“Half of the ‘soldier’…” Qinglong’s expression darkened visibly. “Xuanwu… are you lying to me?”
“No, I don’t lie,” Xuanwu shook her head, her long hair swaying with the movement.
“Then you must be illiterate,” Qinglong retorted. “If you don’t even recognize the character ‘soldier,’ how could you know Qi Xia used half of it?”
“I don’t recognize ‘soldier,’ but I recognize half of it,” Xuanwu replied in her cold, detached voice.
Hearing this, Qi Xia couldn’t help but find it amusing. Within the bounds of the rules, even Xuanwu would stand by his side.
“I don’t believe it,” Qinglong persisted. “I need to see for myself.”
“Bold of you,” Xuanwu snapped coldly. “There is no such rule.”
“You…” Qinglong’s eyes instantly filled with murderous intent at her words.
Yet Xuanwu seemed entirely unfazed, meeting his gaze with her own icy stare.
“Today, here, I am the judge,” she declared. “Abide by the rules.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind,” Qinglong spat. “Do you not realize the consequences of speaking to me like this?”
Xuanwu was silent for a moment before replying, “The consequences are severe either way.”
“…’Either way’?”
“Failing to uphold my duty as judge is severe. Defying you is severe,” Xuanwu explained. “But you said this time, I could defy you.”
Qinglong wanted to lunge forward and show Xuanwu who the real “god” here was, but doing so would prematurely end the game and nullify their “life gamble.”
For the first time in his many years of unchecked power in the “Land of Finality,” Qinglong tasted the bitterness of being constrained by “rules.”
“Qinglong’s lost his mind too,” Chen Junnan muttered to Qiao Jiajin. “That ‘soldier’ character was picked by Sister Xuanwu herself. Even if she’s illiterate, she’d know what she chose, right? One glance would tell her if it was used.”
“Yeah, yeah. He’s lost it.”
“Half of the character ‘Bing’…” Qinglong’s face visibly darkened. “Xuanwu… are you lying to me?”
“No, I don’t lie,” Xuanwu shook her head, her long hair swaying with the motion.
“Then you must be illiterate,” Qinglong said. “If you don’t even recognize the character ‘Bing,’ how could you possibly know Qi Xia used half of it?”
“I don’t know ‘Bing,’ but I know half of ‘Bing,'” Xuanwu replied in her cold, clear voice.
Hearing this, Qi Xia found it almost laughable. Within the bounds of the rules, even Xuanwu would stand by his side.
“I don’t believe it,” Qinglong insisted. “I need to see for myself.”
“Audacious,” Xuanwu retorted coldly. “There is no such rule.”
“You…” Qinglong’s eyes instantly filled with murderous intent at her words.
Yet Xuanwu seemed completely unfazed, meeting his gaze with her own icy stare.
“Today, here, I am the judge,” Xuanwu stated. “Abide by the rules.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind,” Qinglong said. “Do you have any idea what the consequences will be for speaking to me like this?”
Xuanwu fell silent for a moment before speaking. “The consequences are severe either way.”
“…’Either way’?”
“Neglecting my duties as judge has severe consequences, and defying you has severe consequences,” Xuanwu explained. “But you said yourself that this time, defying you is allowed.”
Qinglong wanted to charge forward and show Xuanwu who the true “god” here was, but doing so would prematurely end the game and nullify the “gamble with life.”
For the first time in all his years of acting with impunity in the “Land of Finality,” Qinglong tasted the bitterness of being constrained by “rules.”
“Qinglong’s lost his mind too,” Chen Junnan whispered to Qiao Jiajin. “That character ‘Bing’ was chosen by Sister Xuanwu herself. Even if she can’t read, she must know what she picked. One glance would tell her whether it was used or not.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s lost it.”
A flicker of anger crossed Qinglong’s face, but he still couldn’t figure out how Qi Xia had managed to assemble the character “罧.”
This strange “character” was not only unpronounceable but also bore no resemblance to the components of “Bing.”
“Two ‘mu’…” Qinglong’s eyes suddenly flashed with suspicion. Could there be two “xiang” characters in the pile now?
After confirming the answer, Qi Xia quickly removed all the characters from the “Phoenix Holding Scroll Platform” and approached the massive wall.
“So, what do you say, Qinglong?” Qi Xia asked. “The outcome of this round is clear for all to see, isn’t it?”
Xuanwu nodded slightly. “Your ‘character’ appears more complex to write, so it has more strokes.”
“Can I take that to mean ‘the judge says I won’?” Qi Xia pressed, staring directly at Qinglong.
Reluctantly, Qinglong nodded. The rules of this round were too clear to dispute any further.
“Fine, you win,” Qinglong conceded. “Best of three. Let’s begin the second round.”
Xuanwu nodded and walked over to the wooden box to draw the rules for the second round.
She reached her pale gray arm into the box, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out another slip of paper.
This time, she didn’t even bother reading it herself, simply unfolding it and showing it to everyone.
The crowd tilted their heads in confusion—Xuanwu was holding the slip upside down.
Chen Junnan craned his neck to read it and murmured, “‘The thing more important to humanity wins’?”
Noticing everyone’s tilted heads, Xuanwu seemed to realize her mistake and flipped the slip around.
The others straightened their necks and confirmed that the phrase was indeed what Chen Junnan had read.
“So abstract…” Lawyer Zhang commented. “‘The thing more important to humanity’?”
Tiantian pondered for a moment. “Does that refer to a physical object… or something more abstract, like a concept?”
“Either is acceptable,” Qinglong answered for Xuanwu. “As long as the ‘character’ we create is deemed important to humanity, it qualifies. The more important one wins. But the condition is that it must be a single ‘character’ and must incorporate part or all of ‘Bing.'”
The increasingly difficult rule left everyone speechless.
They could only use one “character,” and its meaning would determine victory or defeat. Moreover, this “character” had to include all or part of “Bing.”
“You’re just blatantly cheating now,” Chen Junnan frowned. “You’ve probably thought about these rules countless times yourself, haven’t you? How is Old Qi supposed to compete with you when he’s hearing them for the first time?”
