Your hometown

If the phrase "The rules are absolute" still applies to this second "game," then what is written on the mask must be the key to solving it.

But how should it be solved?

And when should the harpoon be fired?

"The clock never stops ticking"…

Does that mean one fifteen?

Qi Xia turned to look at the clock on the table. It was already 1:05. If "one fifteen" was the time for the harpoon to be fired, then there were less than ten minutes left.

"Turn a hundred times in the direction of your hometown"…

Among the nine people present, each had a different hometown, and "a hundred times" was no small number.

If they were thinking in the wrong direction, they could easily waste these ten minutes.

But in this room, besides themselves, what else could "turn"?

Qi Xia's gaze settled on the clock in the center of the table.

He leaned forward and gently touched the clock, only to find that it was firmly fixed to the tabletop and couldn't be moved at all.

"The clock can't move… could it be the chair?"

Qi Xia lowered his head and looked at the chair beneath him. It was an old, ordinary chair with a musty smell, casually placed on the floor without any hidden mechanisms.

If that was the case, then the only thing left was...

Qi Xia turned his gaze to the round table in the center of the room and suddenly noticed something odd about it.

This table couldn't really be called a "round table" because it was actually a polygon. It only gave the impression of being round due to its many sides.

He reached out and tried to turn the tabletop. Sure enough, a faint sound of chains came from within the table.

But the table was heavy. Even when Qi Xia used considerable force, he could only move it a few centimeters.

"A hundred turns..."

That number was far too large for just two or three people to achieve. All nine people in the room would have to work together to rotate the tabletop if they wanted even the slightest chance of survival.

Lin Qin keenly noticed Qi Xia's movements and immediately called for everyone to stop what they were doing.

The others gathered around the table, examined it, and quickly realized that it could indeed be rotated.

"Not bad, conman," Qiao Jiajin nodded approvingly. "If we turn this table a hundred times, we should be able to unlock that invisible door."

Qi Xia glanced at the clock again. Though time was running out, the problem had now become much simpler.

Turning the round table a hundred times in the direction of their "hometown" could only mean one of two answers—left or right.

But with everyone's hometowns scattered across different directions, how could they determine which way to turn?

"Qi Xia, do you already know when the harpoon will fire?" Lin Qin asked, covering her nose and mouth.

"The clue says the time 'never stops ticking,' so it's probably at 1:15," Qi Xia replied softly.

Hearing this, Qiao Jiajin's face changed. "That means we have less than ten minutes left! We need to start turning now."

Dr. Zhao moved the corpse lying on the table to the side, then slowly sat down. He reached out to test the weight of the table and said, "But we only have one chance. Turning such a heavy table a hundred times—what if we turn it in the wrong direction?"

"Then we still have a fifty percent chance of survival!" Qiao Jiajin said anxiously. "If we do nothing, we're dead for sure. But if we turn it, at least there's a fifty percent chance we'll live. No time to waste!"

With that, he used all his strength and began turning the tabletop to the left.

Though Qiao Jiajin looked thin, he was surprisingly strong—he alone managed to rotate the table half a turn.

"What are you all standing around for?! Damn it, help me out!" Qiao Jiajin shouted at the others.

The rest of the group knew he had a point and had no choice but to help him turn the table.

At this moment, there was no way to know the correct answer—they could only take a gamble.

But Qi Xia still didn't move.

He didn't know which way to think.

Left or right?

Why was the keyword "hometown"?

Was it because everyone here was Chinese, meaning "East"?

If "North is up, South is down, West is left, and East is right," then the answer should be right?

But what about those who lived in the West?

Or could it be that everyone's hometown was somehow related to the Zuozhuan (Zuo Commentary) from the Spring and Autumn period, meaning the answer was left?

Qi Xia closed his eyes slightly. He thought about using the two corpses as shields for himself—but if everyone else died, then when the next game came, what would he do?

"Now is not the time to give up on them."

Qi Xia took a deep breath, then reached out and grabbed a blank sheet of paper from the spinning table.

He picked up a pen, walked over to an empty spot, sat down, and began writing rapidly.

Although the others were a bit confused, they didn't stop moving. By now, they had already rotated the table more than a dozen times.

"If he hadn't introduced himself as a 'conman,' I would've thought that guy was a mathematician," Qiao Jiajin said to Tiantian beside him.

Tiantian had gotten a little dizzy from spinning earlier and could only nod absentmindedly.

This time, however, Qi Xia didn't write out any calculations. Instead, he roughly sketched a map of the country on the paper.

"Hometown...?"

His mind raced, and suddenly, something clicked.

"Wait, wait..." Qi Xia's eyes widened.

"If the 'organizers' have the ability to gather people from so many provinces with similar experiences, then... could 'province' also be a key factor?"

Qi Xia turned back to look at the others who were still rotating the table and asked seriously, "Did anyone lie about their 'hometown' earlier?"

Everyone shook their heads.

After all, "hometown" was closely tied to accent and speech habits—lying about it would be too easy to expose.

"Good." Qi Xia nodded slightly. "Now, please tell me your hometowns again, one by one."

Officer Li spoke first. "I'm from Inner Mongolia."

Qi Xia marked a black dot on the map at Inner Mongolia's location.

"I'm from Sichuan," lawyer Zhang Chenze said coldly.

"I'm from Shaanxi," Tiantian said.

"Dali, Yunnan," said kindergarten teacher Xiao Ran.

"Guangdong," Qiao Jiajin added.

"I'm from Ningxia," psychologist Lin Qin said.

"I work in Jiangsu," Dr. Zhao said.

Qi Xia marked everyone's hometowns on the map, then added his own—Shandong.

At this moment, all eyes turned to writer Han Yimo—he was the only one who had never mentioned his hometown.

"Han Yimo, are you from Guangxi or Taiwan?"

Han Yimo froze. "How did you know?"

"There's no time—just answer me."

"I'm from Guangxi..."

Qi Xia nodded.

That left only two possible provinces—Guangxi and Taiwan.

If Han Yimo had said anything else, it would have been a huge lie. Fortunately, he told the truth.

Qi Xia marked the final province on the map. Now, there were nine black dots on the rough sketch.

"Just as I thought."

Qi Xia muttered under his breath, then suddenly shouted, "Stop! Turn it to the right!"

"Right?"

Without hesitation, Qi Xia rushed to the table, tossed the paper onto the surface, and began spinning the tabletop in the opposite direction.

Although the others were confused, they still followed Qi Xia and began turning the table in the opposite direction.

Dr. Zhao glanced at the map and the nine black dots on the table.

"Why 'right'?"