The Most Important Thing in the World

【Sudden Question:】

【The current gun holder must answer the following question within 5 seconds.】

【If the answer is "wrong," they must shoot themselves again!】

【Question: What is the most important thing in the world?】

【Countdown: 5…】

What? Again?

Zhou Ke clenched his fists.

As expected, only when it was his turn did an additional test appear.

Zhou Ke was now certain—someone on the other side was playing tricks.

【4…】

The question was, "What is the most important thing in the world"?

Was this "thing" a physical object or an abstract concept?

Wealth? Love? Career? Social status? Or… life itself?

Logically, life should be the most important—without it, nothing else mattered.

But…

Was that really the correct answer?

【3…】

Countless people had sacrificed their lives for freedom and dreams.

Yet, many believed that without survival, everything else was meaningless.

In the end, this question had a thousand answers for a thousand people.

Because it was an open-ended question—there was no single "correct" answer.

A miser would say wealth was paramount, a hopeless romantic would swear by love, and a workaholic would prioritize their career.

And throughout history, countless had pursued immortality, believing that above all else, staying alive was the greatest priority.

Zhou Ke furrowed his brow, his mind racing.

No matter how he answered, there was no way to guarantee he’d be "right."

This was an unsolvable, fatal question.

【2…】

?

Zhou Ke replayed the sudden question in his mind.

【If the answer is "wrong," they must shoot themselves again!】

That’s it!

The question didn’t demand a "correct" answer.

It only stated that if the answer was deemed "wrong," he’d have to shoot himself again.

So, all he needed was an answer that could never be judged as "wrong."

The key to breaking this deadlock was to step outside the question itself—to give an answer that was impossible to label as incorrect!

【1…】

After a long moment of contemplation, Zhou Ke suddenly looked up and spoke without hesitation:

"My answer is wrong."

The system voice froze.

【…】

Through a mix of mechanical static and gritted teeth, it responded:

【…You’re ruthless.】

……

Outside the examination hall.

Zhuang Xingyao still hadn’t looked up, frantically operating something on her screen.

"Hurry… We have to save him before the Skull Society makes their move."

Professor Chen Yun stared nervously at the large screen.

When she saw Zhou Ke’s clever response, she exhaled in relief, wiping cold sweat from her brow with a handkerchief.

Many of the freshmen caught on as well. Once they grasped the meaning behind Zhou Ke’s answer, they couldn’t help but admire his quick thinking.

"How did he come up with that?!"

Zhang Yang, however, was still lost.

He muttered under his breath,

"What does that mean? Did Zhou Ke pass?"

Professor Chen Yun explained:

"The point wasn’t to find the 'correct' answer, but to find one that couldn’t be judged as 'wrong.'"

Zhang Yang tilted his head. "Why couldn’t this answer be judged as wrong?"

Professor Chen Yun analyzed carefully:

"If the system judged his answer as 'wrong,' what would that imply?"

Zhang Yang had to think hard about Zhou Ke’s words. "He said, 'My answer is wrong.' If that statement was wrong, then…"

"Then his answer would actually be correct," Zhuang Xingyao interjected, her fingers still flying across the controls.

"Exactly." Chen Yun nodded. "Since the answer would then be correct, the system would have to let him pass."

Zhang Yang scratched his head and asked again, "Then what if the system judged his answer as 'correct'?"

Professor Chen Yun continued:

"If the system deemed Zhou Ke’s statement 'correct,' then 'my answer is wrong' would be true."

"But that would mean his answer was wrong—contradicting the system’s initial judgment."

Zhuang Xingyao summarized:

"So, this answer is a paradox—neither right nor wrong."

"Since there’s no definitive judgment, it can’t be labeled as 'wrong.'"

"That freshman didn’t answer the system’s question directly… He’s sharp."

Suddenly, Zhuang Xingyao’s hands stopped moving.

Professor Chen Yun quickly asked,

"What’s wrong, Xingyao? Any progress on repairing the examination hall?"

Zhuang Xingyao shook her head lightly:

"I’ve tried everything. It’s impossible."

"Now, there’s only one way for him to survive…"

"And that is—"

"To win this test."

……

Inside the examination hall.

After successfully passing the second sudden question, Zhou Ke handed the pistol to the assassin across from him.

"Your turn."

The black-clad assassin’s expression finally showed a flicker of unease.

But he still pressed the gun to his own temple.

The rules were absolute.

The blade embedded in his chair still pressed against his spine—if he disobeyed the examination’s rules, he’d die regardless.

The assassin’s fingers trembled slightly.

Two chambers, one bullet. A fifty percent chance of death.

The odds were already terrifyingly high.

Zhou Ke watched his fingers.

The assassin seemed to stare back at him in silence before pulling the trigger after two seconds.

Click.

Fifth shot.

Empty.

The examination hall fell into complete silence.

Both of them understood what this meant.

"Heh…" The assassin chuckled darkly.

"Kid, do you know what this empty shot means?"

"If you’d deliberately answered the sudden question wrong earlier, this empty shot would’ve been yours."

"And I’d have been forced to take the gun after two consecutive 'empty' shots."

"But now…"

He tossed the revolver back to Zhou Ke.

"The sixth shot is yours."

Russian roulette had six possible shots—one bullet.

The first five had all been empty.

Which meant…

Zhou Ke sighed and gripped the pistol.

One chamber left. One bullet.

This final shot had a 100% chance of firing.

A guaranteed death.

Was there still a way out?

Zhou Ke felt the blade behind him, its tip pricking lightly against his skin through his clothes.

If he broke the rules—tried to flee or fight—the blade would undoubtedly pierce forward.

He couldn’t gamble on whether he or the blade would be faster.

"Haah…" He exhaled deeply and pressed the cold barrel against his temple.

The metal’s chill against his skin felt like the touch of Death’s fingertips.

One pull of the trigger, and everything would end.

The assassin muttered softly:

"Sorry. I’m just following orders."

"Since I’m about to die anyway… can you tell me who sent you?" Zhou Ke suddenly asked.

The assassin shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not. I can’t reveal his name."

Zhou Ke pressed further. "Is it someone I know? Someone in this school?"

As the words left his mouth, Zhou Ke noticed a strange twitch in the assassin’s shadowed face beneath the hood.

Too strong a reaction, Zhou Ke thought.

That could only mean his guess had hit the mark.

It was in this very school that someone wanted him dead.

"Why? I'm just an ordinary freshman. I don’t recall offending anyone—why would someone want to kill me?"

Zhou Ke refused to give up and pressed on with his questions.

The black-clad figure let out what seemed like a cold chuckle. "Hah, do you really not remember—"

"Your parents?"