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

Number Seven paused for a moment. He looked at Su Mu, and for the first time, an emotion Su Mu had never seen before appeared in his clean eyes... not surprise, not admiration, but something softer, as if something had been touched... a sense of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion or reflection).

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then he laughed, not the faint, formulaic smile he had shown before, but a genuine, heartfelt laugh, even with a touch of childlike innocence.

"Insightful," he said. "You are insightful."

His laughter echoed through the space for a while before finally stopping. He wiped away the tears that had welled up in his eyes, then looked at Su Mu and shook his head.

"Start a new game? There's no such rule." His tone returned to its usual calm and gentle manner, but with an added, enigmatic quality. "A draw is a draw. You can't get the treasure here, and there's nothing I can do about it. That's it."

Su Mu sneered.

He finally understood: this guy never intended for him to take the treasure from the start. A draw or a win or loss, the result was the same... he wouldn't get the treasure.

Lin Yuwei stood to the side, watching all this, her face so dark it could drip water. She walked out from behind Su Mu, went to the table, and stared directly at Number Seven.

"That's not fair." Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was emphasized. "He fired six shots in a row, gambling with his life. As the master of the secret realm, how could you have also fired six blanks without tampering with the gun? You cheated."

Number Seven glanced at her, his gaze as calm as if he were looking at something unrelated to himself. Then he shifted his gaze back to Su Mu, his smile deepening even further.

"It seems your friend doesn't see things very clearly."

Su Mu turned his head and glanced at Lin Yuwei. His expression was calm, without anger, disappointment, or even any fluctuation. He reached out and placed his hand on Lin Yuwei's shoulder, patting it gently.

"It's okay," he said.

Lin Yuwei's lips moved, as if she wanted to say something, but seeing Su Mu's gaze, she swallowed the words back. Her hands were still clenched into fists, her knuckles white, but her body no longer leaned forward. She took a step back, standing behind Su Mu, but her gaze remained fixed on Number Seven, like a sword sheathed.

In Zhang Peng's group, someone let out a long sigh of relief, the sigh of relief spreading like ripples through the crowd.

Zhao Qiang's shoulders visibly relaxed, and his fingers, which had been tightly gripping the battle axe, loosened. Zhao Gang took the shield off his back, leaned against the wall, and stood silently.

He Lin closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. Her expression remained aloof and unreadable, but the muscles around her eyes were no longer tense.

Su Mu did not obtain the treasure.

They didn't get it either. Neither side got it, so it's a draw. A draw means neither side loses.

People began to whisper among themselves. The voices weren't loud, but they were exceptionally clear in the quiet space. "A draw doesn't count as a loss." "That means we're all in the same boat." "That man risked his life, and he didn't win, did he?" There was relief, a sense of luck, and a subtle, unspoken schadenfreude in their voices.

They didn't want to die, nor did they want to see anyone else win. If Su Mu won, they were the losers. If Su Mu lost, it was a draw. In a draw, no one could say anything to anyone else.

Lin Yuwei overheard those comments.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the cloak, her knuckles white as bone. She wanted to say something, but said nothing.

She knew it was pointless to say anything. Those people didn't care that Su Mu had risked his life with six shots; they only cared about their own survival, and that Su Mu hadn't won.

Su Mu didn't look at the others, nor at Lin Yuwei. His gaze remained fixed on Number Seven. Number Seven's gaze also fell on him, and the two stared at each other across the table, like two statues.

"Since it's a draw," Number Seven broke the silence, "the result is clear. You..." He pointed to Zhang Peng's team, "...a draw with them. But you lost."

His voice remained calm and gentle, but each word struck the air like a block of ice. His gaze swept over Zhang Peng's team, and the smile on his lips deepened even further.

"Therefore, you will all die."

Zhang Peng's team exploded.

Zhao Qiang's face turned bright red. He wasn't the type to hold back, but Zhao Gang pressed his hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

Zhang Peng didn't speak, but he tapped the iron cage with his finger, so hard that the pangolin inside suddenly curled up into a ball. He Lin's brows furrowed into a tight knot.

"Didn't you fucking say it was a draw?!" Zhao Qiang's voice exploded from behind Zhao Gang's shoulder, impossible to suppress. "A draw doesn't count as a win or a loss, so why are you taking our lives?!"

"That's right! You said you could only live if you won, but we didn't lose either!" Another voice emerged from the crowd, sharp and urgent, filled with barely suppressed fear.

Number Seven didn't look at them. His gaze fell on Zhang Peng, and the smile on his lips deepened even more.

"Didn't you just say that they didn't win?" He pointed at Su Mu. "They didn't win, they lost. You said it yourselves."

No one spoke. Those who had just been whispering and gloating, saying "a draw isn't a loss," were now completely silent. Their faces bore the same word...fear. This fear was no longer the abstract, vague "fear of death," but a concrete, direct fear, like a knife to their throats. Number Seven wasn't threatening them; he was stating a fact.

He raised his hand, and his long, clean hand waved gently in the air... as if brushing away unseen dust from the table, or as closing a book that had been turned to the end.

Nothing happened.

No one disappeared, no one fell, not even the air trembled. Those who had closed their eyes and awaited death slowly opened them, finding themselves still alive. Zhao Qiang looked down at his hands, then at Zhao Gang, who was also looking at him. Zhang Peng's finger hovered over the iron cage, not striking it. He Lin's brows furrowed even more, not from fear, but from confusion.

Number Seven's hand froze in mid-air, his brow twitching slightly. He shifted his gaze from his palm, sweeping it over everyone present. No one was dead; not even the slightest change had occurred. His lips parted slightly, then closed again. Then his brow relaxed, as if he had suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, right." Number Seven's voice remained calm and gentle, but Su Mu noticed that his fingers curled slightly. "The rewards haven't been distributed yet. Only after they're distributed can we proceed to the next step."

As soon as he finished speaking, a system notification sounded in Su Mu's ear.