Lin Feng squirmed through the air duct like a worm trapped in a glowstick factory. His work pants caught on a rusty screw, ripping a heart-shaped hole that exposed his Supreme boxers. His phone flashlight flickered over greasy metal walls, suddenly illuminating graffiti: "Lin Jianguo was here" with a middle finger doodle pointing ahead.
"Dad, you did the duct crawl too?!" He snorted, wriggling forward until his elbow hit a metal box stamped with Grey Sparrow's glowing green eye. The lock matched his bronze key perfectly.
CLICK.
The duct tilted into a 45-degree slide. Lin Feng screamed downhill, his butt sparking against the metal: "RIP my limited-edition undies — these cost more than your car!"
THUD!
He crash-landed in a swivel chair, spinning dizzy circles until he saw it: a skeleton in a lab coat posed like The Thinker, bony fingers clutching a pen. The journal before it bled "DON'T TRUST SU WAN!!!" in crusty red letters.
"Dad, your escape room's darker than my credit score!" Lin Feng bowed to the skeleton. "I'll burn you the new iPhone later for ghost FaceTime." He looted a pack of 1998 Pop Rocks from its pocket — Mickey Mouse on the packaging winked seductively.
CREAK.
The skeleton's head rotated. The pen clattered. Lin Feng slammed backward into a button, flipping the wall to reveal surveillance feeds — Wu Li aiming a syringe at Lord Orange in a cage.
"Chonky king, hold on!" He grabbed the skeleton's femur as a weapon… just as the cat meowed "Where's my Fancy Feast, peasant?!" on camera.
Behind a hidden door stretched a lab straight out of Indiana Jones meets Breaking Bad. Lin Feng choked back laughter at:
A one-eyed rat king in tiny glasses slapping a ruler: "The Yellow River's waters flow from heaven—"
"Rushing seaward, never returning!" chanted winged rats, one fat recruit clacking Tianjin clappers like jazz hands.
"Cen夫子! Dan Qiusheng! Drink your damn wine! YOYOYO!" The rat king suddenly dropped into hip-hop, scratching records with its claws.
Lin Feng livestreamed, tears of laughter rolling: "Squad, witness history's first rodent rap battle—"
CLACK-CLACK.
Wu Li's blood-red lips glowed under cold lights: "CEO Lin wants to join our Tang Poetry Masterclass?"She hit a button. Rats swarmed.
Lin Feng baseball-batted rats with the femur. One crashed into purple reagent, suddenly ballet-spinning: "I'm Li Bai~ twirl~"
"Dad spiked these chemicals with baijiu?!" He dodged, finding a Mutant Rat Care Guide: WARNING: Never recite Chu Shi Biao — triggers Three Kingdoms Battle Royale.
Wu Li blocked the exit, sweat-glued lashes like spider legs: "Choose: become a hot guy who recites Tengwang Pavilion, or an ugly rapper!"
"Option C, baby!" Lin Feng whipped out Dad's "Chongqing Hotpot" pepper spray (★★★★★!).
Red mist exploded. The lab became a sneeze apocalypse:
"The Shu Road's hardship—ACHOO!—surpasses climbing heaven—ACHOO!"
Wu Li's lashes curled into Nike swooshes as alarms blared. Mechanical arms lunged for Lin Yu—
CRASH! Lord Orange burst through a vent, fish tail smacking machinery: "WHERE'S MY FEAST, MORTALS?!"