Chapter 60: The Countryside

Erhu’s outburst didn’t astonish Rogan; on the contrary, it delighted him. He rushed forward and hugged Erhu, his actions leaving the latter utterly perplexed. Erhu quickly pushed Rogan away.

“What’s with you? First you curse, then you hug me! Are you some kind of sissy? Grown men clinging to each other—disgusting.”

Realizing his behavior was inappropriate, Rogan chuckled awkwardly. Erhu scanned their surroundings, only to see Uncle De and Little Zhi transformed into golden statues, which shocked him deeply. He hurried over to the statues and tapped them with his finger to check if they were hollow inside.

The statues gave off a muffled sound, which surprised Erhu even more.

“Wow! If Uncle De and Little Zhi knew there were golden statues here that looked exactly like them, they’d be overjoyed!”

“I suspect they already know… They’re probably quite familiar with this.”

“This is unbelievable. Just two days ago, Little Zhi was whining about how meaningless his life was, saying that all his hard work wasn’t worth it compared to those pampered young masters.”

Rogan exchanged glances with Yanshan, both at a loss for words.

“Actually… Erhu, these are Uncle De and Little Zhi.”

Erhu, still engrossed in the thrill of the golden statues, suddenly snapped to his senses.

“Uncle De and Little Zhi? What have you… What happened, Rogan?”

“It’s because you guys picked up the treasures on the ground. The gold swallowed you, and the president brought you back.”

The gold strewn about was unlike anything they’d ever seen—brilliant and dazzling. Even walking here felt like a luxury, as if a single breath might shatter the atmosphere.

Before them, the two golden statues were utterly lifeless. Erhu stood frozen, while Rogan quickly composed himself amidst the chaos. He understood that this was another world, perhaps much like the sea of flowers they’d experienced before; only by passing the trial could everyone be restored. Lingering here would only waste time.

“Erhu, let’s go.”

Erhu knelt before Uncle De and Little Zhi, gazing at them in sorrow.

“Uncle De… Why did we have to come here? Rogan, why did you bring us? They lost their lives because of this!”

To see living people turned to stone, powerless to help, was something Rogan had already experienced many times in this game; it was nothing new to him.

“We need to finish this trial—no one can go back until it’s done.”

Erhu turned, eyes bloodshot and fierce.

“Rogan, are you really so cold-blooded? Haven’t you even thought of saving them?”

“That’s not what I mean—”

“Yes, it is!”

The two began to argue, their conflict irreconcilable. The sorcerer ahead was nowhere to be seen; a road paved with gold and silver treasures stretched before them, guiding their path, while the riches at their feet gradually vanished—time was running short.

Erhu was stubborn to the core, unable to grasp the logic behind the game. Rogan knew he couldn’t explain the rules: to reveal the truth would be to break them himself. Helpless, he took Yanshan and pressed on.

Rogan’s mind was a blank, thoughts flying in all directions. In the end, he could only utter a feeble, “Take care.”

His voice was drained of strength. Erhu didn’t even glance at him. Yanshan waited anxiously. Rogan closed his eyes; perhaps this was the price he had to pay. If they stopped here, Uncle De and Little Zhi’s sacrifice would be meaningless. Hardening his heart, he turned away.

Following the golden path, the wind whispered through the forest. The road ahead seemed aimless, looping endlessly with no signs to guide them.

Yanshan trailed Rogan cautiously, though Rogan himself was more frightened than he let on. Still, before Yanshan, he had to play the role of the steadfast leader, pushing himself forward.

Another flash of light. Rogan and Yanshan shielded their eyes, and against the glare, Farmer Jia appeared before them.

Farmer Jia smiled, clearly pleased to see Rogan.

“Rogan, you’re finally here! Where are Erhu and Uncle De?”

Rogan seemed troubled, his mood gloomy. Yanshan, reading the situation, quickly spoke up.

“Erhu and Uncle De didn’t make it through the second trial, so…”

Farmer Jia’s face fell, surprise and disappointment written all over him.

“I never would have thought it. I always believed Erhu cared more about loyalty than money…”

Yanshan tried to smooth things over for Rogan. Loyalty was important, but in his view, the president’s interests aligned with his own.

A gust of wind, and the sorcerer Yuan appeared, floating in as always.

“How interesting—passing the second trial as well. Money cannot corrupt your hearts!”

Rogan, seething with rage, lunged at the sorcerer, but the latter slipped away.

“What did you do to Uncle De and Little Zhi?!”

“Nothing. Those who crave wealth are devoured by it; the restless grow ever more agitated. Such is the nature of the trial,” Yuan replied with a laugh.

His nonchalance did nothing to calm Rogan. Perhaps, to the sorcerer, he’d seen too many struggle through these tests, too many farewells. It was all just fate mocking human frailty.

“Do you feel no guilt at all?”

“It’s just a game. There’s always a chance to start over. But the weaknesses you sow in yourselves—that’s the cause of your fate. Life offers no second chances.”

No second chances—that was the truth. However indignant Rogan felt, he could do nothing about it. They followed the sorcerer into the last trial.

“President, we have to face one more test. What if someone else dies?” Yanshan’s words sent a chill through Rogan’s heart. There was no turning back; they could only take things one step at a time.

“Enough. Let’s not waste time. For the final trial, you three will be separated.”

“No! Who knows what tricks you’ll pull!” Rogan had no faith in the sorcerer’s words; whatever the challenge, it would be perilous.

The sorcerer sneered, tapping his foot twice on the ground.

“I just want you to hurry up—I want to go home for dinner.”

Suddenly, the world changed. The earth shook violently, splitting open with deep fissures that spread through the forest. Countless trees sank into the ground. The earth beneath Rogan and the others trembled, and amidst cries of despair, the three of them were swallowed into the abyss…

Birdsong and the scent of flowers filled the air, a gentle breeze caressed him, and Rogan felt the fresh touch of grass against his skin as he woke and touched his head.

“Why does playing a game mean endless blackouts? Can’t there be a moment’s peace?”

He was alone—no Yanshan, no Farmer Jia, not even the bothersome sorcerer. He struggled to his feet and looked around: a rustic, idyllic landscape.

Cuckoos sang joyfully in the branches. Chrysanthemums bloomed everywhere, their delicate fragrance soothing. Terraced fields covered the hillsides, yet there was no sign of any farmers at work.

This must be a land of paradise. In one corner of the slope stood a small tiled house, its walls built of mud. Smoke curled from the chimney—someone clearly lived there.

Rogan checked his pack; the bottle of wine he’d brought was still safe inside. Trembling, he headed towards the house.

Willows grew around the house, swaying poetically in the breeze. In the courtyard stood several jars of wine, and a stone table draped with a cloth. The alluring scent of osmanthus hung in the air, detectable from afar.

Could this be a tavern? Since this was the third trial, was it about farming? Drinking? Or perhaps something else…

Suddenly, two hands landed on Rogan’s shoulders. A greasy, middle-aged man grinned at him.

“At last, you’ve arrived.”