The scarred man looked like an ornamental fish trapped in a glass tank…
No, a strand of seaweed was a better comparison.
He pressed himself against the invisible wall of the other space, like a living actor imprisoned inside a television. His eyes were wide as he stared at the people outside.
From where he was, he couldn’t see what was written on the screen. He stretched and twisted his hands against the invisible wall, watching the others talk. His eyes brimmed with confusion and unease.
He didn’t yet know that his life was in their hands.
Or perhaps he could guess. But it didn’t matter anymore.
From this point on, his own choices had no influence on the game.
To be honest, Chi Wei did feel a little sorry for him.
But she wasn’t surprised. This was what the five-million-yuan prize really meant.
Once all the rules had appeared, the conference table fell silent for about five seconds.
Chi Wei smiled and tapped the student’s arm. “I’m fine with that.”
“Huh…? Oh, right…” The student was startled before she realized Chi Wei was answering what she’d just said.
She nodded awkwardly and murmured, “Yeah.”
The silence broke. The Dyed-Haired Man lifted his feet and rested them on the edge of the table, then started laying down the law.
“Damn it! We’re all out here in the world together, so let’s show some loyalty. You all just said you’d vote ‘Rescue.’ You, you, and you—you’d better not go back on your word!”
He suddenly put on the swagger of a street boss, pointing at the one-eyed man, the student, and Chi Wei in turn. He raised his voice as if he meant to take charge of the whole affair.
Then he pointed his thumb at himself. “I’m not voting ‘Abandon.’ I’m voting ‘Rescue.’ Let’s all agree to bring him back and be done with it, huh? What about the rest of you?”
Little Fatty looked at him meekly, apparently ready to go along with the crowd.
His timid eyes made it clear he didn’t dare defy the aggressive dyed-haired man. He nodded repeatedly. “I’ll vote ‘Rescue.’ I won’t hurt him.”
The older woman sighed and folded her hands on the table. “Oh, I may be short on money, but I couldn’t kill someone for it.”
The programmer nodded solemnly. “If you choose ‘Abandon,’ you’re choosing to kill him. Let’s not take money we can’t earn with a clear conscience. It’ll bring bad karma. Let’s save him. If any of us fails a game next time, he’ll save us too.”
The woman with dreadlocks looked unimpressed, and she spoke with the swagger of a rapper, but at least she was saying the right thing. “We’re all playing for the first time. Do a good deed now, and you might need one later, bro. There’s no need to be greedy. I’m definitely voting ‘Rescue.’”
She even added, “I’m a rapper. You can trust what I say. I’m real.”
Only the silver-masked woman hadn’t spoken. Chi Wei, like the others, looked toward her.
“I’ll go along with you,” the silver-masked woman said. “I’ll vote whatever you vote.”
All right. Now everyone had said their piece.
The dyed-haired man raised his voice. “We’ve all agreed, got it? I’ve sworn myself to Lord Guan. If any of you goes back on your word and grabs this blood money, I’ll come after you with a knife, no matter how far you run!”
Chi Wei was genuinely curious.
“You know each other?” she asked him, then glanced toward the scarred man.
“No. We just met, but I’m the kind of guy who’ll pull a knife to help a stranger!”
When he finished answering, he turned back to Chi Wei and barked, “You’re not going to pull anything, either! None of you are. Got it?”
Chi Wei gave a calm nod. “I won’t.”
The older woman earnestly advised the group, “You get more than one chance to play. There’s no end to the money you can make. Don’t take a life just to satisfy your own greed.”
The programmer shook his head. “It’s not like that. I still have a conscience.”
Chi Wei’s lips kept trying to turn down.
Trying, trying hard, not to let a cold laugh escape.
Ten minutes passed amid the chatter. Nine voting panels appeared in front of the nine players.
Each panel had just two options: “Rescue” and “Abandon.”
Voting time: one minute.
The countdown began. The older woman was still nagging everyone to hold on to their conscience and not become a villain over one impulsive decision.
The others kept reminding one another to honor their agreement.
Chi Wei already knew the scarred man was going to die.
For all their concern about his life, none of them had bothered to look in his direction since the discussion began.
They’d been keeping up the pretense for eleven minutes. Chi Wei was sick of watching this awful performance.
Voting complete.
Results:
Rescue: 2 votes
Abandon: 7 votes
The screen also showed the avatars of the voters for each option.
Everyone except Chi Wei and the one-eyed man had voted “Abandon.”
