Chapter 366: Ripples

“The fourth round begins, with the first person drawing a lot.”

The short announcement made Su Shan restless.

It was already the fourth round—halfway through the game.

If each round represented a “year,” then “four years” had passed, and everyone had been tormented beyond recognition by the “Nian Beast.”

Only one of the three lanterns atop the Nian Beast’s head had been extinguished.

In the next four rounds, they had to snuff out two more to win, but clearly, the Earth Dog wasn’t an easy opponent.

Lin Qin was already severely injured. If another “disaster” struck at random, the chances of her dying would be dangerously high.

Zhang Chenze’s situation was even worse. Her room was now completely overtaken by a sickly gray-green hue, making it impossible to see her. But judging by the movement of the swarming insects, she was still struggling fiercely, causing massive ripples in the tide of bugs.

Could she still “draw a lot” or “make a wish” in this state?

The only ones still in decent condition were Su Shan and Qin Dingdong, but they were positioned at the start and end of the round, making seamless coordination nearly impossible.

The Earth Dog had two tactics for its next “disaster.” The first was an aggressive approach—continuing to attack the seasons already afflicted by “disasters,” using the “misfortunes never come singly” strategy to wipe them out completely. But this had its drawbacks: since Zhang Chenze was linked to Su Shan, and Lin Qin to Qin Dingdong, they could theoretically save each other. Unless the Earth Dog took a reckless gamble, it likely wouldn’t resort to such aggression.

The second tactic was to play it safe—targeting the seasons that were still unharmed. This would weaken all four players, filling the entire year with “disasters,” making mutual rescue, coordination, and victory even more difficult.

The biggest challenge of this game was that “no one could die.” But how could she save everyone with just her own strength?

She had a sinking feeling that in two more rounds, everyone would be injured. Even if they managed to escape the Earth Dog’s game, they’d be in no condition to participate in the next one.

“Is this what an ‘Earth-level’ game is like…?” Su Shan gave a bitter smile. “The memory of my last encounter with Qi Xia is still fresh in my mind. Back then, I lost to a ‘participant.’ This time, I’m losing to a ‘referee.’ I guess I’m just not cut out for surviving here…”

Now, Su Shan only had one “Plentiful Harvest” and one “Neutral Lot” left in her hand.

In theory, to win, she had to wish for “Plentiful Harvest.” But “Summer” was already overrun with “locust plagues.”

Who would wish for “Plentiful Harvest” in “Spring” knowing full well that “Summer” was plagued by locusts?

Su Shan’s mind was in chaos. She felt like this game was unwinnable.

“I was so naive…”

Her gaze dimmed. She had confidently led the group into this “Earth-level” game, and now they were either injured or barely hanging on.

Was it even possible to escape this hellhole?

What method, what strategy, could possibly get them out?

A buzzing filled Su Shan’s ears. She waved a hand, mistaking it for a locust.

“What’s going on…?” She remembered this feeling—back when she was cornered in her confrontation with Qi Xia, she had heard the same strange noise.

If she wasn’t mistaken, this was the precursor to “Echo.”

But this time, she wasn’t in as desperate a situation as before. She wasn’t injured, nor had she suffered any “disaster.” So why was she hearing it again?

“My ‘Echo’ seems to come easier now…” Su Shan slowly closed her eyes, surrendering completely to the despair and fear invading her mind and heart. “Qi Xia once said he wanted to push me into ‘despair.’ Does that mean I can only ‘Echo’ when I’m in despair?”

Wasn’t the current situation desperate enough?

Yes, it was more than enough. Forget the Earth Dog’s game—just being in the “Land of the End” was despair incarnate.

In her five years working in the police forensics department, she had never witnessed as many tragedies as she had in a single day here. Without the constraints of law, humans would kill each other over the most trivial things.

And the rulers of this place were nothing like those in the real world. They didn’t maintain order—they facilitated fairer slaughter.

Countless people died and were reborn here, only to die again. “Amnesia” gave them new hope, while those who “retained their memories” were doomed to suffer in endless cycles.

This place wasn’t meant for the living or the sane.

It was true hell.

*Clang!*

A distant, resonant bell tolled, making Lin Qin and Qin Dingdong frown simultaneously. They watched as Su Shan slowly opened her eyes. If they looked closely, they’d notice something unusual—Su Shan’s once-bright eyes now shimmered like diamonds, radiant and crystalline.

She glanced around, feeling as though the entire world had changed. Was this what “Echo” was?

Was this how “Echoers” saw the world?

Strange, pale-blue lights drifted through the room, moving with a life of their own. Their paths were both orderly and erratic, like ripples or waves.

At a glance, the entire space resembled the walls of a dark room reflecting the shimmering light of a swimming pool—suddenly aglow with a serene, rippling radiance.

The lights gathered and dispersed in midair, some colliding and bursting into bizarre patterns that resembled indecipherable script.

“Strange…” Su Shan remembered that her last “Echo” hadn’t looked like this at all. What was happening now?

Why had there been almost no light when she faced Qi Xia, but now, with these teammates, the room was filled with it?

Did the “scene” change depending on the “people” involved?

Lin Qin had once told her that every “Echo” came with a unique ability. So what was hers?

“Being able to see these lights… is that my ability?”

Su Shan had fantasized about gaining some transcendent power—flight, super strength, anything. But all she got was the ability to see weird lights.

Some of the lights now hovered around Zhang Chenze’s room, desperately trying to converge but scattering just before they could unite.

“What in the world are these things…?”

Su Shan turned to Qin Dingdong. The scene around her was different—only a few stable orbs of light floated near her, neither gathering nor dispersing, as if anchored in place.

Then she looked at Lin Qin across from her. Around Lin Qin, the strange lights were the most concentrated—waves upon waves of them colliding and parting, each impact producing two nearly imperceptible characters.

Su Shan narrowed her eyes, straining to read the tiny script. After several seconds, she finally made out the words rippling between the waves.

Her lips moved slightly.

“I see it… the ripples of ‘Awakening.'”