“My apologies,” Qinglong said. “But there’s no turning back now. Besides, I’ll go first again this time.”
He turned to Qi Xia with a mocking grin. “No objections, I assume?”
Qi Xia knew this was clearly a trap.
There were already very few characters that could incorporate “Bing,” and even fewer that would meet the conditions. In other words, this challenge likely had only one solution.
If Qinglong made the first move, Qi Xia’s chances of losing would skyrocket.
But at this point, this was the only way to make it a true gamble.
Being pushed to the brink of defeat would force out his potential, and he would grow stronger because of it.
“No problem,” Qi Xia said. “You go first.”
Even Qiao Jiajin could tell something was fishy about this game and hurriedly interjected, “Wait, Scammer, didn’t he choose to go first last time? You should go first this time.”
“It’s fine,” Qi Xia replied. “Consider it me going easy on him.”
“Showing off,” Qinglong smirked, stepping behind the giant wall and began sifting through the various “characters” on the ground.
Soon, he settled on his answer, placing a “木” (mu) on the screen.
A few seconds later, he added a “丷” (bā).
“米” (mǐ).
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan couldn’t help but curse. “Old Qi… do you see how shameless this old bastard is?”
Qi Xia nodded. Qinglong’s choice was unsurprising. “米” (rice) represented “food,” which was naturally extremely important to human survival. It was likely the one and only standard answer.
After all, there were very few characters that could incorporate “Bing” and meet the requirements.
“First of all, I don’t accept this!” Chen Junnan quickly explained to Xuanwu. “Even though what he wrote on the screen is ‘米,’ I don’t think it’s that important. I can get full just eating meat and vegetables.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can get full just drinking,” Qiao Jiajin chimed in.
“Worst case, I can have a bowl of zhajiangmian, or jiaoquan with douzhir. Anyway, I don’t accept ‘米.'”
“Yeah, yeah, curry fish balls and wonton noodles are fine too. ‘米’ won’t cut it.”
Hearing this, Qi Xia could only shake his head helplessly.
Xuanwu looked up at the giant “米” on the screen, seemingly studying how to write the character. After a few seconds, she slowly said:
“‘米’… is truly very important to humanity.”
This bizarre “character” not only defied pronunciation but also bore no visible resemblance to “soldier.”
“Half of the character ‘Bing’…” Qinglong’s face visibly darkened. “Xuanwu… are you lying to me?”
“No, I don’t lie,” Xuanwu shook her head, her long hair swaying with the movement.
“Then you must be illiterate,” Qinglong said. “If you don’t even recognize the character ‘Bing,’ how could you possibly know Qi Xia used half of it?”
“I don’t recognize ‘Bing,’ but I recognize half of ‘Bing,'” Xuanwu replied in her cold, clear voice.
Hearing this, Qi Xia found it almost laughable. Within the bounds of the rules, even Xuanwu would stand by his side.
“I don’t believe it,” Qinglong insisted. “I need to see for myself.”
“Audacious,” Xuanwu retorted coldly. “There is no such rule.”
“You…” Qinglong’s eyes instantly filled with murderous intent at her words.
Yet Xuanwu seemed completely unfazed, meeting his gaze with her own icy stare.
“Today, here, I am the referee,” Xuanwu stated. “Abide by the rules.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind,” Qinglong said. “Do you have any idea what the consequences are for speaking to me like this?”
Xuanwu fell silent for a moment before speaking. “The consequences are severe either way.”
“…’Either way’?”
“Failing to perform my duties as referee has severe consequences, and defying you has severe consequences,” Xuanwu explained. “But you said yourself that this time, defying you is allowed.”
Qinglong wanted to charge forward and show Xuanwu who the true “god” here was, but doing so would prematurely end the game and nullify the “gamble with life.”
For the first time in all his years of acting with impunity in the “Land of Finality,” Qinglong tasted the bitterness of being constrained by “rules.”
“Qinglong’s lost his mind too,” Chen Junnan whispered to Qiao Jiajin. “That character ‘Bing’ was chosen by Sister Xuanwu herself. Even if she can’t read, she must know what she picked. One glance would tell her if it was used.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s lost it.”
A flicker of anger crossed Qinglong’s face, but he still couldn’t figure out how Qi Xia had assembled the character “罧.”
This strange “character” was not only unpronounceable but also bore no resemblance to the components of “Bing.”
“Two ‘Mu’…” Qinglong’s eyes suddenly flashed with suspicion. Could there be two “Xiang” in the character pool now?
After confirming the answer, Qi Xia quickly removed all the characters from the “Phoenix Holding Scroll Platform” and approached the massive wall.
“So, what do you say, Qinglong?” Qi Xia asked. “The outcome of this round is clear for all to see, isn’t it?”
Xuanwu nodded slightly. “Your character looks more complicated to write, so it has more strokes.”
“Can I take that to mean ‘the referee says I won’?” Qi Xia pressed, staring at Qinglong.
Reluctantly, Qinglong nodded. The rules of this round were too clear to dispute further.
“Fine, you win,” Qinglong conceded. “Best of three. Let’s start the second round.”
Xuanwu nodded and walked over to the wooden box to draw the rules for the second round.
She reached her pale gray arm into the box, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out another slip of paper.
This time, she didn’t even bother reading it herself, simply unfolding it to show everyone.
The crowd tilted their heads in confusion—Xuanwu was holding the slip upside down.
Chen Junnan tilted his head and read softly, “‘Whichever is more important to humanity wins’?”
Noticing everyone’s tilted heads, Xuanwu seemed to realize her mistake and turned the slip right-side up.
The others straightened their necks and confirmed that the phrase indeed matched what Chen Junnan had read.
“So abstract…” Lawyer Zhang remarked. “Something more important to humanity?”
Tian Tian pondered for a moment. “Does that mean tangible objects? Or something more spiritual?”
“Both,” Qinglong answered for Xuanwu. “As long as the character we create is deemed important to humanity, it qualifies. The more important one wins. But the condition is that it must be a single character and must include part of ‘Bing.'”
The increasingly difficult rule left everyone speechless.
