The whole nation is trying to survive on the cable car; I'm choosing one of three options at ea

"Alright." Number Seven's voice rang out again, still in that unhurried, gentle tone, like someone coaxing a child. "Everyone's here. Let me explain the rules."

He took something out from under the stone table.

A gun. Not the kind of standard military pistol Su Mu had seen at the military base, but a model he had never seen before... The gun was long and slender, with a matte black metal surface, and a dark red gemstone inlaid in the grip, gleaming faintly under the light.

The barrel is longer than that of a regular pistol, and the front and rear sights are engraved with fine grooves. The entire gun exudes a cold, precise beauty, like a work of art.

Number Seven placed the gun on the table, then took out a second and a third. The three guns were lined up in a row.

"Three guns. Each loaded with one bullet. Six empty." Number Seven's fingers lightly brushed over the gun barrels, as if caressing something precious. "The rules are simple. You people... two over there, twenty-one over there, and me..." He pointed to himself, "are divided into three teams. Each team will take turns choosing one of these nine guns, aiming it at their temple, and pulling the trigger."

There was a moment of silence in the space. It wasn't that no one spoke, but rather that everyone's breath seemed to stop for a moment.

Number Seven seemed to enjoy the quiet. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped over his stomach, and his smile deepened.

"If it's an empty shell after pulling the trigger, you're safe. If it's a live bullet... then you're dead. No pain, and it's quick. After all, only those who have been in this world for less than a week can enter my secret realm."

Zhao Qiang's expression changed. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Zhao Gang's hand pressed down on his shoulder, pulling him back down.

"What benefits do the winners get?" Zhang Peng's voice came from behind the crowd, still in that calm and composed tone.

Number Seven glanced at him and nodded, as if to acknowledge that the question was well asked.

"The winner...can take one thing from me." He stretched out his hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread. A wisp of silvery-white light rose from his palm, condensing in the air into a palm-sized, ever-changing ball of light. The color of the ball of light changed from silvery-white to pale gold, from pale gold to deep purple, and finally settled on a dark blue, like the deep sea, that Su Mu had never seen before.

"The treasures I keep in my secret realm. They're random, but I can guarantee... at least they're rare items. White items are the starting point, purple ones aren't uncommon, and even..." He paused, the corners of his mouth widening, "...it's even possible to get something that your level hasn't even seen before."

The ball of light dissipated, and Number Seven withdrew his hand.

"Moreover, participation comes with a reward. You don't necessarily have to win. As long as you pull the trigger, regardless of the outcome, I will give you a participation reward. Of course, the prize for the winner is not in the same league as the participation reward."

He Lin frowned. She realized the trap in Number Seven's words... There was a reward for participation, but only the person who pulled the trigger could participate.

If there are 21 people, and only one person pulls the trigger, then only one person gets the participation prize. If everyone pulls the trigger, then everyone gets a prize. But who would be willing to pull the first shot?

Zhang Peng's face darkened.

He understood what number seven meant.

The person pulling the trigger is gambling with their life.

And these twenty-one people must decide for themselves who will gamble their lives.

Number Seven won't help them choose, nor will he give them much time. If no one steps forward for a long time, he'll probably "regretfully" announce the end of the game and kick them all out... or leave them all behind.

Zhang Peng took a deep breath, about to speak, when Number Seven's voice rang out again: "Oh right, I forgot to mention. The participants' identities are up to you. One person can pull the trigger multiple times, or multiple people can pull it once. I only recognize the number of times the trigger is pulled. Whoever pulls it gets the reward."

This statement was like a stone thrown into calm water.

Zhao Qiang's eyes lit up for a moment, but were quickly suppressed by a look from Zhao Gang.

He Lin's brows furrowed even more. Zhang Peng tapped lightly on the iron cage with his fingers. Twenty-one people, each of them could be a "participant." But no one wanted to be a "dead one." No one wanted to die for someone else, and no one wanted to see someone else die for them... but if no one fired the first shot, no one would get the reward.

Zhang Peng glanced at his team.

Seven people, each with the same expression on their face... tension, hesitation, and a subtle silence where no one wanted to speak first.

He glanced again at Zhao Gang and Zhao Qiang. The two brothers remained silent, but their positions spoke volumes. Zhao Gang's shield had shifted forward an inch, blocking Zhao Qiang's path. Their men stood behind them, three pairs of eyes fixed on Zhang Peng, awaiting his decision.

Over at He Lin's side, the five people were already whispering to each other. He Lin was standing at the front; her lips were moving, but her voice was too soft for Zhang Peng to hear what she was saying.

"Draw lots." Zhang Peng's voice wasn't loud, but it was deep. His gaze swept over everyone, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Fair. Whoever draws it gets to go."

No one objected. Zhao Qiang opened his mouth, but Zhao Gang stopped him. He Lin was silent for a moment, then nodded. Twenty-one people pulled out all sorts of things from their pockets... coins, crumpled pieces of paper, torn cigarette boxes... some wrote "go," some wrote "don't go," and some wrote nothing. Zhang Peng didn't participate in the draw; he stood outside the crowd, watching it all.

He Lin drew "Not going". Behind her, someone drew "Going". Zhao Gang drew "Not going". Zhao Qiang drew "Not going". Of the other three people in their team, one drew "Going" and two drew "Not going". In Zhang Peng's team, one person drew "Going".

three people.

Zhao Qiang's hands were trembling. He had always had bad luck, never winning a lottery since he was a child, but today he drew "not going". He looked at the crumpled piece of paper with "not going" written on it in his hand, and then looked at the person who drew "going"... A young man in Zhang Peng's line, in his early twenties, had a pale face, trembling lips, and white knuckles as he gripped the crumpled paper.