Entering

As a horror movie enthusiast, Wu Heng was very familiar with this film.

Beyond the continuous series of films, there were various animated spin-offs and novels; he had once discussed the world-building with fellow forum members in great detail, bickering for ages over which character was stronger!

Wu Heng struggled to recall the plot of this world: a British Empire man named Frank Cotton obtained a cube-shaped box in Morocco, Africa.

This box was the Lemarchand Configuration, also known as the Box of Mourning, created in the 18th century by a toymaker who used vast amounts of flesh and fat to craft a device capable of opening a gateway to hell.

Driven by desire, Frank sensed how to activate the Puzzle Box and successfully opened it.

He was then summoned by the Hell Quartet of Cenobites, who used iron hooks attached to chains to tear his body apart and drag his soul into hell.

Afterward, his brother Larry moved into the house where Frank had died, and Larry's wife, Julia, had previously had a secret affair with her brother-in-law, Frank.

When Larry was moving in, he cut his hand, and his blood happened to drip onto the spot where Frank had been torn apart: the attic on the second floor.

The fresh blood allowed Frank to escape back to the human world in the form of a skeleton.

To regain his original form, he sought out Julia and coerced her into feeding him with living victims; he eventually murdered his brother and donned his skin.

Eventually, the protagonist Kirsty, who had opened the hellish gateway, traded Frank to the Hell Quartet to secure her own survival and avenge her father.

As Wu Heng was reminiscing, the fat man spoke up:

"Ha, a classic basic survival mission."

"But this plot mission is truly terrifying."

"Is this Lemarchand Configuration some kind of machine part? They aren't even going to explain that?"

"And this second mission, it actually requires us to enter hell?"

"What kind of place is hell? A demon's nest! I've never heard of anyone daring to touch the hell of a plot world; I bet even the Tower Masters wouldn't dare!"

"And the Cenobites—are they powerful monks from a church?"

"Killing one actually rewards ten thousand survival points, even more than entering hell. That's absolutely absurd."

The fat man stomped his feet in anger after seeing the plot missions.

He wouldn't even dare to touch these tasks; the three missions together might as well have been written in four big words: Stay away from this.

"Sigh, sister, do you have any news about this plot world? Do you know what the Lemarchand Configuration is? Give us a hint."

The fat man patted his chest in fear, his fat trembling with every tap, as he asked tentatively.

"If I told you, would you dare believe it? Be careful not to even know how you died."

The woman gave the fat man a look of disgust, frowning as she glared at him.

"Hey, fine, don't tell me then!"

"It's all the fault of those damn Tower Masters, hoarding their own cleared plot lines instead of contributing them for everyone's benefit."

"And they're spreading fake intel everywhere, passing on whatever will get people killed! It's gotten to the point where, aside from your own people, you can't trust anyone else's information."

The fat man complained through gritted teeth.

Wu Heng listened quietly to the two of them, confirming a suspicion he had held.

They truly did not know the plot of this world.

That was right; this world was vastly different from his previous life in terms of literature and film.

Wu Heng felt a surge of excitement, only for it to be doused like a bucket of cold water.

In a horror movie world like this, even if you know the plot, it's not easy for an ordinary person to handle.

After all, plenty of protagonists die in horror movies, and the "protagonist halo" might only mean they die last.

As for the supporting characters, most are just fodder for the lead.

The woman looked at the fat man's grumbling and said indifferently:

"You can say that to the faces of the Tower Masters once you return to the Lighthouse; what's the point of saying it here?"

"I'm just venting, but..."

The fat man's bravado vanished instantly as he looked at the woman and then at Wu Heng.

"I'm not lying, brother, I have some solid intel on this world. Maybe we could learn a trick or two about sensing evil."

"As long as you both swear to give me the 500 survival points from this instance when we finish, I'll take you with me. If it weren't for the refresh count for the next instance, I wouldn't be doing this."

After the fat man finished, he wore an expression that suggested they were getting a massive bargain.

"No need. I have my own things to do. Hiding for a moment is just prolonging the inevitable by a few days."

"Also, newcomer, I suggest you enjoy this month while you can. With a difficulty level like this, you'll die if you investigate the plot, and you'll die if you return to reality. That's all I have to say. I'm heading in."

After the Cap-Wearing Woman said this coldly, she vanished on the spot.

"Pah, prolonging the inevitable~"

The fat man spat a piece of betel nut husk in the direction where the woman had disappeared, mimicked her in a weird voice, and turned to look at Wu Heng:

"Brother, it's just us two left. What do you say? Perhaps my intel can help with your injuries."

Wu Heng thought for a moment and replied, "I agree, but how do I find you in the plot world?"

"The code is: SL Fatty v Martial Dominance."

"Remember this code. Whether it's through social media or posting an announcement in the paper, we'll be able to find each other."

"Alright, I've got it."

Wu Heng nodded.

"Time's almost up, I'm heading in first. You won't like the way the teleportation works once the countdown ends."

The fatty vanished on the spot after speaking.

Wu Heng looked at the remaining minute on the countdown and selected "Enter Immediately" in his mind.

As Wu Heng teleported away, the spatial barrier shattered and vanished.

The darkness was pierced, and warm sunlight refracted onto Wu Heng's face.

Everything around him instantly became vivid; the sounds of cars, footsteps, and shouting all flooded into his ears.

Wu Heng opened his eyes to find himself sitting in the back of a black stretch limousine.

With the soft leather seats and the faint rumble of the engine, Wu Heng felt his mood improve significantly.

"Sir, what should we do?"

A respectful, middle-aged voice came from the driver's seat.

Wu Heng narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly.

Five or six black men were brandishing clubs, stones, and other weapons, surrounding the car tightly and blocking it in place.

They were twisting and jumping about, gesticulating wildly.

They kept muttering something, but it was hard to hear clearly through the car windows.

Wu Heng hadn't had a good impression of such people in his past life, and his impression now was even worse.

"Drive through them!"

Wu Heng tightened his seatbelt and said softly.

The moment he opened his eyes, he had already understood his role in this plot world.

The Miranda Family, a famous local jeweler.

And he was the sole heir of the Miranda Family: Dean Miranda.

To summarize in two words: Filthy rich.

They were just a few street thugs, and today's experiences had left Wu Heng feeling pent up.

"Hold on tight!"

The driver was clearly excited as well.

With a stomp on the gas pedal, the car surged forward with a powerful thrust.

The thugs blocking the car shrieked and leaped to the sides like stray dogs struck by stones.

A chorus of curses from the thugs rang out on the dust-filled road behind the car.

A thud echoed from the trunk as it was struck.

Would you be willing to trade your collections and monthly votes for two rolls of plastic wrap from me?