Chapter 29

Lily had an extremely cartoonish face, a quirky personality, and a sharp voice—she fit right in with the bizarre and chaotic dungeon.

After four days of gameplay, even the five fake NPCs who interacted with her the most hadn’t noticed anything unusual. So how had Xiyu, a beautiful and quiet “vase” of a person, seen through her identity?

Lily couldn’t figure it out right away.

After delivering her taunting words, Xiyu turned to leave immediately.

Lily suddenly let go of her tightly clenched lips and called out, “Hey, why are you doing this?”

Xiyu turned her head.

Lily’s frustration wasn’t feigned. “You’ve already won, haven’t you? As a junior streamer, you’ve passed the test in this game. You just have to wait for it to end. Did I ever do anything to you?”

Hearing this, Xiyu asked sharply, “Wait… you’re not a junior streamer?”

Lily quickly concealed the emotion in her eyes and didn’t respond.

“That doesn’t matter,” Xiyu said. “No matter who you are, I would still do the same. Because you don’t deserve to deceive and toy with us like this.” She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t plan for the consequences of losing in a rigged game? Then you're bound to lose.”

Lily glared at her retreating figure and stomped her boot on the ground, a flash of malice in her eyes.

There was no longer a chef at the guesthouse—naturally, that meant no breakfast either.

Overnight, not only had the ingredients delivered yesterday gone bad, even the few remaining mushrooms had rotted completely, extinguishing any hopes the survivors had.

Wu Zhi clutched his cramping, hunger-stricken stomach and dragged himself into the living room in despair. “What now? Are we supposed to starve until this is over?”

“As long as there’s water, you can go hungry for as long as you want…” Zhao Zhusheng had already given up. Curled up on the sofa, he said, “Someone died from eating yesterday. You still dare eat? Must be a starving ghost reincarnated.”

Wu Zhi hadn’t become friends with him and was about to argue when he saw the small-framed A’Lan slip into the living room along the wall, so he shut up and backed off.

Zhao Zhusheng waved. “Kid, come here.”

A’Lan’s voice was icy, and paired with his childlike appearance, it made him seem especially eerie. “What do you want?”

Zhao Zhusheng said, “Nothing, just wondering why you bet on me again?”

A’Lan narrowed his eyes. “Likewise. I’m sure you’re the one who bet on me today.”

"That's because I still have spare money, so I'm just playing around for fun," Zhao Zhusheng said leisurely, lounging on the sofa in a relaxed pose. "But it's different for you. You spent your last two galleys last night. If you don't take me out today, you'll be eliminated when the results are tallied at midnight."

A’Lan curled his lips in a sinister smirk, ignored the provocation, and turned to leave.

Zhao Zhusheng, of course, felt no sympathy. Instead, he began stroking his chin, scheming up something nasty.

Just then, Xiyu returned and happened to run into the fuming A’Lan head-on. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Zhao Zhusheng. "The kid hating you isn’t really unjustified. The day you killed Aunt Qing, you didn’t even place a bet. Hurting others without benefiting yourself—making enemies for no reason."

Zhao Zhusheng sighed and gave Xiyu a once-over.

Xiyu: “?”

Zhao Zhusheng said, “I’d heard Tang Yanyan bragging back in the living quarters about how strong you are in combat in the game. I was really looking forward to seeing that. But after getting to know you, I feel like your strength is being held back by your bleeding-heart attitude.”

“Oh, I don’t really have any strong impression of you,” Xiyu replied flatly, then sat down calmly at the dining table to wait for things to unfold.

The first time a fake NPC’s identity was exposed, the game rules changed, preventing all ten players from seeing their cards.

So now that Lily's role as the dealer had been exposed, surely something unusual would happen again, right?

At the usual card-drawing time, a visibly furious Lily finally showed up, her face cold as ice.

Wu Zhi, having already been prompted by Xiyu, made sure to provoke her: “Wow, the Best Actress at the Oscars has arrived. A true master of overacting. Impressive, really.”

Lily’s lips twitched. She dug her fingernails into her palm just to force a cold smile.

