Dressed as an abandoned daughter of a wealthy family, she relies on metaphysics to become a god

He took the gun neatly and pointed it at his temple.

His movements are so skillful, it must not be the first time he has played this kind of game.

The gun still didn't go off, and the man with the broken leg swallowed. If his chance of being shot the first time was one in six, now it was only one in four.

However, he had no choice.

His entire face was wrinkled, and veins popped out on the back of his hands. It was unknown how much effort he expended before firing this shot.

The pistol slipped feebly from his hand. He was still alive, but he would rather it was the last time he fired.

"Very good." The hunter picked up the pistol on the ground.

The handle was stained with men's sweat. The hunter looked around. The banquet hall was in a mess, and there were no clean tissues to be found.

He walked over to a nearby table and wiped the surface of the pistol several times with the tablecloth before raising it.

Bah!

The sharp gunfire broke the silence, like a muffled thunder exploding next to the man.

He belatedly covered his ears, and involuntarily let out a short and meaningless cry from his mouth, huddled up in the corner.

The blood flowing on the ground was like smudged paint. The man kept retreating, but the blood still wet his trousers.

He didn't even have the courage to raise his head. The bullet exploded in the human brain and would definitely blow the head into pieces.

Did he survive?

The man's head felt dull, and it took him a long time before he remembered the wound on his leg.

He tore off the clothes on his upper body and planned to bandage himself.

He was surprised to find that there were many bullet holes in his pants, but not every one of them penetrated his body. Three of them just passed through the gaps in his clothes.

The remaining two wounds were deep, and the high temperature of the bullets scorched the skin, and there was no longer heavy bleeding at this moment.

After briefly dealing with it, the man staggered and tried to stand up.

Perhaps due to excessive blood loss, the moment he stood up, his vision went dark and he almost fell down again.

He leaned against the wall and calmed down for a while before recovering.

"Over there...that's the door. I can walk through it, and I can survive..."

He still couldn't hold it back and looked back. The hunter's body fell just under the table, and the bright red tablecloth covered the area above his chest.

For some reason, the man let out a sigh, perhaps to avoid danger, or perhaps because he didn't have to see that cruel scene.

He walked slowly and acted very funny, but he couldn't care less now.

As long as he can get out of here, even if he crawls out like a maggot, he is willing to do so.

"Where are you going?"

Suddenly, the man's pupils shrank. Was he hallucinating?

Why did he hear the hunter's voice again?

He shook his head desperately, as if this could throw the sound out of his consciousness.

"Where are you going?"

"Our game isn't over yet."

"You can't leave, the game continues."

"If you go any further, I will count you as violating the rules."

Sweating in cold sweat, the man knew the hallucination caused by the trauma, but his feet could not take a step forward.

The door was less than one meter away from him.

Physical pain and mental pressure stimulated him all the time, and he had to break away from the illusion.

Otherwise, he would not have died by a man's gun, but would have died in a hallucination.