Qi Xia and Qiao Jiajin slowly turned their heads to find Sweet trembling as she held up the knife.
Tears streamed continuously from her eyes, her expression unbearably complex.
She looked like someone who didn’t want to die—but didn’t want to live either.
“I… I…” Sweet’s lips quivered as she spoke, “I have a way…”
“Hey…” Qiao Jiajin reached out, slowly standing up. “I know you have a way, but put the knife down first.”
Qi Xia also rose, inching closer to Sweet. “Your way won’t work… Listen to me first…”
“Don’t come any closer…” Sweet took a step back. “I’m sorry, but this is the only way…”
“No!” Qiao Jiajin cut in. “I already checked the size of that hole—even if you cut off your hand, it won’t fit through! We’d need time to chop it into pieces, and we don’t have that time!”
Qi Xia swallowed before speaking. “Qiao Jiajin is right. This won’t help.”
“But you can’t cut through the iron net either!” Sweet cried out between sobs. “I have a better idea!”
“There is no better idea!” Qi Xia roared back. “Cutting the net is the only way!”
“No…!” Sweet collapsed to her knees, weeping uncontrollably. “You already knew, didn’t you, Qi Xia? This… this is the only real way…”
“That way won’t work!!” Qi Xia took another step forward. “Let’s try something else!”
“Qi Xia… I don’t want to die as a charred corpse. I’ve lived a filthy life—I want to die looking beautiful.”
“Qiao Jiajin! Grab the knife!!” Qi Xia screamed, his voice breaking. “Now!”
But before Qiao Jiajin could lunge forward, Sweet suddenly raised the knife to the artery on the left side of her neck—and slashed down with all her strength.
She didn’t hesitate at all.
A sound like a bursting pipe erupted.
Blood sprayed over a meter high, instantly shrouding the room like a summer mist—hot, thick, and staining everyone’s faces crimson.
The knife clattered to the ground, and Sweet collapsed face-first onto the floor.
The blood from her body gushed uncontrollably, raining red onto the ground.
“Sweet!!”
Qiao Jiajin and Yun Yao rushed over, pressing their hands against the wound on her neck.
But the blood wouldn’t stop—slipping treacherously through their fingers no matter how hard they pressed.
Yun Yao’s tears fell like heavy raindrops.
She had watched teammates die countless times in games, but this was the first time she had ever truly wanted to cry.
Was there really someone this foolish in the world?
Even if she knew she’d come back to life—who would willingly choose to die?
“Damn it!” Qiao Jiajin frantically pressed against Sweet’s neck with both hands, watching helplessly as her face visibly paled. “What the hell are you doing, girl…?”
Qi Xia slowly covered his forehead.
That familiar pain was back.
“Ugh…!”
He dropped to his knees, clutching his head in agony.
“Liar!”
“Qi Xia!”
Yun Yao hurried to check on him, only to find him trembling violently from the pain.
“What’s happening?” she asked. “Does Qi Xia have some kind of illness?”
“I don’t know…” Qiao Jiajin muttered. “Liar, where does it hurt?”
Qi Xia didn’t answer. He just curled up on the ground, waiting for the pain to pass.
The balance of weight had been disrupted again—their room began to rise.
Qi Xia knew the key to breaking this puzzle lay in **blood loss**.
An adult’s body could hold up to 5,000 milliliters of blood—roughly ten pounds in weight.
No amount of severed hands could compare to that.
The weight difference between the two rooms had always been slight. If one side could quickly “lose” a few pounds, victory was guaranteed.
And if someone wanted to lose a massive amount of blood in a short time—slitting an artery was the only way.
A full thirty seconds passed before Qi Xia stood up again, his face utterly blank.
“You…” Yun Yao frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Do I look unwell?” Qi Xia countered, his tone eerily calm. “Watch. We’re about to win.”
Qiao Jiajin and Yun Yao exchanged uneasy glances.
The Qi Xia who had been writhing in pain moments ago now seemed like a different person.
No grief, no panic—just a hollow stillness, as if he couldn’t care less about anyone’s death.
Qi Xia walked to the wall, glanced at the still-struggling opponents on the other side, and tossed the knife out.
Just as he’d said—they were going to win.
As Sweet’s blood poured out in torrents, their room steadily ascended, pulling them away from the flames below.
The other side seemed to be trying something—but it was futile.
Their distant room plunged toward the fire like a moth drawn to a flame.
Screams filled the air once more.
The fire swallowed the room whole.
Qi Xia turned away indifferently—just in time to see the countdown on the wall reach zero.
The instant it ended, their room lurched violently, as if hurled through space at high speed.
The three of them braced themselves against the walls, waiting until the shaking finally stopped.
“What was that?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
Qi Xia looked down. The iron-mesh floor had been replaced with wooden planks—they had arrived somewhere new.
*Click.*
*Creak.*
A soft noise came from behind them. The wall had transformed back into a door—now wide open.
Beyond it stretched a hallway.
And directly opposite stood another iron door.
Qi Xia stepped out first, then glanced back. Sure enough, behind them was an elevator.
But where had it just taken them?
Was the opposite iron door another elevator?
“Congratulations,” said the Human-Dragon, standing nearby. “You’ve won the game.”
Qi Xia turned to face him. The man stood in the center of the corridor, flanked by two cabinets filled with clothing.
“My games prioritize service,” the Human-Dragon chuckled. “I’ve collected all the items you discarded and stored them here. Get dressed—wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”
A heavy silence settled over the group as they wordlessly approached and put on their clothes.
Yun Yao’s bag and shoes had been hacked to pieces, but she found her cosmetics intact.
“Human-Dragon… You’ll regret toying with me like this,” Qi Xia said coldly as he dressed.
“Toying with you?” The Human-Dragon blinked behind his mask. “How have I toyed with you?”
He then walked to the other iron door and knocked. “Is anyone else coming out?”
The door radiated heat. No answer came.
“How strange… I just invited you all to play on a seesaw, yet someone ended up dead.” The Human-Dragon’s gaze lingered on Qi Xia. “Why do you think that is?”
“What?”
Qi Xia’s brow furrowed as he stared back.
The Human-Dragon smiled. “The rules of this game were simple. If everyone had just stayed still, you would’ve been free when the timer ran out.”
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