Chapter 256: The Invisible Wall

Before Qi Xia could react, the elderly man in the distance had already lifted his foot and kicked Qin Dingdong hard in the abdomen.

Qi Xia pondered for a moment before stepping forward. “Hey…”

The old man turned, glaring at Qi Xia with fury in his eyes.

Only then did Qi Xia recognize him—the first “victim” of Qin Dingdong’s deception. He looked utterly enraged.

The consequences of Qin Dingdong’s own misdeeds had finally caught up with her.

Earlier, she had placated him, saying, “Just wait another hour. Once we get two fans, we’ll leave.” But now it seemed that every half-hour “replenishment” of fans required spending “Dao” to purchase.

This old man now had neither fans nor “Dao”—he was absolutely doomed to die here.

And so, he had completely snapped.

Qi Xia stared at the old man, weighing whether to calm him down or abandon Qin Dingdong immediately.

“What d’you want?!” the old man barked. “I’m gonna beat this bitch to death today, and no one’s stoppin’ me!”

His booming voice drew the attention of the crowd. The temper of a normally docile man was like a volcano—once it erupted, the destruction was unstoppable. The past half-hour had been more than enough to fuel his rage.

“This is bad…”

Qi Xia sensed danger.

He felt as though this old man was about to break through an invisible “wall.” Once that wall crumbled, the “savagery” of everyone present would erupt unchecked.

“Uncle…” Qi Xia swallowed hard. “Listen to me… I can give you a fan, but if you kill someone here—”

“Piss off!!!” the old man screamed, his eyes wild. “What’s it to you?! I ain’t livin’ today! I’m killin’ her!!”

More and more participants gathered to watch.

They had all noticed the fans in Qin Dingdong and the Sichuan-Chongqing man’s pockets.

Though the two trying to escape weren’t “wealthy,” they were certainly better off than most.

For many in the crowd, their deaths here would be ideal—their fans would become unclaimed, leaving plenty for others to scavenge.

The only problem was that no one wanted to be the first to bloody their hands.

Frowning, Qi Xia racked his brain for a solution.

This old man was beyond reason—he had nothing left to lose. While Qin Dingdong was at fault, Qi Xia had to prevent deaths for his own sake.

But then, things took an even grimmer turn.

The “wealthy” man who had bought all the “Grief” and his partner had already paired up and were about to escape via the stairs—only to be blocked by the growing crowd.

Now, aside from the two “wealthy” who had escaped earlier, all the others were trapped.

The repercussions of the game’s “wealth gap” were beginning to show.

Before Qi Xia could react, a burly man with a knife stepped onto the staircase.

It seemed the earlier “wealthy” duo had indeed handed him the knife. The situation had taken a dark turn—the “Deception Game” might be entering its second phase.

The “Violence Phase.”

Now, it wasn’t about cunning—it was about brute strength and who held the blade.

“Hey!” the knife-wielding man barked at the old man still beating Qin Dingdong. “Beating her won’t do shit! Take her fans!”

“Fans…?” The old man glanced at the fans in Qin Dingdong’s pocket and swallowed hard. “Damn right! She scammed me outta mine…”

With that, he lunged to snatch them.

“You bitch… gimme those fans!!”

Qin Dingdong clutched her pockets desperately. “No! They’re mine!!”

“Hand ’em over, or I’ll kill ya!!”

Qi Xia couldn’t stand by any longer. He rushed forward and pulled the old man back.

“Hey?!”

“Everyone!” Qi Xia shouted. “Think about it—once someone dies here, things will spiral out of control. Anyone could be next in this game… Are you really ready for that?”

The crowd stared blankly, their expressions indifferent.

Of course—right now, it was just the “wealthy” who were about to die, not them.

Qi Xia had only one thought: Who would stand with him? Even a single ally would help.

One leather-jacketed man in the group seemed about to speak up, but another stopped him.

A “wealthy” man, seeing the stalemate, seized the chaos to bolt for the exit with his bag.

Qi Xia’s eyes darted to him in alarm—then relief.

The fleeing man wasn’t the one who had bought all the “Grief,” but his partner.

“Goddamn it!”

Under everyone’s gaze, the knife-wielding man chased him down in seconds—and plunged the blade into his ribs.

It happened so fast, no one could react.

Even the knife-wielder seemed momentarily stunned, but he quickly regained his composure. “Who told you to run?!”

He yanked out the bloodied knife, and the man collapsed.

The “wealthy” victim lay trembling, his face rapidly paling as blood pooled beneath him.

The first life was about to be lost.

Whether the knife-wielder had killed before or not, he had crossed the line now—his hesitation was gone.

The crowd finally erupted into chaos. Murmurs of shock spread as a life vanished before them.

But in the “Land of the End,” death was met with eerie acceptance. Many began calculating how to seize the fans for themselves.

Qi Xia stared at the dying man, his brow furrowing.

A death was bad, but something else nagged at him…

What was it?

He glanced at Di Yang in the distance—the figure remained motionless.

So killing was permitted?

The “wealthy” man who had bought all the “Grief” was now staring at Qi Xia in terror.

After a pause, Qi Xia mouthed a single word: “Run.”

Snapping out of it, the man took advantage of the chaos, dashed up the stairs, and escaped through the door.

The knife-wielder, having just “made an example,” was incensed. He wanted to chase after him but stopped a few meters from the exit.

He hadn’t paired up yet—escaping now would mean breaking the rules.

Before the crowd could settle, the old man shoved Qi Xia aside and lunged at Qin Dingdong again.

“I’m takin’ your fans today!”

He grabbed the fans in her pocket and tore one to shreds. Unfazed, he went for the others.

Qi Xia raised a hand to speak, but the knife-wielder cut in first. “Hey! Old man! Who said you could wreck the fans?!”

“I don’t care!!” the old man snarled. “If I can’t have ’em, neither can she!!”

Seeing this, Qi Xia knew it was hopeless. He had to retreat to safety with his own fans—lingering in the eye of the storm would make him the next target.

Qin Dingdong’s chances of survival were slim, and her “wealthy” partner was as good as dead.

But before he could leave, the knife-wielder stepped between them, blocking the old man.

“I said don’t ruin the fans! You deaf?!”

The old man bristled. “This bitch scammed me! She ain’t leavin’ alive!”

“Then just kill her!” the knife-wielder roared, his own restraint slipping.

“Fine! Gimme the knife!” The old man, now egged on, reached for it.

The knife-wielder jerked back. “The hell you think you’re doin’?!”

“Give it! I’ll kill her myself!”

The two began struggling over the blade.