They could only use one character, and its meaning would determine victory or defeat—all while incorporating part or all of “Bing.”
“You’re just cheating now,” Chen Junnan frowned. “You’ve probably thought through these rules countless times, haven’t you? How is Old Qi supposed to compete when he’s hearing them for the first time?”
“My apologies,” Qinglong said. “But there’s no turning back now. Besides, I’ll go first again this time.”
He turned to Qi Xia with a mocking grin. “No objections, I assume?”
Qi Xia knew this was clearly a trap.
There were already few characters that could incorporate part of “Bing,” and even fewer that met the conditions. In other words, this challenge likely had only one solution.
If Qinglong went first, Qi Xia’s chances of losing would skyrocket.
But at this point, this was the only way to make it a true gamble.
Pushing his limits under the threat of defeat would force him to grow once more.
“No problem,” Qi Xia said. “You go first.”
Even Qiao Jiajin could tell something was off. “Wait,骗子仔 (swindler), didn’t he choose to go first last time? You should go first this time.”
“It’s fine,” Qi Xia replied. “Consider it me going easy on him.”
“Showing off,” Qinglong smirked, stepping behind the giant wall to sift through the characters on the ground.
He quickly settled on his answer, placing a “木” (wood) on the screen.
A few seconds later, he added “丷,” forming “米” (rice).
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan couldn’t help but curse. “Old Qi… do you see how shameless this old bastard is?”
Qi Xia nodded. Qinglong’s choice was undeniable—”米” represented “food,” which was undeniably crucial to human survival. It was likely the one and only correct answer.
After all, there were very few characters that could incorporate “Bing” while meeting the requirements.
“First of all, I don’t accept this!” Chen Junnan quickly explained to Xuanwu. “Even though what’s on the screen is ‘米,’ I don’t think it’s that important. I can get full just eating meat and vegetables.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can get full on alcohol,” Qiao Jiajin chimed in.
“Worst case, I can have a bowl of zhajiangmian, or jiaoquan with douzhir. Anyway, I don’t accept ‘米.'”
“Yeah, yeah, curry fish balls and wanzaishi work too. ‘米’ won’t cut it.”
Qi Xia shook his head helplessly.
Upon hearing this, Xuanwu looked up at the massive “米” on the screen, seemingly studying how to write the character. After a few seconds, she slowly said:
“‘米’… is truly very important to humanity.”
Once Qi Xia confirmed the answer, he swiftly removed all the characters from the “Phoenix Book Pedestal” and stepped before the massive wall.
“Well, Qinglong?” Qi Xia challenged. “The outcome is clear to all, isn’t it?”
Xuanwu gave a slight nod. “Your character looks harder to write, so it has more strokes.”
“Then can I take that as ‘the judge declares my victory’?” Qi Xia pressed, locking eyes with Qinglong.
Reluctantly, Qinglong nodded. The rules of this round were too transparent to dispute further.
“Fine, you win,” Qinglong conceded. “Best of three. Let’s begin the second round.”
Xuanwu nodded and approached the wooden box to draw the next rule.
Her pale-gray arm rummaged inside before pulling out another slip of paper.
This time, she didn’t even bother reading it herself, simply unfolding it to display to the group.
Everyone tilted their heads as they realized she was holding it upside down.
Chen Junnan squinted and read aloud, “‘Whichever is more important to humanity wins’?”
Noticing the confusion, Xuanwu flipped the slip right-side up.
The group straightened their necks and confirmed the words matched Chen Junnan’s reading.
“So abstract…” Lawyer Zhang mused. “What’s ‘more important to humanity’?”
Tian Tian pondered briefly. “Does it mean tangible things… or something abstract, like ideals?”
“Either,” Qinglong answered for Xuanwu. “As long as the ‘character’ we create is deemed important to humanity, it qualifies. The more significant one wins—but it must be a single character and include part of ‘soldier.'”
The increasingly convoluted rules silenced the group.
They could only use one character, its meaning would determine victory, and it had to incorporate “soldier” in whole or part.
“You’re just plain cheating now,” Chen Junnan scowled. “You’ve rehearsed these rules a thousand times, haven’t you? How’s Old Qi supposed to compete when he’s hearing them for the first time?”
“My apologies,” Qinglong smirked. “No turning back now. Besides, I’ll go first again.” He turned to Qi Xia, taunting, “No objections?”
Qi Xia knew this was a trap.
Characters containing “soldier” were rare to begin with, and meeting the criteria narrowed it down further—likely to a single solution.
If Qinglong went first, Qi Xia’s chances of losing skyrocketed.
But this was the essence of a gamble.
Only by facing near-certain defeat could his potential be forced to the surface, spurring his growth.
“No problem,” Qi Xia agreed. “You first.”
Even Qiao Jiajin sensed foul play and interjected, “No way, Scammer. Didn’t he go first last time? You choose this round.”
“It’s fine,” Qi Xia said. “Consider it a handicap.”
“Such bravado.” Qinglong smirked and strode behind the giant wall to sift through the scattered characters.
“Half of the character ‘Bing’…” Qinglong’s face visibly darkened. “Xuanwu… are you lying to me?”
“No, I don’t lie.” Xuanwu shook her head, her long hair swaying with the movement.
“Then you must be illiterate,” Qinglong said. “If you don’t even recognize the character ‘Bing,’ how could you possibly know Qixia used half of it?”
“I don’t know ‘Bing,’ but I know half of ‘Bing,'” Xuanwu replied in her cold, clear voice.
Qixia found it almost laughable—within the bounds of the rules, even Xuanwu would stand by his side.
“I don’t believe you,” Qinglong insisted. “I need to see for myself.”
“Audacious,” Xuanwu retorted coldly. “There is no such rule.”
“You…” Qinglong’s eyes instantly filled with murderous intent at her words.
Yet Xuanwu seemed completely unfazed, meeting his gaze with her own icy stare.
“Today, here, I am the judge,” Xuanwu stated. “Abide by the rules.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind,” Qinglong said. “Do you have any idea what the consequences will be for speaking to me like this?”
Xuanwu fell silent for a moment before replying, “The consequences are severe either way.”
“…’Either way’?”