Xiyu tapped the table. “Shopkeeper, not reading our fortunes today?”

Lily fought the urge to punch someone, slammed herself into the seat opposite him, and glared at him with bloodshot eyes. “What a bunch of busybody idiots.”

Xiyu remained unfazed.

To everyone’s surprise, before Lily could do anything, the stack of transparent cards suddenly flew out of her pocket, glowing with an unprecedented silver light.

Ignoring Lily’s openly hostile glare, Xiyu watched intently as one of the cards automatically bounced to the center of the table.

He had expected that the change involving the shopkeeper joining the game would mean even she couldn’t see the cards anymore.

But the result was quite the opposite—the card face was shown as openly and clearly as it had been on day one: a solitary die symbol.
There were no blood letters, no textual hints—nothing but the image of a die.

While the two remained silent, Wu Zhi, Zhao Zhusheng, and A’Lan also gathered around to observe, but clearly no one had any clue. The empty living room was filled only with an awkward silence.

Xiyu nodded. “Alright then.”

With that, he stood up. “I’m going fishing today.”

“Without Xu Lei to guide you, you won’t even have a burial site,” Lily sneered coldly. “Dying without a death omen... what, are you trying to drag me down with you?”

Xiyu suddenly braced himself against the table. “If I die, you’ll be safe. So how is that mutual destruction? What’s the real purpose of the gold coins?”

Lily’s smile faltered more and more, until she finally couldn’t help shouting, “You’re messing with me without even understanding that? They’re a starter living stipend for new streamers—if you pass the test!”

“So it’s money from the Platform...” Xiyu said calmly. “You’ve won five rounds in a row as the dealer, with a score no one can touch. Even if you die and get kicked out, you’ll be fine.”

Lily slammed the table. “I didn’t come here just to beat you people!”

“Oh? But now I want to make money too. Sorry about that,” Xiyu said, intentionally provoking her, though it was also a bit of payback for the way she’d toyed with them the past few days.

Having accompanied the players this long, Lily now saw the real possibility of ending up empty-handed. The more she talked to him, the angrier she became. She stood up, ready to leave, snapping, “Do whatever you want, but if you think victory is in your grasp, you couldn’t be more wrong!”

Wu Zhi quickly called out to her, “Wait! I won some money last night—I can help Brother Xiyu buy items, like bait or something?”

“Kid, you got a screw loose or what?” Lily finally dropped the theatrical tone, frowning as she glanced at him. “If you don’t save money for living expenses on the Platform, you’ll regret it later.”

Wu Zhi thought for a moment, then pulled four gold coins from his pocket. “I won’t regret it.”

To be honest, Xiyu had considered borrowing from Wu Zhi a last resort, and never expected him to be this generous. He instinctively tried to stop him. “That’s not necessary.”

Lily scoffed. “Even if you wanted to buy something, you couldn’t. Ever since I entered the game as a player, the shopkeeper privileges were revoked. Weapons, food, and all those disgusting little tools—everything got taken back by the system early this morning. Happy now?”

As she spoke, she pulled the floral cloth off the cabinet. Sure enough, it was completely empty. All the previously creepy merchandise had vanished without a trace.

“Actually, there’s still one thing I don’t quite understand,” Xiyu said quietly. “The four galleys Wu Zhi and I spent on bait—did that money end up in your pocket? That was the one thing that kept me uneasy last night.”

Lily turned her head and replied, “No, it didn’t. The items are controlled by the system. It had nothing to do with me.”

Xiyu: “Mm, that’s good—unless, of course, you took the four galleys and bought something even more powerful with them?”

Want me to keep going?Hearing that, Lily jolted as if electrocuted and glared at Xiyu. After a moment, she said, “Think whatever you want—since you want to play, I’ll send you to the afterlife tonight!”

With that, she no longer lingered in the awkward atmosphere of the living room, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and slipped back into the staff corridor.

Wu Zhi looked at Xiyu uneasily. “Bro, are you really going fishing?”

Xiyu nodded.

