Peering through the gap in the wardrobe, the three of them looked outside.
The sight wasn’t entirely unbelievable—the Emperor himself appeared at the doorway of Shen Ying’s bedroom.
His face darkened before Shen Ying could even speak, and he strode into the room, his gaze sweeping across the space as he growled, “Where’s that idiot Lien?”
Lu Yu and Niu Xi exchanged a glance, briefly tempted to just throw Lien under the bus.
But considering that guy wouldn’t hesitate to sell them out either, they abandoned that childish idea.
Shen Ying lingered behind her so-called "husband," answering lazily, “Him? The moment he heard you coming, he bolted.”
The Emperor looked skeptical but couldn’t tell if Shen Ying was lying.
Grumbling, he said, “Why didn’t you stop him?”
Shen Ying arched a brow. “Did I hear that right? Are you complaining that your kidnapped wife didn’t restrain her captor?”
The Emperor choked, flustered. “No, I—I’m just furious that he dared to abduct you.”
He pulled her into a sudden embrace. “Thank goodness you’re unharmed. I’d never forgive myself otherwise.”
Never forgive myself for letting my plans collapse over such a stupid reason.
Shen Ying played the part of the magnanimous wife. “No need to worry. I’m fine, aren’t I? Officer Lien might be reckless, but he didn’t mean me any harm. The second I got a moment alone, I called you, didn’t I?”
Her words sent a shock through the three hiding in the wardrobe.
So she was the one who tipped off the Emperor and summoned him here.
Did she even realize what she was doing? The Emperor was the one who’d confined her to the palace, plotting revenge.
Sure, the three of them weren’t entirely innocent, but when it came to allegiances, they were on her side.
Even unspoken, Lien and the others had assumed Shen Ying, sharp as she was, would’ve grasped the situation.
How was a fake husband who’d trapped her in some small town less suspicious than them?
The trio exchanged glances, bitterness simmering.
Of course—the "husband" title, that legitimate first-spouse status, gave him an unfair advantage. Compared to him, their words carried no weight.
Jealousy flared, and they resolved to dismantle the Emperor’s upper hand.
If he was leaning on this fabricated marriage, they’d make sure his credibility crumbled.
A silent agreement passed between them—they’d team up to take him down.
Individually, any one of them could overpower the Emperor. But this was his world, coded by his people. The moment they’d appeared, he’d likely tweaked the rules to stack the odds against them.
A direct fight? Unpredictable.
And they couldn’t afford to kill the Warden—not that "dying" in this simulation meant much. But whether out of pride or sheer stubbornness, neither the Emperor nor the trio wanted the game to end just yet.
They’d have to bide their time.
The Emperor scanned the room again, unsure if Lien was still lurking. But eliminating him wasn’t the priority.
Getting Shen Ying back under his control was.
He let it go for now. “Let’s go home.”
Shen Ying refused outright. “No. I’ve been in a car for over four hours—my back’s killing me. I’m not spending another few hours driving back tonight.”
The Emperor coaxed, “I brought a helicopter. It’ll be quick.”
Shen Ying smirked. “Since when are helicopters comfortable?”
She shrugged off her robe and headed outside.
The open-air hot spring was ready. Shen Ying sank into the steaming water. “This room’s nice. I’m soaking, then sleeping. We’ll figure out travel plans tomorrow.”
“You’ve been traveling too. Rinse off and join me. There’s plenty of space for a few people.”
Something in her words struck a nerve. The Emperor’s face flushed, and he suddenly snapped, “Rinse? Don’t you dare try to rinse me again!”
Shen Ying stared at him, baffled.
The Emperor froze, realizing—he hadn’t escaped the mental prison of that airborne jail after all.
Maybe the damage ran deeper than he’d thought. For the first time, his gaze held a flicker of shame.
Shen Ying just laughed. “I’m exhausted, and you expect me to wash you? Dream on.”
“Clean yourself.”
“…Fine.” The Emperor sulked, forced to stay.
He tossed his coat onto the bed and made for the bathroom.
The trio in the wardrobe had been scrambling all night, only for the Emperor to swoop in and steal their chance.
Unacceptable.
They’d been plotting—ambushing him mid-shower, when he’d be blinded by soap, naked and vulnerable.
Even with the world’s coding on his side, he couldn’t fend off all three at once.
