What is the highest state of pretending to be forced?

First floor: Last night, the west wind withered the green trees. I went to the tall building alone, hoping to force my way out.

The second floor: the belt is getting wider and wider, but I don't regret it, because it makes people look haggard.

The third floor: there are thousands of people in the crowd, but they are forced by the dim light.

Hope to adopt.