The so-called Caesar cipher is currently one of the simplest and most widely known encryption methods.
In short, it involves shifting all the letters in the alphabet by a certain number of positions—for example, “A” becomes “B,” “B” becomes “C,” and so on.
Take the common English word “CAN” as an example. Encrypting it with the Caesar cipher by shifting each letter once would result in “DBO.”
At first glance, this appears as a string of gibberish, but once deciphered, it can reveal the accurate original word.
“Now, the only thing left to confirm… is how many shifts were applied to the letters?”
Qi Xia, after all, was no expert in codebreaking. Though he had grasped the general direction, the remaining problem could only be tackled with the most straightforward and laborious method—
Trial and error.
He first assumed each letter had been shifted once, but after several minutes of deciphering, he still ended up with a string of meaningless symbols.
So, he tried shifting them twice.
This seemingly simple step left Qi Xia in deep thought for a long time.
“MLGDRZDQVXL.”
Without pen or paper at hand, everything had to rely on mental calculations. Translating this long string of letters—each shifted twice—was no easy task. “M” had to be thought of as “K,” “L” as “J,” and so on.
“Still not right…”
After several minutes, Qi Xia slowly furrowed his brow.
He had already tried twice without success. Had his line of thinking been wrong from the start?
There were a total of 25 possible shifts—meaning “A” could correspond to any letter except itself. If each one had to be mentally calculated, the workload would be unimaginably vast.
“Is this your method?” Jiang Ruoxue asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Qi Xia didn’t answer. He steadied himself and began the third round of shifting.
This time, he attempted to shift each letter three positions backward.
“M” became “J,” “L” became “I.”
But this time, after testing just five letters, Qi Xia’s expression darkened.
Jiang Ruoxue watched him with interest. “Oh? Did you crack it?”
Qi Xia’s lips moved slightly as he uttered his answer: “JI… DAO… WAN… SUI?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Jiang Ruoxue clapped excitedly. “So the decrypted message really is ‘Long Live the Jidao’? I thought it hadn’t worked.”
At the mention of those four words, an unusual panic flickered across Qi Xia’s face.
He slumped into a chair, staring at Jiang Ruoxue with alarm, muttering under his breath, “What exactly are you planning…?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Jiang Ruoxue shook her head. “I’m going to die anyway, so consider this my way of saying hello.”
“Saying hello…” Qi Xia gritted his teeth. “The last time you ‘said hello,’ two of my companions were killed…”
“Oh? Did that happen?” Jiang Ruoxue blinked in surprise. “So Xiaoxiao took action? She never mentioned it to us, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll have to excuse her—Xiaoxiao has always been like that. But deep down, she’s not a bad person.”
“What kind of nonsense are you spouting…?” Qi Xia slowly stood up. “‘Not a bad person’? Right now, I want to tear her to pieces…”
“You really seem furious…” Jiang Ruoxue stepped forward and patted Qi Xia’s shoulder. “How about this? After this game, I’ll die—a life for a life. Would that ease your anger?”
Qi Xia didn’t answer. He simply felt that Jiang Ruoxue was… strange.
Or rather, everyone in “Jidao” was strange.
After a pause, he turned and picked up the letter on the table. “What about the original password? If you changed it, wouldn’t that mean my teammates are still in danger?”
“What are you talking about? This *is* the password,” Jiang Ruoxue said, puzzled. “Isn’t this the letter your teammate sent?”
“You…” Qi Xia was equally confused. “You’re saying ‘Long Live the Jidao’ is the password? Are you working with ‘Earth Dog’?”
“Not at all. We have no ties to the ‘Zodiacs,'” Jiang Ruoxue shook her head. “Qi Xia, you need to understand the logic here. If Earth Dog said ‘the letter *is* the password,’ and the letter says ‘Long Live the Jidao,’ then ‘Long Live the Jidao’ *is* the password.”
“What…?”
Qi Xia felt this was an absurd line of reasoning.
Jiang Ruoxue didn’t seem like a completely irrational madwoman, yet her words were still baffling.
The so-called Caesar cipher is one of the simplest and most widely known encryption methods today.
In short, it involves shifting all the letters in the alphabet by a certain number of positions—for example, “A” becomes “B,” “B” becomes “C,” and so on.
