Game of Deception Chapter 23: The Door of Death

Ming Po's undisguised malice seed to startle the other party. The voice bordered on absolute fury.

"Gu Tao! You are always like this... you only care about your own ideas and completely disregard whether others live or die! Whenever things don't go your way, you imdiately resort to violence!

"Since that's the case, let see if you'll regret your choices when your own savagery drives you to a dead end!"

As the voice faded, rows of red lights illuminated the path ahead.

Each bulb burned with the sa crimson hue as the pool of water from before, casting a bloody glow over the surrounding space.

Right in front of Ming Po, four doors descended, blocking whatever lay behind them.

They were entirely unremarkable doors, each painted with a number from one to four. Aside from that, there were no discernible differences between them.

Beside him on the ground sat a glass bottle of white liquor with its label torn off, accompanied by three small shot glasses.

The bottle was unsealed, allowing the rich, pungent aroma of alcohol to perate the air.

Ming Po knew nothing about alcohol, nor did he recognize the brand. However, judging by the sll, he guessed the proof was anything but low.

"There are four doors before you, and behind each one lies a path. However, three of these are dead ends."

"Oh?"

Ming Po raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "So you want to gamble on luck? Is that it?"

"How could that be!"

The hoarse, synthetic voice imdiately fired back, seemingly angered by the assumption.

But it quickly let out a cold sneer, treating the remark as nothing more than Gu Tao's dying struggles. "Stalling for ti is useless, Gu Tao. You have to make a choice eventually, or else you'll simply starve to death in here.

"Although three of the paths are dead ends, their lengths differ. The longest path is three tis the length of the shortest. The middle path falls between the two, situated right in the middle third of that range. You will need to sprint at full speed for about three minutes to reach its end. As for the only path of survival, its length is the exact average of two of the paths hidden behind the remaining three doors.

"Five minutes after you open a door, it will permanently lock behind you."

"Sounds quite friendly," Ming Po offered his critique. "The mortality rate just dropped from three-quarters to a quarter.

"So, what is the bottle of liquor for?" he cooperatively inquired about the setup.

The other party ignored the question and simply commanded, "Choose a door first."

"Number one, then," Ming Po answered without a shred of hesitation.

"Excellent."

The hoarse voice let out an eerie chuckle, and a beam of light struck the first door. The other three doors imdiately dimd.

"Now," the voice announced, "you just need to drink a cup of liquor, and I will give you a piece of intelligence regarding this door."

"I see what you're trying to do."

Ming Po smiled, showing no signs of anxiety.

He leisurely crossed his legs, picked up the bottle, and poured himself a cup.

Raising the glass, he offered a distant toast to the ceiling.

"Here, a toast to you," Ming Po chuckled before tilting his head back and draining the cup in one gulp.

The extrely fiery liquid burned down his throat, causing him to cough violently.

But as that rush of heat settled into his stomach, it felt like a fire had ignited within, creating the illusion of warmth spreading throughout his body. Even his right arm, pierced by countless steel needles, seed to throb a little less.

While Ming Po hadn't soaked in the freezing water for hours as the Host had hoped, the brief ti spent waiting for him to wake up was enough to leave him soaked in ice water, freezing, and stiff.

If Ming Po had truly endured until the bitter end in that pool, he would have lost nine lives out of ten, even if he didn't die outright.

Right now, this liquor that supposedly "ward a person up" acted like life-saving dicine for him.

Yet Ming Po knew it was nothing more than a physical illusion; in reality, it would only hasten his death.

—But what if it had been the alternative scenario?

Suppose he had actually severed his own thumb. In that environnt, he would have had no ans to bandage it. Even if he barely managed to stop the bleeding, drinking alcohol now would dilate his blood vessels and ruin his blood's ability to clot.

Similarly, the alcohol would numb his nerves, making the wound feel less painful.

Furthermore, according to the rules, he needed to sprint at top speed to determine if he had chosen the correct door. Pairing that with an accelerated heart rate would almost certainly result in massive blood loss.

The designer of this ga really was trying to torture "Gu Tao" to death.

Ming Po sighed inwardly.

It appeared as though every choice was "his own," yet Gu Tao never truly had any options. He could only choose the lesser evil between "terrible" and "far worse," and the subsequent traps were designed as chain reactions specifically targeting those choices. If he couldn't step back and view the entire ga from a higher perspective, he would only end up regretting choosing incorrectly, dragging himself into even more dire straits in the later stages of the ga.

But the truth was, no matter what he chose, he would end up just as dood.

Because this was a trap designed to block him at both ends.

The designer's malice was blindingly obvious.

Unless soone took an unconventional approach like Ming Po and exploited bugs the designer never anticipated, they would only sink deeper into the abyss.

"Excellent."

Seeing Ming Po down the first cup, the voice was clearly satisfied.

Although Ming Po could only hear his voice and not see his face, he was almost certain the man was nodding in smug satisfaction right now.

"The path behind the door you selected is longer than the path behind the second door, but shorter than the path behind the third door," the voice stated.

"That's it?" Ming Po shook his head. "Not enough."

"Simple." The voice offered another proposal. "Drink two more cups of liquor, and I will give you a clearer hint."

"Alright." Ming Po nodded and poured himself another glass.

"I have to say," he critiqued while pouring the liquor, "your design here is still flawed.

"I just escaped from that 'perilous situation.' You shouldn't be piling on the pressure right now; you should be letting relax. That's the only way I'd overlook the traps you've laid out.

"You should have placed a sofa here and provided so bar snacks—drinking this straight is genuinely unpleasant. What brand even is this? It tastes awful. Did it have to be white liquor?"

The other party did not respond to Ming Po, simply staring at him in eerie silence.

He watched as Ming Po endlessly pointed out the flaws in his design while downing the next two cups of liquor.

Having drunk three cups on an empty stomach, Ming Po felt a dull ache radiating from his stomach.

Imdiately following that ca an intense sensation of swelling deep within his brain. It felt as though a wad of cotton were continuously expanding inside his skull, smoothing out and dulling his thoughts.

The man's mood was clearly foul, skipping the idle chatter entirely to directly provide the hint: "The combined length of the path behind your chosen door and the path behind the fourth door is still shorter than the path behind the third door."

"...I see."

Ming Po's voice already carried a noticeable trace of intoxication.

Yet, his eyes remained perfectly clear.

He already knew the answer.