Chapter 113: The Brave Girl

Could there be such a coincidence?

In one cycle of reincarnation, none of the nine of them happened to hear the “echo,” so they all lost their memories simultaneously.

Moreover, none of the other “participants” who had known them in the past had an “echo” either. So no matter how they acted here, they were unlikely to encounter any “familiar faces.”

This scenario was certainly possible, though the probability was extremely low.

“The Infinite Monkey Theorem,” Qi Xia murmured to himself.

If an infinite number of monkeys spent an infinite amount of time randomly typing letters on keyboards, one of them would eventually, at some point, accurately and continuously type out all of Shakespeare’s works.

Though the probability was infinitesimally small, it was still something that could happen.

And Qi Xia was now in such a situation.

If they reincarnated enough times, there would inevitably come a moment when, against all odds, a “complete memory loss” scenario would occur.

It would make them believe they had just arrived here.

But if that were the case… wouldn’t it be absolutely terrifying?

Just as “White Tiger” had said, they were trapped here.

Born to die, dying to be born again.

No one could escape.

“Chu Tianqiu, what exactly is the way out?” Qi Xia asked in despair. “Do the 3,600 ‘Tao’ even have any meaning?”

“Qi Xia, I’m glad our conversation has finally reached the crux of the matter. What I’m about to tell you is all classified information.” Chu Tianqiu slowly stood up, his expression equally bleak. “No matter how you look at it, 3,600 ‘Tao’ is an unreachable goal. Even if we could gather ‘Tao’ cycle after cycle, this world has the ‘Extreme Path Faction.’ They’ll do everything to stop us. So while we collect ‘Tao’ on the surface, we must carry out our own plan behind the scenes.”

“Exactly,” Yun Yao chimed in. “We have far too many enemies.”

“Then what is your plan?” Qi Xia pressed. “The people of ‘Paradise Entrance’ keep saying they ‘want to conquer all the games.’ What does that even mean?”

“Have you noticed something?” Chu Tianqiu lowered his voice. “We can reincarnate, but the ‘Zodiacs’ in this city cannot.”

Qi Xia’s mind flashed to the corpse of Human Rat.

“What does that imply?”

Chu Tianqiu adjusted his glasses, his expression grave. “It means that if we spend enough time, we can eventually eliminate all the ‘Zodiacs’ through sheer attrition.”

“What?” Qi Xia was stunned. “So that’s why it’s ‘conquering’ all the games, not ‘clearing’ them.”

“Right.” Chu Tianqiu nodded. “If all the ‘Zodiacs’ in this city die, ‘games’ and ‘Tao’ will lose their meaning. The ones at the top will have no choice but to face us—and that will be our chance to escape.”

“In other words, ‘Paradise Entrance’s’ ultimate goal is to confront the ‘Game Masters’ directly.” Qi Xia found the idea absurd, but it might just work.

“To achieve this, we may have to die many times,” Chu Tianqiu said. “But as you mentioned earlier with the ‘Infinite Monkey Theorem’… if we persist, we’ll eventually succeed.”

Qi Xia gave a slight nod. His opinion of “Paradise Entrance” had improved somewhat.

“But I still have one question,” Qi Xia said. “I’ve participated in two ‘Earth’-level games, and I never found an opportunity for a ‘life gamble.’ In ‘Earth’-level games, we’re already risking death—how do we drag the ‘Zodiacs’ down with us?”

Chu Tianqiu and Yun Yao fell silent simultaneously.

They seemed to know the answer, but judging by their expressions, it was difficult to voice.

“We only attempted a ‘life gamble’ with an ‘Earth’-level Zodiac once before shelving the idea,” Chu Tianqiu admitted, shaking his head. “It was practically a guaranteed death trap. Until we find a reliable method, we won’t attempt it again.”

“Guaranteed death?” Given Qi Xia’s understanding of this place, he found it hard to believe any game was truly unwinnable.

“Qi Xia, there are nine to twelve ‘Human’-level Zodiacs per animal, but only two to three ‘Earth’-level Zodiacs per animal. Just gambling with ‘Human’-level Zodiacs has already cost us dearly.” Chu Tianqiu’s tone darkened. “We fought our way from the city center to here, wiping out nearly half the ‘Human’-level Zodiacs along the way. Three months ago, we settled in this school as our base to expand our operations.”

Qi Xia finally understood.

He had been to the city center, where ‘Zodiacs’ were scarce—mostly just the original inhabitants remained.

So it had been “Paradise Entrance’s” doing.

Seeing Qi Xia’s skepticism, Chu Tianqiu explained, “We once had a teammate who gambled with ‘Earth Horse’…”

“What happened?” Qi Xia asked.

“In the end…” Chu Tianqiu’s face twisted with grief. “She lost. And she never returned.”

“Never… came back?” Qi Xia was stunned. “You mean she…”

“She didn’t revive.” Chu Tianqiu said. “Losing that ‘game’ erased her from existence.”

Qi Xia’s eyes widened slowly. “You’re saying… she was truly ‘eliminated’?”

“Exactly. She came from the same room as me.” Chu Tianqiu murmured. “After her failed gamble with the ‘Earth’-level Zodiac, no matter how many cycles passed, her seat remained empty.”

Hearing this, Qi Xia took a deep breath.

Joining “Paradise Entrance” had clearly been the right decision. Not only had he gained deeper insight into this hellish place, but he also now had a clearer sense of direction.

“Can you tell me about that gamble?” Qi Xia asked.

“Of course.” Chu Tianqiu nodded and began recounting the story.

The brave girl’s name was Xu Liunian.

She, Chu Tianqiu, Yun Yao, Jin Yuanxun, and others had all come from the same room.

Their “interview games” were: Human Pig, Human Horse, and Human Ox.

The overall difficulty wasn’t overwhelming, but it wasn’t until their third cycle that they could ensure at least eight survivors.

By then, the “Echoers”—Chu Tianqiu, Yun Yao, and Xu Liunian—had begun to stand out, leading the group through the challenges.

Xu Liunian was an ordinary girl with an extraordinary dream.

She wanted to be an actress.

To pursue it, she had gone to Hengdian at sixteen and stayed there for years.

But Xu Liunian’s looks were too plain—at first, she could only play corpses.

Forty yuan a day, lying still for eight hours, with a five-yuan overtime bonus per hour if filming ran late.

Back then, Hengdian wasn’t like it is now. Even playing a corpse wasn’t a guaranteed gig.

Xu Liunian soon struggled just to survive.

She barely scraped together a few hundred yuan a month—not even enough for rent, even if she ate instant noodles every day.

So she decided to switch paths. She taught herself some martial arts online and impulsively auditioned for stunt roles.

Female stunt performers were rare, so whether as doubles or extras, the pay was decent.

Xu Liunian managed to earn a modest income.

She had hoped to follow in the footsteps of many acting legends—starting as an extra and eventually making it big. But fate had other plans.

During one stunt performance, she was severely injured when a scaffolding pole struck her waist.

The accident nearly damaged her spine, leaving her at risk of paralysis.

From then on, Xu Liunian could no longer stand for long periods. Her dream of acting was shattered.

But she couldn’t bear to leave Hengdian. So at twenty-four, she used her savings to buy a taxi and became a driver.