Chapter 72.2 Crazy Love Season
Wen Shi clenched his teeth. His points were barely above five thousand, otherwise, he would have resolved the situation with a single strike.
The Old Man Ghost emerged from the Ghost Box. “Bring it down for me, or we’ll all die here.”
Wen Shi endured the almost severed tail pain, forcefully pulling the drone down a bit.
The program’s drones differed from real ones. They weren’t the kind that could be easily knocked down. As the distance shortened, the Old Man Ghost leaped, but failed to fully press down the drone. Instead, it left several scratches on its bones. The creaking sound was ten times more piercing than nails scraping over a smooth surface. Ghosts had more enduring strength than humans. He exerted force from both his humerus and radius-ulna bones, causing the propeller to bend terribly.
Two drones consecutively crashed down. By the time the host regained consciousness, he witnessed the final drone crashing directly ahead.
The propeller, tainted with blood, moved a few times before plunging into the lawn, emitting thin black smoke from the damaged fuselage.
He almost lunged forward, refusing to accept reality, shouting for the crew to come and fix it.
The crew approached, examined the situation, and shook their heads.
“The main station bought the latest model. It can’t break this easily!” The host grabbed a crew member’s collar. “Take another look, carefully.”
The crew member pursed their lips, “The flight battery and controller are damaged, and we don’t have spare parts to replace them.”
Coupled with the severely damaged body and shattered camera, there was no room for remedy.
For the first time, the host’s face lost expression. No anger. His eyes reflected hopelessness.
Just when the viewership was picking up and the program was supposed to regain momentum, everything was lost.
Without the live broadcasting equipment, the show couldn’t proceed. It could be foreseen that the station would definitely fire him. The program he poured years of effort into was ruined in an instant.
Wen Shi had been subtly implying the clear purpose of destroying the drones. The instance was called “Crazy Love Season,” which essentially meant shooting a program.
Ever since falling into the Mirage Landscape, the host, regardless of his own safety, immediately checked the cameras. This highlighted the importance of these things.
Under normal circumstances, players wouldn’t have a chance to destroy all the filming equipment right under the crew’s noses. However, after the cameras were blown up, it presented them with an unparalleled opportunity. With no trouble of cameramen following, the entire recording process was tracked by drones. Now that the show’s recording was impossible, everything became meaningless.
Wen Shi was attempting a violent destruction of the instance mechanism.
This was something players could tell, but they also understood the likelihood of success was extremely low.
How could an instance be so easily disrupted? Leaving aside other factors, there was a huge problem right in front of them.
The host lowered his head, trembling as if he were a puppet on strings. No one dared to touch his bad temper, not even the crew members, who took a couple of steps back involuntarily.
“Those who sabotage the program recording deserve to die.”
His effeminate tone was just a persona that viewers liked in romance variety shows. Stripped of the delicate pretty-boy image, he bore an aura of malevolence. His muscles, revealed beneath the burnt suit, swelled, emanating a terrifying intent to kill.
Sun Geng stepped back to Wen Shi’s side, swallowed nervously, and asked with an uncertain tone, “You must have a backup plan, right?”
If they didn’t have one, they’d probably all have met their end right here.
“I…”
Wen Shi didn’t even have time to speak. A residual image flashed past, and he instinctively rolled to the side, still a couple of seconds too late. Blood splattered as a hideous gash opened up near his collarbone. If not for the agility of his transformed body and the scarecrow protecting his vital areas, the major artery on his neck would have been punctured by now.
The scarecrow’s wing was torn apart halfway. In front of him, the host held a propeller he had snapped off, with one end still smeared with warm blood.
Everyone forgot that the host could actually move quite fast. On the night when the Earl went on a killing spree, he was the only NPC to cover ten miles. If it weren’t for Ji Yuanzhi’s hallucination skill holding him back earlier, players wouldn’t have had a chance to successfully destroy the drones.
Wen Shi’s tail was shredded by the propeller, and now his shoulder was injured too. His body was covered in mottled bloodstains. He covered his shoulder wound with one hand and actually laughed, “Treating a broken romance show as a treasure, huh?”
Players collectively retreated three meters.
It was not that they weren’t loyal. Everyone had gambled their lives together. However, a certain someone was overly brave. At a time like this, he still dared to provoke the host.
They could die, but they didn’t want to die looking pathetic.
Merely destroying the equipment couldn’t break the deadlock through brute force.
Wen Shi understood this more than anyone. Ruining the equipment was just a pivot point in overturning the chessboard.
Every instance has its basic setup. For example, in the ancient castle instance, the core revolved around the castle master searching for the most perfect bride. This bride was depicted through a painting he personally created. In essence, it was a plot where she tried to escape his pursuit, and he tried to catch her. On this foundation, the game designed various tasks.
Therefore, when Xie Tangyan appeared and the castle master had a “change of heart,” the entire instance instantly collapsed.
To uncover the foundation of an instance, you need to unearth the obsessions of key NPCs.
The obsession in ancient castle instance was to find the most beautiful bride.
