“Should we give it a try…?” Qiao Jiajin suggested. “What happens if we fail? Will the ‘character’ be swallowed?”
“I’m not sure,” Qi Xia replied. “All I know is that it’s risky.”
Qiao Jiajin glanced at the character 「䍒」 on the screen and sighed. “Liar… how often will ‘obscure characters’ like this come up in the game?”
“Probably quite a few,” Qi Xia said. “After all, the thickness of a dictionary is beyond most people’s imagination. No matter how strange the radical, it can form an uncommon character.”
“In that case…” Qiao Jiajin pondered, “instead of wasting other ‘characters’ on trial and error, why not use this one? Since we can’t get it right anyway, there’s no loss if we’re wrong.”
Qi Xia thought his reasoning made sense. Guessing wrong on an obscure character was far more acceptable than making a careless mistake on a simple one.
“Fair enough,” Qi Xia nodded. “Chu Tianqiu will make mistakes too. This game will come down to who makes fewer.”
Qi Xia carefully considered the situation. Even if the ‘character’ was swallowed after a wrong guess, it was still acceptable.
“Should we just give it a try…?” Qiao Jiajin said. “What happens if we fail? Will the ‘character’ be swallowed?”
“I’m not sure,” Qi Xia replied. “All I know is that it’s risky.”
Qiao Jiajin glanced at the character “䍒” on the screen and sighed. “Liar… How often are ‘obscure characters’ used in this game?”
“Probably quite often,” Qi Xia said. “After all, a dictionary is far thicker than most people imagine. No matter how strange the radicals are, they can combine to form rarely used characters.”
“In that case…” Qiao Jiajin pondered, “rather than testing with other ‘characters,’ why not use this one? Since there’s no way to get it right anyway, it won’t be a waste if we’re wrong.”
Qi Xia felt Qiao Jiajin made a good point. Guessing wrong on an obscure character was far more acceptable than making a careless mistake on a simple one.
“Alright,” Qi Xia nodded. “Anyway, Chu Tianqiu is bound to make mistakes too. This round will come down to who makes fewer errors.”
Qi Xia carefully considered the situation. Even if guessing wrong meant the “character” would be swallowed, it was still acceptable. After all, he had already fully utilized the character “相” to score points. If this “character” were to disappear completely from the game, Chu Tianqiu would suffer a greater loss. He would permanently lose the chance to use radicals like “木,” “目,” and “罒.” Even if neither side managed to collect all twenty-eight “characters” in the end, Qi Xia’s “characters” might not be fewer.
Qi Xia reached out and touched the rough screen. Next, he was going to write a homophone for “䍒.” Unfortunately, it was impossible to determine the pronunciation through mere guessing. He only knew that the pronunciation likely wasn’t “lín,” as Qiao Jiajin had suggested. With over 1,300 possible pronunciations for Chinese characters, he could at least thank Qiao Jiajin for eliminating one of them.
“Liar… which character are you planning to write?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“Earlier, you mentioned ‘模’ (mó/mú), as in ‘一个模子’ (a mold),” Qi Xia said.
Qiao Jiajin paused. “Are you really not considering ‘林’ (lín)?”
“Maybe next time…” Qi Xia replied.
In his mind, “模” was the optimal choice at this moment. After all, “模” could be read as “mó” or “mú,” and either pronunciation seemed close enough that guessing correctly might earn them points. So, he moved his fingertip and slowly wrote the character “模” on the screen, his nerves tightening with anticipation.
The chances of guessing wrong were extremely high, and it was very likely they would face the consequences of an incorrect guess.
As expected, a few seconds later, the entire display screen glowed red, followed by a line of red text:
—”Creation Failed.”
To Qi Xia’s surprise, the “Phoenix Scroll Platform” did not swallow the “character.” Instead, it instantly lost its magnetic force, and several metal “characters” fell to the ground like unglued pendants, clattering noisily.
After flickering a few times, the text on the screen changed:
—”Red Team’s First Creation Failure. Final Score Reduced by One.”
Upon seeing this, both Qi Xia and Qiao Jiajin frowned. The score on the screen dropped from “10” to “9,” and one of the ten previously created “characters” dimmed. The character “眯” (mī) now appeared grayer and duller than the others, as though it had been deactivated.
“I… damn…” Qiao Jiajin was stunned. “Not only does this ‘林’ character not count, but even the previous ‘眯’ no longer counts.”
Qi Xia bent down to pick up the “character,” feeling somewhat puzzled. He wasn’t surprised that they had guessed wrong, but the penalty seemed too light. The “character” hadn’t disappeared, no one had died, the “game” remained unchanged, and not even the “referee” had intervened—all that happened was a one-point deduction…?
If that were the case, wouldn’t it still be worth attempting to guess slightly more certain “obscure characters”? Guessing right would earn a point, while guessing wrong would cost a point—it sounded far too much like an ordinary gamble.
Even though this was a “Earth Dragon” game, it ultimately originated from the “Green Dragon.” Would he design such an ordinary game?
“Wait…”
Qi Xia’s gaze fixed on the line of text on the screen. One particular word caught his attention:
—”First Creation Failure.”
“First…” Qi Xia seemed to have stumbled upon a critical point. In other words, the reason for the one-point deduction was that this was the “first creation failure.” Following this logic, would a “second creation failure” result in a loss of two points…? Or would the penalties grow increasingly severe, perhaps even leading to punishments like “swallowing characters”?
