A few seconds went by, and the Innkeeper said nothing. This pause, this unanticipated delay in his speech allowed everyone to ruminate over his words. The essence of the Midnight Games was to treat Fate as a game?
If the Innkeeper had such a thing about himself, none would have doubted his words. But the thing was, he likened himself to a spectator, just like the others, and turned these few, weak armies on such a high pedestal. It was nigh unbelievable, and yet it was true.
They tasted the flavors of his words, and found it deep and rich. Could any of them deny the truth of his words? At the beginning of these games, each and every participant was a nobody.
They were the lowest of the low, without a heritage, without powerful backing, without innate strengths or bloodlines that would turn them into elites. Each of them was at the end of their cultivation journey, and the only thing that they had was a resolute heart, and a mission.
