Chapter 2827: Weird Feast Nightmare (Part 9)

Chapter 2801 Weird Feast Nightmare (IX)

The most difficult part of this game is that if you survive this level by chance, it does not mean that you are a master, and there is no reward for victory. On the contrary, those who survived the previous level may not remember the content of the next level at all. There is no law of strength and weakness.

Even if those who can survive to this day have good memory, there are differences between each level. Everyone has a level that they don’t remember clearly. This is their weakness, and this weakness is already doomed.

So the best choice is to let all those who can remember the content of their weak level die in the previous level, so that even if you write badly, because your competitors are also bad, you may survive.

But this is not playing cards, or the cards are all in the mind. People who don’t have the ability to read minds can’t tell who is better at which level, and if there are too many masters in your weak level, then you will definitely die.

The method proposed by this elegant woman is a mediocre solution, that is, to adopt a completely blind selection method, forcibly erase everyone’s weak level, and rely purely on luck to decide life and death.

Those who only had one weak level disagreed, and those who couldn't remember the last two or three levels would of course be more willing to take this approach, but now everyone is a black box, and no one knows how much others have remembered, so no one is willing to move.

"How about this." Schiller suddenly said: "I will turn my immunity into a piece of paper and put it in the lottery box, how about it?"

"But you only have immunity for this round." Someone else said.

"But at least it can guarantee your safety in this round." Schiller replied.

Whispers rang out in the restaurant, and it was obvious that this was the chip that could completely tilt the balance.

All of the people present were successful people. Although I don't want to be an elite, most of the successful people are still good at success. Pure waste can't reach this level. Even those who ran away because of fear have pretty good 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, which could be said to be the majority, because the second level was embarrassing as mentioned before, and almost everyone present was unsure.

This is a weak level for many people. Many people think that as long as they can survive this level, it will never be their turn in the future. If there is a chance to draw immunity, they are still willing to take a gamble.

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 is equivalent to having two immunity in the box, and the probability of drawing is much greater.

People must judge whether the probability of writing and getting the last 20 is greater or the probability of drawing the last 20 by lottery. In the second level, which is a more special level, many people have already tended to the former. In addition to the two immunity, many people have agreed with this method in their hearts.

Of course, there are a very few people who are confident about the second level. Although they also want immunity, they don’t think that they will be reduced to the last 20 if they write. On the contrary, drawing lots may bring bad luck. They shook their heads and said that they would not participate.

There are too few such people, and they can be counted on one hand. Others, whether they have calculated the probability, know themselves and others, or simply want to follow the crowd, have chosen to participate. After counting the number of people, there are 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 their bad luck.

Schiller asked the chef for a box. This was a very bold move, which once again attracted the attention of others, but the chef did not seem dissatisfied. He quickly asked the waiter to go to the kitchen to get an ordinary cardboard box. After gluing it, he used scissors to dig a hole in it that could be put in.

Everyone started writing 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 to ask them to put their notes into the box.

After everyone had voted, Schiller shook the box violently to make sure all the notes were mixed. During this time, others also wrote their own level rankings, and this time they handed them to the woman who made this suggestion.

The woman began to read the names of the priority levels. Many people wrote the priority of this level very high, so there were many tied votes. They used the simplest method of palm and back of hand to decide an order, and began to draw lots in order.

The bearded man won before. He didn't do anything special when he came up. He stretched out his hand and drew, and opened it after drawing. His expression seemed to be relieved, because even if he couldn't see the specific content, most people could see that it was densely written, at least better than the one with only two lines.

Some people speculated in their hearts that he was so lucky that he drew the one written by Dr. Sosip, but the bearded man controlled himself very well and didn't show any abnormality.

Soon, the first round of people finished drawing in an orderly manner. There were about 40 people. They had different expressions, but none of them were too exaggerated. Several people's papers obviously had little content, and they picked up pens to make up for it.

But at this time, the chef spoke up and 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 it directly."

As soon as he finished speaking, a person was pressed on the table. Obviously, he was quick and had already written his other answers on the paper. His spine was drawn out, and the others put down their pens tremblingly.

Just when the second round was drawing, a woman suddenly screamed. She trembled and looked at the note in her hand. There was no word on it at all, only a smiley face.

"Someone didn't write anything!!!"

This scream seemed to completely ignite the atmosphere in the room, and everyone's face became gloomy.