Qi Xia reached out and touched the “Phoenix Scroll Platform.” Although initially, all the “characters” had been revealed by flipping this black metal magnet, it was now tightly stuck and completely immovable. In other words, if it weren’t for the loss of magnetic force but an actual flip that turned all the “characters” to the other side, there would be no way to retrieve those “characters” again.
“It’s possible that ‘swallowing characters’ could happen… just not now,” Qi Xia said.
“What’d you say?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“The cost of making mistakes will increase each time, but he’s given us some room for error,” Qi Xia explained. “Still, no matter what… ‘creation failure’ will put us at a loss. The ‘characters’ we worked hard to create might become void. From now on, we should avoid using ‘obscure characters’ we’re unsure about.”
“Alright,” Qiao Jiajin nodded. “This one’s on me.”
“No, we had to ‘test the waters’ eventually,” Qi Xia said. “Chu Tianqiu will definitely ‘test the waters’ too, but this kind of ‘trial and error’ is different from whether or not to ‘cross the river.’ If the opponent’s pieces that cannot ‘cross the river’ break the rules, both sides will share information and simultaneously learn the consequences of the mistake. But ‘character creation’ isn’t like that… Chu Tianqiu definitely won’t tell us the results of his ‘trial and error,’ so we were bound to try it ourselves sooner or later. Now’s as good a time as any… Let’s just treat that strange ‘character’ as if it never existed.”
“Fine,” Qiao Jiajin nodded, then turned around. “In that case… Liar, I’ll head over to the character-writing area and wait for them to finish the game.”
“Fist, you…” Qi Xia hesitated. “You know the best place to wait for them, right?”
“Of course.”
Qiao Jiajin stretched his neck, swung his arms, then crouched down to stretch his legs. “If we want to completely cut off the opponent’s retreat, naturally, we should guard the ‘river channel,’ right? The moment I see that big guy there, it’ll be time to act.”
“Be careful,” Qi Xia said.
“I know.”
“Should we just give it a try…?” Qiao Jiejin said. “What happens if we fail? Will the ‘character’ be swallowed?”
“I’m not sure,” Qi Xia replied. “I only know it’s risky.”
Qiao Jiejin looked at the character “䍒” on the screen and sighed. “Liar… in this game, how often will we encounter ‘obscure characters’?”
“Probably quite often,” Qi Xia said. “After all, a dictionary is far thicker than most people imagine. No matter how strange the radicals are, they can combine to form rarely used characters.”
“In that case…” Qiao Jiejin pondered, “rather than using other ‘characters’ to test our luck, let’s go with this one. Since there’s no way to get it right anyway, it won’t be a waste if we’re wrong.”
Qi Xia felt Qiao Jiejin made sense. Guessing wrong on an obscure character was easier to accept than making a careless mistake on a simple one.
“Alright,” Qi Xia nodded. “After all, Chu Tianqiu will make mistakes too. This round will come down to who makes fewer errors.”
Qi Xia carefully considered the situation. Even if guessing wrong meant the “character” would be swallowed, it was still acceptable.
After all, he had already fully utilized the character “相” to score points. If this “character” were to disappear completely from the game, Chu Tianqiu would suffer a greater loss.
He would permanently lose the chance to use radicals like “木”, “目”, and “罒”. Even if neither side managed to collect all twenty-eight “characters” in the end, Qi Xia’s “characters” might not be fewer.
Qi Xia reached out and touched the rough screen.
Next, he needed to write a homophone for “䍒”.
Unfortunately, it was impossible to determine the pronunciation through mere guesswork. The only thing he knew for sure was that the pronunciation likely wasn’t “lín,” as Qiao Jiejin had suggested.
With over 1,300 possible pronunciations for Chinese characters, he could at least thank Qiao Jiejin for eliminating one of them.
“Liar… which character are you planning to write?” Qiao Jiejin asked.
“Earlier, you mentioned ‘模’ (mú/mó), as in ‘一个模子’ (a mold),” Qi Xia said.
Qiao Jiejin paused. “Are you really not considering ‘林’ (lín)?”
“Maybe next time…” Qi Xia replied.
In his mind, “模” was the optimal choice at this moment. After all, “模” could be pronounced as “mó” or “mú”—both seemed close enough that if one of them turned out to be correct, they would score.
So, he moved his fingertip and slowly wrote the character “模” on the screen. Unconsciously, his mood grew tense.
The chances of guessing the wrong pronunciation were extremely high, and it was very likely they would have to face the consequences of an “incorrect guess.”
As expected, a few seconds later, the entire display screen glowed red, followed by a line of red text:
—”Creation Failed.”
What Qi Xia hadn’t anticipated was that the “Phoenix Book-Carrying Platform” didn’t swallow the “character.” Instead, it instantly lost its magnetic force, and several metal “characters” fell to the ground like unglued pendants, clattering noisily.
After flickering a few times, the text on the screen changed:
—”Red Team’s First Creation Failure. Final Score Reduced by One.”
Upon seeing this, both Qi Xia and Qiao Jiejin frowned. The score on the screen dropped from “10” to “9,” and one of the ten previously created “characters” that had been displayed dimmed.
The glow of “眯” (mī) appeared grayer and darker than the others, as though it had been deactivated.
