hotmtlnovel Chapter 2801: Weird Feast and Nightmare (9)
Chapter 2801: Weird Feast and Nightmare (9)
Chapter 2801: Weird Feast Nightmare (Part )
The most difficult part of this game is that if you survive a level by chance, it does not mean that you are a master, and there is no reward for victory. On the contrary, people who survived the previous level may not remember the content of the next level at all. There is no rule for strength.
Even if those who have survived to this day have good memories, there are still levels between each level, and everyone has levels that they don't remember as clearly. This is their weakness, and this weakness is already doomed now.
Therefore, the best option is to let all those who can remember the content of their weak levels die at the previous levels. This way, even if your writing is bad, you may survive because your competitors also write badly.
But this is not a game of cards, or rather, the cards are all in the mind, and no one can tell who is better at which level without the ability to read minds. If there are too many masters at your weak level, you will definitely die.
The method proposed by this elegant woman was a mediocre solution, which was to adopt a completely blind selection method, forcibly erasing everyone's weak points, and relying purely on luck to determine life and death.
Those who only have one weak level disagree, while those who can't remember the last two or three levels are of course more willing to take this approach. But now everyone is a black box, and no one knows how much others have remembered, so the stalemate makes no one willing to move.
"How about this," Schiller suddenly said, "I'll turn my immunity into a piece of paper and put it in the lottery box, how about that?"
"But you only have immunity for this round." Someone else said.
"But at least I can guarantee your safety this round," Schiller replied.
There were whispers in the restaurant, and it was obvious that this was the chip that could completely tip the scales.
Everyone here is a successful person. Although I don't want to focus on elitism, most of the successful people have their own skills to succeed. Pure losers cannot reach this level. Even those who run away out of fear have great willpower. The mental pollution of the monsters in the Cthulhu mythology is everywhere. If you can survive one more second, you can surpass countless people.
They immediately realized that even if it was only this round of immunity, it was tempting enough, especially for those who didn't remember this level clearly, or it could be said that it was the majority of people, because it was said before that the second level was very embarrassing, and almost everyone present was not sure.
This is a weak point for many people. Many people think that as long as they can get through this level, it will never be their turn later. If they have a chance to draw immunity, they are still willing to take a chance.
Some people think more deeply. Dr. Sosip said that he knew the standard answer. If he also participated in the lottery, he would also put his answer in the box. In this way, it would be equivalent to having two exemptions in the box, and the chance of winning would be much greater.
People have to judge which is greater: their chance of getting the last 20 by writing or by drawing lots. At the second special level, many people have already tended to favor the former. Coupled with the two immunities, many people have already agreed with this method in their hearts.
Of course, there were very few people who were confident about the second level. Although they also wanted immunity, they did not think that they would be ranked in the bottom 20 if they wrote it. On the contrary, the drawing of lots might bring bad luck. They shook their heads and indicated that they would not participate.
There were so few people like this that they could be counted on one hand. Others, whether they had calculated the probability, had a rough idea 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 is about a one-third chance of drawing the last 20, and about a one-thirtieth chance of drawing immunity.
This probability seems very dangerous, but most people have been in high positions for many years. They know that this is already a very good probability. If 20 people are bound to be eliminated, it can only be that they are unlucky.
Schiller asked the chef for a box. This was a very bold move and once again attracted the attention of others. However, the chef did not seem dissatisfied. He quickly asked the waiter to go to the kitchen and get an ordinary cardboard box. After gluing it together, he used scissors to cut a hole in it so that he could put his hand in.
Everyone began to write furiously, adding more content to what they had written, and then rolled up their own notes. Schiller left his seat and went to each person, asking them to put the notes into the box.
After everyone had voted, Schiller shook the box violently to make sure all the papers were mixed up. During this time, the others also wrote their own level rankings, this time handing them over to the woman who made the suggestion.
The woman began to read out the names of the priorities for this level. Many people wrote the priority of this level very high, so there were many ties. They used the simplest method of using the palm and back of the hand to decide the order, and began to draw lots in that order.
The bearded man won before. He walked up without doing anything special. He just stretched out his hand and drew the box. After he was done, he opened it. He seemed relieved, because even if they couldn't see the specific content, most people could see that it was written densely, which was at least better than the one with only two lines.
Some people wondered in their hearts, maybe he was so lucky to draw the one written by Dr. Soship, but the bearded man controlled himself very well and did not show any abnormality.
Soon, the first round of people finished drawing their papers in an orderly manner. There were about 40 people in total. They had different expressions, but none of them showed them too exaggeratedly. There was obviously very little content on the papers of a few people, and they picked up their pens to make up for it.
But the chef spoke up at this time. He said, "If there are two handwritings on a piece of paper, I will regard it as cheating, just like someone who wants to escape, and execute him directly."
As soon as he finished speaking, a man was pressed down on the table. Apparently he was quick and had already written down his other answers on paper. His spine was pulled out, and the others put down their pens tremblingly.
When the second round of drawing was in progress, a woman suddenly screamed. Her body was shaking as she looked at the piece of paper in her hand. There were no words on it, only a smiley face.
“Someone didn’t write anything!!!”
This scream seemed to completely ignite the atmosphere in the room, and everyone's faces became gloomy.
This plan is indeed problematic. Someone wants to take this opportunity to eliminate dissidents, but isn’t he afraid of having his own note drawn?
