Chapter 444
The Treasure Pavilion's Hell Mode, activated for the first time in its ten-year history, proved unsurvivable. The higher the level, the greater the difficulty. Jack watched the two contestants on the monitor and sighed, wishing them luck.
Tiffany had just navigated the maze and stood at the sixth floor's entrance. Kenneth frowned, noting, "There's only a single-plank bridge." The floor offered no other passage; only a narrow plank spanned a ten-foot gap. On either side lay peril: a lake to the left, a row of nails to the right.
"Damn it! A maze, and now this?" Kenneth thought, his handsome face flushed with anger. "They're deliberately increasing the difficulty! This is outrageous! I have to complain! If they can't provide the treasures, they shouldn't have created this Pavilion! Four levels left, and they're sabotaging us!" He stormed off, but Tiffany remained.
He turned to see her already ascending the plank. Blind, she felt her way cautiously. Kenneth's expression changed drastically. He rushed to her, pulling her down. "You're courting death!" he exclaimed, terrified.
Tiffany nodded, smiling. "Yes." She acknowledged the danger but couldn't retreat. Kenneth, seeing her calm defiance, sighed helplessly. "I can't persuade you, can I?"
"I think so," she replied, her sightless eyes bright with determination.
Kenneth, exasperated but resolute, laughed, then pulled her aside and stepped onto the plank himself. "I'll do it for you!" he thought.
Tiffany gasped, "Don't!" She reached for him, but only grazed his shirt as he moved with startling speed. The plank swayed precariously. Its instability, far greater than appearances suggested, instilled immediate fear. A fall meant certain injury or death; escape was impossible.
Tiffany urged him, "Come down! Come down quickly!" She didn't want to endanger him.
Kenneth snapped, "Don't move. Wait there!" One person clearing the level opened the path for the other—a Treasure Pavilion rule. Tiffany, stunned, obeyed.
Knowing the importance of focus and balance on such a bridge, she remained silent and still, listening to his progress. Kenneth's palms sweated as he began his traverse. It was a moment of impulsive bravery, fueled by his desire to protect Tiffany. The plank moved under his weight. The slightest imbalance could send him tumbling.
He moved carefully, but the plank lurched, and he fell—into the lake. The water, far from harmless, proved corrosive and hot, a chemical burn waiting to happen. He grabbed the wood, narrowly avoiding a fatal plunge.
Tiffany, her vision blurred, anxiously asked, "What's wrong? How are you?"
"I'm fine…" he managed, his face reddening, muscles straining. Catching sight of her worried expression, he forced a smile. Summoning every ounce of strength, he inched forward, his awkward progress a sight he'd rather not remember.
Despite the plank's continued swaying, he somehow managed to reach the end. A mechanism retracted the bridge, revealing a normal path. He felt a surge of relief, a sense of purpose.
"Come on over. There's a path ahead," he said.
Tiffany, shocked, asked, "You passed?"
Examining his leg, she saw burn wounds, though no bleeding. The lake water's corrosive nature had inflicted its damage. He minimized his injuries.
They climbed the stairs to the seventh level, yet another challenge awaiting them.