"Do we need to drink it all?"
He tentatively asked the man in black, but of course he didn't get an answer, while Barnard wrote a paragraph.
Compared with the previous words, this text written in the margins of the advertisements for maids and detectives is obviously a lot of scribbled.
"No, some of the milk in these bowls obviously has a big problem. If we drink all of them, we will die. Past experience tells us that although [Scandal] is weird and dangerous, it rarely There are mortal challenges."
He hesitated for a moment, and wrote another paragraph: "Maybe this is just a test of our courage, as long as we drink a certain number of bowls within a limited time."
is that so? This is just a guess. After all, the two of them spent a lot of time after they came in, although Jenkins was mostly asking questions.
Barnard put down Jenkins' pen, carefully capped it on the newspaper, and without a word picked up a golden bowl. He raised his head and drank it all, for the first time a look of surprise appeared on his face.
"Very lucky."
He put down the bowl and quickly wrote in the newspaper: "I got a new ability."
"Is it helpful to solve the current situation?"
Jenkins immediately asked hopefully.
Barnard's excited expression stopped immediately, and he pulled back the newspaper again, "No."
"Shouldn't I interrupt his excitement?"
Jenkins thought silently, and the middle-aged man around him returned to that tense and silent state again.
Although silence is forced.
It's Jenkins' turn again, and there are now seven left to choose from ten bowls.
He tried to judge the difference between each bowl by sight, but unfortunately found that the bowls were exactly the same.
You must know that there is no large-scale electronic mechanized assembly line in this era, and the current factory can afford the word "flesh and blood" more than Futukang. Therefore, theoretically speaking, it is absolutely impossible for two identical bowls to appear.
"Is it a supernatural creation?"
Jenkins can only guess like this. His understanding of these things is very scarce, and the existing information is not enough for him to judge the situation in front of him.
He hesitated and stretched out his hand again, while silently calculating in his heart:
"Ten bowls, now one curses and one rewards one clear water. If the above is the correct probability, then the situation I will face is not the worst. No, there are too few samples, and this situation should be calculated according to the worst result, In other words, there is only one reward, and less than three bowls of water... "
"Am I dead?"
As he thought in his mind, various thoughts kept popping up. The carousel appeared again, Jenkins ignored them, licked his lips, picked up the bowl next to the candle and drank it down.
This is already the second time he has drunk these drugs, so in the process of "drinking", he finally has the mind to notice the sense of touch in addition to the sense of taste.
"This bowl, why does it feel like it's made of wood?"
While thinking about this, Jenkins put down the bowl.
He is still alive and appears to be unharmed.
"It's sour and tastes like expired black tea."
He explained to the nervous man beside him, and the man breathed a sigh of relief.
No, it's not that nothing happened, something seemed to appear next to the three light spots in front of my eyes. Jenkins concentrated on looking at the air in front of him, and finally realized that it was a bubble.
At the same time, he also noticed that there were three bubbles in the original field of vision, but he didn't notice it before.
Jenkins now has a total of three blips and four bubbles.
After hesitating for a moment, because he didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, Jenkins told Barnard about the situation in front of him. Of course, there is no mention of the number of bubbles that would otherwise be present.
Barnard suddenly showed a surprised expression, which then turned into depression.
"It's nothing, it's a good thing." He wrote slowly, "You're lucky, go out and talk about it..."
One bowl per person, two rounds have passed, but the man in black still has no intention of letting them go.
"How on earth do we have to leave?"
Jenkins finally couldn't help but said to the person opposite, although he knew in his heart that this was too rash, but he had to do it.
There was no response, still a terrible silence.
Barnaud tugged at Jenkins's dusty and sweaty sleeves and shook his head at him.
A resolute expression appeared on the man's face again. He didn't write another word, but picked up the bowl in front of him, raised his head and drank it again.
After a pause of two or three seconds, he shook his head and wrote the word "clear water".
Jenkins didn't know whether to cry or laugh. His expression at this moment must be ugly, the silence of the man in black means that he wants to continue drinking, but half of the ten bowls have passed, but only one "thunder" has been stepped on.
No matter how you think about it, you can understand that the majority of the original ten bowls represent bad results, otherwise I'm sorry for the words "weird" and "dangerous" that Barnard said. So his remaining choices are likely to be poison and curses.
But he had to choose, Barnard had bravely tried three times, and Jenkins had no reason or ability to force him to drink another bowl. The black-robed man on the opposite side was not a friendly person at first glance. If the table was lifted at this time, I am afraid that the two of them would really not be able to see the sun tomorrow.
"My luck is so bad."
Even if Jenkins wasn't a complainer before crossing, he couldn't help but sigh for the situation that could almost be called a desperate situation.
What Jenkins could think of, Barnard could think of. But he didn't know how to comfort the young man in front of him, so he could only hold a pen and paper in silence and let him choose as much as possible.
"Think about it, what clues do you have, can you just bet on luck?"
Jenkins yelled to himself inwardly, but it just seemed like a pre-death clown act.
He held out his hand hesitantly, tried a few times and took it back.
"Mr. Barnard, do you think there is any difference between the ten bowls?"
Turning his head, he asked with staring eyes and unwillingness to give up, his palms were extremely slippery from sweat.
"These ten bowls look exactly the same, they are all wooden bowls with messy lines drawn on them. Williamette, [Wildlands] will not force us to a dead end, so there must be a way out of the remaining bowls."
The second half of his words are well-meaningly reassuring the desperate young man, but Jenkins goes completely unnoticed.
wooden bowl
He frowned as he looked at the words spelled out in the newspaper hastily, and confirmed again and again that the word in his inherited memory only meant "a wooden bowl, mostly referring to old, chipped, worthless garbage".