Jiangyuan’s smile nearly cracked.
There hadn’t even been chances to spend money lately.
“The gold price was low today. I passed the bank and saw them selling pure gold ingots, so I bought some.” Lu Chuan grinned, tapping two ingots together.
“Listen, Captain. Doesn’t that sound great?”
Xi Jiangyuan’s head throbbed.
“Lu Chuan’s always like this, Captain, don’t mind him.” Shen Li tried to save face for him.
“Yeah, Brother Lu just values material things.” Starry Shasha nodded.
“Ahem, Brother Lu isn’t always like this,” Edith lied through her teeth.
“Heh. Money-grubber.” Lilus scoffed.
Thankfully, before the scene dragged further, the sharp sound of a whistle pierced the air.
Perfect timing—saved their skins.
Everyone was almost completely still.
“Huh? Am I the one it chose?” Edith froze for a second, spotting the arms coiling around her body, her tone laced with a hint of excitement.
They had been guessing all along about who the lucky one would be — the one chosen by the arms today. Edith had never thought it would be her.
After all, Lu Chuan, Messiah, and Li Lu were weaker in combat; the odds of the arms choosing one of those three were much higher.
Maybe those arms didn’t have any brains at all.
Relying on her physical strength, Edith forcibly tore off the arms wrapped around her.
One after another, the arms were ripped away, oozing a white liquid that looked horrifying.
“What on earth are these things?” Edith shivered involuntarily.
Before the new arms could regroup, Edith darted off, pulling a rope from her bag and tossing it up toward the warehouse’s overhead steel beams.
She gave the rope a tug to make sure it was secure, then grabbed it with her other hand and kicked forward with all her strength, swinging herself through the air in two graceful arcs.
Lilus had said before: those arms grew out of the ground.
In other words, they needed a spot in the earth to sprout from, so they could drag prey beneath.
But what if someone was up in the air, where there was no soil at all?
They had discussed this before and agreed that using this method might be their best chance of escape.
Now Edith dangled from the rope in midair. All around her was open space — no room for arms to grow. Even though some arms sprouted from the steel beam above, their length was limited, and they couldn’t reach her as she swung below.
This was much faster than Lilus burning himself.
Thank goodness for Lil’s bravery — he’d given them plenty of valuable information.
Edith reminded herself that she was a girl; it wouldn’t do to end up roasted like Lil had. That would be far too ugly.
Thinking this, she glanced guiltily in Lilus’s direction.
She wished she hadn’t looked — because as soon as she did, she noticed something off.
Xi Jiangyuan had just slowly blinked.
He could move?!
For a moment, a wave of terror swept over Edith.
But she bit her tongue, and the pain snapped her back to calm.
Stay calm, Edith. They’d already guessed Xi Jiangyuan might be able to act — and perhaps the goal of this entire dungeon was him, not anyone else.
It was perfectly normal for him to be able to move.
She looked at him again. This time, he didn’t move.
Had she imagined it?
No. She couldn’t let this clue slip away so easily.
It was about to be the fifth day; half the time was already gone.
Edith glanced at the arms sprouting from the steel beams, gritted her teeth, and made a decision.
She pretended to lose strength and released the rope, but, using her incredible balance, she adjusted her posture so she wouldn’t fall straight down. Instead, she dropped toward Xi Jiangyuan.
“Ah, no!” she shouted, feigning panic.
She plummeted, seemingly about to hit the ground — landing right in front of Xi Jiangyuan.
She stopped just a foot above the floor.
Edith shut her eyes, bracing for the pain — but it never came. Instead, Xi Jiangyuan caught her with one hand, steadying her before setting her down.
White arms immediately lunged toward her.
Edith deftly broke free and leapt back, eyes wary as she watched Xi Jiangyuan.
“Captain, you’re still conscious.” Edith pulled out another rope, swinging back into the air to avoid the arms’ attack.
She hadn’t been mistaken.
