"I see. So it is a Treasure you once held..."
Gao Song looked at Ming Po with a faint, knowing smile. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Why should I be?" Ming Po countered.
If Gao Song could directly see through the fact that the Bacchus Shrine was in Ming Po's hands, he wouldn't even need to defeat Ming Po in the ga to sentence him to death. This was precisely why Ming Po had chosen that word.
Just as Gao Song had set the penalty for losing the ga to death—since he would die upon failure regardless, he might as well use this rule to drag everyone else down with him. It was because Gao Song had decided to do this that Ming Po selected this specific word.
Compared to Gao Song, it was actually the ga host who caught his attention more.
Ming Po glanced at Twenty Faces. If the host could see his answer, she should already know that Ming Po had once held the Bacchus Shrine.
Seemingly noticing his gaze, she smiled and turned to him, leaning forward slightly in a listening posture.
"Mr. Madman, is there sothing you need?"
"I have three questions regarding the rules that require your explanation—specifically concerning the finer details of this ga." Ming Po did not beat around the bush and asked directly, "First, does the host know each of our answers?
"Second, if it's sothing like 'bicycle' or 'bike'—the sa item but with different nas—how will it be judged?
"Third, what is the standard for a correct answer? Is it objective fact, personal perception, or the host's perception?"
"Heh..."
Hearing this, Gao Song chuckled. "Twelve questions have already been used, and you've only just rembered to calibrate the rules? Unfortunately, isn't it a bit too late for that now?"
It was exactly as Gao Song said.
This was the "calibration of the rules." What exactly constituted "correct," what the specific standard was, and how precise a guess needed to be to count as a correct answer—these were things not explicitly stated, but they definitely had clear underlying guidelines.
Just as an out-of-tune piano required a tuner to adjust it, if the rules were unclear, they also had to be calibrated.
"It's not late," Ming Po replied leisurely. "In fact, the timing is just right. Any earlier, and there wouldn't have been enough ti. If that were the case, how could I enjoy seeing you lose your composure?"
"You!" Gao Song's expression shifted instantly.
anwhile, the host, Twenty Faces, rely offered Ming Po a gentle smile and answered clearly.
"Your three questions do not violate the essence of the ga, so they can be answered. However, the ga tir will not pause during my explanation; it will continue to run normally. Please mind the remaining ti.
"First, the host does not know the answers. Because I am acquainted with Mr. Mistletoe, he might observe my subconscious reactions to judge whether his guesses are correct. Therefore, the ga is only fair if I do not know the answers.
"The second and third questions can be answered together. The criteria for judging the correct answer is based on the object envisioned when the card was recorded. As long as the answer points precisely to that object, it counts as correct regardless of what it is called—for instance, cherries versus sweet cherries, pineapples versus ananas, or simply different regional nas for tomatoes. They all point to the exact sa thing.
"As for whether an inquiry is correct or incorrect, that is determined by the subjective perception of the person who wrote the answer.
"For example, if soone genuinely believes that peaches can only be firm and has never seen a soft one, when asked 'is it soft and juicy?', the answer will be judged as 'no.' On the other hand, if I were participating in this ga and chose 'grapes' as my answer, and you asked 'does a kilogram of it cost more than twenty yuan?', it would show as correct. Yet, to people in most regions, this is obviously false.
"Take tomatoes, for instance; so consider them vegetables, while others consider them fruits. So might even think they are neither, or feel uncertain. All of these are possible.
"If a situation arises where even the question-setter doesn't know if the answer to a query is correct or not, the ga cannot proceed. Keep in mind, one only dies after three consecutive wrong answers, whereas the question-setter dies the mont their secret is guessed—so the question-setter is at a greater disadvantage. The ga must cater more to them.
"Is there anything else you do not understand about my explanation?" Twenty Faces provided a clear and detailed overview.
"Thank you."
Ming Po nodded slightly, signaling his understanding. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Evidently, both the host and Gao Song believed his primary focus was the latter two questions—which was a good thing. At least his true information and intentions remained successfully concealed.
However...
"If it's based on subjective perception, then I'll have to rely on you, Xiao Fan," Ming Po said, looking at Gao Fan with encouragent. "After all, I am not familiar with your eldest uncle."
"Leave it to ."
Gao Fan's gaze turned resolute. "It's not a living thing, not a building or a natural landscape, not fictional, unrelated to the Ga of Deception, man-made, cannot be bought from others, encountered after turning eighteen, and is a toy he once held—and it must be sothing I know about.
