But if fifty-one people are participating… why would the Earth Sheep control the number of participants next?
This is a dangerous and thrilling conclusion.
The first batch of fans distributed wasn’t 150 for fifty people, nor 153 for fifty-one.
Because counting the Earth Sheep, there were fifty-two people standing on the field, and all fifty-two received fans.
So theoretically, the first round should have had 156 fans.
But 156 still isn’t the exact number of fans distributed in the first round.
Before the game began, when the Earth Sheep demonstrated for the group, he publicly inserted four fans into the “Pairing Machine.”
Only after adding these four did the game officially begin.
The first round had a total of 160 fans—forty of each suit.
With this, all the logic falls into place.
The Earth Sheep kills not for “punishment,” but simply because he enjoys it.
He is clearly one of the participants.
After all, the “Pairing Machine” displayed the Earth Sheep’s photo from the start, proving he was registered.
In other words, the rules here don’t care whether participants kill each other. This makes the situation even more troublesome because the Earth Sheep is also a participant—he can kill freely as well.
But his strength is overwhelming. If it comes to killing, no one present stands a chance against him.
Come to think of it, even if the remaining fifty-one people united against him, it would be futile.
He would simply slaughter them all.
This makes teaming up in this game a complete joke.
Qi Xia shook his head, thinking to himself: Earth Sheep… you truly are an interesting opponent…
Do you immerse yourself in the game every time to personally experience the deception?
Qi Xia’s gaze gradually grew hesitant…
He had thought his opponents would be fifty ordinary people. At worst, perhaps a few “Echoers.” But who could have imagined he’d face the Earth Sheep himself here?
He kills other participants based on his whims and desires.
This massive casino… is practically his slaughterhouse.
Yet there’s something strange—if he could kill everyone outright, why does he allow some to escape?
“Could it be… you want a relatively fair game? You killed that violent man because you don’t condone that method of winning?”
Qi Xia glanced again at the black, sheep-headed figure in the center of the field. At that very moment, the Earth Sheep turned and looked back at him.
Their eyes met.
After a long pause, the Earth Sheep turned away, staring ahead as if he’d seen nothing.
Qi Xia snapped out of it and walked to the dead old man, pulling the dagger from his chest. Then, holding the blade, he approached the burly man the Earth Sheep had killed.
The man had died standing, his head twisted 360 degrees, his neck a mangled mess of torn flesh.
His fan had already been “confiscated” by the Earth Sheep, which was why no one came to inspect his corpse.
Qi Xia lifted the dagger and checked the pockets of the “wealthy man” who’d been stabbed in the ribs. Unfortunately, none of his fans were “Sorrow.”
“Hey!” the Earth Sheep shouted from afar. “Those who’ve escaped cannot have their fans taken.”
“Cannot take them?” Qi Xia turned back, unable to discern whether that was true or not.
“Correct,” the Earth Sheep said. “He was supposed to exchange those fans for ‘Tao,’ but since he’s dead, they’re void.”
“Void…?”
“Yes.” The Earth Sheep nodded.
Qi Xia smirked, grabbed all the dead man’s fans, and tore them to shreds one by one.
“If they’re void… then they shouldn’t remain here. It’d make the game unfair.”
The Earth Sheep opened his mouth but said nothing.
After shredding the fans, Qi Xia mixed all the fragments together, ensuring they were completely unusable, then walked away with the dagger.
His actions drew attention. Killing was already prohibited—why was someone still carrying a blade?
And he was clearly provoking the Earth Sheep…
Was this man not afraid of death?
Qi Xia carried the dagger to a corner of the field and sat down.
Now, all he could do was wait.
Wait for the “Sorrow” fans in play to be depleted.
Forty “Sorrow” fans were distributed in the first round… how many remained now?
One was used in the Earth Sheep’s demonstration, two were spent by the escaping teams.
Qi Xia held three, meaning at most thirty-four “Sorrow” fans were still circulating…
But how many had the Earth Sheep replenished earlier?
He’d said, “Everyone will have a chance to replenish their fans,” implying he’d added a number equal to the remaining participants—fifty-two. That way, everyone could theoretically get one.
Fifty-two is divisible by four—thirteen fans per suit.
The only good news was that all thirteen replenished “Sorrow” fans had been taken by the “wealthy.”
Thus, every other suit was replenished by thirteen, while “Sorrow” remained unchanged, steadily decreasing.
These three “wealthy” teams not only took thirteen “Sorrow” fans but also spent three more to escape—leaving thirty-one.
Before leaving, Qin Dingdong had given him one “Sorrow,” further reducing the number in circulation.
Now, at most, thirty “Sorrow” fans remained in play—assuming every escapee had only used one.
“No…” Qi Xia suddenly realized—Qin Dingdong’s original hand had been “Joy, Anger, Sorrow.”
She’d taken an extra “Sorrow” with her.
Only twenty-nine “Sorrow” fans remained.
If Qin Dingdong wasn’t an exception… then the final number could drop below twenty-nine, possibly even approach twenty.
But… could the number of “Sorrow” fans dip below twenty?
Forty people still needed to escape, theoretically requiring twenty more “Sorrow” fans. Could he last until the very end?
Would everyone escape first… or would “Sorrow” run out first?
Qi Xia realized this bizarre game had no “Nash equilibrium.” Sitting idle was suicide.
To ensure his plan’s success… “Sorrow” had to be heavily depleted.
But how could he deplete the “Sorrow” fans in others’ hands now?
After a moment of thought, Qi Xia smiled.
Did he even need to think?
The simplest solution was the best—just follow Qin Dingdong’s method.
Now, he could actively seek “pairings,” with his dagger playing the role of the “enforcer.”
As he looked up, three more teams escaped, reducing the number by six—thirty-four remained.
Three more “Sorrow” fans vanished—at most, twenty-six remained.
Before Qi Xia could find a target, the square-faced man he’d met earlier approached, grinning nervously. “Hey! Brother! Brother!”
Qi Xia turned, puzzled.
He’d thought their negotiation had fallen through.
“Brother… I accept your terms!” the man said urgently.
“What?”
“I’ll give you an extra fan—let’s pair up!”
Qi Xia glanced at the man’s bulging pockets and understood.
“Fine,” he nodded. “Give me one fan first, then we’ll pair.”
“No problem!” The man quickly pulled out a fan and handed it over.
Qi Xia opened it—”Joy.”
“Deal. Let’s pair.”
The man nodded, and they approached the “Pairing Machine.”
“What should I play?” the man asked. “What do you have?”
“Everything except ‘Sorrow.'”
“Then I’ll play ‘Sorrow’ and ‘Music.’ You play ‘Joy’ and ‘Anger.'”
“Agreed.”
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