That meant while everyone else was being attacked, Xi Jiangyuan was free to act; he had only been pretending to be immobile.
After realizing Xi Jiangyuan could move, Edith had deliberately fallen, just to observe him up close.
“That was dangerous,” Xi Jiangyuan said slowly, looking at her. “If I hadn’t caught you just now, you really would have been hurt.”
“That’s a price I was willing to pay,” Edith replied cautiously. “You’ve been able to move all along, haven’t you?”
“If I told you I didn’t know I could move right then, would you believe me?” Xi Jiangyuan’s voice was calm. “I thought if I pretended to be still, you wouldn’t notice. Unfortunately, my luck isn’t great.”
Just one blink, and Edith had caught it.
If he’d known, he might as well have pretended to be asleep — perhaps that would have worked better.
The whistle kept blowing.
But the arms around them showed no interest in attacking Xi Jiangyuan.
“Are you controlling these arms?” Edith asked, drawing a knife and holding it in front of her.
“Of course not.” Xi Jiangyuan shook his head. “All I can do is stand here clear-headed. The rest isn’t under my control. Edith, how about we make a deal? Pretend you never saw me move — that you don’t know I can act. If you let me enter your dream and erase this memory, everything will stay simple.”
“Are you kidding?” Edith thought Xi Jiangyuan was most likely the mastermind. How could she negotiate with him?
If Xi Jiangyuan entered her dreams, he might learn the others’ secrets.
Or worse, if she agreed, she might fall under his control and end up turning on Lu Chuan and the rest.
Edith couldn’t take that risk.
“Edith, I really like you. You’re all my teammates. Even if you don’t want to stay with me, I don’t mind — as long as you stay here with me, I’ll be happy.” Xi Jiangyuan paused, then added, “You’re not like the others. You’re strong enough to keep me company, even when I don’t know what’s going on. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”
He lifted his head, looking at Edith, and said softly, “Get some rest. When the whistle stops, I’ll let you out.”
Edith met his gaze — and her mind went blank for an instant.
By the time she realized, she was standing right in front of Xi Jiangyuan.
Her eyes widened, as if she wanted to break free.
“I don’t like having dreams broken,” Xi Jiangyuan murmured, gently covering her eyes. “Let me keep dreaming.”
“No, Lu Chuan and the others already suspect you. They’ll clear this level safely — they won’t stay here…” Edith struggled weakly.
“They’ll forget, little by little,” Xi Jiangyuan said lightly. “The ones who can erase memories aren’t limited to the dungeon.”
He would not make the same mistake again.
The whistle stopped.
Lu Chuan and the others woke up.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
Eight people.
“Looks like we made it,” Li Lu said excitedly. “We really cleared it! Lilus was right — we can survive the whistle.”
Something was off.
Lu Chuan shook his head and hurriedly opened his phone.
But in the group chat, there were only these people.
One was missing.
Someone was missing!
But who was it?
Lu Chuan realized his memory had changed.
He knew one teammate was missing, yet he couldn’t picture their face.
“Shen Li, do you remember who’s missing?” Lu Chuan asked quickly.
“Huh?” Shen Li looked around, confused. “No one’s missing, Lu Chuan. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
“Yeah, there are nine beds, but one disappeared earlier, so there are eight left. That’s right.”
“And the wall shows info for eight people.”
“My phone has records of eight, too. Nothing’s off.”
No, I’m not wrong, Lu Chuan thought.
He’d worried his memory might falter, so he’d divided his money into shares matching the team’s headcount.
That way, he could use it as a clue.
Now, he had nine gold ingots — but only eight people were here.
And all records of their numbers had been erased, except for this fact everyone knew subconsciously.
Only the nine ingots had survived, untouched — because they weren’t text, weren’t information, weren’t a memory carrier. They’d slipped through.
They were the single flaw in this seemingly perfect scene.
“If no one’s missing, then who was attacked last night?” Lu Chuan pressed.