Take the common English word “CAN,” for instance. Encrypted using the Caesar cipher with a shift of one, it becomes “DBO.”
At first glance, it looks like a string of gibberish, but after decryption, it can be restored to the correct word.
“The only thing to confirm now… is how many shifts were applied to the letters?”
After all, Qi Xia was no expert in code-breaking. Although he had a general idea, the only way to solve the remaining problem was to use the simplest and most direct method—
Trial and error.
He first assumed each letter had been shifted once, but after spending a few minutes decrypting, he still ended up with a string of nonsense.
So he tried shifting twice.
This seemingly simple step made Qi Xia fall silent for a long time.
“MLGDRZDQVXL”.
He had no pen or paper at hand—everything had to be calculated in his mind. Shifting each letter in this long string twice, turning “M” into “K,” “L” into “J,” was no easy task.
“Still not right…”
A few minutes later, Qi Xia slowly furrowed his brow.
He had tried twice but still hadn’t cracked the code. Was his line of thinking wrong?
There were a total of 25 possible shifts for the letters. In other words, “A” could be any letter except “A.” If he had to rely solely on mental calculations for each one, the effort would be unimaginably huge.
“Is this your method?” Jiang Ruoxue asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Qi Xia didn’t answer. He steadied himself and began the third shift attempt.
From now on, he would try shifting each letter forward three times.
Imagine “M” as “J,” “L” as “I.”
But this time, after testing just five letters, Qi Xia’s expression grew heavy.
Jiang Ruoxue watched him with interest. “Oh? Did you figure it out?”
Qi Xia’s lips moved slightly as he uttered his answer: “JI… DAO… WAN… SUI?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Jiang Ruoxue clapped happily. “So after decryption, it really is ‘Long Live the Extreme Path’? I thought it hadn’t worked.”
Hearing these four words, Qi Xia felt a rare sense of panic.
He slumped into a seat, looking at Jiang Ruoxue with fear, muttering to himself, “What exactly are you trying to do…?”
“Nothing much,” Jiang Ruoxue shook her head. “I’m going to die anyway, so consider this my way of saying hello.”
“Saying hello…” Qi Xia gritted his teeth. “The last time you ‘said hello’ to me, two of my companions were killed…”
“Oh? That happened?” Jiang Ruoxue paused slightly. “So Xiaoxiao took action? She never mentioned it to us, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll have to bear with it—Xiaoxiao has always been like that, but she’s actually a good person.”
“What kind of nonsense are you spouting…” Qi Xia slowly stood up. “‘A good person’? I wish I could tear her to pieces right now…”
“You seem really angry…” Jiang Ruoxue stepped forward and patted Qi Xia’s shoulder. “How about this? After this game, I’ll die—a life for a life. Will that calm you down?”
Qi Xia didn’t answer the question, only feeling that Jiang Ruoxue was strange.
Or rather, everyone in the “Extreme Path” was strange.
He paused, then turned to pick up the letter on the table and asked, “What about the original password? If you changed the password, wouldn’t that just get my teammate killed?”
“What are you talking about? This is the ‘password,'” Jiang Ruoxue looked at Qi Xia, puzzled. “Isn’t this the letter your teammate sent?”
“You…” Qi Xia was equally confused. “You’re saying ‘Long Live the Extreme Path’ is the password? Are you working with ‘Earth Dog’?”
“Not at all. We have nothing to do with the ‘Zodiac,'” Jiang Ruoxue shook her head. “Qi Xia, you need to understand the logic here. Since Earth Dog said ‘the letter is the password,’ and ‘the letter says Long Live the Extreme Path,’ then ‘Long Live the Extreme Path’ is the password.”
“What…?”
Qi Xia felt this was a bizarre logical connection.
Jiang Ruoxue didn’t seem like a completely irrational madwoman, but her words were still hard to grasp.
Qi Xia slowly walked to the cabinet and, half-believing, handwrote the four characters “极道万岁” (Long Live the Extreme Path) on the touchscreen.
Jiang Ruoxue laughed. “Seeing these words written by your hand is truly unbelievable.”
A soft *click* echoed as the cabinet door unlocked.
Zhang Chenze was sitting inside, trembling. She looked up and met Qi Xia’s gaze.
