How Many Tomorrows There Are

Chapter 13: Endless banquet

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From the moment he received the scroll, Brett was thinking about how to deal with it.

How to deliver enough passable performances without driving yourself crazy.

At first, he just wanted to delay time and watch while walking, but he didn't expect his partner to surprise him.

As soon as he had an idea, they wanted to see desire, so he showed them desire, but he was not the protagonist, but only used as a prop.

The dog boy did not let him down, and vividly displayed the four characters of desire/fire/burning body, showing his desire with his eyes, voice, and posture, but he had to endure because of the order, and helplessly begged for it.

Just like fine wine gets richer with age, masterpieces become more valuable with age, and the burst of desire after continuous suppression is sweeter.

Not to mention the spectators who lacked self-control on the stage, even Bright was affected.

You must know that he has been thinking about all kinds of spoiling things from the beginning, trying to stay awake.

It was torture, for both, and each other's torturers.

Bright hadn't expected the gamble to happen, but he was glad it diverted the attention from betting on himself.

Cut off your left hand, bet on your daughter, whatever, please don't look at me anymore, please forget about me! Just leave me with a little bit of dignity.

His eyes fell on a point of nothingness in the air, and he felt the soft and fluffy hair on his hand, but his attention had already drifted away.

Speaking of which, the body given by the system is very powerful, and the self-will has a strong control over it. If it were the body of the weak chicken otaku before, it would probably last less than ten minutes.

Well, he lied, eight minutes.

… five minutes. can not be less anymore!

Time passed by, and the originally sticky and ambiguous atmosphere was gradually disturbed by the gamblers.

"Why is there still no movement? Is impotence not an obstacle?"

"Hey, dog, work harder! Don't be lazy! Use your tongue!"

When the one-hour time limit was approaching, the gambler yelled frantically at Brett: "Shoot, fuck you!" He seemed to want to rush over, wishing to help himself, and squeezed out the Wangwang crushed ice, but was stopped by another person . "Hey! Don't play tricks!" The man encouraged Brett again: "Come on! If you need more than one second in an hour, you will win!"

"Ten, nine, eight, seven..." Everyone shouted the countdown in unison, "Two, one! It's over an hour!" They yelled at the loser: "Cut off your left hand! Cut off! Cut off!"

The gambler fell into an ice cellar, remorseful, and the hotel staff ignored his struggle and charged his bet.

The exploding blood flowers and painful howls stimulated the people, and the atmosphere became lively again.

Someone picked up the same style as a canine boy: "Hey, little guy, let me see if your ventriloquist is really that bad."

Then he lost quickly.

"Haha! You are too useless! Let me do it!"

"Don't grab the ones in the back, line up!"

I didn't expect you to be quite talented.

Brett secretly rolled his eyes, he raised his head slightly as if he couldn't bear the passion/desire, and his eyes swept across the big shots upstairs.

The number was higher than before. Some people probably heard about it and came back to watch the excitement. The number of people is still increasing. I don't know if they have placed a bet.

Brett closed his eyes and blamed himself for his impulsiveness. He just wanted to find the slag who framed him, and then suddenly realized that he couldn't do anything to him.

The canine teenagers at the banquet were full, and the cat teenagers were also swollen because of their similar looks. Only Brett's partner was still hungry.

"You're so cruel, he's crying like this." The gambler who just won the bet said contemptuously, with his newly won arm resting on his knee, bloody.

Brett: "…"

His consciousness was a little drowsy, almost to the limit.

Someone expressed admiration for him and hooked up enthusiastically: "Hey, the banquet is almost over, you are awesome, let's date!"

Brett ignored it, seeing that the time was almost up, let the boy who was struggling to find food leave him, and then stood up.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

Brett thought of the game of throwing snacks with his friends when he was a child and catching them with his mouth. Well, his aim is still very good.

Food delivery, delivery, delivery... why so much

Finally, the food delivery is over.

"Papa papa." There was a burst of reserved applause from above, and Brett lowered his head amidst the cheers of the contestants.

He fell to the bottom of his life.

Soon, fate told him that it could be even lower.

The two protagonists of the show were taken away separately. The canine boy looked very delicious at this time, and the nobles would taste him well.

And Bright, before he could breathe a sigh of relief, was in the biggest predicament ever.

He was taken to a room similar to an interrogation room. He was tied to an iron chair facing a huge mirror. His four legs were firmly welded to the ground, which was very strong, because he just took the opportunity to shake a few times and did not respond. .

He was still wearing his shirt and trousers, but the mirror was so horrible, he had the illusion that he was naked.

The strange environment made his hair stand on end. Suddenly there was a sliding sound from behind. Brett turned his head vigilantly, and found that it was a robot-like object. It slowly approached Brett and put a cold cloth on his little brother. Cover, and back into the corner.

The ominous premonition grew stronger, and fear climbed into Brett's heart like vines.

"Ah!!"

is the current.

This time it was useless even to memorize the periodic table of elements. He only persisted for a while before paying the food. Although the time under the torture felt infinitely prolonged, he knew that it was not too long, and he lost completely.

Humiliation, anger and hatred rolled in his eyes, Brett knew he should endure it, but he couldn't control it at all.

It must be him! It must be that scumbag!

The other party saw through his tricks and was dissatisfied with his performance, so he gave him a warning: whatever I think of you, you have to do. All struggles and resistance are futile, I can easily destroy you like this.

Made didn't even bother to show her face, how contemptuous she was!

For the first time, Brett became murderous.

Not to zombies, to beasts, but to people.

It wasn't a forced resistance after being attacked and calculated, but the cruelest way of killing that he could think of.

Behind the one-way mirror, there are voices of aristocratic cold conversation.

"It's a surprise. He broke the existing longest record. I remember that the original record holder seemed to be abolished later, and we had to get rid of him." The tone was relaxed, as if discussing uninstalling a software that didn't work.

Another voice said indifferently: "He is quite energetic and has the strength to stare at people, continue."

"That's a bad idea, Hodge."

The author has something to say: BT alone is not as good as many BTs, gradually becoming black.JPG

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Modified first time after lock