“I… damn…” Qiao Jiejin was stunned. “Not only does this ‘林’ character not count, but even the previous ‘眯’ no longer counts.”
Qi Xia bent down to pick up the “character,” feeling somewhat puzzled.
He wasn’t surprised that they had guessed wrong, but the penalty seemed too light.
The “character” wasn’t gone, no one had died, the “game” remained unchanged, and not even the “referee” had appeared—all that happened was a one-point deduction…?
If that were the case, wouldn’t it still be worth attempting to guess slightly more certain “obscure characters”?
Guess right, gain a point; guess wrong, lose a point—it sounded far too much like an ordinary gamble.
Even though this was a “Earth Dragon” game, it ultimately originated from the “Green Dragon.” Would he design such an ordinary game?
“Wait…”
Qi Xia’s gaze fixed on that line of text on the screen. One phrase had caught his attention:
—”First Creation Failure.”
“First time…” Qi Xia seemed to have thought of something critical.
In other words, the reason for the one-point deduction this time was that it was the “first creation failure.” Following this logic, would a “second creation failure” result in a loss of two points…?
Or would the penalties grow increasingly severe, perhaps even including punishments like “swallowing characters”?
Qi Xia reached out and touched the “Phoenix Book-Carrying Platform.” Although initially, all the “characters” had been revealed by flipping this black metal magnet, it was now tightly stuck and completely immovable.
In other words, if it weren’t for the loss of magnetic force but an actual flip that turned all the “characters” to the other side, there would be no way to retrieve those “characters” again.
“‘Swallowing characters’ is possible… just not now,” Qi Xia said.
“What’d you say?” Qiao Jiejin asked.
“The cost of making mistakes will increase each time, but he’s given us some room for error,” Qi Xia explained. “Regardless, ‘creation failure’ will always be a loss for us. The ‘characters’ we worked hard to create might become void. From now on, we should avoid using obscure characters we’re unsure about.”
“Alright,” Qiao Jiejin nodded. “This one’s on me.”
“No, we had to ‘test the waters’ eventually,” Qi Xia said. “Chu Tianqiu will definitely ‘test the waters’ too, but this kind of ‘trial and error’ is somewhat different from whether one ‘crosses the river.’ If the opponent’s pieces that cannot ‘cross the river’ break the rules, both sides will share the information and simultaneously learn the consequences of the mistake. But ‘character creation’ isn’t like that… Chu Tianqiu definitely won’t tell us the results of his ‘trial and error,’ so we were bound to try it ourselves sooner or later. Now’s as good a time as any… let’s just treat that strange ‘character’ as if it never existed.”
“Fine,” Qiao Jiejin nodded, then turned around. “In that case… Liar, I’ll head over to the character-writing area and wait for their game to end.”
“Fist, you…” Qi Xia hesitated. “You know the best place to wait for them, right?”
“Of course.”
Qiao Jiejin stretched his neck, swung his arms, then crouched down to stretch his legs. “If we want to completely cut off the opponent’s retreat, naturally, we should guard the ‘river channel,’ right? The moment I see that big guy there, it’ll be time to take action.”
“Be careful,” Qi Xia said.
“I know.”
Qi Xia reached out and touched the rough screen.
Next, he needed to write a homophone for 「䍒」.
Unfortunately, guessing its pronunciation was impossible at this point. The only thing he knew was that it probably wasn’t “Lin,” as Qiao Jiajin had suggested.
With over 1,300 possible pronunciations for Chinese characters, he could at least thank Qiao Jiajin for eliminating one.
“Liar… which character are you going to write?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“You mentioned earlier… ‘mold,’ as in ‘a mold,'” Qi Xia said.
Qiao Jiajin hesitated. “You’re really not considering ‘Lin’?”
“Next time, maybe…” Qi Xia replied.
“Should we just give it a try…?” Qiao Jiajin said. “What happens if we fail? Will the ‘character’ be swallowed?”
“I’m not sure,” Qi Xia replied. “I just know it’s risky.”
Qiao Jiajin glanced at the character “䍒” on the screen and sighed. “Liar… in this game, how often will we encounter ‘obscure characters’?”
“Probably quite often,” Qi Xia said. “After all, a dictionary is far thicker than one might imagine. No matter how strange the radicals are, they can combine to form rarely used characters.”
“In that case…” Qiao Jiajin pondered, “rather than testing with other ‘characters,’ why not use this one? Since there’s no way to get it right anyway, it won’t be a waste if we’re wrong.”
Qi Xia thought Qiao Jiajin made sense. Guessing wrong on an obscure character was easier to accept than making a careless mistake on a simple one.
“Alright,” Qi Xia nodded. “Anyway, Chu Tianqiu is bound to make mistakes too. This round will come down to who makes fewer errors.”
Qi Xia carefully considered the situation and felt that even if the “character” were swallowed after a wrong guess, it would still be acceptable. After all, he had already fully utilized the character “相” to score points. If this “character” were to disappear completely from the game, Chu Tianqiu would suffer a greater loss. He would permanently lose the chance to use radicals like “木,” “目,” and “罒.” Even if neither side managed to collect all twenty-eight “characters” in the end, Qi Xia’s “characters” might not be fewer.