“Failing to perform my duties as judge has severe consequences. Defying you has severe consequences,” Xuanwu explained. “But you said yourself that this time, defiance is allowed.”
Qinglong wanted to charge forward and show Xuanwu who the true “god” here was, but doing so would prematurely end the game and nullify the “gamble with life.”
For the first time in all his years of acting with impunity in the “Land of End,” Qinglong tasted the bitterness of being constrained by “rules.”
“Qinglong’s lost his mind too,” Chen Junnan whispered to Qiao Jiajin. “That ‘Bing’ character was chosen by Sister Xuanwu herself. Even if she can’t read, she must know what she picked. One glance would tell her whether it was used or not.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s lost it.”
A flicker of anger crossed Qinglong’s face, but he still couldn’t figure out how Qixia had assembled the character “罧.”
This bizarre “character” was not only unpronounceable but showed no trace of the components of “Bing.”
“Two ‘mu’…” Qinglong’s eyes suddenly flashed with suspicion. Could there be two “xiang” characters in the pile now?
After confirming the answer, Qixia quickly removed all the characters from the “Phoenix Holding Scroll Platform” and approached the massive wall.
“Well, Qinglong?” Qixia asked. “The outcome of this round is clear to everyone, isn’t it?”
Xuanwu nodded slightly. “Your ‘character’ appears more complex to write, so it has more strokes.”
“Can I take that to mean ‘the judge says I won’?” Qixia pressed, staring at Qinglong.
Reluctantly, Qinglong nodded. The rules of this round were too clear to dispute any further.
“Fine, you win,” Qinglong conceded. “Best of three. Let’s begin the second round.”
Xuanwu nodded and walked over to the wooden box to draw the rules for the second round.
She reached her pale gray arm into the box, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out another slip of paper.
This time, she didn’t even bother reading it herself, simply unfolding it to show everyone.
The onlookers tilted their heads in confusion—Xuanwu was holding the slip upside down.
Chen Junnan tilted his head and read softly, “‘Whichever is more important to humanity wins’?”
Noticing everyone’s tilted heads, Xuanwu seemed to realize her mistake and turned the slip right-side up.
The others straightened their necks and confirmed that the phrase was indeed what Chen Junnan had read.
“So abstract…” Lawyer Zhang remarked. “‘More important to humanity’?”
Tiantian pondered for a moment. “Does that refer to tangible objects… or something more abstract, like spiritual matters?”
“Either,” Qinglong answered for Xuanwu. “As long as the ‘character’ we create is deemed important to humanity, it qualifies. The more important one wins. But the condition is that only one ‘character’ can be used, and it must incorporate part or all of ‘Bing.'”
The increasingly difficult rule left everyone speechless.
Only one character allowed, its meaning determining victory, and it had to include all or part of “Bing.”
“You’re just fucking cheating now,” Chen Junnan frowned. “You’ve probably thought these rules through countless times, haven’t you? How is Old Qi supposed to compete when he’s hearing them for the first time?”
“My apologies,” Qinglong said. “But there’s no turning back now. Besides, I’ll go first again this round.”
He turned to Qixia with a mocking grin. “No objections, I assume?”
Qixia knew it was a trap.
There were already few characters that could incorporate “Bing,” and even fewer that met the criteria. This challenge likely had only one solution.
If Qinglong went first, Qixia’s chances of losing skyrocketed.
But at this point, this was the only way to make it a true gamble.
Pushing his limits under the threat of defeat would force him to grow once more.
“No problem,” Qixia said. “You go first.”
Even Qiao Jiajin, standing nearby, could tell something was off. “Wait, Cheater,” he urged. “Didn’t he choose to go first last time? You should go first this time.”
“It’s fine,” Qixia replied. “Consider it me going easy on him.”
“Showing off,” Qinglong smirked, stepping behind the giant wall to sift through the characters on the ground.
He quickly settled on his answer, placing a “mu” on the screen.
A few seconds later, he added a “丷.”
“Mi” (rice).
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan couldn’t help but curse. “Old Qi… do you see how fucking shameless this old bastard is?”
Qixia nodded. Qinglong’s choice was undeniable—”mi” represented “food,” which was naturally crucial to human survival. It was likely the one and only correct answer.
After all, there were very few characters that incorporated “Bing” and met the requirements.
“First of all, I don’t accept this!” Chen Junnan hurriedly explained to Xuanwu. “Even though what’s on the screen is ‘mi,’ I don’t think it’s that important. I can get full just eating meat and vegetables.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can get full on alcohol,” Qiao Jiajin chimed in.
“Worst case, I can have a bowl of zhajiangmian, or jiaoquan with douzhir. Anyway, I don’t accept ‘mi.'”
“Yeah, yeah, curry fish balls and wanzaiji work too. ‘Mi’ won’t cut it.”
Qixia shook his head helplessly.
Upon hearing this, Xuanwu looked up at the giant “mi” on the screen, seemingly studying how to write the character. After a few seconds, she slowly said:
“‘Mi’… is truly very important to humanity.”
“Half of the character ‘Bing’…” Qinglong’s face visibly darkened. “Xuanwu… are you lying to me?”
“No, I don’t lie,” Xuanwu shook her head, her long hair swaying with the motion.
“Then you must be illiterate,” Qinglong said. “You don’t even recognize the character ‘Bing,’ so how could you know Qixia used half of it?”
“I don’t know ‘Bing,’ but I know half of ‘Bing,'” Xuanwu replied in her cold, clear voice.
Qixia found it almost laughable—within the bounds of the rules, even Xuanwu would stand by his side.
“I don’t believe it,” Qinglong insisted. “I need to see for myself.”
“How dare you,” Xuanwu retorted coldly. “There is no such rule.”
“You…” Qinglong’s eyes instantly filled with killing intent at her words.
Yet Xuanwu seemed completely unfazed, meeting his gaze with her own icy stare.
“Today, here, I am the referee,” Xuanwu stated. “Abide by the rules.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind,” Qinglong said. “Do you have any idea what the consequences will be for speaking to me like this?”
Xuanwu fell silent for a moment before replying, “The consequences are severe either way.”