Chi Wei didn’t care. She’d come for five million yuan, and she only needed five million yuan.
The one-eyed man, on the other hand, looked ready to stuff a pomegranate into his gaping mouth.
“You… you people…!”
Results executing.
The screen turned to the next page.
The scarred man suddenly clutched his own throat in the other space.
His face contorted in pain as he slammed into the wall. Then his whole body convulsed, and finally he fell over dead. It took less than a minute.
It felt like an eternity, and no time at all.
Then the space around him vanished, leaving only his corpse sprawled on the cold floor.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?” the one-eyed man shouted as he stood up.
The anguish and disbelief in his eyes were so genuine that Chi Wei was certain his soul was at least pure—and painfully naive.
He even tried shaking the older woman beside him, but she brushed him off impatiently.
“Who comes here without risking their life? He chose to play, so he has to accept the risks!”
She added, “I’m not young anymore, and I’ve got high blood pressure. How am I supposed to retire without money?”
The programmer pushed up his glasses and wiped the sweat from the tip of his nose. “Sorry. I still need money to renovate my place.”
If he spent five million yuan on a new home, he’d need money for renovations too, right?
The woman with dreadlocks clicked her tongue and looked down on the one-eyed man. “If I don’t have money to make music, I can’t become a rapper. He lost. I didn’t make him lose. If I hadn’t voted that way, would he still have lived? Come on, bro. Sit down.”
The student’s voice trembled with timid distress. “Even if I’d saved him, he wouldn’t save me next time.”
She’d felt the temptation of taking someone else’s prize only when she was facing the voting panel.
The student believed that if she ever ended up in his position, she’d be killed too.
Anyone would.
So the only person to blame was the scarred man, for being unlucky!
The Dyed-Haired Man still had that same swagger. “Heh. Turns out I was wrong. I didn’t swear myself to Lord Guan. I worship the God of Wealth!”
Little Fatty trembled, his head lowered. “I-I pressed the wrong button…”
Only the silver-masked woman remained silent after voting.
No one questioned her.
After all, she’d done exactly what she said she would: vote however everyone else voted.
Chi Wei’s thought remained the same.
Incalculable.
Now, every remaining player except Chi Wei and the one-eyed man had 714,000 yuan added to their personal prize.
The easygoing mood in the room was gone. The game continued, but everyone had learned a lot from that first Saint’s Game.
As long as they didn’t land on another special space before reaching the destination, no more games would be triggered.
Even if they did trigger one, only one unlucky player would be chosen from the group to play.
If that player won, they could return. If they failed… there was no mystery about what happened next. Their prize would be split among the players left behind.
From most people’s perspective, the odds looked pretty good. The chance of landing on a special space was one in N; the chance of being selected to play was currently one in nine; and even if you were selected, you still had a chance of winning.
In other words, it looked as though there was a very, very, very good chance they could walk away with several million yuan.
There were still several smiles of excitement and relief around the table.
Those smiles belonged to people who believed they were lucky enough not to become stepping-stones for anyone else.
Chi Wei’s right eyelid suddenly began twitching.
The heavens must be punishing me for being too good at reading people. I’d better close my eyes for a while.
So Chi Wei really did close her eyes and listened.
The dice rattled across the board three times before the room suddenly fell silent.
Tension spread without a word.
She knew the traveler had landed on another special space. When she opened her eyes, her guess was confirmed.
A forest had sprung up in the square, with bushes and… an elephant!
Chi Wei’s gaze darkened. She remembered the difficulty levels of the Saint’s Game:
Wolf < tiger < elephant.
This was the highest level!
The programmer stared fixedly at the square and sucked in a breath.
The older woman curled up into a ball. The dyed-haired man scooted his chair back. The student picked at her hands, unable to sit still. The spinning pointer seemed like a blade waiting to come down. No one wanted it to land on them.
After the vote, everyone knew the truth: if they failed a game, no one would rescue them!
No one wanted to risk playing a game at the highest, “elephant” difficulty.
Chi Wei glanced at the silver-masked woman on her right. She sat perfectly still, seemingly at ease. Chi Wei wanted to ask her:
You’re not worried the pointer might pick you?
“Hey, you…” Chi Wei was about to ask. She had just tapped the woman’s arm when she felt the pointer stop.
Why did she feel it so clearly?
Because the tip of the needle was pointing right at the edge of her vision.
She slowly turned back to face it.
“…”
Well, look who’d eaten the snack and found it in her own house.