Qi Xia reached out and touched the rough screen. Next, he was going to write a homophone for “䍒.” Unfortunately, it was impossible to determine the pronunciation through mere guessing. He only knew that the pronunciation likely wasn’t “lín,” as Qiao Jiajin had suggested. With over 1,300 possible pronunciations for Chinese characters, he could at least thank Qiao Jiajin for eliminating one of them.
“Liar… which character are you planning to write?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“Earlier, you mentioned ‘模’ (mú/mó), as in ‘一个模子’ (a mold),” Qi Xia said.
Qiao Jiajin paused. “Are you really not considering ‘林’ (lín)?”
“Maybe next time…” Qi Xia replied.
In his mind, “模” was the best choice at this moment. After all, “模” can be pronounced as “mó” or “mú,” and either of these similar-sounding readings might just score a point if he guessed correctly. So, he moved his fingertip and slowly wrote the character “模” on the screen, his nerves tightening with anticipation.
The chances of guessing wrong were extremely high, and he was likely to face the consequences of an incorrect guess. As expected, a few seconds later, the entire screen glowed red, followed by a line of red text:
—”Creation Failed.”
To Qi Xia’s surprise, the “Phoenix Scroll Platform” did not swallow the “character.” Instead, it instantly lost its magnetic force, and several metal “characters” clattered to the ground like unglued pendants. After flickering a few times, the text on the screen changed:
“Red Team’s First Creation Failure. Final Score Reduced by One.”
Both Qi Xia and Qiao Jiajin frowned upon reading this. The score on the screen dropped from “10” to “9,” and one of the ten previously created “characters” dimmed. The character “眯” now appeared grayer and duller than the others, as though it had been deactivated.
“I… damn…” Qiao Jiajin was stunned. “Not only does this ‘林’ character not count, but even the previous ‘眯’ no longer counts.”
Qi Xia bent down to pick up the “character,” feeling somewhat puzzled. He wasn’t surprised that his guess was wrong, but the penalty seemed too light. The “character” wasn’t gone, no one died, the “game” remained unchanged, and not even the “referee” intervened—all that happened was a one-point deduction?
If that were the case, wouldn’t it still be worth attempting to guess slightly more certain “obscure characters”? Guessing right earned a point, guessing wrong cost a point—it sounded exactly like an ordinary gamble. But even though this was the “Earth Dragon’s” game, it ultimately originated from the “Green Dragon.” Would he design such a mundane game?
“Wait…” Qi Xia’s gaze fixed on the line of text on the screen. One word caught his attention:
—”First Creation Failure.”
“First…” Qi Xia seemed to have stumbled upon a critical point. In other words, the reason for the one-point deduction was that it was the “first creation failure.” Following this logic, would a “second creation failure” result in a two-point loss? Or would the penalties grow increasingly severe, perhaps even including punishments like “swallowing characters”?
Qi Xia reached out and touched the “Phoenix Scroll Platform.” Although initially, all the “characters” had been revealed by flipping this black metal magnet, it was now tightly stuck and completely immovable. In other words, if it weren’t for the loss of magnetic force but an actual flip that turned all the “characters” to the other side, there would be no way to retrieve them.
“‘Swallowing characters’ is possible… just not now,” Qi Xia said.
“What’d you say?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“The cost of making mistakes will increase each time, but he’s given us some room for error,” Qi Xia explained. “Still, no matter what… ‘creation failure’ will result in a loss for us. The ‘characters’ we worked hard to create might become void. From now on, we should avoid using obscure characters we’re unsure about.”
“Alright,” Qiao Jiajin nodded. “This one’s on me.”
“No, we had to ‘test the waters’ eventually,” Qi Xia said. “Chu Tianqiu will definitely ‘test the waters’ too, but this kind of ‘trial and error’ is different from whether one ‘crosses the river.’ If the opponent’s pieces that cannot ‘cross the river’ break the rules, both sides will share the information and learn the consequences of the mistake simultaneously. But ‘character creation’ doesn’t work that way… Chu Tianqiu definitely won’t tell us the results of his ‘trial and error,’ so we were bound to try it ourselves sooner or later. Now’s as good a time as any… let’s just treat that strange ‘character’ as if it never existed.”
“Fine,” Qiao Jiajin nodded, then turned around. “In that case, Liar, I’ll head over to the character-writing area and wait for their game to end.”
“Fist, you…” Qi Xia hesitated. “You know the best place to wait for them, right?”
“Of course.”
Qiao Jiajin stretched his neck, swung his arms, then crouched down to stretch his legs. “To completely block the opponent’s return path, I should naturally guard the ‘river channel,’ right? The moment I spot the big guy there, it’ll be time to act.”
“Be careful,” Qi Xia said.
“I know.”
“Should we just give it a try…?” Qiao Jiajin said. “What happens if we fail? Will the ‘character’ be swallowed?”
“I’m not sure,” Qi Xia replied. “I only know it’s risky.”
Qiao Jiajin glanced at the character “䍒” on the screen and sighed. “Liar… How often are ‘obscure characters’ used in this game?”
“Probably quite often,” Qi Xia said. “After all, a dictionary is far thicker than most people imagine. No matter how strange the radicals are, they can combine to form rarely used characters.”
“In that case…” Qiao Jiajin pondered. “Rather than testing with other ‘characters,’ why not use this one? Since there’s no way to get it right anyway, it won’t be a waste if we’re wrong.”
