A Guaranteed Victory

Seeing the looks of surprise on everyone's faces, Chen Fan also put on a matching expression of astonishment to show his respect.

After the exaggerated performance came to an end, Chen Fan explained, "Don't look so surprised. I really did self-guard. The wolves should have known that the person they targeted at night was me. It's not that I didn't want to guard number 8; it's because I had already guarded this guy the previous night. The wolves definitely wouldn't choose to target players 1 or 2, so I had no choice but to self-guard."

Staring at the expression on the face of number 12, the Paladin, which shifted from shock to joy, Chen Fan seemed to have a sudden realization. After falling silent for a moment, he began to calculate the wolves' night kills.

"I get it. This is a guaranteed win," Chen Fan blurted out.

"It doesn't matter whether we vote out number 1 or number 2 today. Since the game isn't over yet, I'll just guard player 8 tonight, and then you guys can vote out the remaining wolf tomorrow daytime. No matter how we play this, it's a win."

Chen Fan and the Paladin exchanged a smile, each reading the other's thoughts.

"The wolves must have calculated the order of the Guard's protections. They probably assumed I had self-guarded the previous night, which is why the kill didn't land on me. Then, when wolf number 4 was eliminated, he deliberately reminded me to go guard a villager tonight, hoping to get me killed. That's pretty much how it went, right?"

With plenty of speaking time remaining, Chen Fan tried to convince himself, "Oh man, this game is really an eye-opener. A blunder in operation actually resulted in a safe night. Very nice, very nice. Let's just go with number 1 first; eliminate numbers 1 and 2 in order."

Number 5, the Sheriff, also figured it out and laughed, "Not bad at all. With this kill logic, let's vote out 1. But you werewolf might as well just concede now. You know in your heart who the safe night kill landed on. If the person hacked was indeed the Guard, you have zero hope of winning. Just GG."

"I'm done, I'm done. I admit defeat, conceding." Number 2, the Requiem, fished out his Werewolf card and slapped it down heavily on the table.

"You and 4 were a wolf pair mutual-bussing each other..." Number 12, the Paladin, was somewhat surprised by this outcome and asked about the positions of the four wolves.

Number 2, the Requiem, laughed in exasperation, "It has to be! My wolf team was 2, 4, 9, and 10. Our tactics went wrong on the night we targeted 3. We had originally agreed to help build each other's credibility, but I never expected this guy to throw me under the bus so ruthlessly while speaking. Originally, if we could have pushed number 1 out that round, we would have won..."

"He was supposed to attack 1 following the logic I laid out today, and when it was my turn to speak, I would casually toss a light vote onto teammate number 4, and then finish off number 1. The wolf team would have won! But he said he couldn't remember such a long string of words. I really give up on him."

Number 2, the Requiem, stood up and stretched lazily, saying with some regret, "What a pity. Eliminated in the final round of the preliminaries. I wonder if I'll still have a chance for resurrection. My win rate is around 55%, though my total wins aren't that high, just a little over 100. What about you guys?"

"56%, about 120 games," said number 12, the Paladin.

"67%, though I've only played thirty-something games," number 8, the Mechanic, smiled. "Every time, there are veteran drivers carrying me onto the highway; I just need to make sure I don't cause trouble."

Hearing the win rates of the previous few people, the Blood Mage felt a bit unbalanced in his heart. "How are all of yours over fifty percent? I'm only at 48%."

Chen Fan was truly speechless. How did the conversation wander all the way to this topic? Everyone in the circle, except for him, had a win rate of at least 47% at the lowest and 67% at the highest, with at least thirty-something wins under their belts.

And then look at himself...

He had originally planned to coast by through silence, but unexpectedly, the Requiem took the initiative to ask, "Soul Bender, your Guard play isn't bad. Your win rate should be around 55% or so, right?"

"Oh, man, he's not just doing okay, he's totally amazing! Guarding two safe nights in four days, he's practically a golden Guard." The usually proud Paladin actually started praising him, which made Chen Fan feel somewhat flattered.

"My win rate... actually, it's only 13%," Chen Fan stammered, his voice growing softer and softer until it became completely inaudible by the end.

"Oh, come on! Did you used to lend your account to others to play... or do you frequently quit and go AFK?" Number 5, the Asura, found this hard to believe. He never expected to run into someone with such a low win rate.

"No... just in normal setups like this one, and then it somehow kept losing like this."

Chen Fan was also curious about how on earth he had managed to lose so many games in the past. Right now, he felt confident that he could hold his own against players with average win rates, so his true win rate ought to be at least 50%.

It must be that the club's geomantic energy was bad and suppressed his luck, which was why he had been so cursed previously. Chen Fan comforted himself once more.

Number 12, the Paladin, stepped in to smooth things over. "It's fine. After three days apart, one must look at each other with new eyes. Soul Bender has improved immensely; he played a 13% win rate with 93% skill. I am truly full of admiration."

Flashed and flattered by the Witch goddess, Chen Fan floated a bit, completely oblivious to anything being amiss, and replied in gratitude, "How can I compare to how well you play the Witch? On the first day, you made a strong jump and scooped me out, otherwise I would have been voted out long ago."

Number 12, the Paladin, modestly declined, "Not at all, not at all. Your defense speech was very clean. Players 9 and 10 just looked like killers by physiognomy, and their murderous intent was heavy. It's really thanks to your Guard play. In the late game, I practically had no function at all; it was all thanks to you turning the tide."

Chen Fan had been praised completely out of his wits. He smiled and said, "It was just good luck, happening to miss the logic the wolves were plotting. I still have a lot of areas where I need to learn."

"Hey, what you said isn't right. Luck is also a manifestation of strength. A game driven purely by reasoning naturally cannot lack an element of luck. Since you played well this time, the MVP rightfully belongs to you, doesn't it?"

"MVP? That's a good thing. Aren't you planning to contend for the honor board?" Chen Fan counted in his mind; it seemed he had only ever won MVP once, and that was way back in that Republic-era police station game where he correctly called out the fake Guard—quite a long time ago.

"We're all intellectuals; let's take fame and fortune a bit more lightly. The MVP of this match will go to you." Number 12, the Paladin, smiled.

Chen Fan nodded vigorously and said, "Alright, alright! Thank you so much."

All the surviving players on the field smiled and unanimously voted player number 6 as the MVP.

"Before settling the game, let's go outside and kill a few Tauren Chieftains to liven things up. This Wuchang Sword is quite sharp; it's at least a purple-tier gear." Number 5, the Asura, excused himself to leave, patting Chen Fan on the shoulder before departing.

"I'm going to go test the wattage of my cross,hehe." Number 12, the Paladin, also shouldered his cross and walked far away.

"Then I'll go study the Mage's arcane taboos." Number 7, the Blood Mage, suppressed a smile and ran off quickly.

Number 8, the Mechanic, looked around and also stood up, saying, "Everyone's leaving? Well then, I'll go paddle a little boat with my robot."

"I hope you can last until the end of the game. Here, I'll give you a toy gun; maybe it'll have some deterrent effect." The Wanderer stood up, walked over to Chen Fan, and tossed a beautifully crafted wooden Browning pistol onto Chen Fan's desk.

"What are you guys talking about? Why are you all running off one by one? Isn't it good to just sit here and wait for the game to end..." Chen Fan looked at the empty gaming arena and re-savored everyone's words.

Not far away, a towering, sky-blocking figure slowly approached. Listening to the trembling footsteps, as if receiving a friendly greeting, Chen Fan steadied his mind and instantly leaped up from his seat.

"What the heck! Run, you bastards!"