"There aren't many things that fit all of those conditions. Just a few. There's no need to keep asking questions."
"Oh? Is that so!" Gao Song's voice carried a slight, joyful tremor—not of fear, but of mockery. "Then why don't you try guessing!"
"Go ahead and guess, Xiao Fan," Ming Po nodded. "We do need to conserve our inquiry count."
Currently, there were eight inquiry opportunities left. A quick calculation showed that if Gao Song consud one question every round, while Ming Po and Gao Fan made two guesses before asking a question to reset the counter, they would have at least five rounds before exhausting their inquiries.
But if they kept asking questions, they would run out of inquiries in at most three rounds, entering a grueling endga.
With the forr thod, they could make a total of over eight guesses before running out of questions; with the latter, they would only get four guessing opportunities in total—a twofold difference.
"Is it a [motorcycle]?"
Gao Fan looked at Gao Song, making his first guess of the ga.
That was Gao Song's most treasured possession.
A coming-of-age gift that ca a full ten years late—a Harley motorcycle given to Gao Song by his father, who was also Gao Fan's grandfather.
Back then, in the early nineties, that sort of thing was incredibly trendy.
Although price-wise, it was much cheaper than a truly expensive sports car—and it was entirely sothing that money could buy—it was the first, and quite possibly the last, gift Gao Song ever received from his father. Right up until Gao Fan's death, that bike had been ticulously maintained. It was reasonable to think Gao Song instinctively viewed it as sothing money couldn't buy.
If Gao Song inherently considered sothing most precious, it was highly likely to be this bike.
Yet, the answer was negative.
After Gao Fan made his guess, nothing happened.
It was Ming Po's turn to speak. Gao Fan reminded him from the side, "The switchblade I gave you—that was also a gift from Gao Song to my father."
It had once been proof of their friendship. Gao Fan rembered clearly that when he was young, the relationship between Gao Song and his father wasn't bad. Back then, Gao Song treated him very well. That knife had been gifted into the hands of his father, Gao Feng, during that period.
And that knife, after a massive detour, had now returned into Gao Song's body from a different direction—earlier, Ming Po had used this very switchblade to pierce Gao Song's heart, forcing him to start this ga.
This was indeed a highly probable answer Gao Song could have thought of.
"Is it the [switchblade]?"
Ming Po nodded, fully trusting Gao Fan's words, and made his guess directly.
Still, nothing happened on the field.
Gao Fan's expression grew slightly grim.
Unexpectedly, Gao Song did not continue questioning either. Instead, he made a direct guess as well.
"Is it [Ghost Call]?" Gao Song inquired.
The answer remained negative.
Evidently, as the ga entered its second half, the pacing suddenly beca tightly compressed.
Now that everyone's answers had been narrowed down to a specific range, no one wanted to waste words on useless talk that might expose information.
"Is it the [company]?"
When it was Gao Fan's turn, he chose to keep guessing.
The term [company] did, in a certain sense, match Gao Song's criteria.
Although the "toy" condition didn't seem to fit, if the standard was subjective perception—perhaps he truly viewed the Gao Group's company as his toy.
But unfortunately...
The answer was still incorrect.
"How could that be..." Gao Fan muttered under his breath. "Not this one either..."
His fingers began to tremble uncontrollably.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Fear and anxiety filled him with a tension so deep that he could clearly hear his own heartbeat.
His companion—his captain, Ming Po—had co here specifically to help him.
And now, Ming Po had been driven into a corner because of him.
Ming Po's answer could be guessed at any mont. Yet the three answers Gao Fan believed to be most probable had all proven false.
He was the one who was supposed to be targeted, but it was his actions that had left Ming Po exposed...
Regret made Gao Fan's fingers twitch incessantly as he began to gasp for air. A strange dizziness swirled in his head, and even the roots of his teeth began to go numb.
Wait...
Right at that mont, Gao Fan vaguely realized it—sothing felt off.
But his thoughts felt as though they were shrouded in a layer of gray mist, preventing him from grasping that most critical detail!
Damn it, what on earth is it... what did I overlook...
The more he thought about it, the more infuriated Gao Fan beca.
Smack!
Finally, Gao Fan's sudden action instantly drew the gaze of the other three.
Without holding back in the slightest, Gao Fan had slapped himself hard across the face!
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