From the very start, these voices’ words were riddled with inconsistencies. Yet the quest designer banked on 99% of players being blinded by easily attainable riches—and succeeded. Even Yingning, seasoned gamer though she was, fell for it.

But retain just a shred of rationality, give it a slight thought, and a glaring flaw emerges.

The time discrepancy!

He—or they—claimed the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox sealed them here a century ago. Yet the Five Foxes Turmoil occurred *before* the Demon Gate opened. If sealed then, how could they know post-opening events so vividly? They kept repeating: “The Demon Gate swung wide—chaos and devastation everywhere!”

Their intent? Stoke Adventurers’ curiosity and duty. Frame “pulling the Stone Sword” as a glorious quest. Make players feel: *Draw this sword, save a legendary being, rescue the entire Yader Continent.* A rush of purpose. A surge of pride.

Clever. Too clever. It backfired.

Unless they could spy the future from within the seal… he was lying.

So I tested it. Asked pointed questions.

And he *seriously* told us the Apocalyptic Four Horsemen included not just Baron Ravendale—but his brother, Raven No-Gift?!

Are you fucking kidding me?

Oh, *very* good. Excellent. You truly made me laugh.

That rushed, absurd reply? Proof he thought we’d already swallowed the bait—greedily chasing rewards, squeezing every drop of value. He never imagined *this* time, even the most loot-hungry Adventurer (the type who treats hidden quests like spotting their long-lost dad) would stay rational amid such temptation!

So he slipped. Carelessly.

That frantic mistake shattered every lie. Fake story? Likely fake identities. Empty promises of rewards? Absolutely.

Yet the trap was brilliantly crafted. Never stated sword-pulling was single-choice. But subtly hinted the three figures, despite minor friction, shared a faction—*“Pull all three? No consequences.”*

Who wouldn’t regret pulling just one sword amid such rewards? Of course everyone dreams of pulling all three!

Then “reluctant” approval comes. But *that’s* the real goal. An intricately linked Great Pit—crafted to make greedy players leap in, convinced it’s their own choice.

Sure, pulling all three might yield *some* reward. But never max Divine Clan reputation, bottleneck-free level 180, or a full Divine Artifact set. Quest rating? Rock bottom. Future paths? Ruined.

What a cunning designer. Playing player psychology like a fiddle.

First: the explosive, near-fatal spectacle and blinding light—*“I hit the jackpot!”* seared into your mind.

Next: petty squabbles between voices—lowering guard. *“Just three Justice-aligned NPCs with clashing ideals.”*

Then: a half-true historical secret—fueling belief, mission, urgency. *Leap into the Great Pit!*

Finally: fake “choice.” They knew you’d never settle for one sword. All three *would* be pulled. The seal *would* break.

Trap after trap. Preying on lazy thinkers dazzled by elusive rewards—grueling past-life quests with hidden payouts, gacha packs with secret odds. Exploiting that itch for cheap wins, that dream of *one pull, jackpot glory*, escaping bad luck. That’s game psychology.

Give up. Praying won’t save the unlucky. Spending won’t rewrite fate. You’re just a true-born unlucky soul.

“Master.”

“Hm?” Yingning still seemed dazed. Such a grand promise dangled before her—even suspecting it was fake, a flicker of hope lingered. *What if it’s real? Shouldn’t we try? Feels like losing a billion coins…*

“Let’s go. We’re pulling the swords.”

“Eh?!”

Nine deaths and one life.

Nine deaths… but that *one life* remains.

The designer left a detectable flaw. This quest *isn’t* unsolvable.

Only after weaving through every maze-like trap… does the true treasure chest finally open.