At that moment, Clown did not answer anyone's questions. He merely waved a hand. "Forget it. This round is over."
"The game's over? Great!" Everyone cast grateful looks at Wenren Sheng.
They did not want to spend even one more minute in such a terrifying game.
Just as everyone was celebrating, the three wolves Wenren Sheng had pointed out—Numbers 1, 4, and 7—suddenly died on the spot. One had their brains splattered, another's face turned blue-purple, and the third's body ruptured.
Blood covered the ground, a horrifying sight to behold.
"Hmph. Are you still so pleased with yourself now?" Clown sneered at Wenren Sheng. "You're the one who killed those three people."
How could Wenren Sheng be crushed by such a trivial moral blow?
The people beside him spoke up one after another. "There was no other way. Thank you, Number 3. Better that than all seven of us dying."
"Yeah, this has nothing to do with you."
What they did not know was that even without their reassurances, Wenren Sheng would not have felt any psychological burden.
"Demon, you killed them, not me!"
He pointed at the other party.
"Hmph. Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?" Clown was somewhat puzzled.
"I've already died once. What is there for me to fear from you?" Wenren Sheng said, shaking his head.
Of course, he was not afraid of death. The one who would die would not be him.
"Forget it. You can go." Clown did not fly into a rage after all. With a sweep of his sleeve, everyone vanished from their seats.
Wenren Sheng regained consciousness.
"Oh, Old Wen, you're finally awake! You scared me to death. I thought you were going to become a vegetable," Little Illusion's voice rang beside his ear.
"Would you be that scared