Chapter 75: The Art of Psychological Warfare

If everyone understands the rules now, please take your positions. Further instructions will be announced via the room’s broadcast.

The Earth Dog arranged everyone before heading to the front desk alone.

In both corridors, all participants were already in place.

The “senders” sat in the first rooms of each hallway, with the opposing team’s “spies” standing in the corridors. Meanwhile, the last rooms housed the “recipients” and the “hostages.”

At first glance, the game’s rules seemed straightforward: the “sender” would pass the password to the “spy,” who would then relay it to the “recipient.” The “recipient” would verify the password and finally open the door.

Yet, despite the simplicity of the explanation, uncertainty gnawed at everyone. The most crucial part of the game lay in the hands of the opposing team.

“Everyone,” Earth Dog announced through a microphone at the front desk.

Simultaneously, his voice echoed through the speakers in every room and corridor.

“The game will begin in ten minutes. Now, let the ‘spies’ meet with their respective ‘senders.'”

Lin Qin examined the various tools in the room, her mind racing for a strategy.

Box, lock, key, letter.

Among these four items, three could potentially be destroyed by the shredder.

To avoid the shredder, she had to place the letter inside the box and lock it.

This way, the entire box would be impossible to toss into the shredder, forcing the “spy” to deliver it intact to the other side.

But what about the key?

Though she didn’t know what tools Qi Xia had, the game’s design likely wouldn’t provide a matching key or any lock-picking tools.

So how would he open the box once he received it?

*Knock, knock, knock.*

A faint knocking sounded as the female “spy” opened the door from outside.

“Ready?” she asked flatly.

Lin Qin studied her and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Jiang Ruoxue. Are you ready?”

“Ruoxue, would you like to join us?” Lin Qin cut straight to the point.

Jiang Ruoxue hesitated before replying, “The risk is too great. I can’t gamble on that.”

“Risk?”

“Exactly,” Jiang Ruoxue nodded. “If I help you win, but you abandon me at the last moment, I’ll still die.”

Her expression was serious, as if she had long considered this possibility.

“Your concern is valid,” Lin Qin conceded, shifting into her professional conversational approach. “But let’s consider this: based on what you know, how would your team try to win?”

Jiang Ruoxue frowned slightly. “You mean… they might also collaborate with their ‘spy’?”

“Precisely,” Lin Qin said. “Like a job interview, this is a ‘two-way selection.’ You should worry less about whether we’ll betray you and more about whether your own team might.”

“They wouldn’t,” Jiang Ruoxue insisted firmly. “Sacrificing me for some old man? That’s unthinkable.”

“They wouldn’t be doing it ‘for an old man’—they’d be doing it ‘to survive,'” Lin Qin countered, softening her tone to ease the other’s defenses. “Most people prefer to control their own fate, not leave it in someone else’s hands, right?”

This time, Jiang Ruoxue visibly wavered.

She opened her mouth as if to speak but remained silent.

“And I’m only working with you to survive, too.”

“What about the ‘spy’ you sent?” Jiang Ruoxue shot back. “He’s your teammate, yet you’re willing to abandon him just like that?”

“I’ve known him for less than four hours. I won’t bet my life on such a fleeting connection,” Lin Qin replied earnestly. “How long have you known your teammates? Would they risk everything for you?”

Jiang Ruoxue froze for a moment.

After another pause, she still refused.

“I can’t trust you. Hurry up and prepare the letter. I suggest you make it sturdy—I’ll do everything I can to destroy it,” she said, shaking her head. “Enough talk.”

“Can I ask why you’re so adamant?” Lin Qin pressed one last time.

“Amu is my boyfriend. Do I need any other reason?”

As a psychologist, Lin Qin knew that breaking someone’s psychological defenses in mere minutes was nearly impossible—something only seen in sci-fi novels.

Ordinary people were deeply wary of strangers, especially in life-or-death situations. Every word exchanged could mean the difference between survival and death, making them even more cautious than usual.

Lin Qin stopped wasting time and refocused on the box before her.

If cooperation with the “spy” was off the table, was there another way to ensure Qi Xia received the letter?

Meanwhile, in the “sender’s” room, Amu met with the “spy,” Old Lü.

“Hey, kid, hurry up and hand it over,” Old Lü said impatiently, leaning against the doorframe.

Amu scratched his bright green hair, giving Old Lü a disdainful look.

Instead of examining the items on the table, he pondered for a moment before saying, “Old man, ten ‘tokens’ for your teammate’s life. Deal?”

“Huh…? Ten ‘tokens’?” Old Lü blinked.

“You don’t strike me as a fool. You know how survival works here, right?”

After a long pause, Old Lü muttered, “Kid, what nonsense are you spouting? How could I betray my team for ten ‘tokens’? Besides, I paid the entry fee myself…”

“Fifteen,” Amu upped the offer. “On top of the game’s rewards, I’ll give you fifteen ‘tokens.'”

Old Lü’s gaze dropped to the floor, his face etched with hesitation.

“Stop overthinking it, old man. You know what guarantees survival,” Amu warned, tapping the table. “We’ll take you in, let you live, and once we’re out, we go our separate ways.”

Old Lü asked cautiously, “If you give me fifteen ‘tokens’… won’t you end up with nothing?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Amu shrugged indifferently. “If we take out the other team, we get their loot. It’s not a total loss.”

“What about the woman?” Old Lü pressed. “Isn’t she your girl?”

“Just a woman!” Amu snarled, leaning in menacingly. “If she dies, I’ll find another. But if *I* die—well, that’d be a real problem.”

Old Lü sensed an unspoken danger in the man’s demeanor.

But on second thought, Qi Xia and the others likely didn’t even have fifteen “tokens” between them. Accepting this deal would leave him far richer.

“I want a deposit,” Old Lü bargained. “Five ‘tokens’ now.”

“What…?”

“That way, you can’t kill me afterward,” Old Lü grinned, sweat trickling down his face. “‘Killing for tokens’ isn’t allowed, right?”