“The only variable in this game is the weather.”

Tu Dan said earnestly:

“You must pay attention to the weather. Different weather means mushrooms appear at different times. Each time, players need to choose a time slot in advance to go out. For example, if daylight lasts 30 minutes total and the player’s picking time is 10 minutes, then you must choose whether it’s the first 10 minutes, the middle 10 minutes, or the last 10 minutes—

Once you choose the wrong time slot, either the mushrooms haven’t grown yet or they’ve already withered. If you can’t pick mushrooms, that round counts as a picking failure.”

She explained as thoroughly as possible, telling Shen Mo and the others: “If picking fails, as punishment, your body will sink several centimeters into the soil. You can only fail three times at most. If you fail a fourth time… your body will be stuck in the soil unable to pull free, and then… turn into a mushroom.”

What she said before was ordinary enough, but the last sentence was bone-chilling.

Tan Xiao got goosebumps all over and vigorously rubbed his arms, finding it hard to believe: “Turn, turn into a mushroom? A human-head mushroom?”

Tu Dan’s expression seemed somewhat lost in thought, as if recalling the scene at that time. “…They shrivel up… like moisture being absorbed by the earth. People shrink smaller and smaller, sprouting mycelium…”

“How did you clear it in the end?” Shen Mo interrupted her recollection.

Tu Dan snapped back to awareness. “…It was still the weather. You must pay attention to time allocation. Those 10 minutes going outside absolutely cannot all be used searching for mushrooms—you must leave time to predict the next round’s weather! The sky’s appearance, clouds, temperature, even the ants on the ground—every detail might contain clues about weather changes!”

Shen Mo nodded. “Understood.”

This way, if they encountered a game with this theme, they could at least have some preparation.

“What about you all?” Tu Dan asked quite naturally. “Your tools have great practical value. The danger level of your game must have been quite high, right?”

“Of course it was high!!!” Hearing this question, Tan Xiao immediately couldn’t hold back and went into a frenzied rant. “We encountered a freaking huge toad! As tall as a five or six-story building—can you believe it?! It ate us like we were bugs, and that tongue went swoosh swoosh swoosh!…”

Without thinking, Tan Xiao poured out everything about the game like dumping beans!

Teacher Cheng vaguely felt something was wrong, but thinking that Tu Dan was leading so many students, if they also encountered “The Frog’s Golden Ball,” knowing more clues could give them more chance of survival.

Moreover…

Teacher Cheng carefully glanced at Shen Mo and Bai Youwei.

Neither of them had spoken to stop it.

……

Tu Dan listened very carefully.

After learning that Shen Mo’s group cleared the game by calculating required waypoints, her face couldn’t help showing some regret.

—Though she knew the method, this amount of calculation… probably not a single person among her and her students could work it out.

Tu Dan forced herself to rally, smiling: “Knowing this much, I can at least have some peace of mind. But I still hope neither of our groups encounters games in the future.”

This was sincere.

Teacher Cheng sighed: “It’s a pity there’s no network now. If everyone could share their game experiences, humanity’s survival rate would definitely improve greatly.”

“That’s impossible~” Bai Youwei, who had been silent all along, spoke up lightly at this moment.

Everyone looked at her.

Tu Dan also examined her with curiosity.

Teacher Cheng asked in confusion: “Information sharing and mutual help—isn’t that good?”

Bai Youwei propped her chin on one hand, her arm resting on the table beside the bed, speaking unhurriedly: “It sounds nice, but Teacher Cheng, you’ve forgotten a very important point. What is the essential nature of games?”