"Young Lord, what does this mean? Is it a game?" Someone finally couldn't resist voicing their doubt.
Mu Qingge smiled and replied, "You can regard it as a game for now. As for what this game truly means, I hope that the final five hundred winners can tell me your answer."
Without giving the crowd time or a chance to react, Mu Qingge issued an order, beginning this selection that seemed like a game.
The hundred or so people who had withdrawn earlier watched from afar, grateful in their hearts.
They thought to themselves: If I hadn't left, I would surely have shared the same fate as those brothers, playing games with the Young Lord.
Ignoring the thoughts of others, Mu Qingge returned to her chair and sat down, observing the competition under the scorching sun.
At the start, none of the five hundred and thirty-seven individuals could take even ten steps forward, some fell after just two steps, collapsing into a heap.
This chaos continued until the sun began to set.
