“The fourth round begins. The first person will ‘draw lots’.”
This brief announcement over the broadcast made Su Shan fidget restlessly in her seat.
It was already the fourth round—the game’s progress had passed the halfway point.
If each round represented “one year,” then “four years” had already gone by, and everyone had been tormented beyond recognition by the “Year Beast.”
Of the three lights atop the “Year Beast’s” head, only one had been extinguished.
In the next four rounds, they would need to extinguish two more lights to win this game, but clearly the Earth-Dog was not easy to deal with.
Lin Qin was already severely injured. If she randomly encountered another “calamity,” there was an extremely high probability she would die.
Zhang Chenze’s situation was even less optimistic. Her room was filled with a grayish-green color, making it impossible to tell where the person even was. But judging from the movement patterns of the insect swarm, she was still struggling with all her might, causing the wave of insects to undulate across a large area.
Could she still “draw lots” and “make wishes” in her current state?
Of those in relatively good condition, only she and Qin Dingdong remained, but they happened to be at the beginning and end of a round, making it consistently difficult for them to coordinate perfectly.
The Earth-Dog had two tactical approaches for the upcoming “calamities.” The first was an aggressive strategy: continue attacking the seasons that had already suffered “calamities,” using a “misfortunes never come singly” tactic to completely eliminate them. But this also had drawbacks, because Zhang Chenze and Su Shan were connected, and Lin Qin and Qin Dingdong were connected—they could theoretically save each other. So unless the Earth-Dog took desperate risks, it probably wouldn’t be this aggressive.
The second tactic was to play it safe: apply “calamities” to the seasons that were currently still safe. This way, the overall condition of all four people would decline, the entire year would be filled with “calamities,” making mutual rescue and coordination difficult, and victory even harder to achieve.
The greatest difficulty of this game lay in the fact that “no one can die,” but relying on her strength alone, how could she save everyone?
She had a premonition that in two more rounds, everyone would be injured. Even if they could walk out of the Earth-Dog’s game venue, they absolutely wouldn’t be able to participate in the subsequent games.
“So this is what ‘Earth-level’ is like…?” Su Shan gave a bitter smile. “My memories of the last time I encountered Qi Xia are still vivid—that time I lost to a ‘Participant,’ and this time I’m losing to a ‘Referee.’ I’m really not suited to surviving in this place…”
In Su Shan’s hand now, she only had one “Four Seas Have No Idle Fields” and one “Average Fortune.”
Theoretically, to achieve victory now, she had to wish for “Four Seas Have No Idle Fields,” but “Summer” was full of “Locust Plague.”
Who would wish for “Four Seas Have No Idle Fields” in “Spring” knowing full well that “Summer” had a “Locust Plague”?
Su Shan’s mind was in complete chaos at this moment. She felt this game was simply unwinnable.
“I was truly too naive…”
Her gaze gradually dimmed with desolation. She hadn’t expected that she would confidently bring several people along, insisting on entering “Earth-level” games, only to end up with injuries and disabilities…
Could anyone really escape from this godforsaken place?
What method, what means would it take to escape?
Su Shan only felt a buzzing sound ringing in her ears. She reached up and waved her hand, mistakenly thinking locusts had come to her ear.
“What’s happening…?” She remembered this sensation. When she had been pushed to the brink during her confrontation with Qi Xia, she had also heard strange sounds by her ear.
If she guessed correctly, this was a precursor to “Echo.”
But this time, she clearly hadn’t reached the same desperate situation as last time. She was neither injured nor had she suffered a “calamity”—why would she hear sounds?
“My ‘Echo’ seems to come more easily now…” Su Shan slowly closed her eyes, completely relinquishing control of her thoughts, letting that despair and fear thoroughly invade her brain and heart. “Qi Xia once said he would plunge me into ‘despair.’ Could it be that I can only ‘Echo’ when I’m in ‘despair’?”
Wasn’t the current situation desperate enough?
Yes, it was desperate enough. Never mind the Earth-Dog’s game—the “Land of the End” alone was enough to make anyone despair.
She had worked in the police station’s technical department for five years and hadn’t seen as many tragic cases in that time as she had in a single day at the “Land of the End.” Without the constraints of law, humans could slaughter each other over the most trivial things.
And the administrators here were completely different from those in the real world—they didn’t maintain order, but rather a more equitable kind of slaughter.
Countless people here died and were reborn, were born and died again. “Amnesia” would bring people new hope, while those who “retained their memories” had to suffer in painful reincarnation here.
This place was absolutely not prepared for the living or for normal people.
This was a true hell.
“Clang!!”
A long, melodious bell sound came from the distance, causing both Lin Qin and Qin Dingdong to furrow their brows simultaneously. Su Shan slowly opened her eyes, and if one looked carefully, they would notice something peculiar—Su Shan’s originally sparkling eyes now gleamed like diamonds, crystalline and dazzling.
She slowly looked around and felt that the entire world had changed. Was this “Echo”?
Was this the world in the eyes of an “Echoer”?
She saw strange, light blue rays of light wandering throughout the room. They floated here and there as if possessing their own life. The paths of these lights were both regular and strange, like ripples, yet also like waves.
Looking around, the entire room was like a wall at night reflecting the light from a swimming pool—in an instant, it became shimmering with light and filled with tranquil overflowing stillness.
Those rays of light gathered and dispersed in mid-air. Some collided together, bursting forth with strange patterns that resembled writing, yet couldn’t be discerned.
“Strange…” Su Shan remembered that when she had “Echoed” last time, it wasn’t this scene at all. What was happening now?
Why were there almost no rays of light when facing Qi Xia, yet when facing these teammates before her eyes, it was like this?
Could it be that because the “people” were different, the “scene” was also different?
Su Shan remembered that Lin Qin had once mentioned to her that whenever there was an “Echo,” there was definitely a special ability associated with it. So what was her special ability?
“Being able to see these rays of light… is that my ability?”
Su Shan had once fantasized that she would gain some kind of transcendent ability to soar through heaven and earth, but she hadn’t expected it would only be the ability to see strange lights.
At this moment, some rays of light were lingering around Zhang Chenze’s room, seemingly desperately trying to gather together, yet always scattering abruptly just when they were about to meet.
“What exactly are these things…?”
Su Shan turned her head to look at Qin Dingdong. The scene around her was different from Zhang Chenze’s—there were only a few stable clusters of light floating around her. These clusters neither gathered nor dispersed, but instead remained steadily beside her.
Su Shan then looked at Lin Qin across from her. These strange rays of light gathered most densely around Lin Qin, with ripples coming and going, gathering and scattering, constantly colliding with one another.
And each time the ripples collided, two almost imperceptible small characters would appear.
Su Shan narrowed her eyes, carefully watching those two small characters. Because the distance was too far, it took Su Shan several seconds to make out the small characters rippling between the waves.
Her lips moved slightly: “I can see it… the ripples of ‘Inspire’.'”