1.16 An Unexpected Exploration Mission

“Alright.” Wu Chen pressed the button and asked again, “How do I return?”

“After the plot progresses for fifteen minutes, you’ll automatically exit—or rather, return.” The overweight man’s nervousness was hard to conceal. “If you start the harvest within those fifteen minutes, the profit will be maximized.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Wu Chen smiled and asked, “Is this like the survival route on the 404 Ring Expressway?”

“Not at all,” the overweight man shook his head anxiously. “This fragment is just a scene of daily married life in a mansion—no danger involved.”

“‘Emergency exit’?” Wu Chen, as a seasoned player, knew backup routes were essential.

“The elevator,” the overweight man reminded, “Pull out the card for emergency escape.”

“Got it.” Wu Chen simultaneously lit the buttons for the seventh and eighth floors.

He watched the elevator doors slowly close. The overweight man relaxed at first, then hurriedly covered his mouth. Holding his breath, he listened carefully to confirm the elevator was moving. Only then did he exhale sharply and quickly retreat.

A slight vibration underfoot signaled the elevator’s rapid descent. Wu Chen stood straight, eyes fixed ahead. Through the door gap, he glimpsed fleeting flashes of light passing through floors. The light quickened until it became a streak, suddenly rushing into his vision. Instinctively, Wu Chen raised his hand to shield his eyes.

As the white light faded, his eyes adjusted to the scene before him: a pair of plump hands pushing open an ornate door. Wu Chen tried to look up but bizarrely found his body unresponsive—not even able to blink. It seemed he had possessed the owner of those hands, hidden within his mind. That owner was evidently a character in the story and the male master of this mansion.

“This is bad.” Wu Chen finally understood the full meaning behind the overweight man’s “special method.” No wonder it couldn’t bring in the shelter’s creations—they’d be useless here.

The lights dimmed. The original owner’s breathing grew rapid. Across the luxurious double bed lay the mansion’s mistress, her beautiful form barely covered by silk sheets. Just the sight of her back quickened the master’s heartbeat, leaving him breathless. Before his burning gaze could greedily trace every inch of her flawless skin, the mistress urged, “What are you waiting for?”

“Oh, oh.” The master responded cautiously, stepping forward carefully, afraid to anger his beloved.

But what happened next caught even the voyeuristic Wu Chen off guard.

The master, experienced and practiced, began to massage his wife.

What kind of bizarre plot was this?

To borrow a player’s phrase: “I’ve already dropped my pants, and you’re showing me this?!”

What followed was the mundane routine of an old married couple. The mistress enjoyed the free massage while relentlessly scolding her incompetent husband. He replied occasionally, always cautious. Any hint of inappropriate touch was met with a sharp rebuke. Their married life was as one might expect.

Just when Wu Chen thought the scene held no more surprises, a subtle fragrance drifted in, and the master quietly held his breath.

The scent was strange.

As Wu Chen suspected, the aroma intensified. Coupled with the master’s skilled massage, the mistress gradually let down her guard and relaxed into sleep. After confirming she was indeed asleep, the master’s restless agitation became palpable, like a slave on the verge of breaking free, yearning to overturn the endless oppression imposed by his high-handed wife.

One hand hastily stripped off the bathrobe, while the other quickly calculated the mistress’s ovulation period.

Ridiculous, pitiful, and tragic. Wu Chen pieced together the plot: to hold onto his wife’s heart and maintain a marriage that was long dead, the master planned to secretly impregnate her during the massage. Observing coldly as the master prepared swiftly, fumbled nervously, and scrambled to remedy mistakes without order, Wu Chen guessed this was his first attempt in a long time.

Struggling, he finally got everything ready—only the crucial moment remained.

The master’s trembling hands slowly lifted the thin, silk sheet that wrapped the divine gift of the Creator.

Wu Chen was fortunate to feast his eyes.

Yet the devil always hid in the details.

Just as the spring light was about to be revealed, the master suddenly froze.

On the inside of the mistress’s thigh, near the crease, was a row of vivid red finger marks.

In despair, the master lifted the sheet higher. The other thigh bore similar marks.

As the man trembled, tracing the unmistakable marks with his short, coarse fingers—not his own—Wu Chen quickly visualized the position. It was obvious: not long ago, another man had faced the mistress’s perfect body face-to-face, holding her like a koala. Although she bathed promptly, believing it would cover all traces, she’d overlooked the back where wild pleasures had been left unchecked.

Anger, silent as a volcano, surged within the master’s chest.

He struggled to rise. Even when his vigorous movement caused him to fall off the bed, he no longer cared. Clawing himself up, he grabbed the designer perfume pouch the mistress carried when she went out and tore it open. Inside lay a VIP room card from a five-star hotel—prominently displayed without concealment.

“Wretched woman, wretched woman!” The man’s fury was boundless. Even Wu Chen, hidden in his mind, felt his consciousness twist with rage.

From ancient times, illicit affairs have led to death.

When Wu Chen regained his vantage, a double-barreled shotgun was aimed at the back of the mistress’s head, brimming with hatred.

If the steady hands holding the gun gently squeezed the trigger, the sleeping mistress’s brain would explode, her beauty extinguished.

Wu Chen noticed that the master showed no panic at all.

Greatest sorrow is when the heart is dead.

As a lord-level veteran player, Wu Chen knew this moment was the long-awaited “critical node” where the storyline’s direction could be influenced—the so-called “keyframe” in sci-fi gaming terms.

Originating from computer animation, it denotes a frame marking a pivotal movement of a character or object. Between two keyframes lie the “in-between frames” or “transition frames.” In the story world, this means after a key node is set (a save point), the plot evolves on its own, extending into the subsequent main storyline.

The opportunity was fleeting. Wu Chen had to decide immediately: intervene or not, and how.

Just as the trigger was about to be pulled, Wu Chen acted.

The Omega (Ω) brainwave, dormant since returning to the shelter, was suddenly activated like a psychic shockwave, striking the master’s brain and forcibly wresting control of the body.

“Boom!” The gun barrel tilted, and a crystal chandelier shattered in response.

“Ah! Who—who is it?” The master dropped the gun, clutching his head as he writhed on the floor.

His shot missed, and Wu Chen’s presence was exposed.

Like a split personality fighting for control, a sudden mental storm erupted fiercely within the master’s mind.

Through their shared perspective, the mansion shook violently; cracks spread; the house fell apart, teetering on collapse. The master, peering through the fissures, saw the entire world seemingly fracturing.

“Get out! Get out!” he screamed, face twisted in rage, pounding his head in a desperate bid to expel Wu Chen from his mind.

Each blow inevitably harmed Wu Chen. Without control of the body, how could he escape to the elevator?

On the verge of perishing alongside this wretched couple, the master suddenly stiffened.

The cold muzzle of the shotgun angled diagonally at his chest from the bed.

That shot awakened the mansion’s mistress.

“Bai, Bai Yu…” the master raised his hands trembling, his whole body shaking. “One day as husband and wife is a hundred days of grace. Let’s talk this through…”

Bang—