Without a doubt, “Crazy Love Season” revolved around the host’s obsession with work. He was the initiator of all the dating game segments, acting as the mouthpiece for the game tasks.
His work attitude, bordering on working oneself to death, once even amazed Jian Qingrong.
Overturning the chessboard didn’t mean destroying their obsessions. That was suicidal.
What Wen Shi needed to do was to shift their obsessions. He must gently overturn the original setup, prompting NPCs to deviate from the established storyline.
“Have you heard of Frank Hospital?” he asked with a hint of certainty.
Firstly, the complete background character introductions each time felt like scenes from a soap opera. The mention of Frank Hospital every time suggested interwoven relationships between instances. Furthermore, being able to trigger a 3S instance and even having the prerequisite instances being of S-grade quality, it was evident that this place had an astonishing level of recognition. From Big Factory, it was clear that Frank Hospital had branches in many instances. The extent of their existence and the breadth of their involvement in various fields was beyond imagination.
Being a S-level instance and both involving media work, there was a good chance the host knew.
The rigid, terrified expression finally showed a slight change, signifying that Wen Shi had piqued his curiosity.
A letter was handed over. Wen Shi’s hands were covered in blood, but strangely, the aged envelope surface bore no trace of his blood.
Patien You’s “Thank You Letter.”
Issued by the system after the auction, it served as proof that he was a professional doctor from Frank Hospital.
“I come from Frank Hospital, a place with hidden secrets beyond your imagination. Even exposing a fraction of its iceberg will guarantee you and your team massive fame.” Each word from Wen Shi was articulate and calm, carrying an inexplicable allure. “Why not try investigating?”
Empty promises didn’t work. Wen Shi offered assurance, “I can provide you with first-hand information about the inner workings of Frank Hospital. Take it back to the main station. Faced with such a newsworthy topic, they won’t fire you for sure.”
His work was his lifeline, and the host’s breathing subtly tightened.
The past few seconds felt like an eternity, each passing second drawn out like a century. Finally, the host spoke again, “The top management at the main station won’t want to provoke such a formidable entity.”
“Well, they can also use this evidence to their advantage,” Wen Shi smiled, “At least you don’t have to worry about getting fired.”
The players behind were left dumbfounded. Tian Wanling asked Liu Yun, “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
Liu Yun saw through the surface to the essence, “He’s essentially turning a dating show host into a legal journalist.”
Just at that moment, Wen Shi’s voice suddenly turned cold, much more forceful than before, “Let’s say the main station doesn’t want you. I can also ask Patient You to help with connections. He has influence and power.”
Lies were best saved for last to make them seem more genuine.
Wen Shi merely added another chip to the game, tugging at the game’s facade. Whether it would work or not, he wasn’t sure.
However, he didn’t expect that it was precisely this “Thank You Letter” that made the host discard many concerns.
Patient You.
A nameless designation, in the eyes of NPCs, functioned like a universal currency symbol, automatically becoming synonymous with one person.
The host tightly pinched the edge of the envelope, “You actually know You Fushang.”
This time, Wen Shi was baffled, “You… Fushang?”
A crew member chimed in, “He’s the foreigner who bought the rights to our show.”
The host read the contents of the thank you letter, his excitement rising, “I didn’t expect that You Fushang, who had a failed venture two years ago, would now have such wealth.”
Wen Shi’s mouth twitched, feeling sorry. You Fushang might go bankrupt again this time.
Adjusting his expression, Wen Shi’s gaze flickered. “Do you know why I wanted to destroy the filming equipment?”
At the mention of filming equipment, the host’s anger surged again. Wen Shi swiftly changed the subject, “After discovering the scandals of Frank Hospital, I wrote a report.”
The host was momentarily stunned.
“Pretty foolish, isn’t it? I had a bright future ahead, and I knew the consequences of writing that letter.” Wen Shi laughed self-deprecatingly. “But I still wrote it because I love my profession. I must have professional ethics.”
The two words “professional ethics,” spoken by him, carried great weight.
Wen Shi stared fixedly at the host. “I always prioritize others before myself in my actions. Who do you think I was trying to benefit by damaging the filming equipment today?”
The host was taken aback, and he subconsciously followed his train of thought. “For… me?”
“Exactly!” Sincerity filled his cat-like eyes. “In you, I see the same unwavering commitment. No matter what, you’re willing to take responsibility for your work.”
Wen Shi produced a handkerchief as if performing a magic trick.
When the host said he’d be Wen Shi’s match, despite finding him too disgusting, they managed to hold hands successfully through a piece of cloth.
“This handkerchief is covered in powder. You’re trying hard to shape yourself into a likable image for the audience,” Wen Shi whispered softly, “And what’s the result? The bosses at the main station can send you anywhere, fire you anytime, because you didn’t become indispensable.
“… But if you go expose the scandals, you become indispensable because…”
The host instinctively continued, “Because you’ll be the only one providing me with evidence.”
Wen Shi nodded firmly.
Behind them, a group of players stood dumbfounded.