“…’Either way’?”
“Failing to perform my duties as referee has severe consequences, and defying you has severe consequences,” Xuanwu explained. “But you said yourself that this time, defying you is allowed.”
Qinglong wanted to rush forward and show Xuanwu who the true “god” here was, but doing so would prematurely end the game and nullify the “gamble with life.”
For the first time in all his years of acting with impunity in the “Land of Finality,” Qinglong tasted the bitterness of being constrained by “rules.”
“Qinglong’s lost his mind too,” Chen Junnan whispered to Qiao Jiajin. “That ‘Bing’ character was chosen by Sister Xuanwu herself. Even if she can’t read, she must know what she picked. One glance would tell her whether it was used or not.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s lost it.”
A flicker of anger crossed Qinglong’s face, but he still couldn’t figure out how Qixia had assembled the character “罧.”
This strange “character” was not only unpronounceable but also bore no visible components of “Bing.”
“Two ‘mu’…” Qinglong’s eyes suddenly flashed with suspicion. Could there be two “xiang” characters in the pile now?
After confirming the answer, Qixia quickly removed all the characters from the “Phoenix Holding Scroll Platform” and approached the massive wall.
“So, what do you say, Qinglong?” Qixia asked. “The outcome of this round is clear to everyone, isn’t it?”
Xuanwu nodded slightly. “Your character looks more difficult to write, so it has more strokes.”
“Can I take that to mean ‘the referee says I won’?” Qixia pressed, staring at Qinglong.
Reluctantly, Qinglong nodded. The rules of this round were too clear to dispute any further.
“Fine, you win,” Qinglong conceded. “Best of three. Let’s start the second round.”
Xuanwu nodded and walked to the wooden box to draw the rules for the second round.
She reached her pale gray arm into the box, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out another slip of paper.
This time, she didn’t even bother reading it herself, simply unfolding it to show everyone.
The crowd tilted their heads in confusion—Xuanwu was holding the slip upside down.
Chen Junnan tilted his head and read softly, “‘The thing more important to humanity wins’?”
Noticing everyone’s tilted heads, Xuanwu seemed to realize her mistake and turned the slip right-side up.
The others straightened their necks and confirmed that the phrase was indeed what Chen Junnan had read.
“So abstract…” Lawyer Zhang remarked. “‘The thing more important to humanity’?”
Tiantian pondered for a moment. “Does this refer to physical objects… or something more abstract, like spiritual matters?”
“Either is acceptable,” Qinglong answered for Xuanwu. “As long as the character we create is deemed important to humanity, it qualifies. The more important one wins. But the condition is that only one character can be used, and it must incorporate part or all of ‘Bing.'”
The increasingly difficult rule left everyone speechless.
Only one character could be used, its meaning would determine victory, and it had to include all or part of “Bing.”
“You’re just blatantly cheating now,” Chen Junnan frowned. “You’ve probably thought through these rules countless times, haven’t you? How is Old Qi supposed to compete when he’s hearing them for the first time?”
“My apologies,” Qinglong said. “But there’s no turning back now. Besides, I’ll go first again this time.”
He turned to Qixia with a mocking grin. “No objections, I assume?”
Qixia knew this was clearly a trap.
There were already few characters that could incorporate “Bing,” and even fewer that met the conditions. In other words, this challenge likely had only one solution.
If Qinglong went first, Qixia’s chances of losing would skyrocket.
But at this point, this was the only way to make it a true gamble.
Pushing his potential to the brink of defeat would force him to grow once more.
“No problem,” Qixia said. “You go first.”
Even Qiao Jiajin, standing nearby, could tell something was off. “Wait, Fraudster, didn’t he choose to go first last time? You should go first this time.”
“It’s fine,” Qixia replied. “Consider it me going easy on him.”
“Showing off,” Qinglong smirked, stepping behind the giant wall to sift through the characters on the ground.
He quickly settled on his answer, placing a “mu” on the screen.
A few seconds later, he added a “丷.”
“Mi” (rice).
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan couldn’t help but curse. “Old Qi… do you see how shameless this old bastard is?”
Qixia nodded. Qinglong’s choice was reasonable—”mi” represented “food,” which was naturally extremely important to human survival. It was likely the one and only correct answer.
After all, there were very few characters that incorporated “Bing” and met the requirements.
“First of all, I don’t accept this!” Chen Junnan hurriedly explained to Xuanwu. “Even though what’s on the screen is ‘mi,’ I don’t think it’s that important. I can get full just eating meat and vegetables.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can get full just drinking,” Qiao Jiajin chimed in.
“Worst case, I can have a bowl of zhajiangmian, or jiaoquan with douzhir. Anyway, I don’t accept ‘mi.'”
“Yeah, yeah, curry fish balls and wanzaiji work too. ‘Mi’ doesn’t cut it.”
Qixia shook his head helplessly.
Upon hearing this, Xuanwu looked up at the giant “mi” on the screen, seemingly studying how to write the character. After a few seconds, she slowly said:
“‘Mi’… is truly very important to humanity.”
“Half of the character ‘Bing’…” Qinglong’s face visibly darkened. “Xuanwu… are you lying to me?”
“No, I don’t lie.” Xuanwu shook her head, her long hair swaying with the motion.
“Then you must be illiterate,” Qinglong said. “You don’t even recognize the character ‘Bing,’ so how could you know Qixia used half of it?”
“I don’t know ‘Bing,’ but I know half of ‘Bing,'” Xuanwu replied in her cold, clear voice.
Qixia found it almost laughable—within the bounds of the rules, even Xuanwu would stand by his side.
“I don’t believe it,” Qinglong insisted. “I need to see for myself.”
“Audacious,” Xuanwu retorted coldly. “There is no such rule.”
“You…” Qinglong’s eyes instantly filled with murderous intent at her words.
Yet Xuanwu seemed completely unfazed, meeting his gaze with her own icy stare.
“Today, here, I am the referee,” Xuanwu stated. “Abide by the rules.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind,” Qinglong said. “Do you have any idea what the consequences will be for speaking to me like this?”
