People silently watched the Tentacle People. At last, someone threw them some canned food and sausages, then turned and left.
Slowly, one after another, they all left.
Wenren Sheng felt nothing in particular. He had only noticed one thing:
Prophet Crow's foresight was truly powerful. Not one more, not one less—the death toll matched its cries exactly.
The Tentacle People warily eyed one another, gathered up the canned food and sausages, and also left this Slaughter Land.
Compared to those who had died before, they were fortunate.
But compared to their former lives, they were unlucky again.
"Let's go too." Wenren Sheng shook his head.
He had already learned the Game Emulator's purpose, and he was beginning to grasp a thread of the methods it intended to use.
He simply had not decided what stance to take—whether to stop it, remain neutral and watch the show, or give it a push.
For now, he would take things one step at a time.
Inside a wasteland bar somewhere.
A sign hung above it: "Tentacles, tentacles, we're all tentacles!"
It was extremely lively inside.
Tentacle People who had just left the Slaughter Land were gathering here.
They desperately needed a hard drunken binge to numb and heal themselves, and to bid farewell to their former lives—women, children, wealth...
Tentacle People could not conduct business at banks.
Nor could they shop online, since everything now required full-body verification.
Neither sellers nor delivery drivers wanted to deliver goods into the hands of a monster.
"Bring me a martini!" said Ma En, who had just been a heavyweight commander and was now a Tentacle Person.
He had discovered one benefit of becoming a Tentacle Person: he could hold more than a dozen drinks at once without worrying about anyone snatching them away.
"Certainly, sir."