Wu Zhi took a deep breath. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“Lily doesn’t want me to die in vain, because then she won’t get her money back. That means her warning is likely sincere,” Xiyu said seriously. “Without a guide to protect me, those lightning-fast flesh-eating ants could appear at any time. If I take you, I’ll just be distracted.”

Wu Zhi, unwilling to accept the situation, said anxiously, “But—I don’t want to go back to the Platform alone! You better not die a pointless death!”

Xiyu chuckled. “Alright, go to the kitchen and bring me the knife.”

On the long, barren road through the desert, aside from the rustling of wind and sand, only the faint echoes of footsteps could be heard.

It was Xiyu’s first time walking alone in such a vast emptiness, and he did feel a trace of fear.

But he wasn’t afraid—in fact, this was the first time he’d truly felt a surge of excitement since entering the game. Lily was a veteran streamer. He had to find a way to beat her. No matter what level he’d been at before the reset, this time, he would go further than ever before!

Yuntai Campus. Top-floor circular residential zone. Dormitory corridor.

Fresh out of the training room, Luo Xi had just taken a shower. Her short black hair was still damp, and her steps were light, though her mind seemed elsewhere.

Suddenly, the cheeky Xu Tu came rushing up from behind.

Unexpectedly, Luo Xi reacted instantly, spun around, and with two quick moves, had Xu Tu’s wrists pinned.

Xu Tu screamed, “Ow ow ow! Boss, let go of me!”

Luo Xi let go and chuckled. “Why are you out so soon?”

“No sympathy for a delicate girl—are you sure you’re not gay…” Xu Tu muttered under her breath.

Luo Xi raised an eyebrow.

Only then did Xu Tu explain, “This round, our match randomly paired us with a full team of senior streamers, and lucky us, they were idiots. Bai Qi and I didn’t even get the chance to go all out before they screwed themselves over. —Anyway, forget that. Did my gift work?”

“It worked, and he even figured out who the dealer is. Tonight, he’s planning to gamble against the dealer,” Luo Xi replied nonchalantly.

“Oh? Looks like you’re keeping an eye on him.” Xu Tu nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, let’s go to your room and watch the grand finale!”

Luo Xi said, “What’s there to see? The outcome’s pretty much set.”

Xu Tu chuckled. “If you’re not gonna watch, lend me your account. I’ll watch it myself.”

Luo Xi ignored her and walked straight to his door, unlocking it with his wristband.

Xu Tu immediately followed him inside, grinning. “What, can’t bear to miss it? What, the little streamer hiding some secret you don’t want to share with me?”

Luo Xi didn’t answer—he just looked slightly puzzled in the depths of his deep eyes.

Fraud setups worked best on inexperienced new streamers. Viewers also loved watching a bunch of clueless newbies get played like puppets, so the company would occasionally design these nasty scenarios specifically for junior streamers.

But unfortunately, due to their lack of caution, it was common for them to be wiped out quickly, so the entertaining part of a fraud setup rarely lasted long.

Someone like Xiyu, who made it all the way to the end and exposed the dealer unscathed, then turned the tables—that was extremely rare.

A more accurate phrase would be: as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns.

By the time Xu Tu looked back at the stream, the viewer count had already increased more than tenfold. As expected, all the audience members from the other streams had flooded in here.

Luo Xi took a soda from the fridge and handed her one, saying, “That dealer seems advanced, but not hard to deal with.”

“Not hard for you maybe, but senior streamers can already download a bunch of knowledge chip slots for themselves.” Xu Tu had just cracked open the can when she saw on-screen that Xiyu, walking alone in the desert, was suddenly surrounded by countless flesh-eating ants.

She completely forgot to drink, not even noticing when foam spilled over her hand.

At the same time, Luo Xi’s attention was drawn to the screen too.

On the projection screen, Xiyu’s movements were agile and sharp. Though his short knife wasn’t especially effective against the ants’ tough bodies, he struck with precision—slashing through the first one that rushed at him, then kicking away the next two with powerful blows, flipping aside to dodge several streams of corrosive acid.

There was no human backup in the desert. The enraged ant monsters only increased in number—sustained combat was clearly impossible.

