Deceitful Game

Chapter 23 The Gate of Death

Mingpo's undisguised malice seemed to frighten the other party.

The voice was almost furious: "Gu Tao! You're always like this... only thinking about your own ideas and not caring about the lives of others! Whenever things don't go your way, you think of using violence to solve the problem!"

"Since that's the case, let me see if you'll regret your choice when you're driven to your death by your own savagery!"

As soon as he finished speaking, rows of red lights ahead lit up.

Each one was as bright red as the ones in the pool before, turning the entire surrounding space blood red.

Right in front of Mingpo, four doors slammed shut, blocking what was behind them.

They were ordinary doors, each marked with a number from "one" to "four". Other than that, they were indistinguishable.

On the ground beside him was a glass bottle of baijiu with the label torn off, and three small wine cups next to it.

It was uncovered, so a rich aroma of wine filled the space.

Mingpo didn't know much about alcohol, nor did he recognize the brand. But he felt that this kind of baijiu (Chinese white liquor) probably had a high alcohol content.

"You now have four doors in front of you, and behind each door is a path. But three of them are dead ends."

"Oh?"

Mingpo raised an eyebrow, becoming somewhat excited: "So you want me to gamble with my luck? Is that what you mean?"

"How is that possible!"

The hoarse, rough synthesized voice retorted instinctively, seemingly angry about it.

But he quickly sneered, seeing it as Gu Tao's last-ditch effort: "Delaying time is useless, Gu Tao. You have to make a choice, or you'll starve to death here."

"Although there are three dead ends, they are of different lengths. The longest one is three times the length of the shortest one. The middle one is somewhere in between, at least half the length of the longest one but no more than twice the length of the shortest one. You would need to run at full speed for about three minutes to reach it. The length of the only way out is the average of the lengths of the paths behind two of the remaining three doors."

"After you open the door, it will close permanently in five minutes."

"That sounds quite friendly."

Mingper commented, "The mortality rate has gone from three-quarters to one-quarter."

"So, what's that bottle of wine for?"

He very cooperatively inquired about the other party's arrangements.

Instead of responding, the other party said directly, "Choose a door first."

"Then number one."

Mingpo answered without the slightest hesitation.

"very good."

The hoarse voice chuckled coldly, and then a beam of light shone on door number one. The other three doors dimmed.

"Now," the other party declared, "you only need to drink a glass of wine, and I will give you information about this door."

"I understand what you're going to do."

Mingpo smiled, showing no sign of being in a hurry.

He slowly crossed his legs, picked up the bottle of wine, and poured himself a glass.

He raised his glass and toasted the sky.

"Here, a toast to you."

Mingpo laughed, then tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.

The extremely spicy liquor slid down his throat, choking him and causing him to cough repeatedly.

But as that warm current flowed down my throat and into my abdomen, it was as if a flame was rising from my belly, and my body instantly felt warm. Even my right arm, which had been pierced by countless steel needles, seemed to feel less painful.

Although Mingpo didn't soak in the icy water for several hours as the host had hoped, the short time he spent waiting to wake up was enough to leave him completely soaked in ice water, his body cold and stiff.

If Mingpo had truly survived there until the very end, even if he hadn't died, he would have been ninety percent dead.

At that moment, this wine, which "warms you up," was a life-saving medicine for him.

However, Mingpo knew that it was just a hallucination transmitted by her body, and in reality, she would only die faster.

—But what if it's another situation?

If he had actually cut off his thumb, and under those conditions there was no way to bandage it, even if he managed to stop the bleeding, drinking alcohol would still cause vasodilation and impaired blood clotting.

Similarly, alcohol can numb nerves, thus making the wound less painful.

Moreover, according to his rules, he needs to run at full speed to determine if the gate is correct. If this is combined with a rapid heartbeat, it will almost certainly lead to massive blood loss.

The game designers really went all out to ruin "Gu Tao".

Mingpo sighed inwardly.

While every choice appears to be "his own," Gu Tao ultimately has no real choice. He can only choose between "bad" and "worse," with each option seemingly less terrible. Furthermore, his subsequent choices are riddled with traps. If he cannot step back from his own choices and gain a broader perspective on the game, he will regret his initial decisions, leading to even more difficult situations in the later stages of the game.

But no matter what he chooses, he will be just as unlucky at that time.

Because this is a dilemma that puts obstacles at both ends.

The designer's malice is blatantly obvious.

Unless you take a different approach like Mingpo, using a bug that the designers didn't anticipate to clear the game, you'll only sink deeper and deeper into the abyss.

"very good."

Seeing that Mingpo had drunk the first glass of wine, the voice was clearly very satisfied.

Although he could only hear his voice and not see his face, Mingpu was almost certain that he was nodding rather smugly.

"The path behind the door you've chosen is longer than the path behind the second door, but shorter than the path behind the third door."

That's what the voice said.

"this one?"

Mingpo shook her head: "Not enough."

"It's very simple."

The voice offered another suggestion: "Have two more drinks, and I'll give you a clearer hint."

"OK."

Mingpo nodded and poured himself another glass of wine.

"I'm telling you," he said, pouring the wine as he criticized, "your design here is still wrong."

"I just escaped from that 'dangerous situation,' so you shouldn't keep adding pressure here. You should let me relax so I can ignore the trap you've set."

"You should put a sofa here and some snacks to go with the drinks—this wine really doesn't taste good on its own. What brand is this? I don't think it's very good. Does it have to be baijiu (Chinese white liquor)?"

The other party did not respond to Mingpo's words, but simply stared at Mingpo in unusual silence.

As he pointed out the problems with his design, he downed both glasses of wine.

Mingpo drank three glasses of wine on an empty stomach and felt a dull ache in her stomach.

What followed was a strong feeling of expansion deep within his brain. It was as if a ball of cotton was constantly expanding inside his head, and he felt as if his thoughts were being flattened.

The person was clearly not in a good mood, and even skipped the conversation, directly giving a hint: "The combined length of the road behind the door you chose and the fourth door is not as long as the road behind the third door."

"……I see."

Mingpo's voice already carried a hint of drunkenness.

But his eyes were so clear.

He already knows the answer.