Xu Long's voice fell, and the room instantly went cold as death. Everyone was left speechless, casting sidelong glances his way.
The meaning was obvious—he had silenced them all.
Previously, during Lu Ce's game of wagering against Death, Death had directly told Lu Ce that there would be no next game.
However, no one else had heard those words. They had reached Lu Ce's ears alone.
After the game ended and they returned, everyone was shocked to discover that everything related to the game had come to a halt. There were no rankings, no settlement, and certainly no preview of the next round.
Only the game's page remained, hanging empty in the minds of every Chosen One.
It was like a global online chatroom where anyone could speak freely, with no administrator—or perhaps the administrator, "God," had gone off to do something else.
Under such circumstances, the Dragon Group had already been thoroughly bewildered. Only Blank, who had returned from the game and won the wager, had issued them a warning.
—God might no longer give humanity another chance. Prepare for one final struggle.
Yet those simple words had become a nightmare for every member of the Dragon Group, an ever-present dark cloud hanging over the room.
For the past few days, the Dragon Group had been in an especially stifling state of mind, gathering together in silent gloom.
At that moment, hearing Xu Long's remark break the oppressive atmosphere, an elder of the Dragon Group said helplessly amid the silence:
"Do you believe what you just said yourself?"
"The gods retreated? You actually dared to imagine something like that..."
Perhaps Xu Long himself found it absurd as well. He coughed twice and hurriedly said:
"Well, there's no other way anyway. We're all just guessing, so why can't we guess