After a series of successful evasions, Xiyu suddenly leapt onto a nearby tall rock formation. With the knife held in his mouth, he nimbly climbed to the top, then made a flying leap several meters across to land on another stone pillar, finally shaking off the pursuing swarm. He strode away with long steps.

To prevent streamer information leaks, the company didn’t transmit audience comments during internal broadcasts—but the donation count for Xiyu’s stream was skyrocketing, clearly a sign that the viewers loved what they were seeing.
Xu Tu finally snapped out of it. While grabbing a tissue to wipe her hand, she said, “I didn’t expect Xiyu to still be this strong after being reset.”

Luo Xi mused, “That’s just how his brain is built. Normally, the human brain sends commands via brainwaves to interface with holographic equipment, but there's always a delay in transmission and interpretation by the machines. That makes combat responses sluggish. Only those who’ve undergone specialized modification and long-term training—like cyborgs—can perform at this level.”

“I thought streamers reset by the company would have all their data wiped clean,” Xu Tu narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. “Or… is he an exception?”

Luo Xi: “An exception. I’ve come into contact with other expert streamers who were reset, back when I was acting as an instructor. They were complete blank slates with no particularly impressive performances.”

Xu Tu sipped her soda in silence.

“Xiyu’s attracting too much attention. I wonder if the company will reevaluate this junior streamer after this broadcast,” Luo Xi said seriously. “Let’s hold off and observe for a while.”

Of course, the so-called “live broadcast” wasn’t actually live—that’s a feature unique to Huaxia.

Game livestreams from Haishi Entertainment are typically delayed and processed before airing.

While Luo Xi and Xu Tu were deep in discussion, in the game, Xiyu had already sprinted for his life all the way to the grassy banks of the Golden Pool, where he finally collapsed.

Luckily, the flesh-eating ants didn’t pursue him to the mission zone. After lingering nearby for a bit, they dispersed.

Xiyu’s stamina wasn’t limitless. After such a grueling run, his lungs felt like they were about to explode. Every painful breath carried the taste of blood in his throat.

He could only hope that the prophetic fish would truly prophesy—so all this suffering would be worth it.

While he was resting, face drenched in sweat, the familiar frozen sensation of the game returned.

Xiyu turned his head in surprise and saw the familiar gift-giving fat cat again.

The fat cat was perched in the grass, flapping its wings. “Hey, you holding up okay?”

Xiyu struggled to sit up.

The fat cat licked its chubby lips. “The audience is very pleased with your performance. Please accept this gift.”

Saying so, it pulled out a row of chilled Yakult bottles and handed them over.

Xiyu took them in a daze and, seeing the fat cat watching him eagerly without any sign of leaving, opened one and asked, “...Want one?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” The fat cat was overjoyed, instantly hugging the little bottle to its chest. As it flew off, it shouted, “Wishing you total victory! Good deeds will be rewarded!”

Xiyu couldn’t help but laugh. Once the game returned to normal, he confirmed that the Yakult really was just Yakult—no hidden plot clues.

Of course, along with these temporarily thirst-quenching drinks, there were also viewer messages included: “Didn’t expect gege’s beauty to go back into business after two years! Every single frame makes my heart flutter! I’ll definitely keep protecting my celestial gege!” “Ahh, if ice cream became human, wouldn’t it be you?!”

……...???

The world is big—there really are all kinds of viewers.

Suppressing the urge to laugh, Xiyu carefully folded the note and tucked it into his pocket. Then, bracing himself on trembling legs, he stood up, went to the pond, and picked up a fishing rod to begin.

He had refrained from using the special bait he and Wu Zhi made the day before—now was the perfect time to put it to use.

After preparing the line, Xiyu did his best to ignore how off-putting the chubby pink bait worm looked and forcefully hooked it onto the line.

But before the bait could even touch the water, the system notification chimed.

[Devil’s Bait: The prophetic fish’s favorite food. 33% chance to catch one.]

One in three…

Xiyu blinked, glanced at the two worms, and, confident he hadn’t yet been cursed with terrible luck, cast the bait into the pond.

The golden water’s surface was as smooth as a mirror, its serenity almost sleep-inducing.

After about twenty minutes, the fishing rod finally began to tremble slightly.

Xiyu snapped back to attention and gave the rod a hard tug—only to see a shiny little fish flying out of the water with it!

The little fish flailed in panic on the shore, its body twisting as it cried out, “Honorable traveler, please let me go! I taste awful!”

Delighted, Xiyu picked it up. “Are you the prophetic fish?”

The fish calmed down and coughed weakly in his palm. “Yes, that’s me.”

Xiyu pressed further, “Then can you answer my question?”

The prophetic fish replied, “Only one! Are you asking about the omen of death hinted at by the divination card?”

Xiyu paused for two seconds, then shook his head. “No. I want you to tell me—what exactly is Lili’s advantage today?”

Want the prophetic fish's answer next?The prophetic fish blinked its shiny black eyes and cheerfully replied, “Sure! Then listen closely.”

The already lifeless homestay became even more dreary as Xiyu remained gone for a long time.

Left alone, Wu Zhi spent most of his time rummaging for food, and the rest just sitting in the living room staring blankly, watching Zhao Zhusheng and A'Lan squabble the moment they saw each other. Eventually, by evening, he couldn’t take it anymore and kicked the table. “Can you guys stop fighting?! When is Brother Xiyu coming back?!”

Zhao Zhusheng yawned. “If you’re that worried, go look for him. What’s the point of running your mouth?”

Wu Zhi’s baby face flushed red—he didn’t know how to respond.

Zhao Zhusheng sneered. “I don’t think the manager was joking. The place is crawling with man-eating ants. Ever consider he might not come back?”

Wu Zhi muttered back, “He will. He’s really strong—and he knows what he’s doing.”

Zhao Zhusheng scoffed, unconvinced.

Lili, who had been gone all day, suddenly stepped out of the staff corridor and spoke up, “I hope he’s still alive. Otherwise, it wouldn’t even come close to easing my grudge.”

Zhao Zhusheng cleared his throat. “To be fair, maybe you really can’t beat the kid. Before the reset, he was an expert-level streamer.”

Lili’s expression shifted slightly, but then she sneered. “So what if he was something? After a reset, it all amounts to nothing. Besides, I’ve got my own way to win…”

Before she could finish, the sound of footsteps echoed from outside the homestay door.

Lili immediately stopped talking.

Wu Zhi rushed over, shouting with surprise and joy, “Brother Xiyu, you’re back! —Wait, you’re hurt?!”

Xiyu smiled faintly, bracing his bleeding arm as he stepped inside, lips pale. “It’s nothing. There were a lot of man-eating ants—kind of tricky to deal with. Luckily, I wasn’t late.”

Lili showed no concern for his injury, instead taking a seat at the table. Her red eyes blinked lazily. “Serves you right. I told you not to go. Did you catch the prophetic fish?”

“No. But I found this.” Xiyu pulled the Yakult from his pocket and handed it to Wu Zhi.

Wu Zhi was puzzled and delighted. “There’s snacks in the pond too...?”

Xiyu patted his shoulder. “It’s something to tide you over. Thanks for everything these past two days.”

With that, he sat down directly across from Lili.The pitted, uneven tabletop was still cluttered with tarot cards. Xiyu pushed them aside with a blood-stained hand, then sat in silence, waiting for time to pass.

The silence around them was so deep that even breathing sounded loud. Lili, her confidence starting to crack, spoke up just to break the quiet: “So your strategy for facing me was to hide all day and avoid seeing me?”

Xiyu replied calmly, “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Lili pressed, “So? What’s the method to kill me, then?”

Xiyu remained composed. “Whatever the system says it is, that’s what it’ll be.”

Wu Zhi leaned over, curious. “So today’s rules are totally different?”

“She should know better than I do—she’s the banker,” Xiyu said with a slight smile.

Lili frowned.

Just then, the tarot cards on the table vanished in a faint glow. The already quiet evening suddenly became even more deathly still.

Yet beyond that stillness, a subtle unease began to creep in.

