Zhang Chenze didn’t expect that the “stick” she had been holding steadily for so long would also “escape.” A momentary lapse in attention allowed it to burrow into the swarm of insects.
“What the hell… what is this?!”
If this “stick” also had a trick to it, why didn’t it escape earlier? Why now?
Unless… this isn’t a trick at all?
“Wait…” Zhang Chenze tried to calm herself down. “Could this be what they call an ‘Echo’?”
Since everyone’s rooms were completely sealed off, and hers was now overrun with locusts, she had no way of knowing whether she had “Echoed” or what her “Echo” ability might be.
But in the other rooms, the “sticks” hadn’t escaped—only hers had.
There was only one explanation: this situation was caused by her “Echo,” a transcendent ability that the others didn’t possess.
She forced her teetering mind to steady itself, tuning out the incessant chirping of the locusts, and tried to recall what had just happened.
What was the principle behind the “stick” escaping?
The first time a “stick” escaped, she had been holding it in her right hand while crushing a locust with her left.
At that moment, the “stick” in her right hand turned into a locust.
It was a bizarre kind of “fairness,” almost like an incomprehensible “exchange.”
“Wait a second…” Zhang Chenze felt like she might actually be losing her mind. “Is this even… logical?”
If killing something allowed her to transform another object into it, wasn’t that ability just too strange?
Lin Qin had said that all “Echoes” could be considered a kind of transcendent ability—but was this even useful?
“No…” Zhang Chenze furrowed her brows. She had already killed so many locusts—why had only one “stick” turned into a locust?
Slowly, she raised her left hand, examining the remnants of crushed locusts on it. A thought suddenly struck her.
Could it be…
That only things killed by her *left hand* could affect objects in her *right hand*?
Earlier, she had only been stomping on the locusts with her feet, which meant this eerie ability hadn’t triggered. But now, while searching with her left hand, she had accidentally crushed a few dying locusts…?
“What the hell am I doing…” Zhang Chenze shook her head, feeling like she had abandoned conventional logic and was now analyzing things like a madwoman. She shook herself back to focus and muttered, “Since those two ‘sticks’ have turned into ‘locusts’… there’s only one way to find them now.”
She took off her torn suit jacket, shook off the locusts clinging to it, and began waving it to scatter the massive swarm on the ground.
A deafening *buzz* erupted as countless locusts, startled, took flight in a chaotic frenzy.
The room instantly descended into pandemonium, the insects crashing into walls and each other, making Su Shan, watching from the side, tense up.
Ignoring the chaos, Zhang Chenze shielded her face with her left hand while continuing to wave the jacket with her right. She had to make sure her left hand didn’t kill any locusts—she didn’t even want to imagine what might happen if it did.
Within seconds, her plan worked. Even though the “stick” had turned into a “locust,” it had no wings. No matter how much it tried to escape, it could only hop around on the ground—making it stand out.
One “stick” darted out from the pile of corpses, attempting to leap into the air. Zhang Chenze reacted swiftly, stepping forward and snatching it firmly in her hand.
A quick glance confirmed: *”The Sunlight Warms the Earth”*!
“Perfect!” Without wasting time searching for the other stick, she rushed to the table and tossed it in.
For this year’s “summer,” she wished that autumn would still bring *”The Sunlight Warms the Earth.”*
Breathing a sigh of relief, Zhang Chenze leaned her left hand on the table—only for a locust to land right beneath her palm at that exact moment, getting crushed beneath it.
Before she could even panic, the jacket in her right hand suddenly twitched, its movements sending chills down her spine.
“Ah!”
She threw the jacket aside, stumbling backward, her entire body breaking out in cold sweat.
The jacket flapped its sleeves midair before landing on the table, its posture shifting unnaturally.
It propped itself up on the table with its sleeves, its collar slowly rising as if *staring* at Zhang Chenze.
“What the hell… don’t scare me like this…”
She took another step back, only for the jacket to *take flight*, its sleeves flapping wildly as it lunged at her.
With the floor covered in insect corpses, Zhang Chenze struggled to move and quickly tripped, falling hard.
The jacket pounced on her, writhing like a living thing.
Su Shan, watching from the sidelines, was speechless with shock.
This ability—called “Soul Transference”—was beyond eerie. Not only had the “sticks” moved, but now even the *jacket* had come to life. Was any of this even possible?
Would they turn on their owner?
Meanwhile, on the opposite side, Lin Qin felt her mind growing blank.
In the bitterly cold room, she huddled in the corner, desperately trying to preserve what little warmth remained in her body. She had never imagined that extreme cold could make a person stop feeling it altogether.
She was just… so tired.
As the -30°C wind continued to howl, the sensation of cold faded, replaced by an overwhelming heaviness in her eyelids.
“So… tired…”
She exhaled a weak breath of warm air and was about to close her eyes when—suddenly—the wind stopped.
Seconds later, a blast of *scorching* air rushed in.
The heat wasn’t even that intense, but it sent waves of searing pain through her entire body.
The agony shattered her drowsiness, sending her collapsing to the ground with a scream.
Her broken leg, numbed by the cold, now reignited with pain as if doused in boiling water.
Every inch of her skin burned, her limbs twitching uncontrollably.
Su Shan, seeing the sudden steam filling Lin Qin’s room, knew she had likely been saved—but her condition was still dire.
From the start of the game until now, Lin Qin had endured *two* calamities, both of them lethally severe.
“Lin Qin… hang in there,” Su Shan murmured. “We *will* get out of this hellhole…”
Lin Qin flexed her fingers, gripping the table as she forced herself up.
Though every movement sent waves of pain through her, she could still move.
“Did you all do nothing this round?” She wiped the condensation off the glass with her hand. “We could’ve killed that dog by now…”
After confirming that Qin Dingdong’s room had been hit by a calamity, Lin Qin glanced at the “sticks” on her table—four in total, including the newly drawn “neutral stick” this round.
She had to use these four now—
Wait.
*Four?*
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage