Cao Xianming stared at the number, his brow knotted.
How could this be?
His intuition told him that, given the current situation, they should have at least a seventy or eighty percent chance of winning.
The zombies were being driven out, the Eerie were being hunted down, and Yang Yong was keeping the Zombie King occupied.
Everything was moving in the right direction.
Why was the probability only fifty percent?
He calculated it again.
He recalibrated every variable, adjusted the weights, and added and removed parameters.
The result was still 50%.
A third time.
50%.
A fourth time.
50%.
A fifth time.
He activated the Highest-Precision Deduction Model.
This required an enormous amount of supernatural power, and even the Mechanical City's energy core began to tremble slightly.
50%.
It was 50% every time.
No more, no less, as though an invisible hand were deliberately keeping it at that number.
Cao Xianming began reviewing everything.
He broke down every part of the process and examined them one by one.
The number of zombies was steadily decreasing. There was nothing wrong with the operation to drive them out.
The number of Eerie was also plummeting. Xiao Ying's efficiency was outrageously high.
Yang Yong had the Zombie King firmly occupied. Heaven-Breaking Strike might have been monotonous, but it worked.
The city defense system was operating normally, with ample energy reserves.
Then... what exactly was it?
Cao Xianming dug his fingers into his nearly bald hair and tugged hard.
It was a habit of his when he thought. The deeper he thought, the harder he pulled.
The Survival Convoy had once privately placed bets on when he would pull himself completely bald.
He kept thinking, kept examining the possibilities, kept simulating every possible variable in his mind.
Time slipped by as he pondered.
One