This plan is indeed problematic. Someone wants to take this opportunity to exclude dissidents, but isn't he afraid of drawing his own note?

Wait, it is said that two handwritings are not allowed, which means that if he draws his own note, he has a chance to make amends, but this poor woman draws the smiley face he drew, and she is doomed to die.

Everyone present realized the sinister intention of this person, he just wanted to trap someone to death.

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

"It's not me, there is no point in me doing this..." The elegant woman wanted to argue, but the man had already rushed to her side and strangled her neck tightly.

The woman struggled desperately, but it was difficult to break free from the shackles of a middle-aged man. Slowly, she lost her breath, her body fell to the ground, and soon disappeared.

The restaurant fell silent again. No one had thought that such a thing would happen before, because it was 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 anchor one of the 20 people.

The woman who got the smiley face was already crazy. She laughed wildly and wandered 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 am eliminated in advance, I will not be counted among the 20 people." She screamed madly: "I would rather die for you, and you will still die 20 people, not one less!!!"

When her spine was taken out, everyone's face was very ugly. This woman was right. Those who were eliminated in advance were not counted in the 20 quotas. She chose to perish together with the enemy, and the death quotas of the 20 people did not change.

"That's good now." An uncle with a mustache touched his beard and said with a wry smile: "That guy didn't hurt anyone, and he completely ruined the plan."

That's right, after this incident, it's impossible for anyone to participate in this plan again. What if that madman puts a smiley face in again, whoever draws it will die. What if there is more than one such madman, then everyone will die.

The others who haven't drawn yet are also a little hesitant, but when they think that no one has drawn immunity yet, they bravely reach out to the hole again.

Suddenly a young man shouted, "I drew it, I drew immunity!!!"

He raised his arms high, waved the paper in his hand, like a victorious king, adjusted his suit collar, and walked back to his seat, obviously wanting to review the next question.

He seemed to be immersed in excitement and didn't see the pairs of malicious eyes around him. When he found someone approaching him, he dodged to the side, but was pushed to the ground by another person.

The man with the mustache just now snatched the note from his hand, held it in his hand, and slashed his throat with the broken porcelain pieces of the plate. Others wanted to snatch it from him, but the time was up.

Everyone finished smoking, and the chef went into the kitchen again. Some people began to whisper and plot to kill the chef, but most people were not as stupid as him, and waited quietly in the same place.

Soon the chef came out. This time he didn't seem to be in the mood to read these things again, but directly announced the death list.

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

But after a name was read, a man stood up suddenly. It was the man with the mustache. He said, "How could my name be there? I have immunity! I got the immunity!"

"That's not immunity." The chef said, "It's not that just anyone writes the word immunity on a piece of paper, and it's considered immunity."

The mustache was stunned, and then he reacted, looking 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 may have to ask Dr. Sosip about this." The chef put his hands behind his back and looked in Schiller's direction. After such a long preparation, he finally showed his fangs and said.

"The doctor put two pieces of paper in the box, but neither of them was a real immunity. One of them had the useless word immunity written on it, and the other had a smiley face drawn on it."

All of a sudden, everyone looked at 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 agreed to transfer your immunity to that woman." The chef smiled evilly and said, "But I didn't agree to write this thing on 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 asked, I would naturally tell you the correct transfer method. In this life-and-death situation, why didn't you ask more questions?"

Schiller didn't answer. He said, "The smiley face was not drawn by me."

"I have a way to see what you wrote." The chef suddenly raised his hand, and the originally calm table suddenly began to undulate. Dense eyes opened on the table, scaring everyone to scream.

But after the initial panic, they looked at Schiller with that kind of shocked and angry eyes, obviously believing what the chef said.

Schiller sat there and sighed. He said, "Okay, I know that the written immunity will not work. 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 change his argument in another direction.

Schiller slowly put the briefcase in front of him, opened the briefcase, and took out a red candle and a match.

Then he stood up and looked around and said, "I believe that any smart 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, lit the match with a swish, put the flame on the candle wick, and then said, "I hope you believe me, this is your last chance."

Other people, including the chef, were confused by his remarks. Wait, what did he say, this is our last chance?

The chef's eyes moved to the candle. 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's dissociative identity disorder."

"No longer dissociated...Excuse me, is there anything to eat?"

Dongdangdong