Qi Xia thought Qiao Jiajin made a good point. Guessing wrong on an obscure character was far more acceptable than making a careless mistake on a simple one.
“Alright,” Qi Xia nodded. “Anyway, Chu Tianqiu is bound to make mistakes too. This round will come down to who makes fewer errors.”
Qi Xia carefully considered the situation and felt that even if the ‘character’ were swallowed after a wrong guess, it would still be acceptable. After all, he had already fully utilized the character “相” to score points. If this ‘character’ were to disappear completely from the game, Chu Tianqiu would suffer a greater loss. He would permanently lose the chance to use radicals like “木,” “目,” and “罒.” Even if neither side managed to collect all twenty-eight ‘characters,’ Qi Xia’s own ‘characters’ might not end up fewer in number.
Qi Xia reached out and touched the rough screen. Next, he was going to write a homophone for “䍒.” Unfortunately, it was impossible to guess the pronunciation of this ‘character.’ He only knew it probably wasn’t “林,” as Qiao Jiajin had suggested. With over 1,300 possible pronunciations for Chinese characters, he could at least thank Qiao Jiajin for eliminating one of them.
“Liar… which character are you planning to write?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“Just now, you mentioned ‘模’ as in ‘一个模子’ (a mold),” Qi Xia said.
Qiao Jiajin paused. “Are you really not considering ‘林’?”
“Maybe next time…” Qi Xia replied.
In his mind, “模” was the best choice at this moment. After all, “模” could be read as “mó” or “mú,” and both pronunciations seemed close enough that if one of them turned out to be correct, they would score. So, he moved his fingertip and slowly wrote the character “模” on the screen, his nerves tightening with anticipation. The chances of guessing wrong were extremely high, and it was very likely they would face the consequences of an incorrect guess.
As expected, a few seconds later, the entire display screen glowed red, followed by a line of red text:
—”Creation Failed.”
To Qi Xia’s surprise, the “Phoenix Scroll Platform” did not swallow the ‘character.’ Instead, it instantly lost its magnetic force, and several metal ‘characters’ clattered to the ground like unglued pendants. After flickering a few times, the text on the screen changed:
“Red Team’s First Creation Failure. Final Score Reduced by One.”
Both Qi Xia and Qiao Jiajin frowned upon reading this. The score on the screen dropped from “10” to “9,” and one of the ten previously created ‘characters’ dimmed. The glow of “眯” appeared grayer and darker than the others, as though it had been deactivated.
“I… damn…” Qiao Jiajin was stunned. “Not only does this ‘林’ character not count, but the previous ‘眯’ doesn’t either.”
Qi Xia bent down to pick up the ‘character,’ feeling somewhat puzzled. He wasn’t surprised that they had guessed wrong, but the penalty seemed too light. The ‘character’ wasn’t gone, no one had died, the ‘game’ remained unchanged, and not even the ‘referee’ had intervened—all they did was deduct one point…?
If that were the case, wouldn’t it still be worth attempting to guess slightly more certain ‘obscure characters’? Guessing right would earn one point, while guessing wrong would cost one point. It sounded far too much like an ordinary gamble.
Even though this was a ‘Earth Dragon’ game, it ultimately originated from ‘Green Dragon.’ Would he design such an ordinary game?
“Wait…”
Qi Xia’s gaze fixed on the line of text on the screen. One phrase had caught his attention:
—”First Creation Failure.”
“First failure…” Qi Xia seemed to have stumbled upon a critical point. In other words, the reason for deducting one point this time was that it was the “first creation failure.” Following this logic, would a “second creation failure” result in a loss of two points…? Or would the penalties grow increasingly severe, perhaps even leading to punishments like “swallowing characters”?
Qi Xia reached out and touched the “Phoenix Scroll Platform.” Although initially, all the ‘characters’ had been revealed by flipping this black metal magnet, it was now tightly stuck and completely immobile. In other words, if it weren’t for the loss of magnetic force and it were to actually flip, turning all the ‘characters’ to the other side, there would be no way to retrieve those ‘characters’ again.
“‘Swallowing characters’ is possible… just not now,” Qi Xia said.
“What’d you say?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“The cost of making mistakes will increase each time, but he’s given us some room for error,” Qi Xia explained. “Still, no matter what… ‘creation failure’ will result in a loss for us. The ‘characters’ we worked hard to create could be invalidated. From now on, we should avoid using ‘obscure characters’ we’re unsure about.”
“Alright,” Qiao Jiajin nodded. “This one’s on me.”
“No, we had to ‘test the waters’ eventually,” Qi Xia said. “Chu Tianqiu will definitely ‘test the waters’ too, but this kind of ‘trial and error’ is different from whether or not to ‘cross the river.’ If the opponent’s pieces that cannot ‘cross the river’ break the rules, both sides will share the information and simultaneously learn the consequences of the mistake. But ‘character creation’ isn’t like that… Chu Tianqiu definitely won’t tell us the results of his ‘trial and error,’ so we were bound to try it ourselves sooner or later. Now’s as good a time as any… Let’s just treat that strange ‘character’ as if it never existed.”
“Fine,” Qiao Jiajin nodded, then turned around. “In that case, Liar, I’ll head over to the character-writing area and wait for their game to end.”
“Fist, you…” Qi Xia hesitated. “You know the best place to wait for them, right?”
