The rules sounded simple enough — essentially, using the sword to strike the opponent’s chest, abdomen, right arm, left arm, right leg, or left leg.

If a strike connected, the opponent would be injured or even killed. If it missed and struck the shield, the opponent’s shield count would increase by one, raising their odds of survival in the next round.

Though she understood it all, there were many things that still felt off to Bai Youwei.

For one, if both sides were taking turns striking, there had to be some order — who went first? Who went second? The rules had said nothing about this.

Then there was the matter of the target areas. Of all of them — chest, abdomen, right arm, left arm, right leg, left leg — only a chest wound would be life-threatening. If you simply protected the chest, what did it matter if all five other areas were hit? You couldn’t actually kill your opponent that way.

Beyond that, if both sides happened to keep striking shields, the shield count would keep increasing round after round. Eventually, every body part on both sides would be covered. How would the winner be determined then?

It was unlikely to happen, but it was not impossible.

Unfortunately, the rules ended there. The system offered no further explanation.

Bai Youwei sat quietly on the ruby throne, mind focused, her gaze drifting without her noticing toward the scabbard before her…

The scabbard…

Why was there no sword in it…

…

Coming in early had its advantages, at least. She had enough time to puzzle through the rules properly.

Villard had apparently thought the same. He had arrived early as well.

And he had brought many subjects.

How many?

Enough to fill half the arena in a dense crowd, all gathered behind him.

Bai Youwei counted. Ten… twenty… thirty… forty… forty-five in total.

In under twenty-four hours, she had not managed to recruit a single person. Villard had recruited forty-five. The gap was staggering.

Bai Youwei thought it over and eventually understood.

The fewer people you had, the harder it was to recruit new subjects. But those who already had many found it even easier to recruit more.

The principle of shared risk.

Villard had likely recruited an initial group beforehand, then let word spread that victory lay in numbers. Anyone wanting a share of the prize would naturally want to join.

It was like betting on horse races — the more money placed on a horse, the more people followed the crowd.

Because they believed the odds of winning were high.

Bai Youwei stroked the rabbit against her chest at an unhurried pace, and began to feel somewhat troubled…

No matter how many items she had, if those forty-five subjects rushed her all at once, she would not be able to hold them off.

Still, there was no need to panic yet. There was only one sword, and the role subjects would play in the game was still unclear…

Across from her, Villard settled into the throne and remained silent for a long while. The subjects behind him also stood perfectly still.

Bai Youwei guessed they were listening to the rule explanation.

Sure enough, moments later Villard smiled, his hoarse voice carrying a note of pleasure. “…So that’s the kind of game this is.”

His burns were severe. Nearly every inch of exposed skin was wrapped in white bandages, leaving only his jaw and lips uncovered.

Bai Youwei felt she still held an advantage — in terms of physical condition alone, she was unquestionably better off than Villard.

Villard glanced at the wheelchair beside Bai Youwei, then looked at her. When he spoke, his voice scraped like dry wood rubbing together. “We meet again. What a pleasant surprise.”

Bai Youwei stared at his grotesque, ravaged face and said nothing.

“Where are your subjects?” Villard asked with a smile. “What — have you come to surrender? …As I understand it, the right to surrender can only be exercised before the decisive battle begins.”

Bai Youwei watched him calmly and asked, “We both know this is the last game. Why not tell me — if you win, what is your wish?”

—