Xuanwu fell silent for a moment before replying, “The consequences are severe either way.”
“…’Either way’?”
“Failing to perform my duties as referee has severe consequences. Defying you has severe consequences,” Xuanwu explained. “But you said yourself that this time, defiance is allowed.”
Qinglong wanted to charge forward and show Xuanwu who the true “god” of this place was, but doing so would prematurely end the game and nullify the “gamble with life.”
For the first time in all his years of acting with impunity in the “Land of Finality,” Qinglong tasted the bitterness of being constrained by “rules.”
“Qinglong’s lost his mind too,” Chen Junnan whispered to Qiao Jiejin. “That ‘Bing’ character was chosen by Sister Xuanwu herself. Even if she can’t read, she must know what she picked. One glance would tell her whether it was used or not.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s lost it.”
A flicker of anger crossed Qinglong’s face, but he still couldn’t figure out how Qixia had managed to assemble the character “罧.”
This strange “character” was not only unpronounceable but also bore no visible components of “Bing.”
“Two ‘mu’…” Qinglong’s eyes suddenly flashed with suspicion. Could there be two “xiang” characters in the pile now?
After confirming the answer, Qixia quickly removed all the “characters” from the “Phoenix Holding Scroll Platform” and approached the massive wall.
“Well, Qinglong?” Qixia asked. “The outcome of this round is clear to everyone, isn’t it?”
Xuanwu nodded slightly. “Your ‘character’ appears more complex to write, so it has more strokes.”
“Can I take that to mean ‘the referee says I won’?” Qixia pressed, staring directly at Qinglong.
Reluctantly, Qinglong nodded. The rules of this round were too clear to dispute any further.
“Fine, you win,” Qinglong conceded. “Best of three rounds. Let’s begin the second one.”
Xuanwu nodded and walked over to the wooden box to draw the rules for the second round.
She reached her pale gray arm into the box, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out another slip of paper.
This time, she didn’t even bother reading it herself—she simply unfolded it and held it up for everyone to see.
The crowd tilted their heads in confusion; Xuanwu was holding the slip upside down.
Chen Junnan craned his neck to look and read softly, “‘Whichever is more important to humanity wins’?”
Noticing everyone tilting their heads, Xuanwu seemed to realize her mistake and turned the slip right-side up.
The others straightened their necks and confirmed that the phrase indeed matched what Chen Junnan had read.
“So abstract…” Lawyer Zhang remarked. “‘More important to humanity’?”
Tiantian pondered for a moment. “Does that refer to physical objects…? Or something on a spiritual level?”
“Either,” Qinglong answered for Xuanwu. “As long as the ‘character’ we create is deemed important to humanity, it qualifies. The more important one wins. But the condition is that it must be a single ‘character’ and must incorporate part or all of ‘Bing.'”
The increasingly difficult rule left everyone speechless.
They could only use one “character,” and its meaning would determine victory or defeat—all while incorporating part or all of “Bing.”
“You’re just blatantly cheating now,” Chen Junnan frowned. “You’ve probably thought through these rules countless times, haven’t you? How is Old Qi supposed to compete when he’s hearing them for the first time?”
“My apologies,” Qinglong said. “But there’s no turning back now. Besides, I’ll go first again this time.”
He turned to Qixia with a mocking grin. “No objections, I assume?”
Qixia knew this was clearly a trap.
There were already very few “characters” that could incorporate part of “Bing,” and even fewer that would meet the conditions. In other words, this challenge likely had only one solution.
If Qinglong made the first move, Qixia’s chances of losing would skyrocket.
But at this point, this was the only way to make it a true gamble.
Pushing his limits under the threat of defeat would force him to grow once more.
“No problem,” Qixia said. “You go first.”
Even Qiao Jiejin, standing nearby, could see the trickery in this game and hurriedly interjected, “No, no, no, Trickster! Didn’t he choose to go first last time? You should go first this time.”
“It’s fine,” Qixia replied. “Consider it me going easy on him.”
“Showing off,” Qinglong smirked, stepping behind the giant wall to sift through the various “characters” on the ground.
He quickly settled on his answer and placed a “mu” on the screen.
A few seconds later, he added a “丷.”
“Mi” (rice).
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan couldn’t help but curse. “Old Qi… do you see how shameless this old bastard is?”
Qixia nodded. Qinglong’s choice was understandable—”mi” represented “food,” which was naturally extremely important to human survival. It was likely the one and only standard answer.
After all, there were very few “characters” that could incorporate “Bing” and meet the requirements.
“First of all, I don’t accept this!” Chen Junnan quickly explained to Xuanwu. “Even though what’s on the screen is ‘mi,’ I don’t think it’s that important. I can get full just eating meat and vegetables.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can get full just drinking,” Qiao Jiejin chimed in.
“At worst, I can have a bowl of zhajiangmian, or jiaoquan with douzhir. Anyway, I don’t accept ‘mi.'”
“Yeah, yeah, curry fish balls and wanzaiji work too. ‘Mi’ doesn’t cut it.”
Qixia shook his head helplessly.
Upon hearing this, Xuanwu looked up at the giant “mi” on the screen, seemingly studying how to write the character. After a few seconds, she slowly said:
“‘Mi’… is truly very important to humanity.”
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan cursed under his breath. “Old Qi… you see how shameless this bastard is?”
Qi Xia nodded. Qinglong’s choice was undeniable—”rice” symbolized sustenance, undeniably vital to human survival. It might be the only correct answer possible, given the constraints.
Characters containing “soldier” and fitting the theme were too scarce.
“Just so we’re clear, I don’t accept this!” Chen Junnan protested to Xuanwu. “Even if that character on the screen is ‘rice,’ I don’t think it’s that important. I can survive just fine on meat and veggies.”
“Right, right. I can live on booze,” Qiao Jiajin chimed in.
“Or a bowl of zhajiangmian, jiaoquan with douzhi—point is, ‘rice’ ain’t it for me.”
“Half of the character ‘Bing’…” Qinglong’s face visibly darkened. “Xuanwu… are you lying to me?”
“No, I don’t lie,” Xuanwu shook her head, her long hair swaying with the motion.
