Ten Day Ultimatum

Upon hearing this, Qiao Jiajin immediately withdrew his hand. Yet, the slight force he had just applied to the rope was enough to disrupt its precarious balance. Suddenly, a sharp clanking echoed from one of the holes, and the rope trembled violently.
Qi Xia swiftly snatched up a piece of table shield and shouted, “Han Yimo, get behind me!”

Han Yimo reacted at once, hurrying to hide behind Qi Xia and clutching his shirt tightly, his anxiety palpable.
Murphy’s Law, huh… With the table shield in hand, Qi Xia carefully maneuvered away from the hole, Han Yimo trailing close, shifting nervously in his shadow.
Logically speaking, Qi Xia and the hole were no longer aligned; any harpoon fired from within shouldn’t have been aimed at them, nor could it possibly harm Han Yimo behind him. Yet an inexplicable unease gripped Qi Xia.

Beside the opening, Qiao Jiajin eyed him with confusion. He glanced at the rope, then back at Qi Xia, and asked, “What’s going on, Swindler Lad?”
“Qiao Jiajin, get away from there! There’s another harpoon—be careful!” Qi Xia’s tone was grave.
No sooner had he spoken than a deafening roar burst from the hole, and two harpoons shot forth together. The first was the intruder that had slipped in earlier; the second was the original harpoon, primed and waiting after its long watch.

Whoosh!
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
The first harpoon shot out and dropped weakly to the side, embedding itself in the ground. The second surged forward with tremendous force, its path veering toward the opposite side—away from Qi Xia. For a fleeting moment, relief washed over him. ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) But his heart sank when he saw it smash directly into the clock at the room’s center.

That clock had long been the tool everyone used to keep track of time; now it became the launchpad for disaster. A deafening clash of metal on metal erupted, scattering sparks.
Whatever the clock was made of, it held firm even under the violent blow, but the impact deflected the harpoon’s course. Like a venomous snake spotting prey, it whipped around and raced toward Qi Xia and Han Yimo, flying low, almost grazing the floor.
Realizing the danger, Qi Xia shoved Han Yimo back and stepped forward with the table shield raised. Given its trajectory, the harpoon would strike the shield before reaching Han Yimo.

Yet just before impact, the harpoon slammed into the floor instead, the rebound propelling it upward. In a startling arc, it vaulted over Qi Xia and crashed into the ceiling. Without pause, it altered course again—this time hurtling straight toward Han Yimo behind him.
To onlookers, the harpoon seemed like a zigzagging bolt of lightning, weaving past every obstacle as if determined to hit its mark.
As Han Yimo had feared, it was bound to strike him. Its erratic movements made no sense; it felt like he was its only target.

Despair tightened Qi Xia’s features. He couldn’t move the table in time to protect Han Yimo. The boy’s only hope lay in his own ability to dodge, but in his trembling state, even a single step seemed impossible—once more, he was as good as condemned.
At that critical moment, mere centimeters before impact, Qiao Jiajin, standing by the opening, lunged for the rope spilling from it. With a swift, decisive yank, he wrenched it back, triggering a sudden chain reaction. The harpoon, racing forward, lost balance as if caught in a violent tempest, veering sharply off course.
It hung in the air for a beat, swaying stubbornly, then dropped to the floor.

For a breathless instant, the whole room froze, tension thick as wire.
After a long pause, Han Yimo collapsed to the floor, his clothes soaked in sweat.
Qiao Jiajin eyed the rope in his hand and muttered, “Was this harpoon here to disco dance? Couldn’t stop bouncing around the room, huh?”
Setting the table down, Qi Xia went to Han Yimo, who was still pale and shaken. He helped him up and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… really… you all saved my life. Thank you so much…”
Qi Xia steadied him, noting the tremors had stopped. Ah, I see now… he thought, his mind racing as he began to grasp the meaning of Beckoned Calamity.
“Still scared about what’s next?” Qi Xia asked.

“A bit… but not too much,” Han Yimo said with a faint smile. “Knowing you’ll be there for the next games makes me feel much safer…”
Hearing this, Qi Xia felt reassured—saving him had been the right call.
The full nature of Beckoned Calamity was still uncertain, but Han Yimo seemed able to sense impending danger. If Qi Xia brought him along to confront the Earthly Branches, he could gauge their threat level from Han Yimo’s fear. If luck favored them, he might even judge whether to risk his life against them.

Of course, that was only a theory—the immediate priority was keeping Han Yimo alive.
From now on, he had no intention of saving the insignificant. As for the looming Collapse of Heaven and Yes or No, it mattered little if only a handful survived.
“Officer Li,” Qi Xia called out, “you mentioned something about the harpoons?”
“Oh…” Officer Li snapped back to the moment and added quickly, “There are words on this one; you should take a look!”

Feigning interest, Qi Xia replied, “I see. Listen, everyone—the host of this game is once again Mortal Goat, but Mortal Goat is known to lie…”
He explained his deductions in detail, then moved beneath the holes at the room’s center. He knew the floor would collapse in minutes, and ropes would descend from there to save them.
Though he meant to save only a few, he was surprised when everyone readily believed him. The first to stand beside him was Xiao Ran, her expression full of admiration, almost blind trust. Perhaps his flawless past performances had earned her loyalty.

“Qi ge, I don’t know why, but I trust you completely!” Xiao Ran said, her tone warm with flattery.
“Hah,” Qi Xia scoffed. “In that case, I must thank you.”