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

No one speaks.

But everyone's heart was in turmoil.

The advantage of having 21 people, according to the first rule, is that "there is strength in numbers"... The more people there are, the more chances there is to "draw a prize" and the more likely one is to win a reward.

However, under the second rule, this advantage becomes a double-edged sword.

For every person who dies, they have to start all over again. The number of live ammunition is restored to three, and the probability of blank rounds is reshuffled. This means that the more of them there are, the more likely they are to die.

And now, the first shot has killed someone.

The body on the ground was still warm, and blood was still seeping out.

They want to start from scratch.

They had to draw lots again, and someone had to step forward, pick up a gun, point it at their temple, and pull the trigger. The death of the first person was still fresh in everyone's mind; no one wanted to be the second.

The tall, thin boy stood in front of the table, caught in a dilemma.

He was chosen by lottery, and the rules didn't allow him to back down. Number Seven didn't urge him, nor did he look at him. Number Seven's gaze fell on Su Mu, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

The space was so quiet that you could hear the tall, thin boy's breathing—rapid, disordered, and with an uncontrollable tremor. His fingers rubbed back and forth on the gun, sometimes gripping it tightly, sometimes loosening it, the handle glistening with sweat.

He stopped checking the gun and stopped cursing. He just stood there, like a wooden stake driven into the ground.

Su Mu couldn't stand it anymore.

It wasn't sympathy, it was a waste of time. He stood there watching a man who dared not pull the trigger confront a leisurely master of the secret realm, not knowing how long it would take.

He stepped forward, picked up the gun from the table, and without even looking at it, put his finger on the trigger, raised his hand, and pressed the muzzle against his temple.

"Click." Empty gun.

He fired a second shot, "click." Blank. A third shot, "click." Blank.

The fourth shot, the fifth shot.

"Click. Click..."

Five consecutive, crisp, metallic clanging sounds echoed in the quiet space, like a string of pebbles thrown into a deep well.

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 guns.

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.

Zhao Qiang's mouth was wide open; you could fit an egg inside.

He nearly dropped his battle axe, which crashed to the ground with a loud thud, but no one noticed.

Zhao Gang's shield slipped from his arm, and he instinctively reached out to grab it, only to find nothing.

He Lin stood at the back of the crowd, her pupils contracted to their maximum, her lips slightly parted, as if she wanted to say something but nothing came out. Only one thought occupied her mind... Was this person insane?

Zhang Peng's finger stopped on the iron cage, and he didn't tap it again. His gaze fell on Su Mu, and for the first time, something complex, something he himself couldn't define, appeared in those steady eyes.

It wasn't admiration, nor fear, but a more primal, more direct feeling... This person was unlike anyone he had ever met.

Number Seven's expression finally changed.

It wasn't surprise, nor shock, but a deeper kind of bewilderment, but I quickly recovered.

Lin Yuwei stood rooted to the spot, as if she were nailed to the ground.

She thought Su Mu was lucky.

From the spinning wheel in the haunted house to the broken coin-operated machine, and then to the blank shot from the first firing... she kept telling herself that this person was just lucky, born that way, and there was no way to envy him.

But that was limited to fighting each other one shot at a time, taking a gamble, then retreating, then taking another gamble, then retreating again. She never imagined that Su Mu would directly pick up a gun and fire six shots at her.

Six shots. Six trigger pulls. Six possibilities of death.

Lin Yuwei's mind went blank.

She watched Su Mu put the sixth gun back on the table, watched him walk back as if nothing had happened, watched his expression as calm as if he had just been doing something completely ordinary... Her heart was pounding violently in her chest, so loudly that she felt everyone around her could hear it.

Talent cannot be used here.

The profession is unusable. The skills are unusable. Any effects attached to the equipment are unusable. She confirmed it, everyone confirmed it. Number Seven said it herself, and she verified it herself. The skill bar on the panel was all grayed out, the profession icon was darkened, and all the abilities she had carefully selected in the talent bar were displayed as unavailable.

Therefore, Su Mu's six shots just now were not enhanced by any special ability.

He got lucky and fired six shots into his own temple.

Lin Yuwei took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Her fingers were trembling slightly, not from fear, but from an indescribable feeling, as if something was churning in her chest.

She recalled Su Mu's actions in front of that broken machine... He would insert one ancient coin, and it would spit out seven; he would insert another, and it would spit out five; he would insert another, and it would spit out three more. At the time, she thought that was ridiculously lucky.

But now she realizes that compared to shooting herself in the head six times, what are a few free ancient coins? How can someone be so lucky?

Moreover, even if she were in Su Mu's shoes and knew she was lucky, she wouldn't dare to try it.

It wasn't that she didn't believe it, it was that she dared not. No matter how good your luck is, it can't overcome the word "probability." What is the probability of hitting the target with all six shots in a row, given a one-third chance? She couldn't calculate it, but she knew that number was so small as to be negligible.

But Su Mu took the gamble, and he won. This wasn't luck; it was recklessness.

Lin Yuwei closed her eyes, then opened them again. Su Mu's back was still so unremarkable in her vision...not tall, not muscular. This was the same person who had just fired six shots into her head without even blinking.

Everyone present was completely bewildered.

Zhao Qiang's mouth remained agape. His battle axe lay askew, the blade nearly striking his foot, yet he seemed oblivious. Zhao Gang's shield slipped from his arm; he instinctively reached for it, only to grasp at empty air. He Lin stood at the very back of the crowd, her clear, cold eyes narrowed to pinpoints.

Zhang Peng's finger stopped on the iron cage, and he didn't knock anymore. His gaze fell on Su Mu's back, and for the first time, something he himself couldn't define appeared in those steady eyes... not fear, not admiration, but a more primal, bewilderment, like something had been shattered.

.......