Before Qi Xia could say anything, Zhang Chenze immediately threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.
“Qi Xia!!”
“I…” Qi Xia looked awkward, unsure where to put his hands.
“It’s so good… I was really scared…” Zhang Chenze trembled all over, whether from fear or cold. “I thought I was going to be roasted alive in there…”
“Ms. Zhang… Attorney Zhang, I thought you didn’t like being touched by others,” Qi Xia said awkwardly.
“Ah…” Zhang Chenze quickly let go, wiping her tear-streaked eyes. “I’m sorry… I didn’t cause you any trouble, did I?”
“No trouble, just startled me,” Qi Xia shook his head. “I don’t like unexpected things. In my impression, you weren’t this type of person.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Zhang Chenze slowly lowered her head, regaining her usual composure.
As the two fell silent, the broadcast in the room sounded again.
“A team has successfully rescued a teammate. The game is over.”
The entire building instantly erupted into noise.
As the saying goes, some were overjoyed, while others were worried.
Qi Xia heard the sound of frantic footsteps, as if someone was running toward the room he was in.
Feeling that something was wrong, he immediately stepped out to look.
He saw Old Lü, bruised and battered, running toward him as if fleeing for his life.
“Kid Qi… Save me!!”
Qi Xia frowned and noticed a green-haired man chasing closely behind Old Lü like a mad dog.
“Old dog! I told you, didn’t I?! If I die, I’ll make sure you pay with your life!!” The green-haired man seemed consumed by rage, closely pursuing Old Lü.
“Isn’t that your boyfriend?” Qi Xia turned and asked. “Are all members of the ‘Extreme Path’ this crazy?”
“He’s not part of the ‘Extreme Path,'” Jiang Ruoxue crossed her arms. “My role-playing game ends here. Playing a love-struck woman is exhausting.”
“So you’re saying you won’t interfere in what happens next?” Qi Xia said.
“Won’t interfere. I’m waiting to die,” Jiang Ruoxue walked into the room, sat down, and closed her eyes to rest.
Qi Xia nodded, picked up the metal box from the table, and—
————
Jiang Ruoxue chuckled. “Seeing these words from your hand is truly surreal.”
With a soft *click*, the cabinet door unlocked.
Zhang Chenze was sitting inside, trembling. She looked up and locked eyes with Qi Xia.
Before Qi Xia could say anything, she lunged forward and hugged him tightly.
“Qi Xia!!”
“I…” Qi Xia looked awkward, unsure where to place his hands.
“It’s so good to see you… I was terrified…” Zhang Chenze’s entire body shook, whether from fear or cold. “I thought I’d be roasted alive in there…”
“Uh, Attorney Zhang… I thought you didn’t like physical contact?” Qi Xia said awkwardly.
“Oh…” Zhang Chenze quickly let go, wiping her tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry… Did I make you uncomfortable?”
“No, not uncomfortable, just… surprising,” Qi Xia shook his head. “I don’t like things deviating from expectations. You’re not usually like this.”
“R-right, sorry.” Zhang Chenze lowered her head, regaining her usual composure.
As the two fell silent, the building’s intercom crackled to life.
“A team has successfully rescued a teammate. The game is over.”
Instantly, the entire building erupted in noise—some cheering, others groaning.
Amid the clamor, Qi Xia heard rapid footsteps approaching his room.
A bad feeling crept up his spine. He stepped outside to look.
Old Lü, bruised and battered, was sprinting toward him as if fleeing for his life.
“Kid Qi… save me!!”
Qi Xia frowned. Behind Old Lü was the green-haired man, chasing him like a rabid dog.
“Old mutt! I told you—if I die, you’re coming with me!!” The green-haired man’s eyes burned with fury.
“Isn’t that your boyfriend?” Qi Xia asked, turning to Jiang Ruoxue. “Are all ‘Jidao’ members this unhinged?”
“He’s not ‘Jidao,'” Jiang Ruoxue crossed her arms. “My roleplay ends here. Playing a lovesick woman is exhausting.”
“So you’re saying you won’t interfere with what happens next?” Qi Xia asked.
“Nope. I’m waiting to die.” Jiang Ruoxue walked inside, sat down, and closed her eyes.
Qi Xia nodded, then grabbed the metal box from the table.
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