Looking at the mess of stone pieces still scattered across the board, I clenched my jaw and steeled myself.

  “Fine! You want to play? I’ll play.”

  I went for the nearest knight. It at least looked the part—bent legs, horse head, a little carved saddle on its back.

  The problem was: it didn’t move like a knight.

  It didn’t move like anything.

  It only moved if I pushed it.

  I grabbed half a broken stone pole from the ground, wedged it under the knight’s base like a lever, and grunted, “Hngh—!”

  The statue seemed to sit on hidden rails, because once I forced it loose, it scraped slowly along the grid—creak, creak—moving toward the second knight.

  The moment their heads touched—clack.

  …Nothing happened.

  “Still missing one?” I muttered, scanning around. Sure enough, the third knight was sulking in the far corner. Legs shaking, I dragged my makeshift crowbar over and pried at it again.

  Halfway through, my foot pressed down on a tiny gear slot.

  A sharp shoom cut through the darkness as a cold arrow shot from a crack in the wall, grazing a few strands of my hair. I dove to the ground in a sloppy somersault, panting, nearly dropping my firestarter.

  “Ancestors bless me, ancestors bless me…” I muttered, scrambling up and pushing again.

  When I finally nudged the third knight into position—

  Clack.

  The three horse heads came together in a weird little stone triangle.

  “This time something better happen—”

  Before I could finish, the three knights shuddered, cracks raced across their surfaces, and—poof—they exploded into fine dust.

  Somewhere beneath the board came a soft tick, like an abacus bead being flicked.

  I stared for two long seconds before muttering through my teeth, “…So they really do vanish when you match three.”

  【Ding—Puzzle module activated: “Casual Entertainment: Tile-matching Mode.”】

  The system sounded perfectly serious.

  【Objective: eliminate all identical statues. Incorrect merging or stepping on wrong squares will trigger offensive countermeasures.】

  “Incorrect merging? Are you kidding me…” I swore and rolled up my sleeves.

  Next were the advisors. Three of them stood apart in a triangle.

  I went for the upper-left one first. The instant I touched it, its stone shoulder lifted with a crack, and a blade shot from its sleeve—shing—aimed straight at my throat.

  I jerked backward; the blade skimmed my Adam’s apple, leaving only a streak of cold air. My soul almost flew out of my body.

  “You call this casual?!” I shouted at the system on the verge of a breakdown.

  【Difficulty: Moderate.】

  The system calmly patched in advice.

  【Warning: pulling speed must be kept slow.】

  Grinding my teeth, I repositioned myself, braced my crowbar under its elbow, and “guided” it inch by inch to the center line.

  Then I went for the second advisor.

  Halfway there, I stepped on another wrong square—

  Thwip-thwip-thwip!

  Three darts shot toward me.

  I immediately curled into a ball and rolled across the ground twice like a trapped animal. A few strands of hair got sliced off. I was a mess.

  After a miserable eternity, I herded all three advisors together and—poof—they burst into dust as well.

  By now I was panting, covered in grime, and looked like I’d crawled out of a coal pit.

  The pawns were even worse—too many, too scattered.

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  I changed tactics and used the crowbar like a wheelbarrow handle, hooking each base and rolling them along the grid. I even created my own rhythm under my breath:

  “Scrape—scrape—no projectiles, scrape—scrape—don’t chop my foot…”

  Naturally, I still messed up.

  I tried grouping two cannons and one rook, thinking, “Long poles, close enough, right?”

  Wrong. The instant they touched—

  BOOM.

  A mechanism roared behind the walls, and twin bursts of flame shot from hidden vents, nearly scorching off my eyebrows.

  “Sorry! Sorry! My mistake!” I yelped, frantically pushing the rook back and fetching the third cannon instead.

  Three cannons touched, burst, and vanished without complaint.

  As I progressed, the board beneath my feet began to reveal thin glowing gold lines, like someone was lighting runes beneath the stone. Sweat poured down my back. My arms shook from exhaustion; my fingertips were scraped raw; even the flame of my firestarter was beginning to shrink.