Holding their breath, they masked their presence. At their level, even high-tech sensors wouldn’t detect them.
But just as the Emperor stepped into the bathroom, he remembered—forgot his robe.
He turned, yanking open the wardrobe door behind him.
And there they were.
Three men, poised for attack, staring back at him.
The Emperor, hand outstretched for his robe: “……”
He’d always been stoic, his expressions muted even before the airborne prison.
But in this moment, the Emperor’s face was a masterpiece—shock, fury, disbelief, all layered like some intricate, volatile palette.
His lips trembled. He’d expected maybe Lien. Instead, he’d opened his wife’s wardrobe to find three adulterous bastards crammed inside.
The world spun.
His fist shot out, aiming for Lien at the front.
Lien, no pushover, sneered. You delusional fool, acting like some rightful husband just because you faked a marriage?
The two clashed instantly, a whirlwind of blows.
Lu Yu and Niu Xi didn’t hold back either.
Their goal was still to expose the Emperor—his royal coders were on standby outside. Even if he died here, he’d just respawn.
But if the Warden witnessed this, she’d see through his fabricated world in an instant.
That didn’t mean they’d go easy on Lien, though.
They’d invited him along, and this traitor had tried to sneak off alone. So while attacking the Emperor, they took every chance to land a cheap shot on Lien.
Lien, no fool, noticed the occasional knife in his back and retaliated in kind.
The brawl escalated—a chaotic, brutal mess where it was hard to tell who was hitting whom.
The commotion didn’t escape Shen Ying, still soaking in the outdoor spring.
She rose, draping a robe over herself, and strolled back inside.
Settling onto the sofa, she picked up a glass of wine, watching the spectacle with palpable satisfaction.
It was like a long-held fantasy come to life.
And these weren’t ordinary men brawling.
Their movements were honed, lethal—a deadly dance of grace and violence that sent shivers down the spine.
For instance, her "husband" was nearly decapitated several times after being ambushed by three attackers.
Then there was Officer Lien, who almost "failed to pull back in time" and stabbed straight at Shopkeeper Lu Yu's heart when her "husband" dodged a fatal strike.
Scenes like these played out repeatedly in their fierce exchanges.
Shen Ying watched with great amusement, surprised that her dynamic vision could keep up with their lightning-fast lethal moves.
But then again, it made sense—otherwise, why would these guys be so obsessed with settling old scores?
The four men had initially fought with rising fury, until one of them glanced at Shen Ying lounging on the chair by the window. The other three soon noticed her too.
Under her gaze, which practically screamed "Keep going, make it louder," their anger fizzled out.
With unspoken agreement, they stopped. Lien stormed over, snatching her wine glass in frustration. "The hell you think this is, a show?"
Shen Ying sighed wistfully. "Why stop? The night’s still young, and no one’s interrupting."
The way she lounged there, utterly unbothered, sent them right back to the days in the airborne prison.
Frustration simmered in their chests, even sparking suspicion—had she regained her memories?
So Lien cut straight to it. "You remember something, don’t you?"
Shen Ying shook her head. "Not at all. But watching you fight is oddly satisfying, like scratching an old itch."
Their faces darkened. They knew exactly what she meant.
Back when Lu Yu first orchestrated the prison riot, this woman had reveled in watching inmates brawl, especially the good-looking ones—sweaty, bruised, and bloodied.
She thrived on chaos. Turns out, her only regret back then was that they hadn’t joined the fray.
The Emperor straightened his clothes, regaining his composure, and said to Shen Ying, "You’ve seen it yourself—this house is haunted. Let’s go back."
But Shen Ying just smiled. "What’s the rush? Besides, since this is all a fabricated space, does it really matter where we are?"
The Emperor whipped his head toward the other three, his expression twisting.
Lien and the others smirked, gloating. Even if they hadn’t taken each other down yet, since the Warden had already figured it out, the Emperor’s little schemes were ruined too.
But before their smugness could settle, Shen Ying continued, "So? A kingpin, an underground godfather, a top enforcer, and an emperor—why trap me in this virtual world?"
Their grins froze as they stared at her like she was a ghost.
Sure, she’d blindsided them with sharp deductions before, but this? A virtual world? She wasn’t even from this era, let alone aware of its existence.
How the hell did she know?
