TDU Chapter 361
Chapter 361 Calamity Descends
‘What is going on…?’ Su Shan was dying to ask Zhang Chenze which {fortune stick} she had just submitted, but she couldn’t make out the words on it, nor could she hear a single word from her.
The second phase of the first round had come to an end.
Both Zhang Chenze and Su Shan, having completed their turns, were completely in the dark. Although Su Shan didn’t know Zhang Chenze well, she had a rough idea of her personality.
Given her rational disposition, Zhang Chenze likely chose what seemed to be the most optimal {fortune stick} at the moment. Unfortunately, it had been swallowed up without a trace.
‘What on earth are the exact rules…?’
Su Shan realized that this game was nothing like the {Arsenal Cards} game she’d played when she first met Qi Xia. That game had its rules laid out clearly from the very start; what followed was purely a test of wits between players.
But why hadn’t {Terrestrial Dog} explained the rules of this game in full?
Looking at it from the simplest angle—because {Terrestrial Dog} was a participant in this game, and he wanted to win.
Withholding the full {rules} gave him a better shot at victory.
“So every Terrestrial-grade game at {End Point} is this challenging…” Su Shan gave a slight nod. ‘Qi Xia, you really are something. After going through trials like these, maybe next time we face off, I’ll actually stand a chance.’
…
The third phase of the first round began, with Lin Qin in the orange room now taking her turn to make a {wish}.
Her expression was just as bewildered as everyone else’s—she had no idea which {fortune stick} was the correct one to use for a {wish}.
Everyone’s shared {wish} was to put an end to the {Nian Beast}, but at this point, no one had a clue how to extinguish the {lights} above his head.
Lin Qin’s turn soon passed. She submitted one of the {fortune sticks}, but again, nothing happened.
Frustration flickered across Su Shan’s face. She had entered the first room so confidently, hoping to figure out the rules ahead of the others. But now, with the first round nearly over, she had yet to come up with any countermeasures—and worse still, she had no way of conveying her thoughts to the others.
To her right, Qin Dingdong was now {drawing} her new {fortune stick}. She also held all three in hand, stared at them for a long while, then muttered a clear one-word expletive.
Noticing Su Shan watching her, she took a step closer and pressed one of the {fortune sticks} against the glass, seemingly asking for help.
Su Shan squinted, trying to make out the words on the {fortune stick}, but the attempt was futile. All the spotlights were focused on the center of the glass rooms, so when Qin Dingdong moved closer to the wall, she stepped out of the light and into the shadows, rendering the writing on the {fortune stick} completely illegible.
She looked up to catch Qin Dingdong’s lip movements—something along the lines of, “Xiao Shan, what do you think?”
Su Shan could only point upward at the ceiling lights, then shook her head.
Qin Dingdong understood and gave up on seeking help. Left to her own judgment, she glanced over the three {fortune sticks} again, then chose one at random and inserted it into the hole.
This time, something different happened.
Right across from Su Shan, in Lin Qin’s room, thick black smoke suddenly erupted from above. The smog billowed with such force that it sent Lin Qin staggering and stumbling across the room. Her {fortune sticks} scattered through the air, flung about wildly in the turbulence, and she struggled for a long while before she managed to gather them back.
A full thirty seconds later, the smoke dissipated. Lin Qin stood up, clutching her mouth and nose as she coughed uncontrollably, a pained and confused expression on her face.
Wasn’t it said that only Terrestrial Dog’s {calamities} would inflict harm on the {participants}? Then what was that suffocating cloud of smoke just now?
The person who had just played the {fortune stick} was Qin Dingdong—could it be her doing?
A sudden thought flashed through Lin Qin’s mind. Did she intend to kill?
But Lin Qin knew full well that Qin Dingdong was not an {Adherent}; there was no motive for her to suddenly act lethally now.
Frowning, Lin Qin glanced toward Qin Dingdong, only to find her equally bewildered, staring back.
Though they had known each other for a long time, neither had ever truly trusted the other.
The first round ended with all four {participants} baffled, and now everyone’s attention turned to Terrestrial Dog in the center chamber.
After all, he had said he could play one of his {calamity sticks} at any time during the round, and since the four had finished their turns without incident, it seemed his {calamity sticks} would be played last.
Su Shan leaned against the glass, scrutinizing Terrestrial Dog closely. She noticed many {sticks} before him. Though the distance was great, she counted about seven or eight.
If she guessed correctly, his gameplay differed from the {participants}; he didn’t need to draw new {fortune sticks} each round; instead, he had all eight {fortune sticks} for every round from the start.
“This calamity is called {Sandstorm}.” Terrestrial Dog’s voice echoed through the broadcast inside the rooms. He selected one of the many {sticks} from the table, showed its inscription to all, then inserted it into the hole on the left side of his desk.
Only then did everyone realize Terrestrial Dog’s desk had four holes—located at the top, bottom, left, and right sides respectively.
The hole where Terrestrial Dog inserted the {stick} faced directly toward Qin Dingdong’s direction.
No sooner had the {stick} been played than a loud mechanical sound echoed throughout the room. Everyone cautiously glanced around, fully aware that Terrestrial Dog’s {calamities} could be lethal to participants—they all hoped to avoid an untimely, unexplained death.
Sure enough, within seconds, Qin Dingdong’s room began to change.
Above her, the ceiling grid shifted, and fine sand drifted down like silk strands. The entire room quickly filled with swirling yellow dust, making it nearly impossible to keep one’s eyes open.
Su Shan watched as Qin Dingdong frantically waved her arms, trying to brush away the invading sand. Yet the sand continued to fall thicker and thicker, quickly piling up around Qin Dingdong’s feet within mere seconds.
“I see…” Su Shan murmured, frowning, “So this is the {Sandstorm}.”
Qin Dingdong’s hair soon became coated with dust, and sand filled her mouth, making breathing increasingly difficult.
Su Shan’s brows knitted slightly. Qin Dingdong was probably beyond saving, as there was nothing she could do to help her from inside her own glass room.
The cruelest part of this game was undoubtedly the design of the {glass rooms}. Each participant could only helplessly watch as others suffered or died, which would deeply unsettle their minds, increasing the chance of a single mistake snowballing into total defeat.
Yet Su Shan also knew well that to become a powerhouse like Qi Xia, one couldn’t afford to be swayed by others’ fates. Qi Xia had once hinted that even among teammates, there was no room for sentimentality.
“The second round begins,” Terrestrial Dog’s voice echoed through the broadcast. “Player One, please {draw}.”
Su Shan glanced over at Qin Dingdong, whose room still rained down with fine sand. The sand fell rapidly, already covering up to her calves. She kept shifting her legs, trying desperately to free them from the choking sand.
But each time she lifted one leg, the other would sink faster, trapping her in place. After many failed attempts, Qin Dingdong retreated to the edge of her glass room, seeking shelter from the relentless sand above, struggling to keep breathing.
In the next instant, her eyes met Su Shan’s, it was filled with panic.
Her lips moved silently in a desperate plea for help. Yet Su Shan, expression unreadable and emotionless, turned away as if seeing nothing, focusing instead on the new {fortune stick} she had just drawn.
In Qi Xia’s words: others’ lives were inconsequential in the face of winning.
TL Note: Rant goes here ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)
