“Kid!” Brother Wang looked up at Qi Xia. “You still don’t know how to deal with that black bead on your head, do you? If you help us conduct a fair draw, I’ll tell you how to handle it afterward. Deal?”
“Ha.” Qi Xia grinned. “Sounds incredibly tempting.”
“You get it, right?” Brother Wang continued. “None of us can touch those two marked ‘Tao’—only you can. So it has to be *fair*. Only if it’s *fair* will I tell you how to survive. Understood?”
The man deliberately emphasized the word “fair” and winked at Qi Xia.
Qi Xia stared at him as if watching a clown, then finally shook his head helplessly and murmured, “Maybe those who survive will suffer more than those who die.”
“That’s not your concern. Your job is just to make it *fair*.” Brother Wang squeezed Qi Xia’s shoulder. “Be smart about this, kid. I won’t shortchange you.”
“I’ll try my best to be smart.” Qi Xia nodded in agreement.
Satisfied that Qi Xia had been convinced, the man nodded contentedly before turning to ask, “Who’s drawing first? Should we play rock-paper-scissors?”
The six of them eventually decided to use rock-paper-scissors to determine the order of the draw. Meanwhile, Qi Xia glanced at the lone figure of Di Niu standing apart, who had been staring coldly in his direction the entire time, expressionless.
He had encountered Di Niu once before in the “Black Bear Hunt” game. Physical-based games under Di Niu’s supervision tended to be relatively simple—even a brilliant mind wouldn’t help much.
As long as one had overwhelming physical strength, the odds of winning this game were high. For instance, if the last two standing were Qiao Jiajin and Zhang Shan, Di Niu would have a hard time gaining the upper hand.
Qi Xia swept his gaze over the six men in front of him and concluded that only the bespectacled fat man might have a slight advantage in a tug-of-war. The others stood little chance.
Once they finished their rock-paper-scissors, they took turns stepping forward to draw their fates. With subtle manipulation—guiding words and meaningful glances—Qi Xia ensured the survivors were none other than Brother Wang and the fat man.
“Ah! How did this happen?!” Brother Wang feigned shock with terrible acting. “I’ve already ‘Echoed’! And yet I survived?!”
The four who drew the death slips visibly paled, but since the draw had been conducted by a stranger, none could voice objections.
Brother Wang shot Qi Xia an approving look.
“Ha…” Qi Xia slowly stood up, eyeing the six men like they were monkeys in a zoo. “Interesting.”
“Have you decided?” Di Niu interjected at the perfect moment. “If you’re not preparing for a second challenge, I must ask you to leave my game area now.”
Seizing the opportunity, Brother Wang turned and pressed on, “Listen up! The draw’s done—this is fate. You all know me. I’d never trade teammates for ‘Tao’ under normal circumstances. But this is different—*nine hundred sixty ‘Tao’*! That’s just too much!”
Under the combined pressure from Di Niu and Brother Wang, the fat man chimed in, “Brother Wang’s right. Think about it—how many deaths would it take to earn 960 ‘Tao’? You’re only dying *once*! Do the math—would you rather die over and over or just once?”
“But we two haven’t ‘Echoed’…” A lanky man pointed at himself and another middle-aged man. “Brother Wang… can’t you switch with me…?”
As they talked, Qi Xia realized that two of the four doomed men had no ‘Echo’—death for them meant *true oblivion*.
“Isn’t forgetting a *blessing*?!” The fat man grabbed the lanky man’s shoulders. “The only reason we fear death is the terror it brings. If you forget you ever died, it’s like it never happened!”
He then pointed at Brother Wang. “Don’t think just because he’s ‘Echoed’ that he isn’t scared! He’ll still remember the fear and pain of dying when he revives. That’s torture for anyone! Losing your memory before death? That’s a *mercy*!”
Two of them found this reasoning somewhat convincing, while the other two ‘Echoers’ treated death more lightly. After much deliberation, they resolved to end their own lives.
But suicide and being killed were two entirely different challenges. The men kept passing the knife around, none able to bring themselves to strike the fatal blow.
As chaos mounted, Di Niu stepped forward and softly suggested, “I have a proposal.”
They turned to look at her.
“Since you’ve already decided who dies, and everyone agreed to the draw, why not let me handle it?” She glanced at the sky. “If we delay any longer, I’ll grow impatient. Do you consent?”
After exchanging glances, they agreed—this was the least terrible option. At least Di Niu would make it quick and professional, minimizing their suffering.
With their approval, Di Niu flashed forward, snatched the dagger from one man’s hand, and in mere seconds, slit each of their throats with surgical precision. They hadn’t even begun to collapse or register fear before their wounds split open.
Four torrents of blood gushed from their necks as they clutched their throats and slowly crumpled to their knees amid the sound of falling rain.
Brother Wang and the fat man swallowed hard. Though they’d planned this, watching an Earthly ‘Zodiac’ kill so effortlessly was chilling. To them, human lives were like ants—no hesitation before, no remorse after.
Di Niu then grabbed the ankles of two fallen men, bending like a slingshot before launching them overhead like stones. The force left two shallow footprints where she’d stood.
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