The players left on the field could choose to continue with "No Match," eliminating Cong Yu and everyone else.
The price was merely enduring one more round of punishment.
To be fair, it was not as though they absolutely could not endure it, but... why suffer for no reason?
Amid such thoughts, Cong Yu's words also lingered in everyone's ears...
Let's fall into Hell together.
These players might never forget those words for the rest of their lives.
Words that seemed to possess some kind of magic, symbolizing suffering and punishment, torment and struggle...
"Number 38."
"Number 81."
"Number 82."
"..." The players chose matches one after another, and fortunately...
No one's match was affected by the eight community cards removed from the field. Everyone successfully advanced.
Amid the stench of excrement, the scent of blood, and the smell of grilled meat, this gamble—which would become a lifelong nightmare for many—finally came to an end.
The only one still able to stand and watch it all, rather than collapsing limply to the floor, was Cong Yu, as calm and composed as ever.
"Welcome back from Hell."
Cong Yu said it like that, uttering words that symbolized salvation and ease, reassurance and serenity.
Still like poetry...
Yet far more pleasant to hear than those terrifying words from before, like echoes from Hell.
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Magical Girl Alya?
Compared with long-term benefits, immediate pain was clearly easier for people to empathize with... at least,