Just as Bruce and Schiller faced off, the door to the second-floor room suddenly opened. A group of strange people wearing masks of various sea creatures walked in. At their head was an old man without a mask, though a golden trident had been painted on his forehead.
"Welcome, everyone invited aboard the Great West Continent. Before that, we will give you ample time to change clothes and put on your masks. Rest assured, the ship will not go far. Once everyone is ready, we will set sail."
His words left most people rather bewildered. Wasn't it a little late to remember changing clothes and wearing masks now?
If they wanted anonymity, they should have had everyone change and mask up before entering. Everyone had already shown their faces, and some had even explained their identities and backgrounds while chatting. Wasn't putting on masks now completely pointless?
Anyone bold enough to accept the challenge had some skill. Even if their faces were hidden behind masks, their identities could be guessed from their voices and builds—especially since quite a few people here had distinctive traits.
Christopher's expression darkened. He knew these rules worked against him. He had been too busy talking to Schiller to memorize anyone else's characteristics, while he himself was exceptionally recognizable.
On the way to the changing rooms, everyone realized the organizers had intended exactly this. The public figures among the challenged participants had already revealed themselves, while ordinary people could become nearly impossible to identify after changing clothes and putting on masks.
Schiller was assigned a changing room as well. As he lingered at the door, he spotted a familiar figure among the other challenged participants hurrying through the corridor.
Schiller recognized the person but said nothing. He turned and entered the changing room. It was a