“Of course.”
Qiao Jiajin stretched his neck, swung his arms, then crouched down to stretch his legs. “To completely block the opponent’s return path, I should naturally guard the ‘river channel,’ right? The moment I see that big guy there, it’ll be time to act.”
“Be careful,” Qi Xia said.
“I know.”
The odds of being wrong were high, and the consequences of guessing incorrectly loomed large.
Just as expected, seconds later, the screen flashed red, and a line of crimson text appeared:
—”Creation failed.”
To Qi Xia’s surprise, the “Phoenix Bookstand” didn’t swallow the ‘character.’ Instead, it lost its magnetism instantly, and several metal ‘characters’ clattered to the ground like unglued ornaments.
The screen flickered before displaying a new message:
“Red Team’s first creation failure. Final score reduced by one.”
“Should we just give it a try…?” Qiao Jiajin said. “What happens if we fail? Will the ‘character’ be swallowed?”
“I’m not sure,” Qi Xia replied. “All I know is that this is risky.”
Qiao Jiajin glanced at the character “䍒” on the screen and sighed. “Liar… in this game, how often will we encounter ‘obscure characters’?”
“Probably quite often,” Qi Xia said. “After all, a dictionary is far thicker than most people imagine. No matter how strange the radicals are, they can combine to form rarely used characters.”
“In that case…” Qiao Jiajin pondered, “rather than testing with other ‘characters,’ why not use this one? Since there’s no way to get it right anyway, it won’t be a waste if we’re wrong.”
Qi Xia felt Qiao Jiajin made sense. Guessing wrong on an obscure character was easier to accept than making a careless mistake on a simple one.
“Alright,” Qi Xia nodded. “Anyway, Chu Tianqiu is bound to make mistakes too. This round will come down to who makes fewer errors.”
Qi Xia carefully considered the situation. Even if guessing wrong meant the character would be swallowed, it was still acceptable.
After all, he had already fully utilized the character “相” to score points. If this character were to disappear completely from the game, Chu Tianqiu would suffer a greater loss.
He would permanently lose the chance to use radicals like “木,” “目,” and “罒.” Even if neither side managed to collect all twenty-eight characters, Qi Xia’s character count might not necessarily be lower.
Qi Xia reached out and touched the rough screen.
Next, he needed to write a homophone for “䍒.”
Unfortunately, it was impossible to guess the pronunciation of this character. He only knew it probably wasn’t “lín,” as Qiao Jiajin had suggested.
With over 1,300 possible pronunciations for Chinese characters, he could at least thank Qiao Jiajin for eliminating one of them.
“Liar… which character are you planning to write?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“You mentioned earlier… ‘模,’ as in ‘一个模子’ (yīgè múzi),” Qi Xia said.
Qiao Jiajin paused. “Are you really not considering ‘林’?”
“Maybe next time…” Qi Xia replied.
In his mind, “模” was the best choice at this moment. After all, “模” could be pronounced as “mó” or “mú.” Either of these similar pronunciations had a chance of being correct, which would earn them points.
So, he moved his fingertip and slowly wrote the character “模” on the screen. His heart couldn’t help but tense up.
The chance of guessing the wrong pronunciation was extremely high, and it was very likely they would face the consequences of a “wrong guess.”
As expected, a few seconds later, the entire display screen glowed red, followed by a line of red text:
—”Creation Failed.”
To Qi Xia’s surprise, the “Phoenix Scroll Platform” did not swallow the character. Instead, it instantly lost its magnetic force, and several metal characters fell to the ground like unglued pendants, clattering noisily.
After flickering a few times, the text on the screen changed:
“Red Team’s First Creation Failure. Final Score Reduced by One.”
Upon seeing this, both Qi Xia and Qiao Jiajin frowned. The score on the screen dropped from “10” back to “9,” and one of the ten previously created characters dimmed.
The character “眯” now appeared grayer and darker than the others, as though it had been deactivated.
“I… damn…” Qiao Jiajin was stunned. “Not only does this ‘林’ character not count, but the previous ‘眯’ doesn’t either.”
Qi Xia bent down to pick up the characters, feeling somewhat puzzled.
He wasn’t surprised that they had guessed wrong, but the penalty seemed too light.
The characters weren’t gone, no one died, the game remained unchanged, and not even the “referee” intervened—they merely lost one point…?
If that were the case, wouldn’t it still be worth attempting to guess slightly more certain “obscure characters”?
Guess right, gain a point; guess wrong, lose a point. It sounded far too much like an ordinary gamble.
Although this was the “Earth Dragon’s” game, it ultimately originated from the “Green Dragon.” Would he design such an ordinary game?
“Wait…”
Qi Xia’s gaze fixed on the line of text on the screen. One word caught his attention:
—”First Creation Failure.”
“First…” Qi Xia seemed to have thought of something critical.
In other words, the reason they lost one point this time was that it was their “first creation failure.” Following this logic, would a “second creation failure” cost them two points…?
Or would the penalties become increasingly severe, perhaps even including punishments like “swallowing characters”?
Qi Xia reached out and touched the “Phoenix Scroll Platform.” Although initially, all the characters had been revealed by flipping this black metal magnet, it was now tightly stuck and completely immovable.
