“What’s going on…?” Su Shan really wanted to ask Zhang Chenze what kind of “lot” she had cast, but she could neither see the words on the “lot” clearly nor hear Zhang Chenze’s words.
The second phase of the first round had also ended.
Both Zhang Chenze and Su Shan, who had already experienced the round, were completely bewildered. Although Su Shan didn’t know Zhang Chenze well, she had a general understanding of her personality.
Given her rationality, Zhang Chenze should have played a “lot” that seemed optimal at the moment. Unfortunately, even that “lot” was swallowed up.
“What exactly are the detailed rules…?”
Su Shan realized that this game was different from the “Weapon Cards” she had played with Qi Xia before. In that game, the rules had been fully explained from the start, and the remaining time was purely about the players outsmarting each other.
So why didn’t “Earth Dog” fully explain the rules of this game?
From the most straightforward perspective, it was because “Earth Dog” was participating—he wanted to win.
Not clarifying the “rules” helped him gain an advantage in the game.
“So every Earth-level game in the ‘Land of the End’ is this difficult…” Su Shan nodded slightly. “Qi Xia, you really are something else. After enduring these games, maybe the next time I face you, I’ll stand a fighting chance.”
The third phase of the first round began, and it was Lin Qin’s turn in the orange room to “make a wish.”
Her expression mirrored everyone else’s—unsure of which “lot” to use to “make a wish.”
The collective “wish” was for the “Nian Beast” to die, but no one knew how to extinguish the “light” on its head.
Soon, Lin Qin’s turn passed as well. She cast a “lot,” and yet again, nothing happened.
A look of frustration crossed Su Shan’s face. She had confidently entered the first room, hoping to figure out the rules ahead of time for everyone. But now, with the first round nearly over, she hadn’t come up with any strategy, nor had she found a way to communicate her thoughts.
Meanwhile, Qin Dingdong on her right was currently “drawing lots.” She, too, held three “lots” in her hand, staring at them for a long time before her lips moved—clearly uttering a one-word curse.
Noticing Su Shan staring at her, Qin Dingdong took a step closer and pressed the “lots” against the glass, seemingly seeking help.
Su Shan squinted to read them. However, since all the spotlights in the room were focused on the center of the glass enclosure, Qin Dingdong’s approach to the glass wall plunged her into darkness, making it impossible for Su Shan to see the words.
She could only glance at Qin Dingdong’s mouth, which seemed to be saying something like, “Xiao Shan, help me look.”
Su Shan could only point at the overhead lights and shake her head.
Understanding, Qin Dingdong had to rely on herself. After a moment of thought, she randomly cast one of the “lots.”
This time, something slightly different happened. The moment Qin Dingdong used the “lot,” Su Shan saw thick smoke suddenly billow into Lin Qin’s room opposite her.
The smoke was pitch black, seemingly spewing from above, throwing Lin Qin off balance. The “lots” on her table were swept up in the swirling smoke, scattering wildly across the room. It took Lin Qin considerable effort to gather them again.
A full half-minute later, the smoke in Lin Qin’s room dissipated. She stood up dazedly, coughing violently while covering her nose and mouth, her expression a mix of pain and confusion.
Hadn’t they been told only “Earth Dog’s” “disasters” could harm the “participants”? What was that suffocating smoke just now?
The person who had used the “lot” was Qin Dingdong—was she behind this?
A thought flashed through Lin Qin’s mind—was she trying to kill someone?
But Lin Qin knew Qin Dingdong wasn’t part of the “Extremists.” There was no motive for her to suddenly attack.
Frowning, Lin Qin looked toward Qin Dingdong’s direction, only to find Qin Dingdong staring back at her with equal bewilderment.
Though the two had known each other for a long time, they had never truly trusted one another.
The first round ended with all four “participants” utterly confused. Now, everyone’s eyes were fixed on “Earth Dog” at the center.
After all, he had said he would use a “disaster lot” at any point during the round. With all four participants’ phases over, only he remained to act. It seemed the “disaster lot” would be used at the round’s conclusion.
Su Shan leaned against the glass, studying “Earth Dog” carefully. She noticed he had many “lots” in front of him. Though the distance was great, upon closer counting, there were about seven or eight.
If she wasn’t mistaken, his gameplay differed from the participants’. He didn’t need to “draw lots” every round—instead, he had all the “lots” for the entire eight rounds from the start.
“Everyone, this disaster is called ‘Sandstorm.'”
“Earth Dog’s” broadcast echoed through their rooms. He drew one “lot” from the many on his table, displayed its text to everyone, then inserted it into a hole on the left side of his table.
Only then did the others notice that “Earth Dog’s” table had four holes, positioned at the front, back, left, and right.
The hole he inserted the “lot” into corresponded with Qin Dingdong’s direction.
The moment the “lot” was played, a loud mechanical sound filled the rooms. Everyone cautiously checked their surroundings, remembering “Earth Dog’s” warning that his “disasters” could kill participants. No one wanted to die here without understanding why.
Sure enough, within seconds, Qin Dingdong’s room began to change.
The grid above her head shifted, and fine sand began to pour down like white threads. In an instant, the room was filled with swirling yellow dust, making it impossible to keep one’s eyes open.
Su Shan could only watch as Qin Dingdong flailed desperately in the glass room, trying to wave away the sand. But the sand kept falling, and within seconds, it began piling up around her feet.
“So that’s it…” Su Shan muttered to herself, frowning. “This is ‘Sandstorm’?”
Qin Dingdong’s hair quickly became coated in dust, and sand filled her mouth, making it hard to breathe.
Su Shan’s brow furrowed slightly. She figured Qin Dingdong was probably beyond saving—after all, there was no way to help her from inside her own room.
The cruelest aspect of this game was the “glass room” setup. Everyone could only watch helplessly as other participants died, which would severely disrupt the others’ thinking. One wrong move could lead to a domino effect, resulting in total defeat.
But Su Shan also knew that to become as strong as Qi Xia, she couldn’t afford to care about others’ lives. Qi Xia had once hinted to her—even if they were teammates, it didn’t matter.
“Round two begins,” “Earth Dog’s” broadcast announced. “Player one, please draw a lot.”
Su Shan glanced sideways at Qin Dingdong. The sand in her room continued to fall rapidly, already burying her calves. She could only keep shifting her body, trying to pull her legs free.
But every time she lifted one leg, the other sank deeper, leaving her unsuccessful after multiple attempts. Eventually, she retreated to a corner of the glass room, trying to avoid the falling sand and preserve her ability to breathe.
The next moment, her eyes met Su Shan’s—filled with panic.
Her lips moved, clearly pleading for help. But Su Shan acted as if she saw nothing, turning back expressionlessly to examine the new “lot” she had drawn.
Qi Xia had said it—to win the game, these people’s lives were expendable.
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