Is he a tail-swallowing snake? This is just a case of reversing logic and substituting concepts in a circular manner!
Seeing the host being brainwashed, Tian Wanling felt a sense of vindictive satisfaction. “Idiot. Pei Wenwei did it for everyone to clear the instance.”
NPC’s couldn’t hear conversations related to the instance, so she didn’t make an effort to lower her voice.
Zhou Lulu nodded. “I can’t believe Pei Wenwei was willing to reveal so much information.”
As an experienced player, she had guessed some of it. The way the others were talking about these things, it seemed related to the 3S instance. Zhou Lulu couldn’t help but sigh. “The host has regained his senses. He could have quietly shared some things with the other person in private, but he selflessly disclosed important information to us. Why would he…”
Why would he easily trust someone?
Tang Wanling forced a bitter smile. “That’s true. We can’t compare in that aspect. Even with the drones, he lifted his tail as a hint. He believed that everyone would catch on and trusted that we would all join forces.”
Even Sun Geng, a man, was moved to the point of tears.
Here he comes.
Ji Yuanzhi pushed up his glasses, a familiar scene unfolding. Everyone thought Pei Wenwei did it for their sake.
The most stunned of all was the scarecrow.
Not long after Wen Shi left the sanatorium, he obtained new contaminant samples. He used them to help himself and Big Factory’s workers improve their constitution and found the means to deal with Frank Hospital.
Every word he said before leaving was fulfilled.
For their bright future, Wen Shi played a big game!
Beneath the clear sky, the young man’s eyes held only clarity, without a trace of the cat’s cunning, as if he had always been sincere.
He returned the handkerchief to the host and gave a shallow smile. “Darling, are you willing to undergo a career transition?”
This was the only time where ‘darling’ was used without a trace of sarcasm, as if they were comrades who had fought together shoulder to shoulder for years.
Under equal circumstances, anyone else wouldn’t have been able to convince the host so quickly.
But Wen Shi could.
His saintly image in the rewind, his fearless act of opening the gift box during the dice rolling segment, and his willingness to take on the consequences of playing the villain character in the dice roll—all these accumulated incidents made it impossible to suspect any ulterior motives behind his exposure of Frank Hospital.
Otherwise, why would a promising doctor leave his hometown?
“I…” Under the encouragement in the other’s gaze, the host’s mouth moved several times.
“Stepping out of the dating show, exposing the secrets of Frank Hospital–whether successful or not, the whole world will see your report. You will be remembered in history!” Wen Shi stated firmly. “All for the sake of work.”
The word “work” was the best catalyst. The host’s gaze gradually grew resolute, almost overlooking who had destroyed his previous job.
“I’m willing.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he faintly heard a cracking sound. In his mind, some kind of restraint was crumbling. The host half crouched down, the suffocating sensation causing him to gasp for air, as if he were a dying goldfish, his chest heaving dramatically.
From railroads to bridges, and then to skyscrapers, when players looked around, every brick and tile in Mirage Landscape was reduced to countless mosaics.
Mirage Landscape was collapsing!
As a tiny speck of dust in it, they had nowhere to run, only able to watch as building after building vanished before their eyes.
Players were most concerned about the water curtain area.
However, even the water curtain was swaying violently, countless ripples making the image blurry, making it impossible to see what was happening over there.
They had witnessed many grand scenes in the game before–waterfalls flowing upward, snow-capped mountains collapsing–but this was the first time they felt this way. Every particle in the air seemed to be disintegrating, and the entire world was in the process of destruction.
With a head injury, Tian Wanling had the worst balance. She fell to the ground and, amidst the swaying, mumbled with unclear words, “Did, did it collapse?”
Everyone was trying to find something to hold onto, but everything that could be grasped was disappearing. Someone retorted, “No kidding.”
If this wasn’t a collapse, then what would qualify?
Tian Wanling’s mind was blank, muttering to herself, “How did it collapse?”
Initially, when they made the choice, everyone wanted the instance to collapse. However, now that it was really collapsing, they were all stunned.
In the midst of the ground trembling, Wen Shi spoke intermittently, “First, find the pivot point, see what crucial objects that should be easily damaged remain intact, like the cameras… Deciding to jump into the coffin was also a way to… to test if that object would break…”
“Next, find the key characters. Shaking their beliefs is too difficult, you have to go for a diversion…”
It was as if the will of the world itself was angered, with lightning and thunder flashing across the sky.
The lightning illuminated his face, and Wen Shi continued, “I can only demonstrate each instance once. Have you all… all learned it?”
The group was at a loss, how were they supposed to learn this?!
Anyone could see that by saying these things at this critical moment, he was getting back at the game for using life and death to test human nature. He was showing his dissatisfaction with the game.
As the instigator of all this madness, the one who was the craziest was now the calmest. Facing the collapsing instance that resembled a sandcastle, Wen Shi looked up at the sky and calmly spoke four words, “Release, me, right, now.”
The truth, the false, the mirage–he really couldn’t be bothered to figure it out.
And there were the life gate and death gate. But he was just standing here, waiting for the game itself to let him out.
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