Super Righteous Player
Chapter 829 - 368 I Will Dismember You a Thousand Times

Chapter 829: Chapter 368 I Will Dismember You a Thousand Times

"Obviously, you wouldn’t agree if I said I wouldn’t gamble, right?"

Faced with a desperate situation, Annan remained exceptionally calm.

"Of course."

Crow said leisurely, "If you don’t choose, I will choose for you. The rules of the Thousand-Faced Phantom Tower already have a plan for those who play passively."

He certainly knew Crow didn’t tell everything—still, it was Crow’s unique style. He would never pass up an opportunity to be nasty in the slightest detail.

This was probably the most low of all the divine entities.

Even he wasn’t ashamed of it but proudly took pride in this lowliness.

Crow did not give Annan an explanation.

The most dangerous part of this game didn’t lie in "drawing the five cards Kafney picked out the fastest."

—But in how to avoid the cards Kafney "might have picked" when launching an attack on Crow—

Every attack launched on Crow required the sacrifice of a card.

And as long as he fired the "real card" picked by Kafney as ammunition...

...It meant that Annan could never win.

He must draw the remaining cards one by one, enduring fear and anticipation (if he had any), forgetting his friends one by one, and then, upon ultimate failure, detonating everything to turn into despair.

—That is to say, Annan could not afford a single mistake.

Such a terrible rule.

It was like having "Die for me" written all over one’s face.

"You surely think you’ve got me all figured out, right?"

Annan said in a low voice.

Without a word, Crow simply stood with hands behind his back, smiling as he watched Annan.

So Annan took a deep breath.

—Such a familiar desperate situation.

A glimmer of light started to bloom in the depths of his eyes.

Focused. Serious. Concentrated.

Using all his strength.

He absolutely could not fail.

Not a single error—

The pressure enough to overwhelm and drive a person to madness instead made the corners of Annan’s mouth involuntarily begin to rise.

"Hehehe... Hahahahaha... Ahahahahaha!"

Annan laughed out loud without restraint, like a madman!

Like the strike of a flame.

In the abyss of desperation, a golden glow ignited from the bottom of Annan’s eyes with a swoosh.

"Have you gone mad?"

Crow said leisurely, "Well, I can’t blame you."

"Huh? What nonsense are you talking about?"

Annan’s laughter finally ceased.

That gentle smile on his face finally disappeared—as if he had removed a mask.

An unpredictable aura of madness flared from the flames in his eyes.

"Hey."

A strange emphasis followed with Annan’s voice.

Like a sharp child’s voice.

Like an elderly, muffled sound.

"—Then let me ask you."

Bound to the throne, yet he seemed to sit there like a sovereign ruler.

The black-haired youth raised his voice with a question.

"—Would you dare to raise the stakes?"

"Raise the stakes?"

Crow furrowed his brows.

"You’ve lived many more years than I have. For a heartless person like you, forgetting someone isn’t much of a punishment. So I want a more definite punishment—"

Annan said coldly, "Every time this Blade of Oblivion kills you, you’ll suffer the pain of ’capital punishment’!"

"—Agreed."

Crow replied without hesitation: "But it will apply to you as well.

"If you die in pain or pass out from it, then I will be the one to draw your cards for you."

Even enduring such pain was of no concern.

When struck by the "Blade of Oblivion," forgetting one person meant forgetting all associated memories. Annan’s life so far had only spanned fifteen years.

As long as he was cut enough times, his consciousness could be completely wiped clean.

This would completely incapacitate this formidable enemy, Annan, right here.

Even if it meant paying a sufficient price—forgetting some memories, enduring the pain of being killed dozens of times—it was of no concern.

"Alright."

Annan grinned, "Then I shall collect some interest here."

Crow and Annan locked eyes.

Both were filled with intense murderous intent.

"Then, you have only five minutes per turn to think."

Crow slowly sat on the opposite side of the table, saying indifferently, "Now, the game begins."

As these words fell.

Annan’s aura changed.

The golden glow burning in his eyes became more splendid, like the empty and hollow eyes of the dead, while the invisible madness about him slightly receded.

"Let’s see the gap between you and me."

Even though he was only a mere mortal.

Annan spoke this with no hesitation.

"The first card—Twelve."

Annan calmly said, "Kafney will immediately think of my grandmother and Dmitry, leading her to remember my grandmother’s Holy Day—December the first."

As Annan’s words fell.

The card marked with twelve turned into azure blue particles and dissipated.

"Correct."

Crow’s voice was equally calm, "Choose your attack points."

"That would naturally be... fifteen."

Annan’s mouth formed a cruel smile, "Let me enjoy this for a moment."

The card labeled fifteen suddenly stood erect.

It shattered, turning into scarlet light points. They poured into the purple dagger.

On the dagger, a number "fifteen" appeared.

Afterward, streaks of purple light intertwined, flowing from the dagger toward Crow.

Crow’s body was immediately covered with fifteen gashes, bones visible within.

Divine blood dripped and dropped, turning into a fragrant scent upon touching the ground.

Crow first grunted, then suddenly gripped the armrest of his chair tightly.

His body shook—a direct incontinence.

Afterward, his entire body tensed up violently, twisting like a snake, with blood pumping out with his movements, turning him into a bloodied figure.

Sweat mingled with the blood streamed from him, his face displaying obvious agony... and then he could no longer endure it and let out a harrowing scream, hoarse as a crow.

It took more than a minute before he gradually quieted down.

And his tongue had been bitten to pieces.

Crow spat out a chunk of flesh, took a deep breath—his tongue regenerated, and the wounds on his body rapidly healed.

But his white robe, soaked in sweat, blood, and urine, remained unrepaired.

"Truly befitting of a dead eunuch."

Annan said somberly, "You leak as swiftly as expected. It’s a pity I can’t space out these fifteen executions; otherwise, I would have taken my time with you, rather than being so intense right from the start."

"It’s been three minutes already."

Crow was completely indifferent to his indecent appearance, soaked in his own urine.

He took a deep breath and with a hoarse voice said, "My execution time, of course, also falls within these five minutes. You can’t extend your thinking time by torturing me."

"...Do you think that I am torturing you to prolong the thinking time?"

Annan sighed, "That’s quite the wrong guess.

"My thinking doesn’t require time at all. I am merely enjoying your suffering. Also, to prevent you from becoming numb... I have to wait until after you have recovered to choose the next card."

Annan smiled, "It’s just a pity, I have only a little over sixty cuts. I can’t flay you thousandfold.

"If I’m not mistaken, you’ve kept one thing to yourself. In the last round, for every card Kafney guessed correctly, you would tell a lie about me; and for every incorrect guess, you’d tell the truth.

"Twelve, of course, was right, so you would tell a lie. And it certainly is a lie about me—this would guide Kafney’s thoughts toward me. So, what would she first think of when her thoughts revolve around me?"

Annan leaned back slightly in his throne.

He said leisurely, "Exactly. Of course, it’s... The Seventh Daylight.

"—So, the second card is seven."