“Then you must be illiterate,” Qinglong said. “You don’t even recognize the character ‘Bing,’ so how could you know Qixia used half of it?”
“I don’t know ‘Bing,’ but I know half of ‘Bing,'” Xuanwu replied in her cold, clear voice.
Hearing this, Qixia couldn’t help but find it amusing. Within the bounds of the rules, even Xuanwu would stand by his side.
“I don’t believe it,” Qinglong insisted. “I need to see for myself.”
“Audacious,” Xuanwu retorted coldly. “There is no such rule.”
“You…” Qinglong’s eyes instantly filled with murderous intent at her words.
Yet Xuanwu seemed completely unfazed, meeting his gaze with her own icy stare.
“Today, here, I am the judge,” Xuanwu stated. “Abide by the rules.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind,” Qinglong said. “Do you not know the consequences of speaking to me like this?”
Xuanwu fell silent for a moment before speaking. “The consequences are severe either way.”
“…’Either way’?”
“Failing to perform my duties as judge has severe consequences. Defying you has severe consequences,” Xuanwu explained. “But you said this time, defying you is allowed.”
Qinglong wanted to rush forward and show Xuanwu who the true “god” here was, but doing so would prematurely end the game and nullify the “gamble with life.”
For the first time in all his years of acting with impunity in the “Land of Finality,” Qinglong tasted the bitterness of being constrained by “rules.”
“Qinglong’s lost his mind too,” Chen Junnan whispered to Qiao Jiajin. “That character ‘Bing’ was chosen by Sister Xuanwu herself. Even if she can’t read, she must know what she picked. One glance would tell her if it’s been used.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s lost it.”
A flicker of anger crossed Qinglong’s face, but he still couldn’t figure out how Qixia had assembled the character “罧.”
This strange “character” was not only unpronounceable but also bore no resemblance to the components of “Bing.”
“Two ‘mu’…” Qinglong’s eyes suddenly flashed with suspicion. Could there be two “xiang” characters in the pile now?
After confirming the answer, Qixia quickly removed all the characters from the “Phoenix Holding Scroll Platform” and approached the massive wall.
“Well, Qinglong?” Qixia asked. “The outcome of this round is clear to everyone, isn’t it?”
Xuanwu nodded slightly. “Your character looks harder to write, so it has more strokes.”
“Can I take that to mean ‘the judge says I won’?” Qixia pressed, staring at Qinglong.
Reluctantly, Qinglong nodded. The rules of this round were too clear to dispute further.
“Fine, you win,” Qinglong conceded. “Best of three. Let’s start the second round.”
Xuanwu nodded and walked to the wooden box to draw the rules for the second round.
She reached her pale gray arm into the box, rummaged around for a bit, and pulled out another slip of paper.
This time, she didn’t even bother reading it herself, simply unfolding it to show everyone.
The crowd tilted their heads in confusion—Xuanwu was holding the slip upside down.
Chen Junnan tilted his head and read softly, “‘The thing more important to humanity wins’?”
Noticing everyone’s tilted heads, Xuanwu seemed to realize her mistake and turned the slip right-side up.
The others straightened their necks and confirmed the phrase matched what Chen Junnan had read.
“So abstract…” Lawyer Zhang remarked. “Something more important to humanity?”
Tiantian pondered for a moment. “Does it refer to physical objects… or something on a spiritual level?”
“Either,” Qinglong answered for Xuanwu. “As long as the character we create is deemed important to humanity, it qualifies. The more important one wins. But there’s a catch: only one character can be used, and it must contain part of ‘Bing.'”
The increasingly difficult rule left everyone speechless.
Only one character could be used, its meaning would determine victory, and it had to include all or part of “Bing.”
“You’re just cheating now,” Chen Junnan frowned. “You’ve probably thought about these rules countless times, haven’t you? How is Old Qi supposed to compete with you when he’s hearing them for the first time?”
“My apologies,” Qinglong said. “But there’s no turning back now. Besides, I’ll go first again this time.”
He turned to Qixia with a mocking grin. “No objections, right?”
Qixia knew this was a trap.
There were already few characters containing part of “Bing,” and even fewer that met the conditions. This challenge likely had only one solution.
If Qinglong went first, Qixia’s chances of losing skyrocketed.
But at this point, this was the only way to make it a true gamble.
Pushing his potential to the brink of defeat would force him to grow once more.
“No problem,” Qixia said. “You go first.”
Even Qiao Jiajin, standing nearby, could tell something was off. “Wait, Swindler! Didn’t he choose to go first last time? This time, you should go first.”
“It’s fine,” Qixia replied. “Consider it me going easy on him.”
“Showing off,” Qinglong smirked, stepping behind the giant wall to sift through the characters on the ground.
He quickly settled on his answer, placing a “mu” on the screen.
A few seconds later, he added a “丷.”
“Mi” (rice).
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan couldn’t help but curse. “Old Qi… do you see how sneaky this old bastard is?”
Qixia nodded. Qinglong’s choice was impeccable—”mi” represented “food,” which was undeniably crucial for human survival. It was likely the one and only correct answer.
After all, there were very few characters containing “Bing” that also met the requirements.
“First of all, I don’t agree!” Chen Junnan quickly explained to Xuanwu. “Even though what’s on the screen is ‘mi,’ I don’t think it’s that important. I can get full on meat and vegetables alone.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can get full on alcohol,” Qiao Jiajin chimed in.
“Worst case, I can have a bowl of zhajiangmian, or jiaoquan with douzhi. Anyway, I don’t acknowledge ‘mi.'”
“Yeah, yeah, curry fish balls and wanzaiji work too. ‘Mi’ doesn’t cut it.”
Qixia shook his head helplessly.
Upon hearing this, Xuanwu looked up at the giant “mi” on the screen, seemingly studying how to write the character. After a few seconds, she slowly said:
“‘Mi’… is truly very important to humanity.”
Qi Xia shook his head in exasperation.
“Half of the character ‘Bing’…” Qinglong’s face visibly darkened. “Xuanwu… are you lying to me?”
“No, I don’t lie,” Xuanwu shook her head, her long hair swaying with the motion.