A’Lan, hiding by the sofa, suddenly clutched his nose. “What’s that smell?”

It was blood and the stench of rotting corpses. That smell... it was disturbingly familiar...

Xiyu turned his head to look at the wooden door of the homestay.

The next second, the fragile door was kicked open with a deafening crash, and a massive figure forced its way inside, instantly blocking out the ceiling light above.

Wu Zhi shouted in shock, “The Night Watchman!”

The grotesque Night Watchman grinned widely. “It’s me, children, it’s me! Of course the final battle has to be hosted by yours truly!”

As he spoke, he sat down in a chair that looked far too fragile under his immense weight, and pulled two decks of playing cards from his pocket.

Throughout the entire motion, none of the streamers took their eyes off him.

The Night Watchman took a deep breath, then grinned again. “These past few days, the trap-filled gambles were just warmups. I know you’ve learned to control your desires. So tonight, let’s return to something simple—some good old-fashioned card games fit for all ages.”

Of course, that was anything but good news.Anyone with half a brain would know that card games are endlessly variable—no one can confidently say they’ll definitely win.

That stressed the streamers out even more than trying to sabotage one another!

Xiyu glanced at Lili, who showed no reaction, and then asked, “What are the rules?”

The Night Watchman patted the deck on his left. “Lili is the banker, so she goes first no matter what, and you’ll always play second. So I’m giving you the precious right to choose—do you want to rely on luck—”

He then patted the deck on his right. “Or rely on your brain?”

Xiyu answered without hesitation, “Of course, my brain.”

Lili quietly swallowed her nervousness.

“Good, you’re a smart young man. Luck is the most unreliable thing in the world—it can bring you glory, or leave you in pieces.” The Night Watchman laughed heartily, and with a wave of his hand, the bare cards flew into the air and arranged themselves in a row between Lili and Xiyu.

Thirteen cards in total.

Don’t panic, or your brain will slow down even more.

—Xiyu silently reminded himself, slowing his breathing until his heartbeat returned to normal.

At that moment, the system broadcast echoed through the small living room.

[There are 13 cards between the two streamers, from Ace to King of Hearts, representing numbers 1 to 13.]

[Each player will draw 4 random cards, then take turns asking the opponent a question.]

[Questions are limited to: (1) Do any two of your cards have a sum/difference/product/quotient of n? or (2) Do you have both cards a and b in your hand?]

[The player being questioned must truthfully answer “yes” or “no.”]

[If asked the second type of question and the answer is “yes,” the guessed cards must be revealed—this is called revealing cards.]

[Revealed cards are no longer included in future questions.]

[Banker Lili goes first and may ask the first question.]

[Victory conditions: (1) If Xiyu successfully gets Lili to reveal two cards before Lili succeeds in making Xiyu reveal two cards, Xiyu wins; (2) If Lili gets Xiyu to reveal two cards and Xiyu fails to get her to reveal a second card in the next round, Lili wins.][If neither player meets the victory conditions, the game will restart.]

The rules might sound simple, but playing the game demands intense focus and quick mental math.

"I'm a black hole when it comes to math..." Wu Zhi muttered in frustration nearby. "My head’s spinning. You hang in there."

Xiyu chuckled lightly. Lili took a deep breath, but didn’t appear flustered.

Suddenly, Zhao Zhusheng, watching from the side, asked, “Wait—if they’re gambling on this, what about the money I bet?”

The Night Watchman suddenly slammed a flintlock onto the table—the same one Lili had been using for the past four days.

He snapped, “I wasn’t even done talking about that yet! Shut up!”

Zhao Zhusheng immediately fell silent like a scared chicken.

The Night Watchman sneered. “Lili, Xiyu, I’m not here to cheer you on. Listen closely: if you hesitate for more than three seconds before asking your question, the bullet in this gun will go straight through your skulls! And forget about writing anything down—that’s just as dumb as a natural human!”

Wu Zhi turned pale. “What?! The calculations are super complicated, and we’re not even allowed to think properly?!”

But Xiyu responded calmly, “No problem.”

