Move Forward (The Card Player) Chapter Thirty-One: Cards

The time of confinement ended, and Wu Hui could finally move forward. Since much of the road ahead had disappeared, he tossed three dice and landed directly on square sixty-two.

Two three-headed hounds appeared. Wu Hui unleashed a rapid volley with the Queen’s Blade, managing to deal with the threat in a rather perilous fashion. This was the five-hundred-point zone; encountering enemies here was never easy. The maps ahead would be even more dangerous for everyone.

Ren Yin was at the forefront, already closing in on Number Two.

Number Two curled his lip, used a protection card on himself, and donned a set of armor radiating a metallic beauty. His submachine gun glowed red, fiery patterns swirling along its surface.

He was fully prepared for battle. Yet his next opponent was likely not Ren Yin, but Wu Hui.

Because this game demanded relentless progress. If, after a round, no one met him, he was lucky—but the protection card was wasted.

The chubby boy realized that confining Wu Hui for three rounds had been a mistake, especially after Number Seven had died.

Otherwise, in theory, he and Number Seven could have cornered Wu Hui at the starting point, draining his points, perhaps even exhausting the entire enemy team.

Luckily, he still had cards. One was a designated point card.

He rolled a die, designated the point as one, and advanced only a single step.

Li Xiaoyue or Ren Yin, though somewhat difficult to deal with, were still manageable—not much stronger than the chubby boy himself.

Wu Hui reached square fifty-six and chose to draw a card. His eyes lit up. After conferring with Ren Yin, he used the card.

“Swap places.”

It exchanged the positions of two people.

“Tsk.” Number Two gritted his teeth.

“You still haven’t fully understood this game,” Wu Hui said to him, seeing his disappointment.

“The randomness is immense. Any long-term strategy spanning more than two steps is meaningless. The only thing we can compare is our ability to handle single choices, our strength, and most importantly… luck.”

“Dice, poker, mahjong—these are called gambling and are distinguished from chess and Go because of their uncontrollable variables.”

“In chess games, all information is laid before you. Only the mutual influence of decisions matters—no unknown random outcomes. So, theoretically, one side has a guaranteed winning strategy, limited only by calculation ability. That’s why those are competitions, contests of intellect.”

“This game, though it tests some intelligence, is essentially gambling.”

The chubby boy understood, “You want me to accept the risk of losing?”

Wu Hui adjusted his glasses, “Yes, gambling always carries the risk of failure. We aim for the greatest expected returns, but even then, there is always the chance to lose.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself. I haven’t lost yet!” the chubby boy retorted.

Ren Yin rolled the dice again, landing on square seventy-three and drawing a weapon. In the thousand-point zone, weapons were all high-end, comparable to the Queen’s Blade or the Assassin’s Pistol.

She drew a sniper rifle, its body emanating a deep violet glow.

“Silent Sniper Rifle
Attack: Standard (for a sniper rifle)
Range: Long
Special: +1 to the wielder’s shooting skill. Bullets fired make no sound.”

Li Xiaoyue finished her turn. Then it was Number Two’s turn. He wanted to widen the gap from Wu Hui, so he tossed three dice.

Another card was played.

A point modification card, able to alter any player’s dice result—used by Li Xiaoyue. She set his result to one.

The gap did not widen.

The chubby boy remained on square eighty-eight, afflicted by a negative state of immobilization, his body as lifeless as a puppet.

Wu Hui rolled the dice, moving to the square just in front of him. He too was afflicted, his strength drained, but it was still better than being unable to move at all.

Suddenly, Number Two appeared behind him.

A faint spatial fissure struck Wu Hui, leaving a small wound.

“Spatial abilities? But the damage seems weak. You’re completely immobilized; relying on teleportation and these tricks won’t save you. Stop struggling.” Wu Hui put away his glasses and turned away.

It cost him effort to speak, but if he could convince the chubby boy to surrender through words, it would be better than anything else.

Holding the Queen’s Blade, he unleashed frost, pinning Number Two in place. His breathing grew labored, and his legs felt weak as he approached the chubby boy.

Yet Wu Hui managed to drive the blade into him, taking his life. Then he sat down to rest.

At the starting point, Number Two was revived.

He lost five hundred points. His items and cards became Wu Hui’s spoils, which infuriated him.

Plunder Card: consumes five hundred points, steals half of another’s points.

Duel Card: select a player, regardless of distance, and enter a specially created arena for a one-on-one fight; ends when one dies.

Red Light Armor: high defense, grants +1 to flame control when equipped. Can remain hidden while maintaining defense.

Not bad. Wu Hui was satisfied with the gains, though unfortunately, the weapons and abilities wouldn’t transfer to him.

The chubby boy could still die four or five more times.

Another round passed. Li Xiaoyue reached the starting point, gaining five hundred points. Wu Hui and the chubby boy both reached the sixty-something squares. Ren Yin stood at seventy-five, panting after completing a challenge for a thousand points.

Sweat dripped from the chubby boy’s forehead as he was caught in the middle. “Listen, everyone, there’s no need to be so ruthless, is there…?”

Wu Hui adjusted his glasses. “There wasn’t, but now there is.”

Ren Yin adjusted her glasses. “You cannot trust us, and we cannot trust you. Not to mention the possibility of revenge once you’re out.”

Li Xiaoyue, still under the effects of self-hypnosis, pushed nonexistent glasses. “Mercy to the enemy is cruelty to oneself.”

Wu Hui and Ren Yin both glanced at her, silent.

Clearly, she misunderstood what cruelty meant.

“Hahaha.” The chubby boy’s expression grew solemn. “Well, there’s nothing else to say. If we’re gambling, then I must accept defeat.”

“You three have drawn so many items—haven’t you found any slave contracts? I’m willing to become your slave. As long as I survive…that punishment should be enough, right? I’m just a child, what harm can I do?”

Wu Hui looked at the other two, then shook his head. “None of us drew one, and frankly, I doubt any of us have any interest in making someone as dangerous as you a slave.”

“And, you don’t need to pretend. I can see that your state isn’t despair, you’re looking for a way to counterattack.”

The chubby boy’s abilities and will were intact. Even now, he tried to soften Wu Hui’s resolve through words. If luck hadn’t failed him, dealing with him wouldn’t have been so easy.

He still had a chance.

Only twenty-seven dice remained, so the likelihood of stepping into danger was high. Even Wu Hui, facing monsters and challenges in the thousand-point zone, couldn’t guarantee victory.

So as long as he survived, lasting until the game's end or until one or two opponents died, he would have succeeded.

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