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

His gaze swept across their faces, his expression unchanged. The panic of the twenty-one people was irrelevant to him, Zhang Peng's scheming was irrelevant to him, and He Lin's scrutiny was irrelevant to him.

His attention was elsewhere...the guns on table number seven.

His glasses malfunctioned here, unable to scan the data from the guns. But what he could see with his naked eye was more than most people could see.

The three loaded guns were indistinguishable in appearance.

The gun's sheen, the grip texture, the position of the front sight, and the curve of the trigger are all exactly the same.

But he didn't care; it was a different concept for him than for others. His talent remained. He always managed to extract the best part from events like the unknown blind box—a mix of good and bad. Getting shot was bad, missing was good.

This talent will present him with a "good" outcome in every choice he makes. He won't get hurt, no matter which one he chooses.

Su Mu withdrew his gaze and glanced at Lin Yuwei.

Lin Yuwei was also looking at him. Their eyes met, and Lin Yuwei spoke first, her voice low, as if she were revealing some unspeakable secret: "One person, one gun?"

Su Mu remained silent. Lin Yuwei bit her lip and spoke again, this time with a hint of uncertainty in her voice: "You...can you fire the first shot? I've always had bad luck, I'm afraid I'll......"

"No," Su Mu interrupted her.

Lin Yuwei was stunned for a moment.

She looked at Su Mu, and for the first time, an emotion she wasn't familiar with appeared in his shrewd eyes... It wasn't disappointment, nor fear, but a kind of bewilderment that seemed to say, "What are you still worrying about at a time like this?"

In her mind, although Su Mu could be quite stubborn at times, he should at least have some sense of propriety when it came to life and death. However, Su Mu's next words turned her confusion into an emotion she was even less familiar with.

"Don't even think about taking a single shot," Su Mu said, his tone as calm as if he were discussing what to have for lunch. "Didn't you hear me? The more times you pull the trigger, the better the reward. If you use up all my chances, won't the level of the artifact I get be lower?"

Lin Yuwei was stunned.

She stared at Su Mu for several seconds, making sure he wasn't joking. Then she took a deep breath and said in a tone that seemed to say, "Are you out of your mind?", "You're still talking about rewards at a time like this? Are you out of your mind?"

Su Mu did not answer. He had already turned around and walked towards the table. His pace was neither fast nor slow, as casual as if he were taking a stroll.

He didn't even look at the nine guns. He walked to the table, picked up the one closest to him, weighed it in his hand, and then raised the muzzle to his temple.

Number Seven tilted his head and looked at him, a hint of something Su Mu couldn't decipher in his clean eyes... It wasn't admiration, nor anticipation, but more like a sense of relief, as if "I've finally waited for this." He nodded slightly, his smile deepening.

"You have courage," he said.

Meanwhile, Zhang Peng's team was still drawing lots.

The crumpled paper was passed from one hand to the other. Some people opened their palms to look at it and their faces turned pale; some people clutched the crumpled paper tightly and dared not look; some people looked at it and then let out a long breath, as if they had just returned from the brink of death.

Number Seven didn't urge him on, nor did he even look over there. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped over his stomach, his gaze fixed on Su Mu as if he were observing an interesting work of art.

A few minutes later, the results of the draw were finally in.

A young man emerged from the crowd. He was in his early twenties, his face as white as paper, his lips trembling, and his knuckles white as he gripped a crumpled piece of paper. He was one of Zhang Peng's men. Su Mu had noticed him earlier, standing slightly to the right behind Zhang Peng, his hand still clutching the undrawn pistol.

The young man walked to the table, but instead of taking out his gun, he glanced at Number Seven first.

"I need to have my gun checked." His voice was trembling, but he spoke each word clearly.

Number Seven smiled, extended his hand, palm up, and made a "please" gesture.

That smile wasn't mocking or indifferent, but a genuine, heartfelt warmth, like a teacher encouraging a timid student.

The young man picked up a gun, cocked it, and glanced at the chamber under the light. Empty. He put it down, picked up another, and repeated the same action. Empty.

He didn't examine the gun in Su Mu's hand. Su Mu stood at the other end of the table. The young man glanced at him, his lips moved, but he didn't speak. He wasn't qualified to examine someone else's gun.

Number Seven waited a while, making sure the young man wouldn't test again, then spoke, his voice still calm and gentle: "We can begin."

As soon as he finished speaking, he reached for a gun on the table... not the one Su Mu had put back, nor one of the few the young man had examined, but one he had casually pulled from the very edge. He didn't even look at the gun; his finger was on the trigger, he raised his hand, the muzzle pressed against his temple, and pulled the trigger.

"Click."

A blank shot. The crisp metallic clang echoed in the quiet space, like a pebble thrown into a deep well.

Number Seven lowered his gun, his smile deepening. His gaze shifted from Su Mu to the young man, then back, tilting his head slightly as if to say... it's your turn.

At the same time, the young man took a deep breath and pressed the muzzle of the gun against his temple.

The coldness of the metal seeped through his skin and into his bones. His hand trembled, the muzzle of the gun trembled, and his entire body shook. He closed his eyes, his lips moving incessantly, whether he was chanting something or simply trembling, it was unclear. Time ticked by, but he still didn't pull the trigger.

Number Seven didn't urge him.

Su Mu glanced at him. Then he looked away, his finger on the trigger, and without hesitation or pause, he pulled it cleanly and decisively.

"Click."

The sound of an empty gunshot was as crisp as the ringing of a bell in the quiet space.

Su Mu placed the gun back on the table, removed his finger from the trigger, and his expression remained unchanged. He didn't even glance at the gun again before turning and walking back to Lin Yuwei's side. Number Seven watched his retreating figure, the corners of his mouth curving into a wider smile.

The young man finally mustered his courage. He opened his eyes, and his hand holding the gun stopped trembling... not that it stopped trembling, but that it had trembled to the point of numbness. He took a deep breath, pressed the muzzle of the gun closer to his temple, then closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

"Bang......!"

The gunshot wasn't a soft "click," but a muffled sound, like something exploding.

In that instant, everyone saw it... his head was pierced through the temple, the bullet exploded inside the skull, the skull shattered, and blood and brain matter gushed out from the other side.