What none of them expected was that the boss of the third stage wasn’t a highly aggressive creature, but a giant turtle.
The turtle’s shell was estimated to be over three meters in diameter.
This giant turtle was extremely crafty. When players attacked it, it would shrink into its shell and let the small monsters swarm forward. When the players stopped attacking it and turned to fight the small monsters, the turtle would sneakily continue crawling forward.
Although it moved slowly and the ice patches the players created were small, if it managed to crawl on regular ground, things would get tricky.
If the turtle really started running, the players might not be able to catch up.
Thinking of this, the players felt even more pressure.
The turtle’s long, thin health bar barely budged, hardly decreasing at all.
Yang Siyuan wiped the sweat from his forehead and said with difficulty, “How are we supposed to beat this turtle? I’m exhausted from hitting it, and its health hasn’t dropped at all.”
Indeed, Jian Shi noticed the same thing.
The turtle’s shell was a defensive fortress—attacks did nothing to its health bar. Only hits to its limbs would reduce its HP.
But this guy was quick to hide. When it wasn’t biting, it was fine, but if it got a chance, it would bite and refuse to let go.
A tough opponent.
Jian Shi’s gaze was dark. He’d always been on the front lines, so he hadn’t observed things as carefully as An Suisui, nor had time to think about them.
Now, stopping to strategize, he realized he wasn’t familiar with the environment, the players’ abilities, or the equipment at hand, making it hard to come up with a good plan.
An Suisui rushed over to join the fight against the stubborn turtle.
“If you’re dealing with a turtle, why not try the flamethrower?” An Suisui suggested.
But Jian Shi wasn’t convinced.
He thought the flamethrower wasn’t powerful enough—one shot barely hurt the boss. The cooldown was a full five minutes, and by the time the next shot was ready, who knew how far the turtle would have crawled.
“If fire works, you can upgrade the flamethrower,” An Suisui reminded him.
Jian Shi had killed so many monsters, he must have plenty of coins. Since you couldn’t take them to the next round, there was no point in saving them.
“You can upgrade it?” Jian Shi was surprised.
This game was really tricky. Aside from the most basic introductions and rules, there were tons of hidden mechanics that players had to discover on their own.
Really a pain.
An Suisui had already figured out the upgrade system and explained it to Jian Shi in detail.
He was one of her few reliable teammates—she couldn’t let him fall.
Following An Suisui’s advice, Jian Shi not only upgraded the flamethrower, but also several other key pieces of his equipment.
When the blazing fire scorched the turtle, its slow, steady movements finally changed.
It frantically stretched out its limbs, trying to escape.
But the ice was too slippery. In its panic, the turtle kept falling, moving even slower.
Jian Shi used the flamethrower carefully, avoiding the ice patches, and with An Suisui occasionally firing to keep the ice from melting, the surface only got slicker.
Seeing the flamethrower working, two other players who’d been hiding their weapons finally pulled out their own flamethrowers. The three of them took turns attacking, barely leaving any gaps.
Once injured, the turtle became enraged, attacking any player who got close.
If players weren’t careful, they’d get scratched by its sharp claws.
But as long as you didn’t get caught in its mouth, you’d be fine.
An Suisui kept a close eye on everyone’s safety, helping whoever was in danger and trying to keep everyone alive.
There were only so many players—losing even one meant losing a valuable ally.
In the end, the giant turtle couldn’t withstand the high temperatures. Its shell cracked from the heat, and it finally died at the players’ hands.
After the game ended, An Suisui once again grabbed the majority of the equipment.
But this time, the players weren’t as anxious as before.
They realized An Suisui was someone who cared about the bigger picture and would sacrifice some personal gain for the sake of the team.
Equipment in her hands would always be distributed most reasonably.
After collecting the gear, An Suisui didn’t pay attention to the others for now.
She brought Jian Shi to the ice fortress they’d built to protect the carrot. Jian Shi took a look and thought it was pretty good—much better than before.
“Not bad. If it doesn’t work, you can always move it. After all, the little bunny will always protect her carrot.”
Jian Shi even had time to joke. An Suisui puffed out her cheeks, wanting to retort that she wasn’t a little bunny, but she had more important things to do.
“Let me see your infrastructure card.”
Jian Shi handed it over without hesitation, asking curiously, “Did you figure out how to use it?”
An Suisui only had a guess, but she’d explain after confirming.
Following the instructions on the card, An Suisui activated it.
From Jian Shi’s perspective, the card disappeared from An Suisui’s hand, and a large mound of soft yellow clay appeared on the ground in front of the ice slope.
Invisible hands kneaded the clay, eventually forming a thick wall.
An Suisui stopped, now holding a small model in her hand—identical to the wall on the ground. That was how the infrastructure card worked.
“So that’s how it works. Infrastructure card, tower defense game—makes sense,” Jian Shi muttered.
An Suisui rummaged through the equipment pile and found another infrastructure card.
But one card could only make a wall two meters thick and five meters long. Anything thinner wouldn’t be strong enough.
To turn the whole slope into a fortress, they’d need at least one more infrastructure card.
Where could they get another one?
An Suisui looked at the other players.
She glanced at her equipment and asked, “Does anyone else have a card like this? It’s only useful for building defenses in this round—the card says so.”
She held up the infrastructure card so everyone could see the writing.
At the same time, she watched everyone’s expressions.
It wasn’t wrong to protect your own interests, but being too selfish was a problem.
She thought to herself, I’ve made it this clear—if anyone is still hiding an infrastructure card, I’ll have to deal with them.
Hogging public resources without contributing is a recipe for disaster.
Players were naturally suspicious, maybe because of the betrayals in the first round, so trust was low.
But most people were willing to believe An Suisui.
She had the most equipment—there was no reason for her to scam them over something so situational.
The player who’d picked up an infrastructure card quietly turned away, checked the card, and sure enough, saw the “for this round only” note.
It really wasn’t much use—better to hand it over to An Suisui and earn some goodwill.
Here is a faithful English translation of your excerpt:
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