207: Studio riot

Just as Pan Han surpassed him and became the Big Brother, the entire broadcast room erupted!

Scoreboard Update:

First Place: Pan Han;

Score: 620,780;

Second Place: Lu Han;

Score: 597,760;

Third Place: Wang Yibo;

Score: 542,980;

Fourth Place: Jiaogen Jingcun;

Score: 500,300;

...

The host, who had witnessed countless grand events, now faced the scores, and his voice trembled slightly: "Heavens, oh heavens! Pan Han actually surpassed! And it was an instant overtake!"

"Everyone, pay attention! We just received news! Pan Han killed a zombie worth 100,000 points!"

As soon as these words came out, all the audience present, including Cheng Xiao, showed expressions of disbelief!

A zombie worth 100,000 points, how terrifying must that be!

Exaggerated!

Shocking!

It's just ridiculously outrageous!

After hearing the commentary, Cheng Xiao's tears of joy turned to sorrow, and she could no longer hold back, her eyes welling up with tears. But she bit her lip tightly, forcing herself to suppress her sobs.

How much she wished to tell everyone now: Pan Han was the master of her base, and her own master too!

"Audience friends! According to the current scores, everyone behind Pan Han will receive 0 points!" The commentator shouted loudly again at this moment!

Actually, he didn't need to tell everyone; others could figure it out too!

100 points convert to 1 point. As long as you fall behind by 2,000 points, all your points will be deducted.

"FUCK! Who designed this scoring system? It's too damn ridiculous! Isn't this forcing everyone into internal competition?"

"Exactly! Weapons are random, the zombie point multiplier encountered is random, isn't this just relying on luck?"

"Our base lord only got 10,000 points, what's the point of playing anymore! Might as well find a place to sleep!"

"Damn! Our family only got 12,000 points, why don't we both just lie flat!"

...

After learning this, everyone started discussing animatedly and cursing loudly!

"Commentator, quickly give us a reasonable explanation!"

"Right! You must give an explanation!"

"Exactly, otherwise we'll collectively withdraw from the competition!"

Everyone cursed for a long time, then realized the commentator had no reaction, so they began to pressure him!

They united to demand an explanation from the organizers.

The commentator, however, remained expressionless, not saying a word, just coldly staring at everyone.

The more everyone cursed, the more agitated they became. Some people, emotionally charged, rolled up their sleeves, ready to resort to violence.

Just then, the door to the broadcast hall suddenly opened, and a large group of fully armed people in black uniforms instantly poured in.

They lined up neatly in front of the commentator, separating him from everyone else.

"Who wants to die? Take another step forward!" The commentator immediately switched to a cold tone, enunciating each word clearly.

As expected of a professional commentator, his emotional control was terrifyingly precise.

Many people, just hearing his voice, instantly broke out in cold sweat, feeling an indescribable sense of oppression.

The scene was dead silent; no one spoke, and no one stepped forward.

"None of you want to die, do you! Then all of you sit down properly!!!" The commentator's voice suddenly rose by an octave, revealing the pressure of his Intermediate Evolver status, spreading it throughout the entire venue.

Whoosh!

Now, over two hundred spectators all sat down in unison, their backs ramrod straight!

What a joke, who doesn't know the power of an Intermediate Evolver?

Everyone present combined couldn't defeat a single Intermediate Evolver!

"I gave you face, didn't I! What do you take this place for? Do you still have the Twelve Palaces in your eyes??" The commentator released his pressure again, accompanied by threatening words, conveying them to everyone.

"Wah!" Someone couldn't resist the pressure and vomited blood on the spot.

More people couldn't even stay seated in their chairs, directly kneeling on the ground, crying bitterly with their heads in their hands.

"Not so arrogant now, are you! If you're not arrogant, then listen to me!" The commentator scanned the entire venue, his emotions calming down slightly, and slowly withdrew his pressure.

Everyone immediately felt the pressure greatly reduced and quickly gasped for air.

"It's terrifying!"

"This is my first time seeing an Intermediate Evolver; they are completely different species from us!"

"Must evolve to Intermediate!"

"Below Intermediate, all are ants!"

The audience members each had their own thoughts swirling in their minds.

"Someone just said it's unfair! Very good, I'd like to ask you, what is fair?" The commentator asked in a slightly gentler tone.

The key is, no matter how gentle you are, no one dares to answer anymore!

Whoever speaks up now is asking for death.

Everyone's out here trying to make a living; who doesn't have some sense of discretion!

"Half a year into the apocalypse, you've managed to survive until now; don't tell me it's by relying on fairness!"

Still no one dared to make a sound, all nodding repeatedly.

"Besides, this is only the first Trial. There are still 4 more levels. The total score will be calculated from all 5 levels! What, you get 0 points in the first level and you want to give up?"

"If you give up like this, then you are not worthy of possessing the Intermediate Evolution Potion, not worthy of advancing to Intermediate! Our Twelve Palaces also don't want such trash!"

Although the crowd didn't dare to speak up, hearing him say this, they also felt that it made sense.

"Why hold this Trial? Isn't it because there were too many trash Intermediate Evolvers before? Those with average abilities and average willpower! You haven't not seen them!" The commentator's tone softened considerably as he saw everyone had quieted down.

"Now it's good, the Twelve Palaces are willing to offer potions to select excellent talents! Your lords in the Trial grounds might be thinking about how to increase their points! Yet you're sitting here, eating and drinking, and instead you want to rebel!"

At this point, many people with poor mental fortitude had already begun to reflect on themselves.

"Also, you don't know how dangerous this building is, but I do! Pan Han can be said to have gone through nine deaths to reach such a high score! He got it all by his own ability! Anyone who disagrees can go in and try!"

Everyone shook their heads repeatedly, indicating they didn't want to go in.

"All of you sit down and watch the live broadcast! Cheer for your people in secret!" The commentator reopened the live broadcast screen and began to switch to other Trial participants, such as those ranked second and third.

After the commentator's adjustments, the atmosphere gradually returned to normal.

The competition continued!

Inside the building, Pan Han was still in a daze, looking at the King of Destiny's corpse.

"How did this guy commit suicide?" Pan Han squatted down, looking at the pure white, snow-like corpse, muttering to himself.

"It seems that without the black aura's blessing, it has no combat power whatsoever. That is to say, if I had let the worshipper go and directly came up, it might have committed suicide right in front of me! And there wouldn't have been this battle." Pan Han pondered for a long time, coming to this conclusion, and smiled bitterly to himself.

This battle had greatly exhausted Pan Han, and he was hungry again.

There was no food supply in this building, so he could only take out self-heating hotpot from his space and cook on site.

As for the floors from seventy-one to eighty, he would ignore them for now.

But he could feel that the further he went, the harder it would get, so he had to eat and drink his fill first.

He also needed to collect supplies; there weren't many usable items left in his space.

One box wasn't enough, he'd eat another; if two boxes weren't enough, he'd eat two boxes, he had to eat his fill!

Pan Han ate a total of eight boxes of self-heating hotpot and rice before he recovered.

The air was filled with the aroma of food that did not belong to the apocalypse.

Pan Han put the trash into his space, patted himself down, straightened his clothes, nodded towards the eightieth floor, and headed straight for it.