Only then did the Night Watchman seem satisfied. He turned to Zhao Zhusheng and said, “As for you and Alan, your winnings will be based on the banker's game. I assume you're betting on your friend?”

Zhao Zhusheng gave Xiyu a crafty look, then glanced at Lili.

Before he could answer, Xiyu casually revealed, “Actually, I did catch the Prophecy Fish. So I already know what Lili’s advantage is. As the banker, she found out in advance the final game would be poker. She spent four galis to buy a one-time-use eyeball that lets her see either the highest or lowest card in her opponent’s hand.”

Lili stiffened at being exposed.

Alan immediately jumped out. “I’m betting on the manager!”

Zhao Zhusheng locked eyes with Xiyu’s amber gaze, then smiled lightly. “Alright. Then I’ll believe in you, friend.”

The Night Watchman raised the gun. “Enough talk. Draw your cards!”

Xiyu and Lili each drew four cards from the thirteen and immediately checked their hands: 2, 3, 8, Q!

He felt a bit relieved. Eyeing those divine numbers, he quietly began calculating his next move.Lili sneered from across the table, her eyes flicking over the cards in Xiyu’s hand—it was obvious she’d seen the card she was hoping for.

The Night Watchman gave the command: “Begin!”

Lili asked, “Do you have two cards in your hand that add up to 13?”

—She could see either the highest or lowest card. Asking that must mean she spied a high card—so, a Q?

“No,” Xiyu replied immediately. “Do you have two cards in your hand whose product is 24?”

Lili glanced at her cards. “No.”

—From numbers 1 to 13, the combinations whose product is 24 are: 2×12, 3×8, and 4×6. Xiyu’s luck was excellent—he held 2, 3, 8, and Q, meaning he had already taken key combinations like 2, 3, and 8, possibly even 12, making it easier to probe whether Lili held 4 and 6.

It looked like she didn’t have both 4 and 6.

Lili quickly followed up: “Do you have two cards in your hand that add up to 14?”

She was clearly using the presence of the Q to guess the total one by one in the most basic way possible.

Could it be that this artificial girl didn’t like math either?

Xiyu glanced at the 2 and Q in his hand and clicked his tongue silently. Though a bit nervous, he replied calmly, “Yes.”

Lili immediately smiled.

Xiyu asked, “Do you have two cards in your hand whose product is 36?”

—Among numbers 1 through 13, combinations that multiply to 36 are: 3×12 and 4×9. He already had 3 and 12—so what about 4 and 9?

Lili hesitated for a moment, then said, “Yes.”

Then she quickly asked, “Do you have both 2 and Q in your hand?”

Xiyu raised an eyebrow slightly and placed the 2 and Q on the table.

Lili visibly let out a breath and gave a small smile toward Alan, who was tensely observing.

Wu Zhi groaned and covered his eyes in frustration.Xiyu’s smile widened. “Why are you in such a rush? Revealed cards don’t count in the game anymore. You could’ve used the Q to gather more information.”

Lili froze.

The Night Watchman immediately pressed the gun to her head. “Hey, ask your question.”

Xiyu asked, “Do you have two cards in your hand that add up to 14?”

—Lili didn’t have cards that multiplied to 24, but she had a 4, which meant she didn’t have a 6. So, apart from 4 and 9, her other two cards must be among A, 5, 7, 10, J, and K. Among possible combinations that total 14, there are three: A and 13, 4 and 10, 5 and 9.

Lili looked down again and answered, “No.”

—Got her! That meant she had neither 5 nor 10, and didn’t have both A and 13. Her range was narrowed down to A, 7, J, and K!

Xiyu pursed his lips, deliberately putting on a confused expression.

Lili brushed her hair behind her ear and asked, “Do you have two cards in your hand that add up to… 19?”

Xiyu replied, “No.”

Lili furrowed her brow tightly.

Xiyu knew she was flustered and quickly followed up, “Do you have two cards in your hand whose difference is 6?”

—Among A, 7, J, and K, the relationship was: 13–7 = 7–1 = 6. That’s why he asked.

Lili looked again. “Yes.”