“Me,” Xi Jiangyuan stepped forward. “I was attacked yesterday. I used a rope to hang in the air so the arms couldn’t grow to reach me — that’s how I survived.”
He even demonstrated for them, looking serious.
“You can all use this method to escape in the future.”
Lu Chuan studied him, then slowly relaxed.
“So that’s it. I was overthinking.” He smiled at Xi Jiangyuan. “Captain, I’m glad you’re all right.”
“It’s too soon to say. Leaving this dungeon safely together — that’s what matters.” Xi Jiangyuan smiled faintly, with a hint of longing. “I really want to escape this town with everyone. That will be the best thing.”
“You’re right, Captain.”
“We’ll definitely make it.”
Lu Chuan and the others humored Xi Jiangyuan with a few words of praise. Once everyone felt nothing seemed out of place, they each went off to bed.
But there was definitely something wrong.
Lying in bed, Lu Chuan slowly closed his eyes, mind racing.
Once again, their memories had been tampered with—and this time, the erasure was far stronger than before. That was abnormal.
Even if the dungeon wanted to increase difficulty, it shouldn’t have been such a sudden leap. It should have progressed gradually.
He tossed and turned all night, plagued by nightmares. He woke several times, and only when clutching his gold ingots did he manage to fall into a somewhat peaceful sleep.
The next morning, everyone looked refreshed—especially Xi Jiangyuan, who seemed even more cheerful.
“Half the time has already passed,” Xi Jiangyuan said earnestly. “These next two days, everyone should rest a little. We don’t need to go outside for now. Focus on training instead, and prepare to survive the upcoming whistle rounds.”
To heighten their sense of urgency, he made them practice their abilities, even pairing them off for sparring matches to avoid going rusty.
The suggestions were perfectly reasonable. Lu Chuan could hardly refuse. And if even he couldn’t say no, the others certainly wouldn’t.
Night of Day 5.
The whistle chose Messiah.
According to him, the attacking arms were far stronger and faster this time—he almost got caught. At the last moment, he remembered his ability, [Safehouse], and hid inside it until the whistle ended.
When he finally emerged, he was drenched in relief, “I was scared half to death. I thought I wasn’t coming back this time.”
“You survived by using your ability—that’s your own strength, Messiah,” Xi Jiangyuan praised, clapping his shoulder hard. “You did great.”
Messiah ducked his head, embarrassed. “No, no, Captain, you’re flattering me.”
Lu Chuan counted. He still had nine gold ingots. But only seven people stood in the room.
If Messiah had survived, then who had disappeared?
Later, Lilus and Lu Chuan pulled Messiah aside.
“Didn’t we say not to use our abilities if possible?” Lilus said helplessly. “We don’t know what might happen if we do.”
“Why can’t I use my own ability?” Messiah looked shocked. “And you—you’ve got an ability too. Why do you insist on burning yourself instead? That’s gotta hurt!”
Lu Chuan and Lilus froze.
“Anyway, the Captain’s watching. Let’s get back to training before he worries.” Messiah waved and jogged off to Xi Jiangyuan.
Lilus and Lu Chuan exchanged an incredulous look. They could both feel something had changed—but they couldn’t say it aloud here. All they could do was hint at each other.
Xi Jiangyuan quietly observed, making no move. Why rush?
Night of Day 6.
This time, the whistle chose Shen Li.
He too survived—by using an ability that wasn’t his own.
The gold ingots still numbered nine, but only six people remained. Another one gone.
“Shen Li, didn’t we agree not to use abilities?” Lu Chuan was so anxious he was practically fuming. But before he could say more, Xi Jiangyuan stepped forward to explain.
“Alright, Lu Chuan, I know you mean well. But staying alive comes first. If using an ability saves you, then you use it.” He smiled. “You just worry too much.”
But as Messiah and Shen Li continued to use “their” abilities, their strange changes suddenly halted.
No—that wasn’t quite it.
Rather, once they accepted their roles as Xi Jiangyuan’s teammates and used these abilities that didn’t truly belong to them, their memories bent to match.
