Not praying for ten strings

The Night Has Come, and kermesinus moon ascends in the sky.
Hoarse whispers flow at the street corners, and brass steam machines spew out bloody mist.
Your brain is singing a hymn, eyes are chanting a melody.
Skin cracks, and flesh buds swell.
Amidst the Mist, the wall of flesh that has devoured thousands of corpses wails endlessly—
"Weep not, our players don't bite, they just want to play with you."
Annan, the lone strategist, the top player, the savior of the mist-covered continent, the leader of the Thirteen Saints, the friend of the Twelve True Gods, the king of pioneers, "the Just", the Gatekeeper of the Fourth Calamity, the uncrowned deity, advised kindly.

Super Righteous Player

Annan calmly said, "Dmitry's birthday is on the ninth of September, the key number being nine; I'm a Ritualist, and I have two phases in life, while the mysterious lady's guardian month is February...


"...These are all numbers that Kafney might choose, would resonate in her mind, but would definitely end up discarding.


"Because Salvatore doesn't know Dmitry's birthday, and Kafney's recognition of me as a Ritualist isn't clear enough—and the moment she realizes the personas of 'me as a Ritualist' and 'Dmitry,' she'll immediately think of Maria, who's watching the nightmare from outside.


"From Maria, she would associate with my tricolor scepter, and the three of us siblings.


"Therefore, at this time, the only number that could emerge in Kafney's mind is one number.


Annan resolutely answered, "Correct, or not?"


Watching the color drain from the corpse husband's face, Annan couldn't help but burst into hearty laughter.


Chapter 370: The Number of the Clown