This phone call lasted noticeably longer than before, as if everyone was carefully weighing their answers.
After all, this game could really kill people—anyone could be next.
The choice between life and death was hidden within the simple answers of “yes” or “no.”
**Ding-ling-ling—!!**
Chen Junnan had been waiting for a while and immediately picked up the phone.
“Go ahead.”
“Um…” Yun Yao hesitated before asking, “Did the person next to you die?”
“Yeah.” Chen Junnan nodded. “Most likely squashed flat. He’s a ‘sauce-fragrance’ handsome guy now.”
“I don’t get it…” Yun Yao murmured. “Why him?”
“Me neither.” Chen Junnan admitted bluntly. “Might take a few more rounds to figure it out.”
“Hmm…” Yun Yao fell silent for a moment before saying, “Chen Junnan, this round’s question is ‘Let’s kill another one,’ right?”
“Damn it…” Chen Junnan frowned. “That old pervert isn’t even pretending anymore?”
“I think most people will choose ‘yes’…” Yun Yao said dejectedly. “After all, the fewer survivors, the more ‘Tao’ each person gets in the end.”
The two of them held the phone in silence for a while.
“Hey, superstar…” Chen Junnan suddenly asked. “Do you think ‘death’ is random here?”
Yun Yao froze before responding, “You mean the last question, ‘Should it fall?’ would randomly kill one out of the twelve of us? So each of us had a one in twelve chance of dying?”
“Exactly.” Chen Junnan nodded. “That fits the logic of ‘gambling,’ right? Next time, the odds go up to one in eleven. As the numbers dwindle, the chance of death increases—like Russian roulette.”
Yun Yao felt there was some logic to his words, but after careful thought, she found a flaw. “But that leans more into ‘luck’ and ‘probability.’ It doesn’t feel like ‘Earth Serpent’s’ style—more like ‘Earth Boar’s’ game.”
“Fair point.” Chen Junnan agreed before hanging up.
This new question was crucial. If more people chose “yes,” it would directly prove that most wanted to kill.
Meaning, whether this game killed by chance or by strategy, they’d do everything to eliminate their opponents.
Slowly, he reached out and pressed **”No.”**
He hoped everyone would answer truthfully this time—it would help gauge the situation better.
After a moment of thought, Chen Junnan picked up the phone and dialed. It rang ten times with no answer before someone finally picked up on the eleventh.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice spoke.
“How should I address you?” Chen Junnan asked.
The woman paused before replying, “No need for names. What’s the question?”
Seeing her reluctance, Chen Junnan shrugged and said, “It’s ‘Should we kill again?’ Something like that.”
“Wait…” The woman sounded startled. “You didn’t change the question?”
“Don’t be ridiculous—we’re the last two in this round.” Chen Junnan scoffed. “What’s the point of me changing it now? Just our answers won’t sway the outcome.”
“…You’re right.” The woman hesitated. “So, what did you choose?”
“‘No,'” Chen Junnan answered honestly.
“Got it.” The call ended abruptly.
The brief exchange clarified some things for Chen Junnan.
What exactly was Earth Serpent asking each time?
He’d only seen the real question once—and even that one was hard to repeat.
*”What did Einstein publish… Canyon Clash?”*
Every other question had come from Yun Yao.
So, what were the odds she was lying to him?
This one-way phone system was a cunning trick. If he didn’t know the person in the next room, trust would’ve been shattered.
But he knew Yun Yao too well—to him, she was the “Flower of the End” in this damned place.
Her mind was straightforward, almost ordinary when not using her “Echo.”
Which left only one possibility: **the question changed the moment Yun Yao heard it.**
Before Chen Junnan could conclude, the screen lit up again.
**”The final answer for this round is—’No.'”**
The deafening sound of chains echoed once more, like a flock of geese soaring overhead before vanishing into the unknown.
Chen Junnan tallied the results: five questions so far—three “yes,” two “no.”
**One participant dead.**
In the adjacent room, Yun Yao slowly raised her head and stared at the ceiling.
Something was coming—she could feel it.
A woman’s intuition told her something massive and cold was looming above her.
*”Is it here… the murderous ‘block’?”*
Chen Junnan tapped his foot restlessly.
How could anyone stay calm?
He had too few clues. **What the hell was that old pervert Earth Serpent asking?**
If questions rotated among participants, seven more would pass before he got another direct one.
*Would they even last that long?*
Soon, the phone rang again.
**Ding-ling-ling—!!**
Chen Junnan answered, immediately noticing the shift in Yun Yao’s tone.
“Chen Junnan… I might die.” Her voice was grim.
“What the hell?” He frowned. “You don’t even know what’s happening—how can you be sure?”
“I can feel it…” Yun Yao looked up again. “It’s right above me. I can even smell blood seeping through the ceiling cracks…”
“Above you…?” Chen Junnan’s instincts flared.
The iron ball had just crushed his left neighbor—now it was targeting his right?
*Was it circling him?*
“And this round’s question…” Yun Yao swallowed hard. “It’s **’Should it fall?’** again.”
“Oh…?” Chen Junnan’s eyes turned icy. “So every two questions, it loops back to ‘falling’?”
“I think I’m about to die.” Yun Yao shut her eyes, her ears ringing. She’d gained nothing—just a meaningless death.
“I don’t think so.”
Chen Junnan’s words cut through the noise in her mind.
“What?”
“After years with Old Qi, I’ve learned a thing or two about human nature.” He smirked. “That last ‘no’ answer caused a huge commotion—scared the hell out of everyone. So, thanks to some bullshit psychological effect, they’ll want to see what happens if they keep choosing ‘no’ instead of repeating the same move.”
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