“Then you must be illiterate,” Qinglong retorted. “If you don’t even recognize the character ‘Bing,’ how could you possibly know Qi Xia used half of it?”
“I don’t know ‘Bing,’ but I know half of ‘Bing,'” Xuanwu replied in her cold, clear voice.
Hearing this, Qi Xia found it almost laughable. Within the bounds of the rules, even Xuanwu would stand by his side.
“I don’t believe you,” Qinglong insisted. “I need to see for myself.”
“Audacious,” Xuanwu snapped coldly. “There is no such rule.”
“You…” Qinglong’s eyes instantly filled with murderous intent at her words.
Yet Xuanwu seemed completely unfazed, meeting his gaze with her own icy stare.
“Today, here, I am the judge,” Xuanwu declared. “Abide by the rules.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind,” Qinglong said. “Do you have any idea what the consequences are for speaking to me like this?”
Xuanwu fell silent for a moment before speaking. “The consequences are severe either way.”
“…’Either way’?”
“Failing to perform my duties as judge has severe consequences, and defying you has severe consequences,” Xuanwu explained. “But you said that this time, defying you is allowed.”
Qinglong wanted to charge forward and show Xuanwu who the true “god” here was, but doing so would prematurely end the game and nullify the “gamble with life.”
For the first time in all his years of acting with impunity in the “Land of Finality,” Qinglong tasted the bitterness of being constrained by “rules.”
“Qinglong’s lost his mind too,” Chen Junnan whispered to Qiao Jiejin nearby. “That ‘Bing’ character was chosen by Sister Xuanwu herself. Even if she can’t read, she must know what she picked, right? One glance would tell her if it was used.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s lost it.”
A flicker of anger crossed Qinglong’s face, but he still couldn’t figure out how Qi Xia had assembled the character “罧.”
This bizarre “character” not only defied pronunciation but also showed no trace of the components of “Bing.”
“Two ‘mu’…” A strange glint flashed in Qinglong’s eyes. Could there be two “xiang” characters in the pile now?
After confirming the answer, Qi Xia quickly removed all the characters from the “Phoenix Holding Scroll Platform” and approached the massive wall.
“Well, Qinglong?” Qi Xia asked. “The outcome of this round is clear to everyone, isn’t it?”
Xuanwu nodded slightly. “Your character looks more complicated to write, so it has more strokes.”
“Can I take that to mean ‘the judge says I won’?” Qi Xia pressed, staring at Qinglong.
Reluctantly, Qinglong nodded. The rules of this round were too clear to dispute further.
“Fine, you win,” Qinglong conceded. “Best of three. Let’s start the second round.”
Xuanwu nodded and walked to the wooden box to draw the rules for the second round.
She reached her pale gray arm into the box, rummaged for a moment, and pulled out another slip of paper.
This time, she didn’t even bother reading it herself, simply unfolding it to show everyone.
The onlookers tilted their heads in confusion—Xuanwu was holding the slip upside down.
Chen Junnan tilted his head and read softly, “‘The thing more important to humanity wins’?”
Noticing everyone’s tilted heads, Xuanwu seemed to realize her mistake and turned the slip right-side up.
The others straightened their necks and confirmed that the phrase indeed matched what Chen Junnan had read.
“So abstract…” Lawyer Zhang remarked. “Something more important to humanity?”
Tian Tian pondered for a moment. “Does it refer to a physical object…? Or something on a spiritual level?”
“Either is acceptable,” Qinglong answered for Xuanwu. “As long as the ‘character’ we create is deemed important to humanity, it qualifies. The more important one wins. But the condition is that it must be a single character and must incorporate part of ‘Bing.'”
The increasingly difficult rule left everyone speechless.
They could only use one character, and its meaning would determine victory or defeat—all while incorporating all or part of “Bing.”
“You’re just cheating now,” Chen Junnan frowned. “You’ve probably thought through these rules countless times, haven’t you? How is Old Qi supposed to compete with you when he’s hearing them for the first time?”
“My apologies,” Qinglong said. “But there’s no turning back now. Besides, I’ll go first again this time.”
He turned to Qi Xia with a mocking grin. “No objections, right?”
Qi Xia knew this was clearly a trap.
There were already few characters that incorporated part of “Bing,” and even fewer that met the conditions. In other words, this challenge likely had only one solution.
If Qinglong went first, Qi Xia’s chances of losing would skyrocket.
But at this point, this was the only way to make it a true gamble.
Pushing his limits under the threat of defeat would force him to grow once more.
“No problem,” Qi Xia said. “You go first.”
Even Qiao Jiejin, standing nearby, could tell something was off. “Wait, Fraud! Didn’t he choose to go first last time? You should go first this time.”
“It’s fine,” Qi Xia replied. “Consider it me going easy on him.”
“Showing off,” Qinglong smirked, stepping behind the giant wall to sift through the various characters on the ground.
He quickly settled on his answer, placing a “mu” on the screen.
A few seconds later, he added a “丷.”
“Mi” (rice).
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan couldn’t help but curse. “Old Qi… do you see how shameless this old bastard is?”
Qi Xia nodded. Qinglong’s choice was undeniable—”mi” represented “food,” which was naturally crucial to human survival. It was likely the one and only correct answer.
After all, there were very few characters that incorporated “Bing” and met the requirements.
“First of all, I don’t accept this!” Chen Junnan hurriedly explained to Xuanwu. “Even though what’s on the screen is ‘mi,’ I don’t think it’s that important. I can get full just eating meat and vegetables.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can get full just drinking,” Qiao Jiejin chimed in.
“Worst case, I can have a bowl of zhajiangmian, or jiaoquan with douzhir. Anyway, I don’t accept ‘mi.'”
“Yeah, yeah, curry fish balls and wonton noodles work too. ‘Mi’ won’t cut it.”
Qi Xia shook his head helplessly.
Upon hearing this, Xuanwu looked up at the giant “mi” on the screen, seemingly studying how to write the character. After a few seconds, she slowly said:
“‘Mi’… is truly very important to humanity.”
“‘Rice’… is truly important to humanity.”
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