Chapter 298

The damn bastard finally left…

Listening to the rapidly fading footsteps down the hallway, the young man with a lazy expression in his eyes slumped his shoulders and let out a long, relieved breath.

Luckily, I reacted fast—I used every last ounce of strength to force a 66% evasion rate, or else he'd have dragged me off to help.

According to the dice's probability, as a member of the Cleanup Bureau's *** Branch, if you get dragged into this Scale Gold Cult incident, the chance of being surrounded is 66%, the chance of going on a killing spree is 66%, the chance of fighting a Holy Spirit to the death is 66%, and even the chance of encountering a True God? Also a flat 66%!

But thankfully, if you do get dragged in, the chance of suffering severe injuries is nearly zero—because the death rate for this incident? It's 99%!

Looking at the two six-sided dice on the table, their "6"s flipped upside down to form the shape of "99," Tom, still shaken, stood up from behind the door, reached over, and patted a tightly bound bundle of cloth beside him, his face full of relief:

"Jerry, we've barely escaped another disaster."

"Mm! Ugh! Mmmmm!"

"Don't be ungrateful—I'm saving your life here!"

Looking at his good brother, whose mouth was stuffed with a window-cleaning rag, glaring at him furiously, and beside him, another tightly bound golden-haired man, Tom's fairly handsome face twisted into a lonely, misunderstood sorrow before he reluctantly pulled the rag out.

"Pah! Fuck! Tom! Fuck!"

After spitting out dust and strands of hair, Jerry's tongue freed, he launched straight into two rounds of heartfelt curses, then exploded in fury:

"You said you needed my help—so your 'help' is sneaking up on your own brother, tying me up, and locking me away?"

"I told you, I'm saving you. I just didn't have time to explain back then."

Plopping down beside Jerry, Tom spoke seriously:

"Did you see that new guy just now? He was looking for volunteers. If I hadn't grabbed you, he'd have dragged you off as a conscript—and you'd never come back."

"That serious?"

Seeing Tom wasn't joking, Jerry was startled, then said skeptically:

"Your dice only show up to 66%—how can you know it's definitely a death sentence?"

"Because '66%' and '66%' aren't the same thing!"

Pointing at the two dice on the table, their "6"s facing up but upside down, Tom's face was still pale with dread:

"You see 66% now—but flip them over and they become 99%. The probability these two dice show right now is the death rate after getting dragged in. So now you get why I tied you up?"

"..."

After hearing Tom's explanation, Jerry's lips twitched slightly, then he spoke with a complex expression:

"What about Li Ang and the others? He and Emma got dragged in too—so according to your dice, they're..."

"Mind your own business!"

Rolling his eyes at his good brother, Tom snapped:

"Emma's tough! She's got the strongest undead body below the Divine Rank, and she's got the Death Pivot connecting to the Netherworld—no one understands death better than her. Even if she dies, she can try to crawl back. As for Li Ang..."

Thinking of the shadow he'd seen during his dice-casting—a black-haired, black-eyed, slender figure with multiple wings sprouting from his back—Tom shuddered, as if someone were watching him from the void.

Leaving aside other things, that man's future was destined to begin as a True God, and he gave off an aura even stronger than the Director at his peak. The chance of him dying prematurely? It's not zero—but it's far smaller than mine. I don't need to worry about him.

"Li Ang doesn't need worrying about either—he's got plenty of cards up his sleeve. In short, they'll probably make it through. For us, this is a guaranteed death sentence—but for them, there's still a chance to fight back."

Giving a vague, ambiguous answer, Tom patted his good brother's arm and lectured with solemn gravity:

"There's a proverb in the kingdom across the sea: 'Only when the plate is big enough can the steak be big enough.' With our level, we can't handle this kind of situation—don't go meddling where you don't belong. You'll only cause trouble and lose your life."

"And there's another proverb from that kingdom: 'Fate first, luck second, where you live third, helping others and making friends fourth, reading books fifth.'"

My interpretation? You must believe in fate. If fate has already decided your outcome, no amount of effort will change it... Huh? Why are you staring at my back?"

Following his brother's gaze, Tom turned—and locked eyes with a face full of delight outside the window. He shuddered, then instinctively looked at the dice on the table.

Sure enough, a faint, barely visible black mist curled around his two dice. His "Bad Luck" trait—earned from revealing too much of the future—had just activated, silently and without warning.

As expected, two of his dice were wreathed in a faint, nearly imperceptible black aura—the "bad luck" trait he'd acquired from revealing too much of the future had just silently activated…

"Senior Tom! I'm coming in!"

With the lazy youth looking like he wanted to cry, Li Ang, who had returned to Jerry's office to see if there were any bombs he could take, pushed the door open with a look of urgent excitement:

"Senior Emma is in trouble! The Scale Gold Cult set an ambush—they sent a Snake Spirit to bite her! She's in critical condition and needs our support immediately! Senior Tom! Uh... what's going on here?"

"Nothing... just... testing an escape anomaly item... hehe..."

After stammering out a lame lie, Tom, visibly flustered, secretly rolled the dice for refusal probability while forcing a smile and changing the subject:

"About Emma... I'm not unwilling to help, but according to my dice, if I act now..."

"That… about Emma, I'm not unwilling to help, but according to the probability rolled by my dice, if I act this time…"

The sound of dice rolling filled the room. Tom turned in surprise—and saw a phantom hand appear beside his dice, curled a finger, flicked one, and changed the face showing. Then it pointed at him, clearly warning him.

The sound of dice rolling across the table arose; Tang Mu turned in surprise and saw a phantom hand that had appeared beside his dice, curling a finger to flick them lightly, altering the face upward, then pointing at him with clear warning.

"Senior Tom?"

Looking back at the two dice now showing sixes—but flipped upside down—Li Ang turned to him, puzzled:

"What probability did you roll this time? Is it the success rate for rescuing Senior Emma?"

"Master, what probability did you roll this time? Is it our success rate in rescuing Elder Emma?"

Of course it's the probability that after I refuse to help you, you'll hold a grudge and come after me in the future...

Looking at the dice, now showing 99% after being flicked, then at Li Ang's right hand—identical to the phantom hand—Tom, the unluckiest man alive, sniffled, eyes welling with tears, and answered:

"No. I rolled the probability of me helping out. Don't worry—I'll definitely step in. This is about your and Emma's lives—I can't refuse!"

After glancing at the die that had just been flicked and now showed a 99% probability, then at Li Ang's right hand—identical to the phantom palm—poor Tang Mu sniffled back his runny nose, eyes welling with tears as he replied:

"No, I rolled the probability that I'd step in to help… Don't worry, this concerns your and Emma's safety—I absolutely won't hesitate!"