In the video, my wife was still in that flowing white dress, holding the ancient sword Silin, looking like a city-dwelling exorcist beauty.
Though she was wearing nothing underneath, and her nipples were slightly protruding—that was because her nipples had always been sensitive, and combined with her current state of always going braless, this slight protrusion had become the norm lately.
Maybe it was also related to that time she’d been given a nipple orgasm?
I didn’t dwell on it.
In the video, my wife entered the dungeon and appeared in a misty forest—that must have been the part I’d seen from the car earlier.
From a distance, it was indeed a blurry expanse of fog.
I zoomed in.
Visibility was indeed very low.
My wife frowned slightly, clearly annoyed by the irritatingly poor visibility.
But before long, she seemed to gradually adapt.
In the middle of the fog, she suddenly hurled a Thunderclap Talisman in one direction.
I was wondering what she was doing when I saw crackling sparks erupt where she’d thrown it—something had definitely been hit.
She sprinted rapidly toward that direction.
Getting closer, I could faintly make out a ghostly figure of a monster in the mist.
Was this the quest target, the Phantom Spirit Body?
Damn, could anyone spot that with the naked eye?
Definitely not.
This spirit-type monster was already semi-transparent by nature, and in that fog it blended perfectly with the mist—there was no way to identify it by sight!
But my wife had genuinely found it.
The spirit body struck by the Thunderclap Talisman was still convulsing when my wife closed in and sliced it apart with one sword stroke.
Kill 1/5.
Looked easy, didn’t it?
After that, my wife followed this rhythm—frowning and sensing in the fog, throwing talismans, closing in and executing—and completed the task with ease.
I had to admit, through days and nights of relentless training, my wife had become completely different from when she’d started.
After the Phantom Spirit Body quest was complete, the fog gradually dispersed.
After the not-too-strenuous exercise, a light pink flush had spread across my wife’s face, looking rather adorable.
Her eyes also seemed more moist than usual.
This dungeon didn’t seem hard—after the phantom was killed, there weren’t even any minor monsters on the path.
Slowly, following the indicator, my wife arrived at a mountain valley.
The entrance was a narrow path barely wide enough for one person.
No, not even that—it was a passage so cramped you’d have to squeeze through sideways.
Zooming in, my scalp went numb.
This wasn’t a passage at all.
And the key thing was, these tumors weren’t dead—they were alive!
They were constantly writhing and squirming.
This meant…
for my wife to get through this passage, she’d have to be squeezed and massaged by these tumors across almost every part of her body???
And my wife had actually gone through a passage like this alone?
Yeah, she’d already completed the quest, meaning she’d already received an indiscriminate full-body massage from those tumors along the way.
At that thought, I shamefully got hard again…
Watching my wife turn sideways and struggle to “squeeze” into that passage, I finally thought to check her hidden stats from that moment.
Sensitivity 50/100?
Wetness 30/100?
Sensitivity 50??
Wait—I started recalling how my wife had been fighting monsters in the fog earlier.
I didn’t rewind to check.
Right, because I remembered that after the fog dispersed, my wife had that peachy, pink-flushed little face, which I’d assumed was from exertion, and those eyes full of watery mist.
Suddenly it all clicked.
How had I not realized?
It was the fog—the fog must have been the problem.
My wife had unknowingly already fallen into the dungeon’s trap.
I also remembered the dungeon had a rule: no orgasms allowed inside.
If you were judged to have orgasmed, the trial challenge was a failure.
At the time I’d thought that with my wife’s current skill, she had no reason to fear elite monsters of this level, so it never occurred to me that she might be brought to orgasm by monsters during the trial because she couldn’t defeat them.
But it turned out the trial wasn’t just about fighting monsters.
And all I could do was watch the replay of her clearing it.
In other words—my wife had gone through this entire dungeon without a single orgasm.
No wonder she’d been meditating.
Right after finishing, her sensitivity and wetness must have been far higher than what I was seeing now.
Snapping back to reality, I continued watching the replay (all those mental activities had actually happened in a very short span of time).
I saw my wife just squeeze in—her 34C chest was compressed out of shape, and she was inching forward almost pressed against the walls.
Looking closely, through that Celestial Silk Spirit Dress, I could tell her nipples had been rubbed completely hard by the wall tumors, and they were still being scraped and grazed continuously.
Her expression was also gradually changing—from the initial continuous frowning, to her eyes slowly growing dazed, to her breathing becoming more and more rapid.
I glanced at the sensitivity.
Holy shit—from 50 it went 52, 55, 58, 62, 65, 69, 72…
When it reached 90, my wife stopped moving.
Maybe she sensed something was wrong—that an orgasm was approaching—so she halted to try to relieve it.
The tumors on the wall cooperatively stopped writhing too when she stopped.
Wetness 60…
When my wife stopped, I saw a clear, crystalline thin line trickling down her calf beneath her skirt.
She was completely in heat…
After resting a while—letting her body cool down—she began moving again.
I saw she waited until her sensitivity dropped below 60 before starting.
The tumors resumed writhing along with her movements.
This time her sensitivity seemed to rise faster than before.
55, 60, 66, 71…
Again she stopped at 92…
Her legs were slightly pigeon-toed, trembling continuously.
And this time when she stopped, her love juice was no longer just running down her inner thighs and calves—a crystalline thread hung directly from the middle of her skirt, dripping to the ground.
By now I was watching with a dry mouth.
This wasn’t a trial at all—it was outright training!
My wife kept moving a stretch, stopping a while, with her sensitivity rising faster and faster each time.
Every time she stopped, more love juice dripped down.
Finally, after about 30 minutes, she squeezed out of that passage.
After emerging, she bent her knees slightly together, hunched her body a little, propped her hands on her knees, and panted continuously.
Her dress was form-fitting to begin with, and in that posture, her round butt was completely wrapped by the skirt, looking especially enticing.
Looking closely, I could even see a small damp stain on the skirt at her honeypot’s position.
Her two snowy-white breasts rose and fell with each breath, seeming like they might burst free from those thin straps.
Both erect nipples stood high, as if about to pierce through the thin silk.
Good thing this was a solo dungeon—otherwise, a view of my wife like this would have been completely exposed to her party members.
Actually, thinking about it from another angle, in a normal game you’d just keep your character’s sensitivity below the threshold, stop to rest, and repeat the process to clear it easily.
But my wife wasn’t like that—she genuinely had her own consciousness and feelings.
Suddenly I felt that this game was really not as simple for her as I’d previously thought.
I briefly counted—my wife had stopped about a dozen times along the way.
If that counted as edging, I suddenly understood why her Edging was Lv2.
I checked the hidden data again—Edging was indeed unlocked, but still Lv1.
That meant in the future, my wife would continue to be edged, either passively or actively.
As I was thinking, the replay showed my wife arriving at the third stage.