Chapter 39

Why is Wu Wang so curious about the difficulty of Nightmare-level dungeons?

Bailing Dao had been pondering this question.

Since that late-night separation from the Undead.

The other party occasionally asked him basic questions in their friend chat box.

It was clear he was truly a new player.

Yet he never asked about any dungeon below Nightmare level, as if he didn’t care about any other tier.

Could it be that his next dungeon notification has already arrived—and it’s Nightmare level?!

Bailing Dao was startled by this absurd speculation.

Matching a new player with a Nightmare-level dungeon.

Has the [Spirit Catastrophe Game] really gone this insane?

Wait… there actually was one recent case of a new player entering a Nightmare-level dungeon.

Bailing Dao suddenly remembered.

The latest new-player dungeon live stream, just concluded.

Even today, the Spirit Incident Bureau still has numerous technicians trying to analyze what that Nightmare-level new-player dungeon truly meant.

The current conclusion is—

The probability of a new player clearing a Nightmare-level dungeon remains 0%, likely a system bug.

Even though the live-streamed dungeon appeared cleared, technicians still noticed the moment the final clearer was purged by the game.

That means the player didn’t truly clear it—his grave probably already has two-zhang-tall grass.

If not for that—

Bailing Dao had initially thought the Undead was that incredible new player who secured the final beta access.

Unfortunately, that person is already dead.

“Sigh… Headquarters recently ordered us to assist in investigating dungeon pollution, saying it’s reached the point where the Director himself had to show up—no time at all for my new-recruitment applications,” Bailing Dao sighed bitterly.

A colleague at the adjacent desk heard this.

Couldn’t help teasing: “Brother Bailing, is this new player you keep talking about really that amazing? Or are you just making up excuses because you didn’t get any benefits from the real-world Dingxiangfuben , afraid we’ll laugh at you?”

Since that night Bailing Dao returned from the dungeon, he’d been boasting nonstop about a new player with incredible potential.

But he was boasting so wildly.

Almost no one believed him.

A Level-One new player tricked four veteran players loaded with gear, plus a dungeon boss rivaling Nightmare level, into chasing him in circles.

Even Qinglong Director at Level One wasn’t this powerful! He’s blowing way too hard!

But Bailing Dao really did submit an official request for Special Recruitment resources that day.

Unfortunately, it was rejected.

Because the Bureau’s resources are currently being funneled into combating dungeon pollution.

Polluted dungeon difficulty spikes linearly, and participants often suffer permanent mental damage—what’s called San value dropping to zero.

Simple dungeons get damaged and written off immediately when polluted; Medium dungeons instantly become as hard as Difficult dungeons; Difficult dungeons become Nightmare level outright.

This has caused recent personnel losses in the Spirit Incident Bureau to skyrocket.

“If the new player you mentioned really entered a Nightmare-level dungeon, you don’t need to keep watching him—just check the news. See where someone in Mingyang City dropped dead suddenly—that’s probably him.”

A voice suddenly came from behind.

Bailing Dao spun around sharply.

It was his direct superior—the highest-ranking official of the Mingyang Branch of the Spirit Incident Bureau.

This assessment dimmed his gaze considerably.

Indeed, if Wu Wang truly entered a Nightmare-level dungeon—

Then prepare to collect his corpse.

“Focus your attention on the polluted dungeon missions first,” the superior said.

Ever since attending the headquarters meeting three days ago and meeting Qinglong Director, he’d become obsessively concerned with polluted dungeons.

At that moment, another strange thought surfaced in Bailing Dao’s mind.

He asked involuntarily: “If a Nightmare-level dungeon becomes polluted… what would happen?”

The superior: “…”

The entire office fell silent for a long time.

Finally, the superior sighed: “The consequence is you’ll only be able to kneel on the ground, burn incense, and pray your death isn’t too grotesque.”

Polluted Nightmare-level dungeon.

Do you even hear what you’re saying?!

Are you insane, or am I?

Nightmare-level dungeons already have a clearance rate under 1%.

Add pollution to that—

The clearance rate drops to effectively 0%!

Whoever encounters it dies!

————

“Hehehe, Grandpa Village Chief, am I gonna die?”

Wu Wang grinned foolishly at the old village chief.

All eyes in the square were now fixed on him.

More precisely, on the wooden plaque missing part of its graffiti.

Time rewound to before the banquet began.

As in past Yin-Yuan Grand Sacrifices, the old village chief invited every villager forward to sense the plaque’s aura.

As each villager stared into the painted eye on the plaque, their souls were purified.

Bathed in that great aura, they begged Yin-Yuan Great God for favorable winds and rains.

Until a certain little madman stepped forward.

Wu Wang looked over.

The red vertical pupil on his wrist opened and blinked in sync.

Just three seconds.

One-fifth of the intricate vertical pupil on the plaque vanished.

The old village chief panicked, yanked Wu Wang aside, and ordered someone to cover the plaque with black cloth.

Whose unlucky kid is this?

What did he do?

“Who’s your family?”

Li Shen hurried forward: “Chief, he’s Zhang San the Mad—tomorrow he’s to be sacrificed to Yin-Yuan Great God.”

The old village chief’s eyes flashed sharply.

He nodded silently: “So it’s him… Step forward, let Grandpa take a look.”

Wu Wang lowered his head and walked slowly forward.

He could almost smell the stench of rotting flesh emanating from the old village chief.

Beneath that thick cotton coat hid a revolting skeleton demon.

He didn’t know how the man had sewn the human skin together.

From the outside, there was no visible flaw.

“Come, let Grandpa Village Chief see your eyes,” the old village chief whispered, his voice like a demon’s murmur from hell—making Wu Wang momentarily dazed.

Instinctively, Wu Wang stepped toward him.

Who knew this skeleton demon could bewitch minds!

But the daze lasted only an instant.

The mind-controlling curse was swallowed whole by the red vertical pupil.

The Deep God Mark acted like a Gu king.

Whenever Wu Wang suffered other similar curses or pollution, it would leap out and devour them.

As if declaring its sovereignty.

This thing—only I can pollute!

This guy! Only I can corrupt him!

The moment Wu Wang reached the old village chief’s side,

A bone spike pierced through the old man’s cotton coat with brutal force.

It drove straight through his heart, from front to back.

Under the old man’s incredulous gaze, Wu Wang leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Grandpa Village Chief, you dropped something. Now I’m returning it to you.”

“Shhh~ Don’t make a sound. You don’t want the villagers to know you’re a demon, do you?”

By day, I’m meek.

By night, I’m the center of attention!

At night, I am the center of attention!

If you’ve got the guts, show your ghostly form right here in front of everyone!

See if this Yin Union Grand Ritual can even continue!

Wu Wang smiled, gripping the bone spike in his hand, blocking the villagers’ view of it with his body.

He twisted and twisted again, turned and turned again.

The old village chief’s face had twisted into a grotesque, unrecognizable mask.

For some reason.

It truly couldn’t reveal itself.

It could only suffer the humiliation in silence!

“Don’t worry, bro never holds a grudge overnight.”

“If I’ve got a grudge, I settle it the same day!”