"RULE NO. 3: Only the hunting teams that persevere to the very end have a chance to welcome victory's dawn!"
"Now!"
"Cheer! Rejoice! Die!"
"Unleash your shallow yet vivid desires without restraint in this world where illusion and reality overlap!"
"Every spark of spirit that shatters in the Illusory Dream Realm will become nourishment for the growth of ignorant life!"
"Every drop of blood you spill on the field will become the saliva of the cheering guests in the stands!"
"If someone asks what positive meaning there is in all this—"
"None!"
"Death is the greatest meaning of hunting! Battle is the only true essence of hunting!"
"The final voice on the hunting grounds contains only eight words—"
"Break bamboo, join bamboo, fly dirt, chase flesh!"
Accompanied by the Puppet's hoarse cries, drums answered like a violent storm. It extended its slender cane toward the audience, its eyes full of encouragement. "Let us shout together—"
The hunters in the hall looked at one another. After a long while, scattered voices finally called out, "Break bamboo, join bamboo, fly dirt, chase flesh!"
"Not loud enough!"
The Puppet was greatly annoyed, seemingly angered that the young wizards had wasted the atmosphere it had created. It snapped its fingers, and the urgent drumbeat rang out again. Then it repeated its earlier gesture. "Let us shout together—"
"Break bamboo, join bamboo, fly dirt, chase flesh!"
This time, all the hunters below cooperatively shouted along.
The Puppet nodded in satisfaction and pressed down with one hand. The background sounds vanished at once, and the entire hall fell into dead silence. It bowed slightly in thanks, and Zheng Qing vaguely heard it murmur in a whisper:
"Though I am only a Puppet, I sometimes dream..."
White mist swept in from every direction, drowning the Puppet as