In other words, if it weren’t for the loss of magnetic force but an actual flip that turned all the characters to the other side, there would be no way to retrieve those characters again.
“’Swallowing characters’ is possible… just not now,” Qi Xia said.
“What’d you say?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“The cost of making mistakes will increase each time, but he’s given us some room for error,” Qi Xia explained. “Still, no matter what… ‘creation failure’ will result in a loss for us. The characters we worked hard to create might become invalid. From now on, we should avoid using obscure characters we’re unsure about.”
“Alright,” Qiao Jiajin nodded. “This one’s on me.”
“No, we had to ‘test the waters’ eventually,” Qi Xia said. “Chu Tianqiu will definitely ‘test the waters’ too. But this ‘trial and error’ is different from whether we ‘cross the river.’ If the opponent’s pieces that cannot ‘cross the river’ break the rules, both sides will share information and simultaneously learn the consequences of the mistake. However, ‘character creation’ doesn’t work that way… Chu Tianqiu definitely won’t tell us the results of his ‘trial and error,’ so we had to try it ourselves sooner or later. Now is as good a time as any… let’s just treat that strange character as if it never existed.”
“Fine,” Qiao Jiajin nodded, then turned around. “In that case… Liar, I’ll head over to the character-writing area and wait for their game to end.”
“Fist, you…” Qi Xia hesitated. “Do you know the best place to wait for them?”
“Of course.”
Qiao Jiajin stretched his neck, swung his arms, and then crouched down to stretch his legs. “To completely cut off the opponent’s retreat, I should guard the ‘river channel,’ right? The moment I see the big guy there, it’ll be time to act.”
“Be careful,” Qi Xia said.
“I know.”
“Should we just give it a try…?” Qiao Jiejin said. “What happens if we fail? Will the ‘character’ be swallowed?”
“I’m not sure,” Qi Xia replied. “All I know is that it’s risky.”
Qiao Jiejin glanced at the character “䍒” on the screen and sighed. “Liar… How often are ‘obscure characters’ used in this game?”
“Probably quite often,” Qi Xia said. “After all, a dictionary is far thicker than most people imagine. No matter how strange the radicals are, they can combine to form rarely used characters.”
“In that case…” Qiao Jiejin pondered. “Rather than testing with other ‘characters,’ why not use this one? Since there’s no way to get it right anyway, it won’t be a waste if we’re wrong.”
Qi Xia thought Qiao Jiejin made sense. Guessing wrong on an obscure character was easier to accept than making a careless mistake on a simple one.
“Alright,” Qi Xia nodded. “After all, Chu Tianqiu will make mistakes too. This round will come down to who makes fewer errors.”
Qi Xia carefully considered the situation. Even if guessing wrong meant the ‘character’ would be swallowed, it was still acceptable.
After all, he had already fully utilized the character “相” to score points. If this ‘character’ were to disappear completely from the game, Chu Tianqiu would suffer a greater loss.
He would permanently lose the chance to use radicals like “木,” “目,” and “罒.” Even if neither side managed to collect all twenty-eight ‘characters,’ Qi Xia’s own ‘characters’ might not end up fewer in number.
Qi Xia reached out and touched the rough screen.
Next, he needed to write a homophone for “䍒.”
Unfortunately, it was impossible to determine the pronunciation through mere guessing. The only thing he knew for sure was that the pronunciation likely wasn’t “lín,” as Qiao Jiejin had suggested.
With over 1,300 possible pronunciations for Chinese characters, he could at least thank Qiao Jiejin for eliminating one of them.
“Liar… which character are you planning to write?” Qiao Jiejin asked.
“Earlier, you mentioned ‘模’ as in ‘一个模子’ (yī gè mú zi),” Qi Xia said.
Qiao Jiejin paused. “Are you really not considering ‘林’?”
“Maybe next time…” Qi Xia replied.
In his mind, “模” was the optimal choice at this moment. After all, “模” could be pronounced as “mó” or “mú,” both of which seemed close enough. If either one turned out to be correct, they would score.
So, he moved his fingertip and slowly wrote the character “模” on the screen. His heart couldn’t help but tense up at that moment.
The chances of guessing the wrong pronunciation were extremely high, and it was very likely they would have to face the consequences of an incorrect guess.
As expected, a few seconds later, the entire display screen glowed red, followed by a line of red text:
—”Creation Failed.”
What Qi Xia hadn’t anticipated was that the “Phoenix Scroll Platform” didn’t swallow the ‘character.’ Instead, it simply lost its magnetism instantly. Several metal ‘characters’ fell to the ground like unglued pendants, clattering noisily.
After flickering a few times, the text on the screen changed:
—”Red Team’s First Creation Failure. Final Score Reduced by One.”
Upon seeing this, both Qi Xia and Qiao Jiejin frowned. The score on the screen dropped from “10” back to “9.” Among the ten successfully created ‘characters’ floating beside the score, one of them dimmed.
The glow of “眯” appeared grayer and darker than the others, as though it had been deactivated.
“I… damn…” Qiao Jiejin was stunned. “Not only does this ‘林’ character not count, but even the earlier ‘眯’ no longer counts.”
Qi Xia bent down to pick up the ‘character,’ feeling somewhat puzzled.
He wasn’t surprised that they had guessed wrong, but the penalty seemed too light.
