Chapter 1041: The Frightened Pig

Han Yimo pulled his “Horse” out of his pocket, hesitated for a moment, and then handed it to Wen Qiaoyun.

“Good boy,” Wen Qiaoyun said. “This ‘character’ is your stepping stone to earning my trust. If you want us to fully trust you, we’ll need your second ‘character.'”

“Alright… but there’s one more thing,” Han Yimo said. “Sister Qiaoyun… you must know that if we lose this game, the losing side will be wiped out completely.”

“Yes,” Wen Qiaoyun nodded. “No need to worry. Right now, both teams have a mole planted in the other side. There’s a chance the mole might survive.”

“Really…?”

Han Yimo didn’t seem afraid of death because he knew that every time he died, a new life awaited him.

After all, this cycle had been going on for years. Compared to those years, this current loop had lasted unusually long—so long that he even felt a vague sense of having lived enough.

What he needed now wasn’t survival or death, but a chance to fully showcase his protagonist abilities.

“Don’t worry,” Wen Qiaoyun said. “Didn’t I just say that? Your team has also planted a mole in ours. If the moles couldn’t survive… why would both ‘commanders’ adopt this strategy at the same time?”

Han Yimo’s mind couldn’t quite process it, so he just nodded blankly. He had even forgotten that his “mole” identity wasn’t arranged by Chu Tianqiu, but by Dr. Zhao.

At that moment, the masked wild boar referee turned to them with a puzzled expression and asked in a strange voice, “I wanted to interrupt earlier… Are you two just going to end the game like this?”

“What?” Wen Qiaoyun looked at the wild boar in confusion. “Is there something you need to confirm with us?”

“N-No… I mean…” The wild boar stammered, “I don’t know if this is allowed… but we have our own procedures here!”

Wen Qiaoyun found this amusing. “Then tell us, what exactly is your procedure?”

“Uh, well…” The wild boar clearly hadn’t expected the question and hesitated before answering, “Technically, this is a game, right? I’m the referee. I haven’t announced the game’s conclusion, yet you’ve already made a private deal… Doesn’t that seem wrong?”

Han Yimo, sensing that the wild boar might ruin his plans, quickly said, “Brother Boar, could you please stop causing trouble? I’m really scared right now… Just end the game and let me leave.”

“What the hell? I’m scared too!” the wild boar shouted. “You think you’re the only one afraid?!”

“Huh?!” Han Yimo grew even more agitated. “You’re the referee of this damn game! You’re the villain… Why would a villain be scared?”

“Who the hell is a villain?!” The wild boar sounded utterly offended. “Because of you people, we’ve all got our heads on the line! Who’s the real villain here?! I didn’t even want this job! Stop messing around and let the game end properly!”

Wen Qiaoyun frowned slightly. If the referee really intended to nullify their deal now, how could she refuse?

After all, she couldn’t win in the remaining time—this was already the best outcome.

Fortunately, Han Yimo’s usually slow-witted brain suddenly proved useful.

Before Wen Qiaoyun could speak, he snapped at the wild boar, “End it properly? What’s there to end properly?! I’ve already handed over my ‘chips’ to her! If you end it now, what am I supposed to lose? My life?!”

“This… this…” The wild boar seemed at a loss. “But this makes it really hard for me… What if the higher-ups hold me responsible…?”

Wen Qiaoyun found the wild boar’s behavior odd. She glanced around the room—this was the first time she had ever set foot in a game venue in her memory.

So she really wanted to ask—were all the “Zodiac” game venues this shabby?

It was just a pitch-black room with wooden walls, carefully sealed to block out light. In the center stood a wooden table, with a single newly installed lightbulb hanging overhead.

In other words… the only “props” used in this game were the “light” and the “coin”—things that could be brought in and taken away at any moment.

Was this really a game venue?

“Something’s not right…”

Wen Qiaoyun looked down at the only remaining “Re-flip Card” in her hand. Even these brand-new cards were part of the props.

The eerie thing about this game was that all the props were brand-new.

The smooth side of the coin didn’t even have a scratch. A coin that was supposedly tossed daily, yet without a single mark—was that normal?

She looked up at the light again—a bright white bulb, spotless, without a speck of dust.

It seemed there were many mysteries to unravel in this game… not just the “characters,” but also these strange referees.

“Mr. Boar…” Wen Qiaoyun called.

“Man-Pig,” the wild boar corrected.

“Right, Mr. Man-Pig,” Wen Qiaoyun said. “You must deal with all kinds of game participants every day… Yet you seem completely unprepared for this situation. Is it because you’re a newly appointed ‘Zodiac’?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” the Man-Pig snapped. “Everyone you see today is a ‘veteran Zodiac’! It’s just that you people have disrupted our peaceful lives! You’re the ones who deserve to rot in hell!”

“We… disrupted your lives?” Wen Qiaoyun felt like the Man-Pig had it backward. “Even if we didn’t show up, you’d still have to host ‘participants’ every day, right?”

“Bullshit!” The Man-Pig scowled. “We were supposed to be the most carefree, well-fed slackers in all of ‘Taoyuan’! But because of this damn game, the higher-ups forced a bunch of us to serve as temporary referees. Not only do we have to come up with games on the spot, but we also have to risk our necks waiting to die at any moment!”

Now Wen Qiaoyun understood. But her knowledge of this place was still limited. From what she gathered, this Man-Pig wasn’t originally a game referee—he was only assigned as one for this “Cangjie Chess” match?

Not a referee, but still a “Zodiac”?

“Mr. Man-Pig, what were you originally responsible for…?” she asked.

“We were just ‘assistants’!” the Man-Pig whined. “We only had to work once per cycle—open the door and let the participants out of the room! Who knew we’d get dragged into this mess?!”

“Wait…?” Han Yimo blinked in confusion.