Chapter 2790: The Feast of Nightmares (Part 9)

The hardest part of this game is that if you luckily survive this level, it doesn't mean you are an expert, and there is no reward for winning. On the contrary, those who survived the previous level might not remember the content of the next level at all. There is no law for strength.

Even if everyone who can live to now has a pretty good memory, there are also highs and lows between each level. Everyone has levels they remember relatively less clearly. This is their weakness, and this weakness is already destined now.

So the best choice is to let everyone who can remember the content of their weak levels die in the previous levels, so that even if they write poorly, because the competitors are also poor, they might survive.

But this isn't playing cards, or rather, the cards are in the brain. Without mind-reading, no one can see who is better at which level. And if there are too many experts in your weak level, then you are definitely dead.

The method proposed by the elegant woman is a mediocre solution, which is to adopt a completely blind selection method, forcibly erasing everyone's weak levels, and relying purely on luck to decide life and death.

Only one person with a weak level didn't quite agree, and those who couldn't remember the last two or three levels were of course more willing to adopt this method. But now everyone was a black box, and no one knew how much others had remembered, so they were deadlocked and no one was willing to move.

"How about this." Shiler suddenly spoke, "I will turn my exemption into a slip of paper and put it into the drawing box. How about that?"

"But you only have the exemption for this round." Someone else spoke up.

"But at least it can guarantee your safety for this round." Shiler replied.

Whispers rang out in the restaurant. Clearly, this was the chip that could make the scale tilt completely.

Everyone present was a successful person. Although they didn't want to believe in elitism, the vast majority of successful people had some skills to be successful. Pure trash couldn't reach this stratum. Even those who ran away because of fear had quite good willpower. The mental pollution of the Cthulhu-series monsters was everywhere. Being able to survive one more second meant exceeding countless people.

They immediately realized that even if it was only an exemption for this round, it was tempting enough, especially for those who didn't remember this level very clearly, which could also be said to be the majority of people, because as mentioned before, the second level was very awkward, and almost everyone present had no confidence.

This was the weak level for many people. Many felt that as long as they could survive this level, they wouldn't be the ones eliminated no matter what happened later. If there was a chance to draw an exemption, they were still willing to gamble.

Some thought more deeply. This Dr. Nyarlathotep said he knew the standard answer. If he also participated in the drawing activity, he would also put his answer into the box. In that case, it would be equivalent to having two exemptions in the box, and the probability of drawing one would be much greater.

People had to judge whether the probability of writing and getting into the bottom 20 was greater, or the probability of drawing and getting into the bottom 20 was greater. In the second level, which was a relatively special level, many people were already inclined toward the former. Plus the two exemptions, many people had already agreed to this method in their hearts.

Of course, a very small number of people had confidence in the second level. Although they also wanted the exemption, they didn't think they would fall into the bottom 20 if they wrote. On the contrary, drawing might bring bad luck. They shook their heads, indicating they wouldn't participate.

There were too few such people, countable on one hand. Others, whether they had calculated the probability, had a count of themselves and others, or simply wanted to follow the crowd, chose to participate. After counting the number of people, there were 67 people.

In other words, there was about a one-third probability of drawing the bottom 20, and about a one-thirtieth probability of drawing an exemption.

This probability seemed very dangerous, but most people had been in high positions for many years, and they knew that this was already a quite good probability. If 20 people had to be eliminated, then it could only be their bad luck.

Shiler asked the head chef for a box. This was a very bold move, and he gained the side-eyes of others again. But the head chef didn't seem dissatisfied. He quickly let the waiter go to the kitchen to get a common cardboard box, and after sticking it together, used scissors to dig a hole in it that could reach in.

Everyone began to write furiously, adding more content to what they had written, and then rolled up the slips of paper they had written. Shiler left his seat and went to everyone to let them put the slips of paper into the box.

After everyone had finished putting them in, Shiler shook the box violently to ensure all the slips were mixed evenly. Taking advantage of this time, others also finished sorting their levels and handed them to the woman who made this suggestion.

The woman began to read the names of the priorities for this level. Many people wrote this level with high priority, so there were many ties. They adopted the simplest method of rock-paper-scissors to decide an order and began to draw according to the order.

The big-bearded man from before achieved victory. He walked up and didn't make any special movements. He reached out and drew, and after drawing, he opened it. His expression seemed to let out a sigh of relief, because even if he couldn't see the specific content, most people could see that it was written densely, at least stronger than the one that only wrote two lines.

Someone guessed in their heart, could it be that he was so lucky to draw what Dr. Nyarlathotep wrote? However, this big-bearded man controlled it very well and didn't reveal any abnormalities.

Soon, the first round of people finished drawing in an orderly fashion. There were about 40 people. Their expressions were different, but they didn't reveal them too exaggeratedly. A few people's papers clearly had very little content, and they held their pens, intending to make up for it.

But at this time, the head chef spoke up. He said, "If there are two handwritings on a piece of paper, I will regard it as cheating, just like those who want to run away, and execute them directly."

As soon as his voice fell, a person was pressed onto the table. Clearly, he was quick with his hands and had already written other answers on the paper. His spine was pulled out, and others put down their pens tremblingly.

Just as the second round was drawing, a woman suddenly let out a scream. She was trembling, looking at the slip of paper in her hand. There were no words on it at all, only a smiley face drawn.

"Someone didn't write anything!!!"

This scream seemed to ignite the atmosphere in the room completely. Everyone's expression turned gloomy.

This plan really had problems. Someone wanted to take this opportunity to exclude dissidents, but wasn't he afraid of drawing his own slip of paper?

Wait, it wasn't allowed to have two handwritings, which meant that if he drew his own slip of paper, there was a chance to make up for it, and this poor woman drew the smiley face he drew, so she was destined to die.

