Qi Xia was slightly taken aback—he had finally uncovered the rule behind Di Yang’s deception.
**”Supplement the fans.”**
Strictly speaking, Di Yang wasn’t entirely lying. It *was* a replenishment of fans—it’s just that many people couldn’t afford to supplement them.
As he himself had said, everyone had the *opportunity* to supplement their fans, but not everyone had the *ability* to do so.
“Hey, referee, what does this mean?” an old man asked.
Di Yang reached out and tapped the small blackboard. “Exactly what it says.”
Qi Xia noticed many people wearing troubled expressions.
This was hardly surprising. After all, it was only the first day of the cycle. Those who could spare five *Daos* for the entrance fee were already considered exceptional. Asking them to cough up another three *Daos* to buy fans was naturally pushing it.
It was a foolproof deal—three *Daos* for a fan that could be exchanged for five. Yet, the crowd could only watch as the opportunity slipped away, powerless to participate.
It was a feeling eerily reminiscent of life itself: every time you wanted to use money to make money, you were inevitably broke.
But Di Yang’s motive puzzled Qi Xia.
Even if he didn’t care about *Daos* and only valued human lives, how could selling fans lead to death?
A young man carrying a briefcase slowly stepped forward and tossed it onto the table.
Several others holding briefcases followed suit, revealing their contents.
Inside each bag were twenty to thirty *Daos*.
At that moment, Qi Xia understood what Qin Dingdong had meant by **”speculation.”** This was a brutally simple investment game—if you had enough capital, you could amass a fortune in *Daos*.
A faint smile curled on Qi Xia’s lips. He had finally realized how this game could turn deadly.
“Very well,” Di Yang nodded at the briefcases. “Choose freely.”
*Choose?*
The crowd froze. This time, the replenished fans weren’t randomly assigned—they could actually be *selected*?
Five men carrying briefcases stepped forward. Four immediately began picking fans, while murmurs spread among the onlookers.
“No wonder that woman Qin Dingdong gave me three *Daos* earlier…” Qi Xia mused, patting his pocket. “Were you testing my capability?”
The four men with briefcases each took nearly ten fans, but the fifth stood frozen, unsure how to choose.
Seeing that more than half the fans on the table were gone, Qi Xia quietly stepped forward and handed his three *Daos* to Di Yang.
“Make your selection.”
For Qi Xia, this was a golden opportunity. If he could choose a folding fan, he should naturally take one that wasn’t **”Sorrow”**—this would ensure he could pair up with someone else successfully.
“Qi Xia, which one are you buying?” Qin Dingdong suddenly appeared beside him and asked.
Qi Xia glanced at her. “The one I’m missing, of course.”
He opened one paper fan—**”Joy.”**
With this **”Joy”**, his chances of escaping skyrocketed.
But… given that this was Di Yang’s game of deceit, should he really take **”Joy”** now?
If he wanted to win *all* of the referee’s *Daos*, there was no need to rush his exit.
After a moment of thought, Qi Xia set **”Joy”** down and picked up another fan—**”Sorrow.”**
“I’ll take this one.”
He pocketed the fan and gave Qin Dingdong a cool, measured glance.
“Oh?” Qin Dingdong smiled and nodded. “With this **’Sorrow,’** do the fans in your hand allow you to leave now?”
“Thanks to you. Barely.”
She shrugged and walked away.
Meanwhile, Qi Xia studied the **”Sorrow”** in his hand before approaching a nearby man.
This man had brought a briefcase but was hesitating over the remaining fans.
“Brother, what’s holding you back?” Qi Xia asked.
The man immediately grew wary at Qi Xia’s approach. “Why do you ask?”
“I want to make a deal with you,” Qi Xia said. “A guaranteed profit.”
“A deal…?” The man’s expression flickered with interest, though his tone remained cautious.
Qi Xia nodded and stepped closer. “I’ll give you a fan, but I need a small favor in return.”
He whispered a few words into the man’s ear, and the tension in the man’s face eased.
“That’s it?”
Qi Xia nodded. “That’s it.”
After a moment’s thought, the man glanced at the fan in Qi Xia’s hand and finally agreed.
He handed over all his remaining *Daos* and bought the last eight **”Sorrow”** fans on Di Yang’s table.
With that, Qi Xia’s initial objective was achieved.
For the next half-hour, no one would be able to replenish **”Sorrow.”** The fan had effectively become a limited edition.
No matter how many participants escaped afterward, every **”Sorrow”** would either be taken away or consumed—their numbers would only decrease.
As the final moments approached, seven or eight more people slowly stepped forward, pulling *Daos* from their pockets to buy fans.
Most bought just one, but a middle-aged woman with extra to spare purchased the last two.
Only one step remained in Qi Xia’s plan.
He glanced at the man who had bought all the **”Sorrow”** fans. From now on, he had to ensure this man escaped safely.
Two major problems loomed:
First, a **”wealth gap”** had emerged. There were now five **”rich”** players and a crowd of **”poor”** ones. Worse, the only enforcer present wouldn’t intervene in violence. The **”rich”** had to flee immediately—the longer they stayed, the more dangerous it became.
Second, the number of **”rich”** players was odd. Logically, to minimize risk, they would pair up to escape—but with five, one would inevitably be left behind.
No matter what, Qi Xia had to ensure his ally escaped. If this man was trapped here, Qi Xia’s entire strategy would collapse.
Sure enough, two of the **”rich”** men in the distance had already coordinated. They stuck close together, heading straight for the **”Pairing Machine”** by the wall.
The other two, seemingly strangers, eyed each other warily and didn’t immediately team up.
As Qi Xia rapidly weighed his options, the first two men reached the machine and pressed the button.
They were making their move.
This kind of **”strong alliance”** was beyond the reach of ordinary **”poor”** players, but…
Just as Qi Xia expected, a burly man stepped in front of them, blocking the **”Pairing Machine”** with his bulky frame.
This was the same man who had earlier robbed a thin player of his fan.
“What do you think you’re doing?” one of the **”rich”** men demanded.
“Brothers, if you’re eating meat, I should at least get some broth,” the man chuckled. “This **’Pairing Machine’** is under my control now. If you want to use it, you’ll have to pay.”
The two exchanged glances. “How much?”
Their strategy was clearly **”pay to avoid trouble.”**
“Half of the fans in your hands,” the man replied.
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