Wait, it said that two handwritings were not allowed, which meant that if he drew his own note, he would have a chance to make amends, but this poor woman drew the smiley face he drew, so she was doomed to die.
Everyone present realized the man's sinister intentions. He just wanted to kill someone.
Someone immediately stood up and pointed at the elegant woman who had made the suggestion before and said, "It must be you. This is a trap you set! You bitch!!!"
"It's not me. There's absolutely no point in me doing this..." The elegant woman wanted to argue, but the man had already rushed to her and grabbed her neck tightly.
The woman struggled desperately, but could not break free of the shackles of a strong man. She slowly lost her breath, fell to the ground, and soon disappeared.
The restaurant fell silent again. No one had thought that something like this would happen before, because it would be completely detrimental to others and not beneficial to oneself. No, it might not be completely detrimental to oneself. At least he used this method to secure one of the 20 spots.
The woman who got the smiley face had gone crazy. She was laughing wildly and wandering between the tables like she was dancing a dance of death. She pointed at everyone, then picked up a pen and started writing on the note.
"Are you crazy?" Someone looked at her.
"As long as I'm eliminated early, I won't be counted among the 20." She screamed madly, "I'd rather die for you than die. You'll still have 20 people die, not one less!!!"
When her spine was pulled out, everyone's faces looked grim. This woman was right. Those who were eliminated early were not counted in the 20 places. She chose to perish together with her, so the 20 death places did not change.
"That's good now." An old man with a mustache stroked his beard and said with a wry smile, "That guy didn't hurt anyone, and he ruined the plan completely."
That's right, after this incident, it is impossible for anyone to participate in this plan anymore. What if that madman puts a smiley face in there again, whoever draws it will die. What if there is more than one such madman, then no one will live.
The others who hadn't drawn yet were also a little hesitant, but when they thought that no one had drawn immunity yet, they bravely reached out to the hole.
Suddenly a young man shouted, "I got it, I got immunity!!!"
He raised his arms high and waved the note in his hand like a victorious king. He straightened his suit collar and walked back to his seat, obviously wanting to review the next question.
He seemed to be immersed in excitement and did not notice the pairs of malicious eyes around him. When he found someone approaching him, he suddenly dodged to the side, but was pushed to the ground by another person.
The man with the mustache just now forcefully snatched the note from his hand, held it in his hand, and then slit his throat with the broken porcelain pieces from the plate. Others wanted to snatch it from him, but their time was up.
After everyone had finished smoking, the chef went back into the kitchen. Some people began to plot in a low voice to kill the chef, but most people were not as stupid as him and just waited quietly where they were.
Soon the chef came out. This time he didn't seem to be in the mood to read these things anymore. Instead, he directly announced the death list.
The people whose names were called all had pale faces. Some wanted to struggle but were quickly held down, while others numbly accepted their fate.
But after a name was read out, a man suddenly stood up. It was the man with the mustache from before. He said, "How could my name be there? I have immunity! I grabbed the immunity!"
“That’s not immunity,” the chef said. “It’s not that just anyone writing the word immunity on a piece of paper is immunity.”
The mustache man was stunned, then he reacted, looked around in disbelief and said: "Some of you didn't write the answer, but wrote the word immunity on the paper?! Why did you do this?!!"
"You'll probably have to ask Dr. Sosip about that." The chef put his hands behind his back and looked in Schiller's direction. After such a long period of preparation, he finally showed his fangs and said.
"The doctor put two slips of paper in the box, but neither of them was a real immunity. One of them had the useless word of immunity written on it, and the other had a smiley face drawn on it."
Suddenly, everyone's eyes turned to Schiller.
"Excuse me, I didn't know that writing immunity on a piece of paper was useless." Schiller looked at the chef and said, "You agreed to my request to transfer immunity."
"I only agree that you transfer the immunity to that woman." The chef smiled evilly and said, "But I don't agree that you write this thing on a piece of paper and give it to 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 have told you the correct method of transfer. In this life-and-death situation, why didn't you ask a question?"
Schiller did not answer. He said, "I didn't paint that smiling face."
"I have a way to see what you wrote." The chef suddenly raised his hand, and the originally calm dining table suddenly began to ripple. Densely packed eyes opened on the table, scaring everyone to scream.
But after the initial panic, they looked at Schiller with shocked and angry eyes, obviously believing what the chef said.
Schiller sat there and sighed. He said, "Okay, I know the written immunity won't work, and I drew the smiley face. Everything is just to kill you."
The chef paused. He didn't expect Schiller to admit it so easily. He stared at Schiller closely to see if he wanted to argue in another direction.
Schiller slowly placed the briefcase in front of him, opened it, and took out a red candle and a match.
Then he stood up and looked around and said, "I believe that any intelligent person can see that this is just a conspiracy of the devil. He did all this and framed me just to get you to attack me."
Schiller lowered his head, struck a match, placed the flame on the candle wick, and said, "I hope you believe me, this is your last chance."
Everyone else, including the chef, was confused by his remarks. Wait, what did he mean, this is our last chance?
The chef's eyes moved to the candle, and when the candle was lit, he clearly felt that something was changing.
Schiller blew out the match gently, looked up at the chef and said, "Don't you want to know why I look different on the plate?"
"You said it was dissociative identity disorder."
"We are no longer separated...Excuse me, is there anything to eat?"
Thump thump