Everyone present realized this person's sinister intentions. He just wanted to trap someone to death.

Someone immediately stood up, pointed at the elegant woman who made the suggestion before, and said, "It must be you. This is a trap you set! You bitch!!!"

"It's not me. I have absolutely no meaning to do this..." The elegant woman still wanted to defend herself, but that person had already rushed to her side and choked her neck tightly.

The woman struggled desperately, but it was hard to break free from the shackles of an adult male. Slowly, she lost her breath, and her body fell to the ground and soon disappeared.

The restaurant fell silent again. No one had thought such a thing would happen before, because this was completely harming others without benefiting oneself. No, it might not be completely unbeneficial to oneself. At least he used this method to anchor one of the 20 spots.

And the woman who got the smiley face was already crazy. She laughed wildly, wandering between the dining tables, like dancing a dance of death. She pointed at everyone with her fingers, and then picked up a pen and began to write things on that slip of paper.

"Are you crazy?" Someone looked at her.

"As long as I am eliminated in advance, I won't be counted in the 20 people." She screamed crazily, "I won't die for you even if I die. You will still die 20 people, not one less!!!"

After her spine was pulled out, everyone's expression was very ugly. This woman was right. People eliminated in advance were not counted in the quota of 20 people. She chose to burn with everyone, so the death quota of 20 people didn't change.

"That's great." An uncle with a handlebar mustache touched his mustache and said with a bitter smile, "That guy didn't harm anyone, and also made this plan completely ruined."

That's right. After this incident, it was impossible for anyone to participate in this plan again. What if that madman put another smiley face in? Whoever drew it would die. What if there was more than one such madman? Then everyone wouldn't survive.

Others who hadn't drawn yet were also a bit hesitant, but thinking that no one had drawn the exemption yet, they bravely reached their hands toward the hole again.

Suddenly a young man shouted, "I drew it! I drew the exemption!!!"

He raised his arms high, waving the slip of paper in his hand, like a king returning in triumph. He adjusted his suit collar and walked back to his seat, clearly wanting to review the next question.

He seemed immersed in excitement and didn't see the pairs of ill-intentioned eyes around him. When he discovered someone approaching him, he dodged to the side, but was pushed to the ground by someone else.

The handlebar mustache from before snatched the slip of paper from his hand forcefully, clutched it in his hand, and used a porcelain shard from a broken plate to cut his throat. Others wanted to snatch it from his hand, but time was up.

Everyone had finished drawing. The head chef went into the kitchen again. Some people began to plot to kill the head chef in a low voice, but most people weren't as stupid as him, but waited quietly in place.

Soon the head chef walked out. This time he didn't seem to have the mood to read these things, but announced the death list directly.

The people whose names were read were all pale. Some wanted to struggle, but were soon pressed down. Some numbly accepted their fate.

But after one name was read, someone stood up with a *swoosh*. It was the handlebar mustache from before. He said, "How could my name be there? I have an exemption! I snatched the exemption!"

"That is not an exemption." The head chef said, "Just because someone writes the word 'exemption' on a slip of paper doesn't mean it's an exemption."

The handlebar mustache was stunned, and then he reacted, looking around in disbelief, saying, "Someone didn't write the answer, but wrote the word 'exemption' on the paper?! Why would you do that?!!"

"You probably have to ask Dr. Nyarlathotep about this." The head chef stood with his hands behind his back, looked toward Shiler's direction, and after such a long foreshadowing, he finally revealed his fangs. He said.

"This doctor put two slips of paper into the box, but neither of them was a real exemption. One of them had the word 'exemption' written on it, and the other had a smiley face drawn on it."

Instantly, everyone's gaze looked at Shiler.

"With all due respect, I didn't know that writing 'exemption' on a slip of paper was useless." Shiler looked at the head chef without showing weakness and said, "You agreed to my request to transfer the exemption."

"I only agreed to you transferring the exemption to that woman." The head chef revealed an evil smile and said, "But I didn't agree to you writing this thing on a piece of paper and giving it to just anyone."

"That's because you didn't explain the rules clearly."

"That's because you didn't ask, Doctor. If you had asked, I would naturally have told you the correct transfer method. In such a life-and-death situation, why didn't you ask one more question?"

Shiler didn't answer. He said, "I didn't draw the smiley face."

"I have a way to see what you wrote." The head chef suddenly lifted a hand. The originally calm dining table surface suddenly began to have waves, and dense eyes opened on the tabletop, scaring everyone into screaming.

But after the initial panic, they looked at Shiler with that kind of shocked and angry gaze, clearly believing what the head chef said.

Shiler sat in place and sighed. He said, "Alright, I know that the written exemption won't take effect, and I drew the smiley face. Everything was just to kill you all."

The head chef's movement paused. He didn't expect Shiler to admit it so easily. He stared at Shiler tightly, wanting to see if he wanted to change to another direction to quibble.

Shiler, however, placed his briefcase in front of him unhurriedly, opened the briefcase, and took out a red candle and a match.

Then he stood up and looked around, saying, "I believe that as long as one is a smart person, one can see that this is just a conspiracy of the devil. He did all this and framed it on me, just wanting you all to attack me."

Shiler lowered his head, struck the match with a *swish*, placed the flame on the candle's wick, and then said, "I hope you believe me. This is your last chance."

Others, including the head chef, were a bit confused by his statement. Wait, what did he say? This is our last chance?

The head chef's gaze moved to the candle. When the candle was lit, he clearly felt that some things were changing.

Shiler blew out the match lightly, looked up at the head chef, and said, "You aren't wanting to know why I look different on the plate, are you?"

"You said it was Dissociative Identity Disorder."

"No longer dissociating... May I ask, is there anything to eat?" ===== CHAPTER 2791 =====