Chapter 365: An Inescapable Catastrophe

“The second person’s ‘Wish’ has ended. The third person, please ‘Draw’.” The voice of Earth Dog crackled through the broadcast.

Lin Qin, gripping the table for support, gritted her teeth and stood up, her whole body trembling as she reached for the “stick” for this round.

She felt as though the fall had rattled her brain because this “stick” was unlike any she had drawn before—it wasn’t a “neutral stick.” Instead, it bore five words:

**”The day when spring blooms.”**

She shook her head, trying to dispel the dizziness, and focused on deciphering the meaning.

Had the others not been drawing “neutral sticks” either? Had they all contained similar cryptic phrases?

If so, then the rightward arrow beneath this stick must affect the room to her right.

“My luck really is the worst…”

Lin Qin let out a bitter laugh, then carefully placed the stick in front of her. Instead, she took out a “neutral stick” and tossed it into the hole.

“Too bad I didn’t hit my head hard enough to stop thinking,” she muttered with a wry smile, flexing her numb leg—probably fractured.

Right now, her priority wasn’t tending to her injury. It was depleting all her “neutral sticks” while hoarding as many “wish sticks” as possible. That way, whether it was a “gift” or a “wish,” she could at least fend off the “calamities.”

Su Shan, seeing Lin Qin regain her composure, nodded slightly in relief. She knew no one could afford to die in this game.

Losing even one would spell disaster for all.

They were bound together as the “Four Seasons,” forming an unbroken cycle where each depended on the others.

If the chain broke, the rooms adjacent to the gap would be left defenseless—a dead person couldn’t shield their neighbors from calamity.

Not only that, even the “gifts” would be disrupted. For instance, “Summer” couldn’t skip “Autumn” to directly “gift” to “Winter.”

Qin Dingdong, tense, glanced at Lin Qin. Only after confirming she was unharmed did she relax slightly, refocusing as she awaited her next “stick.”

But seconds passed, and the next stick still hadn’t surfaced.

“You handled that well. As expected—either veterans or prodigies.” Earth Dog’s voice was low and measured. “But you’ve already fallen into my rhythm.”

“What?”

“You spent an entire year unraveling the scars left by last year’s ‘calamity.’ A fine strategy, indeed. But what will you do about **this year’s** calamity?”

The words struck like a hammer. Of course—the calamities wouldn’t stop.

As long as Earth Dog, playing the role of the “Year Beast,” remained, they would be trapped in an endless cycle of “disaster years.”

Earth Dog nodded solemnly, drawing a stick from his side. “After years as a wage slave, I’ve learned one universal truth: For ordinary folk, fortune never comes twice, but misfortune never travels alone.”

He inserted the stick into the hole to his right—directly facing Zhang Chenze.

“Ladies, brace yourselves. This round’s calamity is called **’Locust Plague.’**”

At those words, Zhang Chenze visibly panicked.

“Locusts…? W-Wait—”

Her face twisted in terror. She had known she’d face a calamity, but not **this** one.

Before she could protest, a deafening buzz erupted overhead as countless winged shadows swarmed above her.

“No… Not locusts…” Zhang Chenze’s eyes reddened, her voice trembling. “Don’t let them touch me—”

With a rustle, the ceiling grid shifted, and a black tide of locusts poured down, engulfing her room in seconds.

The sight sent the other women recoiling. City dwellers, none had ever witnessed a locust plague at such proximity.

Zhang Chenze flailed wildly, but the more she thrashed, the more insects clung to her.

One landed squarely on the bridge of her nose, its massive, unblinking eyes locking onto hers.

Its body was a sickly gray-green, its hind legs powerful and barbed.

That expressionless, armored face stared back, unfeeling.

Zhang Chenze couldn’t take it. She screamed—only for a swarm to crawl into her mouth.

She had never eaten insects, never imagined live locusts could feel so **cold**. Their spiny legs scraped against her tongue, her cheeks, her throat.

She couldn’t breathe. Her stomach heaved, desperate to expel the invaders.

“I’m going to die. Like this—the ugliest, most agonizing death possible—”

Despair flooded her mind as the locusts blotted out all sight. She no longer knew which way was up, where her allies were.

“Zhang Chenze!!” Su Shan slammed her palms against the glass. “Stay calm! The locusts in a ‘plague’ **don’t eat people!!**”

But Zhang Chenze couldn’t hear her.

“The fourth person, please ‘Draw.'” Earth Dog’s voice was ice.

Qin Dingdong, however, smirked. Instead of drawing immediately, she gazed thoughtfully at Zhang Chenze.

A childhood memory surfaced—a night at her grandmother’s, when the house had teemed with nameless insects. Her grandmother had said:

*”In tight spaces, the best way to deal with pests is smoke.”*

That night, the old woman had burned dried herbs until the air was thick with a strange, pungent haze.

Yes—**smoke** was the answer. It would neutralize the insects in this game.

If “calamity” and “insects” were linked, the only disaster Qin Dingdong could think of was “Locust Plague.”

So she had already expended the **”Smoke Blankets the Land”** stick—just as Earth Dog, predictably, deployed this supposedly unstoppable plague.

“This is the only way to make you ‘Echo’…” Qin Dingdong murmured. “Don’t blame me. Locusts aren’t dangerous.”

She glanced at her newly drawn stick—another “neutral.”

Who could say if their luck was good or bad? The crucial sticks had mostly been drawn early. Now, they might face an endless stretch of blanks.

“Su Shan… It’s your turn.” Qin Dingdong inserted the neutral stick, then met Su Shan’s gaze. “Despair sooner rather than later.”