That meant she had a 7. Half the weight in Xiyu’s heart was lifted.

Lili pressed on: “Do you have two cards in your hand whose difference is 2?”

“No.” Xiyu looked into her eyes and fired back, “Do you have two cards in your hand that add up to 8?”

“Yes.” Lili took a breath and hesitated, “Do you have two cards in your hand that add up to 11?”

“Yes.” Xiyu glanced at the 3 and 8 in his hand, encouraged himself silently, and asked directly, “Do you have both 4 and 9 in your hand?”

Lili froze. Seeing the Night Watchman raise the gun toward her, she quickly revealed the 4 and 9 of hearts. She stammered, trying to take a last shot: “Do you have two cards that… that…”The Night Watchman's finger curled around the trigger.

Lili blurted out in a panic, “Do you have the 5 and 6 in your hand?!”

Xiyu stared at her steadily, then finally said, “No.”

Lili’s body swayed.

“Thanks for the game. You shouldn’t have lost your cool.” Xiyu gently laid his cards on the table. “Do you have the 1 and 7 in your hand?”

Lili slowly closed her eyes, then suddenly flung her cards and slammed her fists on the table in frustration.

Xiyu watched her silently for a moment, then finally admitted, “Actually, I caught the prophecy fish twice. The second time, it told me the rules of this game, so I had time to think it through on the way back. And honestly, I got lucky—the numbers I drew were simple. It’s not that you were stupid.”

Lili couldn’t believe her own bad luck. She stared at him in stunned silence, then jumped onto the table in fury, trying to strangle Xiyu.

Luckily, the Night Watchman was still there. He would never allow a streamer to lose control. Without hesitation, he shot Lili in the head!

Blood splattered across Xiyu’s delicate face. He felt no joy, no guilt—only exhausted relief.

He didn’t know how others felt, but he understood himself well. If it had been someone like Luo Xi across from him instead of Lili… he would’ve lost so badly he wouldn’t know which way was up.

The Night Watchman didn’t care about fairness. With a broad grin, he tossed out a pile of gold coins. “This is your betting money from yesterday, and today’s 2 Galli reward. Yours too, Zhao Zhusheng. All right, the game’s over!”

A’Lan was so terrified he turned and ran—but unfortunately, the Night Watchman wasn’t even human, just a pile of code and data.

He instantly appeared in front of A’Lan. Accompanied by his scream, he lifted him and slammed him violently to the floor.

A splash of blood clouded the vision of all the streamers.

Right on cue, the system broadcast rang out.

[Assessment Instance No. 00013 has ended]

[Peak viewer count: 149,271]

[Announcing streamer results]

[Du Li (Senior Streamer): 25 points; 0 Galli; 1,235 Yuntai Coins in tips][Zhao Zhusheng (Assessment): 20 points; 12 Galli; 23 Yuntai Coins in tips]

[Xiyu (Assessment): 20 points; 12 Galli; 27,665 Yuntai Coins in tips]

[Wu Zhi (Assessment): 15 points; 6 Galli; 1,009 Yuntai Coins in tips]

[A’Lan (Assessment): 3 points; 0 Galli; 1,237 Yuntai Coins in tips]

[Xu Lei (Assessment): 1 point; 0 Galli; 214 Yuntai Coins in tips]

[Wang Yi (Assessment): -2 points; 0 Galli; Reset]

[Lin Ye (Assessment): -2 points; 0 Galli; Reset]

[Yu Qing (Assessment): -4 points; 0 Galli; Reset]

[Qian Lu (Assessment): -6 points; 0 Galli; Reset]

[Zhou Fangfang (Assessment): -8 points; 0 Galli; Reset]

[Congratulations to Zhao Zhusheng, Xiyu, Wu Zhi, A’Lan, and Xu Lei for passing the assessment and becoming Junior Streamers]

[Galli can be exchanged for Yuntai Coins at a rate of 1:1000]

[Xiyu defeated the banker and is awarded an extra Banker Token]

[Game rights and final interpretation belong to Cyber Information Technology Co., Ltd.]

[Thank you for watching]