Chapter 700: The Helpful Senior Tom

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 ounce of strength I had 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 First Branch, if I get dragged into this Golden Weighing Cult incident, the chance of being surrounded is 66%, the chance of a full-scale massacre is 66%, the chance of fighting a Holy Spirit to the death is 66%, and even the chance of encountering a True God? Also maxed out at 66%!

But thankfully, if I 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 filled with relief:

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

"Mmm! Ooh! 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 helplessly pulled the rag out.

"Pah! You bastard! Tom! You son of a bitch!"

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

"You said you needed my help, but your 'help' was sneaking up on me, tying me up, and locking me away?!"

"I told you, I'm saving you—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 someone to help. 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 can't show more than 66%—how do you know it's definitely a death sentence?"

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

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

"You see 66% now, but flip those 6s, and they become 99%. The probability these two dice show right now? It's the death rate if you get dragged in. Now do you get why I tied you up?"

"…"

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

"What about Li Ang and Emma? They've both been pulled in—so according to your dice, they're…"

"Worry about yourself!"

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 carries the 【Coffin of the Dead】, which connects to the Underworld—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 calculation—the black-haired, black-eyed, slender figure with multiple wings sprouting from his back—Tom shuddered, as if someone were watching him from beyond. Never mind anything else—his future was destined to begin as a True God, and Tom felt he was even stronger than the Bureau Chief at his peak. Such a person might still die young, but the odds are far lower than his own. He didn't need Tom worrying 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, nearly invisible black mist curled around his two dice. His "Bad Luck" trait—earned from revealing too much of the future—had just activated, silent and inevitable…

Damn it! This cursed fate!

…

"Senior Tom! I'm coming in!"

As the lazy young man stared, eyes welling with helpless tears, Li Ang, who had returned to Jerry's office looking for bombs to take along, pushed the door open with a bright smile and urgent tone:

"Senior Emma is in trouble! The Golden Weighing Cult set an ambush—they sent a Snake Spirit to bite her! She's in critical condition—we need to help immediately! Senior Tom! Uh… what's going on here?"

"Nothing… just… testing an escape anomaly object… hehe…"

Tom stammered out a weak lie, his face flustered. He secretly rolled the dice for refusal probability, forcing a smile and rambling:

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

"Rattle-rattle."

The sound of dice rolling filled the air. Tom turned, startled—and saw a phantom hand appear beside his dice, curling a finger to flick them, changing their faces, then pointing at him with clear warning.

"…"

"Senior Tom?"

Looking back at the two dice now showing 6s—but flipped upside down—Li Ang turned to him, puzzled:

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

"…"

It's the probability that you'll hold a grudge against me after I refuse to help you, 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's—Tom, the unluckiest man alive, sniffed back his stinging nose, eyes brimming with tears, and answered:

"No, I rolled the probability of me helping out… Don't worry. This concerns your and Emma's lives—I won't hesitate!"

(End of Chapter)