All of it happened in broad daylight.
The sun was bright and warm, yet Lu Chuan felt plunged into an icy pit.
The most terrifying part? Someone had even dragged Xi Jiangyuan into their group chat.
“We can’t exclude the Captain.”
“It feels wrong to leave him out.”
“He’s only doing this for our sake.”
Messiah touched his face curiously. “I’ve always looked like this. Lu Chuan, what nonsense are you spouting?”
“We’ve always been six people,” Shen Li said, bewildered. “Just three more whistles and we’re out. Don’t overthink it, Lu Chuan.”
Lu Chuan glanced around the room.
Xi Jiangyuan. Shen Li. Messiah. Vivian. Starry Shasha. And himself.
His memory was slipping.
But the gold ingots—still nine.
The people, fewer and fewer.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
Lu Chuan touched the ingots in his pocket. He had made up his mind.
Night of Day 7.
The whistle blew.
This time, its target was him.
Lu Chuan drew in a deep breath. He’d been waiting for this moment.
If it had never chosen him, he wouldn’t have dared act—not with half the team already standing firmly by Xi Jiangyuan’s side.
Yes, by now he was certain Xi Jiangyuan had done something. They had all agreed: Xi Jiangyuan was the target. But in just two or three days, everyone had flipped.
Impossible.
The dungeon’s memory edits had always worked the same way: when someone disappeared, everyone forgot them.
But now, they not only forgot the missing—they were even changing loyalties and emotions.
If Xi Jiangyuan wasn’t behind it, Lu Chuan swore he’d let him use his head for a soccer ball.
At least now, the whistle had chosen him.
When the pale arms surged toward him, he didn’t resist. Instead, he sprinted straight for Xi Jiangyuan. If he was going down, he’d drag him along.
But no—the arms seemed able to attack only one person. Even pressed right against Xi Jiangyuan, they wrapped around Lu Chuan alone.
So the boss bullied the weak and feared the strong?
Lu Chuan nearly choked on his own fury.
Fighting them off wasn’t difficult. But what good would that do?
The real threat wasn’t the arms anymore.
Xi Jiangyuan still sat there, perfectly calm, pretending to be as frozen as the others.
Lu Chuan looked at his teammates, then back at Xi Jiangyuan, and sighed. Time to gamble.
“Captain, can you really watch me die?” He stopped resisting.
The white arms coiled around him, dragging him under. His legs sank into the ground, only his upper body left above.
“Captain, do you know why I never trusted my memories? Because I left myself a hidden marker. Even if you altered the rest, I could still keep track.”
Nothing was more reliable for counting heads than money. And Xi Jiangyuan didn’t understand that loophole, so he couldn’t erase it.
Now only his head remained above the soil, the pressure of suffocation closing in.
“Captain… did you just stand there too, when the others were taken? Even your old teammates?”
“Since when did you get your memories back?” Lu Chuan rasped, voice breaking. “You’ve been pretending even better than me.”
The dirt reached his mouth, choking him. Pain flooded his lungs.
Damn it.
Did Xi Jiangyuan really have such iron will?
If he still refused to act, Lu Chuan would be forced to use his trump card.
But just as he reached for his backup plan, the suffocating grip vanished.
He was yanked up in one swift motion, coughing violently, face and hair caked with dirt.
“Cough—cough—hah… Captain, can’t keep up the act anymore?” Lu Chuan wheezed, half-laughing, half-choking.
Xi Jiangyuan glared at him darkly, “You’re not afraid of death? If I hadn’t intervened, you really would have been dragged under. You’d never come back.” His hands shook with fury, itching to strike him.
“No risk, no reward.” Lu Chuan lay sprawled on the floor, grinning. “Messiah, Shen Li—they both had their memories warped, but they didn’t die. Not one of them died. You think I didn’t see that? You think I didn’t guess they were testing you too?”
They hadn’t died. So why would he?
