771, The Illusion Race, Death, and the Declining Number of Contestants

"Heh. You want to know? Well, I'm not going to tell you."

His opponent said coldly.

Lu Lin showed not the slightest displeasure.

Because he had a way to make him talk.

"If you won't tell me, that's fine. I'll give you another chance in ten seconds."

Lu Lin said.

"Ten seconds? What are y—"

His opponent had just started speaking when a sudden wave of excruciating pain hit him.

The pain wouldn't kill him instantly, but it would leave him utterly miserable and suffering.

Lu Lin had gained a basic understanding of the system's standards for determining pain.

As long as the pain he inflicted didn't exceed the threshold, his opponent wouldn't die. He would only be tormented endlessly by Lu Lin.

And because of the pain, his opponent couldn't even take his own life.

One second.

Two seconds.

Time ticked by, bit by bit.

But to Ping Fan, each second felt like a year.

Two streams of bloody tears ran down his face.

Blood trickled from his ears, nose, and mouth as well.

He had no visible wounds, yet he looked so horrifyingly close to death.

"Ugh... I... I was wrong..."

Ping Fan struggled to speak.

But Lu Lin showed no mercy.

Eight seconds.

Nine seconds.

Ten seconds.

Lu Lin stopped.

His gaze was as cold as frost in the depths of winter.

"Now, will you talk?"

"Huff, huff, huff."

Ping Fan panted heavily.

He looked at Lu Lin in fear.

Now, because of the intense pain, he could no longer maintain his original appearance. He had changed back to the way he looked at the start.

Lu Lin couldn't find a single word to describe his opponent's appearance.

That was because there was nothing distinctive about him at all.

"Talk!"

Lu Lin barked.

But then a smile