The ‘character’ wasn’t gone, no one had died, the ‘game’ remained unchanged, and not even the ‘referee’ had shown up. They had merely lost one point…?
If that were the case, wouldn’t it still be worth attempting to guess slightly more recognizable ‘obscure characters’?
Guess correctly and gain a point; guess incorrectly and lose a point. It sounded far too much like an ordinary gamble.
Even though this was a ‘Earth Dragon’ game, it ultimately originated from ‘Green Dragon.’ Would he design such an ordinary game?
“Wait…”
Qi Xia’s gaze fixed on that line of text on the screen. One particular phrase caught his attention:
—”First Creation Failure.”
“First time…” Qi Xia seemed to have stumbled upon a critical point.
In other words, the reason they lost one point this time was that it was their “first creation failure.” Following this logic, would a “second creation failure” cost them two points…?
Or would the penalties grow increasingly severe, perhaps even resulting in punishments like “swallowing characters”?
Qi Xia reached out and touched the “Phoenix Scroll Platform.” Although initially, all the ‘characters’ had been revealed by flipping this black metal magnet, it was now tightly stuck and completely immovable.
In other words, if it weren’t for the loss of magnetism but an actual flip that turned all the ‘characters’ to the other side, there would be no way to retrieve those ‘characters’ again.
“‘Swallowing characters’ is possible… just not now,” Qi Xia said.
“What’d you say?” Qiao Jiejin asked.
“The cost of making mistakes will increase each time, but he’s given us some room for error,” Qi Xia explained. “Regardless, ‘creation failure’ will always be a loss for us. The ‘characters’ we worked hard to create might become void. From now on, we should avoid using ‘obscure characters’ we’re unsure about.”
“Alright,” Qiao Jiejin nodded. “This one’s on me.”
“No, we had to ‘test the waters’ eventually,” Qi Xia said. “Chu Tianqiu will definitely ‘test the waters’ too. But this kind of ‘trial and error’ is somewhat different from whether or not to ‘cross the river.’ If the opponent’s pieces that cannot ‘cross the river’ break the rules, both sides will share the information and simultaneously learn the consequences of the mistake. However, ‘character creation’ doesn’t work that way… Chu Tianqiu definitely won’t tell us the results of his ‘trial and error,’ so we were bound to try it ourselves sooner or later. Now just happens to be the time… Let’s just treat that strange ‘character’ as if it never existed.”
“Fine,” Qiao Jiejin nodded, then turned around. “In that case, Liar, I’ll head over to the character-writing area and wait for their game to end.”
“Fist, you…” Qi Xia hesitated. “You know the best place to wait for them, right?”
“Of course.”
Qiao Jiejin stretched his neck, swung his arms, then crouched down to stretch his legs. “If we want to completely cut off the opponent’s retreat, naturally, we should guard the ‘river channel,’ right? The moment I see that big guy there, it’ll be time to act.”
“Be careful,” Qi Xia said.
“I know.”
Qi Xia bent down to pick up the fallen ‘characters,’ feeling uneasy.
He wasn’t shocked by the mistake, but the penalty seemed too light.
The ‘character’ wasn’t gone, no one died, the game remained unchanged, and even the referee didn’t intervene—just a single point deducted?
Did that mean they could still afford to take guesses on obscure characters they were slightly confident about?
Guess right, gain a point; guess wrong, lose one. It sounded like an ordinary gamble.
But even though this was the “Earth Dragon’s” game, it ultimately came from the “Azure Dragon.” Would he design something so mundane?
“Wait…”
Qi Xia’s gaze fixed on the screen. One phrase stood out:
—”First creation failure.”
“First…” A realization struck him.
Did that mean the one-point deduction was because it was the “first” failure? If so, would the “second creation failure” cost them two points?
Or would the penalties escalate, perhaps even leading to ‘character swallowing’?
Qi Xia touched the “Phoenix Bookstand.” Though all ‘characters’ had initially appeared by flipping this black metal magnet, it was now locked tight, immovable.
In other words, if it weren’t just losing magnetism but actually flipping, turning all ‘characters’ to their reverse side, they’d never retrieve them again.
“‘Character swallowing’ is possible… just not now,” Qi Xia murmured.
“What’d you say?” Qiao Jiajin asked.
“The cost of mistakes will escalate, but he’s giving us a few chances first,” Qi Xia said. “Still, ‘creation failure’ will always be a loss for us. Hard-earned ‘characters’ might be wasted, so let’s avoid obscure ones unless we’re sure.”
“Alright,” Qiao Jiajin nodded. “This one’s on me.”
“No, trial and error was inevitable,” Qi Xia said. “Chu Tianqiu will do the same. But unlike ‘crossing the river,’ where both sides share the penalty, ‘character creation’ mistakes are private. He won’t tell us his results, so we had to test it ourselves sooner or later. Consider that weird ‘character’ nonexistent now.”
“Fair enough.” Qiao Jiajin nodded, then turned. “In that case, Liar, I’ll head over to the ‘character-writing’ area and wait for their game to end.”
“Fists, you…” Qi Xia hesitated. “You know the best place to intercept them, right?”
“Of course.”
Qiao Jiajin stretched his neck, swung his arms, then crouched to stretch his legs. “To completely block their retreat, the riverbank’s the spot. If I see Big Guy there, it’s time to throw down.”
“Be careful,” Qi Xia said.
“Got it.”
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