Chapter 61: A Pig’s Life

“You’re a fucking lunatic…” Old Lü nearly lost his footing from fear. “Wasn’t it just ten ‘Dao’ I won from you? Was it really worth going this far?”

“Do you think I want to live like a pig in this godforsaken place, relying on luck to get by every single day?”

The Human Pig reached out and touched the pig snout on his mask. Though the mask itself had no expression, he always gave off a terrifying aura.

“You don’t understand me… Only ‘gambling with lives’… Only gambling with formidable people makes life here meaningful.”

The look in the Human Pig’s eyes gave Qi Xia a feeling—he had always been playing the pig, waiting for the day he could devour the tiger.

“Absolute madman…” Old Lü glanced at Qi Xia uneasily. The Human Pig had singled him out for a life-or-death gamble, and now there was no chance to escape.

“Human Pig, let’s change the rules,” Qi Xia said after a moment of thought. “I’ll stay and gamble with you alone. No need to involve the other two.”

“Huh?” Old Lü and Lin Qin were both stunned.

“Kid, what are you doing?” Old Lü frowned. “I was the one who dragged you into this game. What kind of move is this, staying behind to gamble your life?”

Qi Xia looked at Old Lü with surprise, realizing he might have misjudged him. The man was unexpectedly reliable in a crisis.

“Old man,” Qi Xia said, “the more people stay, the more danger there is. If I die, take my friend here to find that man and woman.”

“No, I won’t leave,” Lin Qin shook her head. “Qi Xia, have you forgotten what I told you?”

“Damn right, I ain’t leaving either,” Old Lü grumbled. “Kid, the Human Pig called you out. By logic, the girl and I should be safe… But don’t worry, if you die, I’ll personally bury you.”

Qi Xia scratched his head in exasperation. Though his opinion of Old Lü had improved, the man still had a way with words—just not the pleasant kind.

“Sounds like a terrible omen… Fine, I won’t argue with you.” Qi Xia sighed and looked up at the Human Pig. “You mentioned a new game. What are the rules?”

The Human Pig’s excitement returned as he slid two pairs of glasses toward them. “Here, put them on! Put them on!”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lin Qin and Old Lü slipped the glasses on.

The next second, mechanical arms extended from the temples, wrapping around the backs of their heads with a sharp *click*, locking into place.

Lin Qin immediately sensed something was wrong. She tried to remove the glasses, but the intricate mechanisms had already clamped them firmly in place—like a cursed circlet.

“What’s going on—” Before she could finish, the Human Pig raised a hand to silence her.

“Pretty lady, no talking out of turn,” he said with a grin. “From now on, you’ll only be safe if you follow my rules.”

“Rules…?”

“Your glasses are now ‘active,'” the Human Pig explained. “One of you will feel them grow cold, the other will feel them grow hot. From this moment on, the one who feels cold can only speak lies. The one who feels hot can only speak truths.”

A sense of foreboding settled over Qi Xia. This game felt eerily familiar.

“If either of you tries to cheat or speaks before the game begins…” The Human Pig tapped between his eyebrows. “This spot gets pierced. Understood?”

Lin Qin immediately sealed her lips shut.

Something in the glasses had activated—a mechanism winding up like a crossbow string or a laser sight—right where the Human Pig had pointed.

Old Lü’s face cycled through shades of green and purple. He knew the more he spoke, the higher the chance of triggering the device.

Satisfied with their silence, the Human Pig turned back to Qi Xia. “As for you and me, the basic rules are the same as last time… except this time, *I* make the distribution.”

“You distribute?” Qi Xia eyed the pieces on the table, thinking. “And then… I choose?”

“Exactly.” The Human Pig nodded. “Sounds unfair to you, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it’s unfair.” Though he said it, Qi Xia knew the rules weren’t complete yet—especially with the truth-and-lie twist still in play.

“So, out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll add one more rule…” The Human Pig chuckled, snorting like a pig. “After you make your choice, you can ask these two to confirm the color—but no matter who you pick, you only get *one* question.”

Then he turned to Lin Qin and Old Lü. “For fairness, you can only answer ‘black’ or ‘white.’ Any objections?”

The two nodded, faces pale with dread.

Qi Xia understood now. The rules were absurd.

He had no way of knowing who would tell the truth or lie, making the question a double-edged sword.

“The watch paradox…” Qi Xia muttered under his breath. “A man with one watch always knows the time. A man with two watches can never be sure…”

“Are you ready, Qi Xia?” the Human Pig asked.

Taking a deep breath, Qi Xia lifted his gaze. “I could ask you the same. This is a fight for our lives—are *you* ready?”

“Lives? Heh heh…” The Human Pig’s laughter trembled through his body. “Living here, do we even have lives?… Only when I’m dying do I feel alive.”

Qi Xia nodded. The Human Pig had clearly been here far too long—ordinary reasoning wouldn’t sway him.

So he picked up the blindfold and slipped it on.

The Human Pig silently began arranging the pieces.

Lin Qin and Old Lü watched the two calm protagonists of this deadly gamble, their own legs shaking uncontrollably.

“Ever thought about leaving?” Qi Xia asked suddenly.

“What?” The Human Pig didn’t look up.

“Other than dying here, have you ever considered escaping?”

The Human Pig’s hand paused mid-air. “Escape to where?”

“Back where you came from,” Qi Xia said, blindfolded but deadly serious. “Don’t you want to go back?”

The Human Pig pondered for a moment. “If I didn’t, why would I willingly become a ‘pig’?”

“What?” Qi Xia felt like he’d stumbled onto something crucial.

“But I’m not planning to *escape*, Qi Xia.” The Human Pig finished arranging the pieces and spoke solemnly. “I intend to walk out of here with my head held high.”