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

But the happiest person of all was the tall, thin boy who drew the second lot and was now in a difficult situation.

He stood before the table, the gun still clutched in his hand, its muzzle somehow removed from his temple, hanging limply at his side. His fingers were still trembling, but the trembling was different now… before it was fear, now it was relief. He had already reached the edge of the cliff, behind him the results of the lottery and twenty pairs of eyes watching him, in front of him a gun that could explode at any moment. He had no way back; he could only move forward, pull the trigger.

Then Su Mu walked up, picked up the gun, and fired six shots, all of which were blanks.

The tall, thin boy watched as Su Mu placed the last gun back on the table, only one thought in his mind... He didn't need to fire anymore. The man had already fired six blanks in a row. No matter how many guns were left, no matter what Zhang Peng thought, what Number Seven said, or what the rules were, no one could beat him anymore.

He lowered the gun, took a step back, then another. The gun slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. He didn't pick it up. He retreated to the edge of the crowd, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath. He was back alive. He didn't need to pull the trigger.

"I abstain." His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear. After saying that, his legs went weak, and he slid down the wall to the ground.

No one refuted him.

In Zhang Peng's team, those who hadn't yet been drawn... the list was still there, the draw results were still there, and according to the rules, more of them would have to go on stage. Some might die, some might live. But after Su Mu fired six shots that missed, everything changed. The rules were still there, but they knew there was no point in continuing.

Zhang Peng was silent for a moment. He glanced at the tall, thin boy on the ground, then at Su Mu's back, and nodded.

"Abstain," he said, his voice not loud, but everyone heard him.

Zhao Qiang let out a long breath, a breath that seemed to be squeezed from the deepest part of his chest, carrying a trembling feeling of relief after surviving a close call. Zhao Gang picked up the shield from the ground, hung it back on his back, and didn't speak, but his fingers were no longer tense. He Lin closed her eyes. Behind her, some people lowered their heads, some turned around, and some put away their weapons.

A feeling of relief rippled through the crowd. It wasn't because they had lost, but because they wouldn't die. Su Mu had won, and they wouldn't die... as long as Number Seven didn't kill them. And Number Seven's condition for not killing them was that Su Mu won. Su Mu had already won. They were safe.

Those who had already been drawn and were supposed to play in later rounds exchanged glances without speaking, but their eyes all conveyed the same message... they had survived. Those who hadn't been drawn yet, but whose names could be called at any moment according to the rules, also breathed a sigh of relief. Twenty-one people—with bad luck, they could all be wiped out. Now, they didn't have to gamble.

No one spoke in Zhang Peng's team, but something was flowing in the air. It wasn't joy, nor celebration, but a quieter, deeper sense of relief.

Su Mu stood on the other side of the crowd, not looking at them. His gaze was on Number Seven. Number Seven was also looking at him, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. There was something in those clean eyes that Su Mu couldn't decipher... not curiosity, not admiration, but more like a confirmation that "you really are different."

"Are you sure you want to forfeit?" Number Seven's voice rang out, still in that unhurried and gentle tone. "I'm warning you, if I also get hit by six blank shots, you might all die."

Nobody paid him any attention.

The tall, thin boy had retreated to the deepest part of the crowd, arms crossed, head bowed, his shoulders still trembling slightly. Zhao Qiang turned his face away, refusing to look at Number Seven. Zhao Gang slung his shield back over his back, silent as a stone. He Lin shook her head; not in a "rejection," but in a "completely unreasonable" way.

Zhang Peng removed his hand from the iron cage, letting it hang down and resting on his trouser seam. Their attitude was clear... abstain, no matter what you say.

Number Seven's gaze swept over those people, finally landing on Su Mu.

His expression remained calm, but Su Mu noticed that the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. It wasn't a smile, but a more subtle movement, as if he were chewing on something.

"It's your turn," Su Mu said.

Number Seven glanced at him, then reached for the pistol on the table. Without hesitation, without even looking at the gun, he raised his hand, pressed the muzzle against his temple, and pulled the trigger.

"Click." Empty gun.

Second shot. "Click." Empty shot. Third shot. "Click." Empty shot. Fourth shot, fifth shot, sixth shot.

"Click. Click. Click..."

Six sounds, exactly the same as Su Mu's. Six consecutive blank shots.

Number Seven placed the last gun back on the table, removed his finger from the trigger, and his smile deepened. His gaze fell on Su Mu, and there was something in his clean eyes that Su Mu couldn't understand... It wasn't provocation, it wasn't admiration, but more like a tacit understanding of "You see, I'm just like you."

"It's a tie," said Number Seven.

Su Mu looked at him without saying a word. His gaze moved from Number Seven's face to the guns, and then back again.

A thought flashed through his mind... Could this guy have tampered with the guns? But Zhang Peng's team had checked the guns, and the chambers were indeed empty.

He tried it too, firing six blank shots in a row, and the feel was perfectly normal. But this was a secret realm, and Number Seven was its master. If he really wanted to tamper with the gun, no one would notice.

The facts are clear. Number Seven also missed six shots in a row. It wasn't luck, it was control.

"Who wins if it's a tie?" Su Mu asked. His tone was as calm as if he were asking what to have for lunch. "Or, shall we start a new game?"

Number Seven's eyes lit up. He looked at Su Mu, the corners of his mouth curving wider. It wasn't a smile, but a deeper scrutiny, tinged with surprise and admiration.

"You're actually thinking of starting a new game?" Number Seven said. "Don't you suspect I'm cheating?"

Su Mu smiled. It wasn't a polite smile, nor a mocking smile, but a genuine smile, tinged with self-deprecation.

"I can't detect that you cheated," he said. "That means you didn't cheat."