This is a bizarre rule, isn't it? It's supposed to grant me many children and good fortune

The remaining six suits of armor that had not yet been moved emitted a very faint "click" sound almost simultaneously.

It wasn't the click of the visor opening, but rather the sound of the visor plates meshing together with subtle adjustments.

It was as if six iron shells, silent for a hundred years, simultaneously shivered.

Lin Feng noticed this, and he raised his right hand, which was wearing the Silent Grip, and touched the faces of the remaining six armored figures one by one.

"If you don't want to get into trouble, you'd better behave yourselves."

The subsequent moving went incredibly smoothly.

The second body, Heros.

Auguste pronounced the name, bowed, and said, "I'm sorry to bother you today"—the armor remained motionless.

Marcus and the other three lifted it up; the weight and temperature were normal, and there were no abnormalities.

The third one, Kel Green, was equally well-behaved.

The fourth body, Dolgo.

During the transport, the elbow armor grazed the edge of a pillar in the hall with a muffled clang. Everyone shrank back, but the armor did not react.

The fifth one, Melthorne.

The sixth body, Sloan.

The seventh one, Ovares.

All seven suits of armor were moved without any further mishaps.

After the seven suits of armor were firmly placed on the new pedestals, their arrangement became clear at a glance.

Previously, they were lined up in a row on the old pedestal, like seven students standing against the wall as punishment.

Things are different now.

The seven new pedestals are not arranged in parallel, but rather along an arc.

With its ends tapering backward and its middle protruding forward, the shape of the seven armored figures standing on it resembles a fully drawn bow.

"Let's go." Lin Feng withdrew his gaze.

Just then, the floor of the entire west wing hall trembled slightly.

Beneath the ground, in the deepest, farthest darkness, a faint, almost imperceptible laugh drifted out.

The laughter lasted for about five seconds, then receded into the ground like the receding tide.

The laughter was followed by a sudden drop in temperature.

Park Tae-rang subconsciously rubbed his arms and found that all the hairs on his arms had stood up.

"Hoo—" Kana Kazuko exhaled, and white mist rose from her mouth, lingering in the air for two seconds before dissipating.

The breaths of everyone in the hall began to produce white mist.

"Retreat," Lin Feng whispered.

"Before I leave, I'll repeat the fifth rule one more time."

Everyone held their breath.

"After all seven sets of armor have been moved, do not look back when leaving the hall."

"It's normal to hear footsteps following you."

"Keep walking, don't run, don't stop, until you're out of the West Wing."

The team has started.

Ten steps.

Fifteen steps.

The only sound was the rapid patter of shoes against the stone slabs.

Step Twentieth —

coming.

The heavy, dragging sound of iron boots grinding the ground, each step accompanied by the dull thud of metal striking stone bricks.

At first, the sound was still dozens of steps away, but in an instant, the footsteps suddenly quickened, changing from slow and dragging to a rapid and intense chase.

In just a few seconds, the eerie footsteps were right behind everyone, as if an invisible shadow was sticking to them half a step away, never leaving their side.

A chilling, damp, decaying, and deathly cold air slowly brushed across the back of everyone's necks, as if an invisible, icy mouth was hovering behind their necks, breathing slowly.

Many people in the group began to tremble uncontrollably, their jaws chattering.

"Everyone, stay calm! Don't run, don't stop, and don't look back!" Lin Feng warned in a deep voice.

However, not everyone can remain calm in the face of extreme fear.

At the back of the line, Farhad, the chosen one from Mengjia, completely broke down psychologically.

When he was seven years old, while playing in a tea plantation in the Chittagong hills, a bamboo viper fell from a branch overhead and wrapped itself around the back of his neck.

This scene became ingrained in his bones from that moment on.

For the next twenty-four years, he had a deep-seated stress response to the sensation of "something cold touching the back of his neck".

As that chill seeped in from the back of his collar, creeping up his neck and reaching his ears—

In Farhad's mind, the bamboo viper and the thing chasing after him overlapped into one.

The instinctive fear of survival completely overwhelmed reason.

The rules were forgotten, Lin Feng's instructions were forgotten, and only one thought remained in his mind—

run.

Farhad roared and broke free from the group, ignoring everyone's shouts and sprinting forward.

Everyone felt a sudden gust of cold wind behind them, and thick, inky black mist surged wildly from the cracks in the ground, instantly entangling the fleeing Farhad.

The black mist, like living tentacles, rapidly coiled and tightened, binding his limbs and torso.

Immediately afterwards, the black mist tightened abruptly, and Farhad's feet left the ground, his body flying uncontrollably toward the arc of darkness formed by the seven armored figures.

No one dared to look back or stop throughout the entire journey.

Everyone gritted their teeth and continued forward with their nerves on edge.

Finally, everyone stepped out of the iron and wooden doors of the west wing hall.

Standing in the brightly lit corridor outside the hall, everyone's tense backs suddenly relaxed. Some people bent over and gasped for breath, while others slid down against the wall.

Of the thirty people who set out to carry out the armor mission, only twenty-seven remain.

In just one afternoon, three vibrant lives were utterly extinguished in the west wing hall.

Before long, Leng Meng, the butler dressed in black with a cool and aloof demeanor, walked slowly over.

Her gaze calmly swept over the group of pale-faced, terrified Chosen Ones, finally settling on the composed Lin Feng.

A subtle hint of appreciation and approval flickered in those cool, indifferent eyes.

Throughout today's entire armor mission, from deciphering the bizarre rules, avoiding deadly traps, and rationally allocating manpower, to deterring the abnormal armor and stabilizing everyone's mentality, Lin Feng led and controlled the entire process.

In particular, his actions of publicly intimidating the strange armor and forcibly cutting off the amplification of the spell demonstrated his calmness, decisiveness, and extraordinary courage, far surpassing all other chosen ones.

Leng Meng didn't say anything more and turned to enter the west wing hall.

Three minutes later, she pushed open the door and came out, her expression calm:

"Armor returned to its proper place, mission complete."

"Thank you all for your hard work. Dinner will be served in the restaurant on the first floor at 6:30."

........................

6:30, first-floor restaurant.

The dishes were served quickly—rye sour soup, rye bread, boiled beef, hard cheese, and light beer.

It doesn't taste good, but at least there aren't any disgusting rules.

For someone who has just emerged alive from the West Wing, being able to sit down and eat a meal in peace without any strings attached is already a luxury.

There was hardly anyone talking in the restaurant.

The clinking of knives and forks against plates, the crunch of biting into rye bread, the slurping of soup—that's all.

No one mentioned the three people who couldn't get through it.

At 6:40, footsteps were heard coming from the direction of the main table in the restaurant.

Victor is back.