  Only three rooks and three elephants remained.

  I forced the rooks together first—bang, gone.

  Then approached the elephants.

  One of them was ridiculously heavy. My lever barely budged it.

  In desperation, I tried to imitate Lian.

  Well, I had no inner strength to imitate, so I just mimicked the pose and muttered mental encouragement:

  “You have inner strength. You have inner strength…”

  Nothing. Not even symbolic movement.

  Then inspiration struck—I still had a water pouch tied at my waist.

  Inside was a bit of water mixed with torch oil from earlier tests. I poured some into the stone groove as makeshift lubricant.

  The elephant finally slid—eeeek—just enough to wiggle free.

  I strained like an ox moving house—“Hngh—!”—and dragged it into place.

  Three elephants touched.

  Poof. Gone.

  The entire board fell silent.

  The golden lines beneath the ground brightened all at once, and a long, rumbling thunder rolled from deep inside the structure.

  The central stone slab of the board began to rise and fold away, revealing a narrow passage ahead.

  All around me, the remaining statues dissolved into swirling gray dust—a thousand-year-late sandstorm falling over my head.

  I leaned back, gasping, collapsed onto the floor, half laughing and half crying.

  “System…” I wheezed, “who designed this cursed mechanism?”

  【Tomb owner: likely obsessed with chess.

  Mechanism engineer: likely obsessed with gaming.

  Their collaboration resulted in hybrid innovation.】

  “Great. A joint effort to bully me, is that it?”

  [Congratulations, Host, for completing Mechanism: Casual Puzzle—Match-Three; Evaluation: clumsy hands, tough life.]

  “Get lost.”

  I shielded the nearly guttering fire-fold in my palm, staggered to my feet, and looked toward the newly opened narrow passage. A gust of cold wind poured out from within, sharp and wet, like a blade soaked in icy water.

  I swallowed hard, forcing myself to muster some courage. “Come on, Nangong Gong. You cleared ‘Match-Three.’ What could possibly be more ridiculous than that?”

  The flame trembled. I stepped into the passage. Behind me, the chessboard snapped shut, severing all retreat.

  In the darkness, I heard my heartbeat—thump, thump, thump—echoing faintly with the distant rumble of some hidden mechanism deep underground.

  I squeezed through the narrow gap with extreme caution. The stone walls scraped and groaned on both sides, as though ready to collapse at any moment. The wavering firelight threw long, jittering shadows across the walls.

  “System,” I whispered, “how do I catch up with Lian and the others? Where exactly are they?”

  [Rest assured, Host. They will not run around.]

  A spark of hope lit in my chest. “Then hurry up and show me the way!”

  [Unless the Host makes the next move, subsequent plotlines cannot be triggered.]

  “…”

  So basically, I had to walk straight into death for the ‘plot’ to proceed?

  I clenched my teeth, thought for a moment—and suddenly had a stroke of inspiration. Heh. What if I simply refuse to move? You want me to trigger the plot? I won’t. I’ll ruin your script and see what other tricks you have left!

  Feeling quite pleased with myself, I plopped down right there in the stone passage, slapped the dust off my hands, and comfortably leaned against the wall. “Hmph. Why walk? What if there’s more skeletons or statues or another stupid matching puzzle ahead? I’m not moving. Let’s see if your precious plot grows legs and comes to me.”

  I hugged my knees, curling up like a turtle tucked inside a well.

  The fire flickered in the cramped corridor. It was so quiet I could hear my own breathing. Now and then a drip of water fell from above, hitting the ground with a soft plip.

  While staring at the fire, I laughed inwardly:

  —Ha! This is called ‘motionless strategy.’ Seeing through the pattern! A protagonist defies fate by breaking the script!

  Just when I was basking in triumph, the system lazily chimed in:

  [Host, remaining in place also counts as an “action.”]

  “…Hah?”

  Before the word even fully left my mouth, a deep, resonant thoom… thoom… thoom rolled out from the depths of the stone passage, as if some colossal creature were slowly approaching in the dark.

  My spine snapped rigid. The smile froze on my face.