Chapter 1: Immediate Execution of the Death Sentence

Private Third Class Park Chang-sang stepped forward. “Answer me: on what grounds do you consider yourself an excellent stud?”

From the adjacent room came the clerk’s interrogation and the sound of pants being unbuckled.

“Reporting, sir, even compared to citizens from the European and American bunker zones, my second brother is invincible. I request your inspection, sir.”

“If I die in the Killing Tower, my unique talents will be wasted. They should be used to stir up trouble in the Desire Tower and make greater contributions to humanity!”

Park Chang-sang’s eccentric reply struck with conviction.

Meanwhile, in another room, Wen Xishu suddenly paused. He was about to sign the “Death Sentence Confirmation.”

The layout of the bunker’s functional floors was chaotic.

Right next to the death penalty hospice was the Tri-Tower game allocation office.

“The Desire Tower…” Wen Xishu mused.

The court official frowned. “I must inform you, even if you refuse to sign, the death sentence will be carried out. Delaying here is pointless.”

Indeed, refusing to sign was meaningless.

Unless, like in some novel, one could spend the death sentence period handcrafting an optical processor and inventing a curvature engine, death was inevitable.

Though he had been transported here for several hours, Wen Xishu was not like other transmigrators who could perform all sorts of reckless feats—at least, not yet.

According to procedure, next he would be asked for his last words and any final instructions for his relatives.

But most of his family had already been executed.

They were just one step away from the “family extermination” achievement. After one more meal, he would be injected with the poison.

Seeing Wen Xishu hesitate to write, the court agent said:

“Since you refuse to sign, we will skip this step.”

“Your entire family committed serious crimes and were sentenced to death. The bunker law shows some leniency toward minors, but you turned eighteen months ago and all formalities have been completed.”

“We asked earlier this morning if you wanted to eat Kentucky D*ckens on a day other than Thursday.”

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t find the place you mentioned. Supplies are tight in the bunker, so we can only offer compressed biscuits.”

“But we have specially prepared fried chicken flavor. We also got you a bottle of cola, which has been chilled.”

The court agent motioned for the bunker security officers to escort Wen Xishu to the injection room.

To avoid being speedrun by this world, Wen Xishu had been adjusting to his new body.

But the original owner of this body was mentally unstable, insane even, making useful memories difficult to extract.

Only when Park Chang-sang from the adjacent bunker room mentioned the Desire Tower did he remember—

Desire Tower, Killing Tower, Deceptive Tower.

The arrival of the Three Towers meant exploring them was humanity’s only way to survive.

“I apply to explore the Deceptive Tower,” Wen Xishu suddenly declared.

This sentence seemed charged with some kind of magic; the two burly officers from bunker security halted.

The court agent raised an eyebrow, surprised, but then spoke sternly:

“I must warn you, this likely means dying in a different place.”

“You will probably endure pain beyond the maximum values recorded by the evaluation agency.”

“That is far crueler than execution. Compared to that, euthanasia is truly merciful.”

Wen Xishu nodded.

It sounded like pain worse than childbirth, dismemberment, and needles piercing the gums combined.

That was definitely worth trying.

The court agent regarded him with scrutiny and doubt.

He knew the second young master of the Wen family was famously “crazy,” “mad,” and “foolish.”

Not long ago, imprisoned and crying with snot bubbles, ranting incoherently at everything around him, he appeared deranged and unkempt.

But now, the man seemed like a different person.

Exploring the Deceptive Tower was not wise, but it was indeed a path to survival.

After the “Tri-Tower Joint Exploration Hypothesis” was preliminarily confirmed, exploration of the Deceptive Tower had begun.

Because that place was so bizarre, most high-ranking players from the Killing and Desire Towers avoided going there.

Hence came policy incentives: those willing to explore the Deceptive Tower and make major discoveries could earn benefits—

Such as guaranteed university admission, exemption from death sentences, harem permits, or zero-version gender certification. These demands were not impossible to meet.

The court staff said:

“Your identity is special. I must consult with superiors, and you need to be fully aware of the dangers of the Deceptive Tower and sign a waiver.”

People of various nationalities lived in the bunker, which was a melting pot, making human rights paramount.

The “Black Lives Matter” principle was the bunker’s current political correctness core.

News often broke about certain agencies sending black individuals to the Killing Tower to fight enemies, provoking public outcry from bunker residents.

Wen Xishu was Asian.

Even so, sending him to the Deceptive Tower was a severe violation of human rights principles.

The severity far exceeded being assigned to the Killing Tower.

After some reflection, Wen Xishu spoke:

“I understand clearly the nature and differences of the Killing Tower, Desire Tower, and Deceptive Tower.”

“The Killing Tower grants merit and supplies through monster slaying. The Desire Tower grants merit and supplies by pleasing the Tri-Tower people.”

“Both boil down to ‘just do it.’”

“But the Deceptive Tower is full of anomalies and difficult to explore. Simply put, it’s not easy to manage, not a good place to work.”

“I know all this and am willing to sign the waiver.”

Wen Xishu’s understanding of the Killing and Desire Towers was still shallow and somewhat crude, even vulgar.

But the staff’s focus was more on his mental state.

The second young master of the Wen family no longer appeared insane. This made the official’s expression more serious.

Or perhaps this was another form of madness? After all, such calm rationality was not normal either.

Wen Xishu was indeed somewhat abnormal.

The original owner’s defects had been repaired by transmigration; he was no longer mad.

But his past experiences had left some scars.

Simply put, he often courted death in extremely harsh environments, then used comedic performances to create ironic humor.

For example, parachuting from six thousand meters while solving dozens of Rubik’s Cubes before opening the chute at the very last moment.

Or wingsuit flying through rocky valleys, parkour in old Chongqing neighborhoods, or performing stunt cycling on steep mountain paths.

Each time nearing death and making the audience’s hearts leap to their throats—

He would lighten the mood with playful antics, humorous remarks, or crude jokes to entertain.

This was his craft. In the era of differentiated short videos, Wen Xishu was a unique influencer no one else dared imitate.

Over time, the closer he came to death, the more mischievous he became.

Just like his earlier statement.

The response to his application to enter the Deceptive Tower came swiftly, within minutes.

Wen Xishu relaxed, thinking:

At last, a death row inmate had grasped a sliver of hope to enter the Deceptive Tower.

Next would be a grand reversal of fortune, contributions to humanity, redemption, and suspension of the death sentence.

From then on, he would enjoy a legendary life in the bunker, continually exploring the Three Towers and ultimately reaching life’s pinnacle.

Yes, this perfectly matched the mission and tone of a transmigrator.

But the court official’s reply stunned Wen Xishu:

“Sorry, due to the extreme atrocities committed by the Wen family, your application to enter the Deceptive Tower has been rejected by higher authorities.”

“Your death sentence will be executed immediately.”