All dead…

Cheng Weicai recalled what he had seen beneath the water, and the pain he felt was beyond bearing…

He had crossed through the ocean floor and witnessed the wreckage of a sunken ship. Everyone on that ship was dead—an uncountable mass of dolls piled within the ice, their faces twisted into expressions of ferocity, terror, or blank emptiness… not a single one had survived.

If that had been all, perhaps his grief would not have run so deep.

But as he had spent every last ounce of strength beneath the ice searching for a way out—and finally reached the area below the castle—he had found even more of them: layer upon layer of densely packed dolls! And among those dolls were faces he recognized!

There was no mistaking them…

Those dolls were people from the base’s headquarters. He didn’t know all their names, but he had crossed paths with them—in the elevator, in the cafeteria, passing by in the hallways… From the research division, the evaluation team, the security detail, and also… the Shen family…

Cheng Weicai closed his eyes. He could no longer bear to keep recalling.

He had heard that the base was planning a collective move northward. How had base personnel ended up here? Had they strayed into the blizzard ring somewhere along the way, and been pulled into the game?

“Hey…” Ed asked him, his voice unsteady with fear. “Say something. Old man, why did you change like this? You said ‘all dead’ just now—what does that mean? Hey!…”

Cheng Weicai did not answer.

The truth was, he didn’t know how to answer…

With hands frozen nearly rigid, he gently lifted the Severed Hand from the floor.

The small hand was covered in mud and dried blood. Its fingers had been broken, exposing the metal skeleton beneath. The arm had been twisted out of shape by the iron rod. Only the small green sprout cradled in its palm remained unharmed.

The Severed Hand stirred faintly, then went limp in Cheng Weicai’s hands without further response.

“Are you going to die too…”

Cheng Weicai’s voice broke. A dull ache filled his chest.

He thought back to earlier times—when Shen Mo and Bai Youwei were constantly going in and out of games, he had been a useless old man, with only Pan Xiaoxin and this hand for company. They had stayed behind in the dollhouse together, growing vegetables, raising chickens, cooking meals… Back then, he had told it:

*”You must be good and stop causing trouble all the time. You must live usefully—only then will your life have meant something…”*

Now, it seemed both of them had kept that promise…

Cheng Weicai carefully wiped the dirt from the Severed Hand and gently placed it in his pack. He didn’t know if it could recover, or how to treat it—all he could do right now was win this game.

Only by winning would all the effort and sacrifice become worth something.

Cheng Weicai gathered the soil from the floor, replanted the seedling in the flower pot, watered it, added fuel to the fire, then sat holding the pot beside the flames—silent, without a word.

He said nothing, and so Ed asked no more questions. Ed watched him with a strange, wary look for a while, then—satisfying himself that Cheng Weicai had no intention of attacking him—slowly shuffled closer and sat down to warm himself by the fire as well.

Ed stole a glance at Cheng Weicai’s flower pot from the corner of his eye.

It looked a little wilted…

During Brian’s rampage, the Severed Hand had managed to shield the seedling, but the pot had still been knocked over—the roots had been disturbed and pulled partially from the soil. That would have some effect.

Ed felt a slight easing of tension in his chest.

He had initially been angry at Brian for causing such chaos, but seeing that Cheng Weicai’s seedling wasn’t in great shape, a small flicker of satisfaction crept into him.

As long as his own rose bloomed before Cheng Weicai’s, he would win.

But… this old fellow had turned into something monstrous. When the final moment came and he found that his seedling was outpaced—would he become desperate enough to attack him?

Probably not, right?

The game’s rules set limits. At least the old man couldn’t strike directly, and right now they had no shortage of firewood or water—what else was there to worry about?

Ed’s thoughts churned back and forth—one moment on guard against Cheng Weicai, the next watching over his seedling, the next turning over the things the old man had said just now… a jumbled mess.

In this agonizing wait, the two men’s seedlings grew steadily, until both were leafy and lush.

Then, the Snow Queen arrived…

—