At this point in time, without exception, everyoneâs attention was concentrated on the middlemost gambling table under the golden dome.
[Let me give a rundown: in a single game, one was caught cheating, one folded, leaving eight at the table. Aside from that white-haired C-rank, everyone else has gone all-in, isnât that right?]
[Yup, pretty much. Theyâre right about to show their hands, and the prize pool has exceeded a million chips. If anyone shows an exceptional hand, theyâd claim the lot.]
[Ah? Didnât you read the rules set by the system? The rules in Las Vegas are different from reality. The rewards in the prize pool are divided according to the ranking of the poker hand. So if an exceptional hand appears, they will receive the lionâs share of the prize pool, but not so much such that theyâd walk off with a million chipsâunless, say, a royal flush appears⊠Hang on, let me check. Yep, if a royal flush appears, he should be able to bag the whole million.]
[Donât kid around, how can a royal flush turn up so easily. Hasnât anyone in the bullet chat played cards before?]
[Iâm laughing my ass off. Upstairs, youâre the one who hasnât played cards before, right? There are already three spades in the community cards, why isnât it possible for a royal flush to appear?]
The bickering in the bullet chat was intense. Daggers were drawn at the gambling table, pushing the tension to the most critical point.
The Exorcist whistled. âSince everyone has gone all-in, why donât we directly show our hands now?â
Just then, Zong Jiu spoke again. âWait a moment.â
The white-haired young man smiled serenely, âIt would be rather unfair to directly show our hands.â
These words, when heard by those anticipating this scene, were extremely baffling.
âHow is it unfair? Havenât you played cards before?â
In the face of such doubts, Zong Jiuâs expression didnât flicker.
âEven though everyone chose to go all-in, the chips that some people threw in are more than the chips that others did.â
With this, he even raised an example. âFor example, Iâm the one with the least chips.â
âThink about it carefully, everyone. If we go all-in like this, wouldnât the people with more chips receive the same treatment as me when showing our hands? Wouldnât that be more unfair?â
Everyone froze.
âHe does make sense.â
âThe logic seems sound.â
The man at the most prominent seat set down his wine glass, resting his jaw on top of his interlaced fingers, the interest pooling deeper in his eyes.
If there was no benefit in getting up early, would anyone bother? If there wasnât any motive behind it, would anyone be making special mention of it here?
No one understood this proverb better than the Devil.
And that was also why he was all the more curious about the otherâs next move.
The white-haired young man who was the focus of everyoneâs attention revealed a standard, secretive smile unique to great magicians, gently putting an index finger up to his lips.
Without even Zong Jiu himself realising it, he had already subconsciously treated the whole of Las Vegas as his comeback stage. He could barely wait.
Itâs showtime.
The white-haired young man turned his gaze to the most prominent seat at the deep green gambling table. âThe solution is simple. Weâll start from the player with the lowest number of chips, as the player with the largest number of chips has the capital deserving of being the grand finale.â
As he said this, Zong Jiu deliberately and unapologetically looked straight towards the most prominent seat.
Those pale pink eyes were strikingly bright in the dim light, burning with a brilliance so bright that they brought palpitations to the heart.
There were no words that could describe the beauty that burst forth in that fleeting moment.
âHow about it?â
It was an unmistakable provocation, and forward enough, at that.
What an attractive pair of eyes.
Weâre sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so weâre going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Zong Jiu smiled and applauded. âNow that I have the hostâs consent, then I shall humbly put on a show.â
He had achieved his goal.
He had made a very dangerous, terrifying decision.
Previously, Zong Jiu had only used [the relationship between Sheng Yu and No. 1] and [the relationship between the NPC doctor and No. 1] to exchange chips with the system, leaving an ace up his sleeve.
[The instructor is No. 1]. This information was his ace, and Zong Jiuâs greatest gamble.
He was banking on whether or not the system was, as he had guessed, a higher-dimensional program that only operated on rules, not emotions.
From the beginning to the end, he had yet to find any subjective command or instruction from the system.
The graves of the contenders were, without exception, in horror instances. As for the system, unless it violated the ironclad law of the infinite loop, it would never proactively endanger the contendersâ lives. Just like when he had first entered the infinite loop, the trainees that entered the broadcasting studio would escape misfortune, whereas those that didnât could only greet death.
All of the decisions from the system carried this cold and mechanical tone.
If Zong Jiu placed his bets on the right horse, even if he fed the information of the instructor being No. 1 to the system, the system wouldnât overstep its authority to kill him. Instead, he could use this handle on the system to threaten the Devil and get his way.
And if he was wrong⊠probably instant death, or his soul scattering away to nothingness. Or perhaps a more sorry fate.
But who would care?
The gambler would only revel in their unparalleled conceit, and as for the possibility of losing a bet?
That would most certainly not be anything they took to mind.
When he turned his two cards over, everyone was shocked.
The next moment, shouts of surprise almost toppled the dome decorated with murals of the gods of Olympus.
It was none other than a gleaming ten of spades and queen of spades.
[WTFWTFWTF, who was that who talked about a royal flush earlier, all hail the great prophet!!!]
[T-t-t-t-t-this. Iâm struck dumb.]
[A royal flush⊠thatâs it. Who would have thought? No wonder this white-haired had such guts. Good lord, good lord! It was waiting right there!]
[Just now who was the one who said that a royal flush could pocket a million chips. A million chips, holy⊠Whew!]
[Hang on, then wouldnât he be making himself the target of everyone at the table? Did he not consider who heâs going up againstâŠ]
And with this comment, the bullet chat fell silent.
Unlike the buzz on the bullet chat, absolute silence had long descended upon the casino.
Everyone understood the meaning behind Zong Jiuâs earlier series of actions.
First, calling everyone to go all-in; secondly, fighting to be the first to show his hand. Everyone was puzzled why he could be so unruffled in front of this group of bigshots.
And up to now, it was no wonder that he could be so calm and composed. It turned out that he had the hand to back it up.
If Zong Jiu had followed convention and waited until after the third round of betting to show his hand, no one would have accused him of foul play.
Although it was normal to go high and call for everyone to go all-in, he had insistently done it in a flamboyant manner, using his lowly status as a C-rank that no one would give second thought to, to dig a giant pit and lure everyone to jump in one after the other.
It was a blatant scheme. An open conspiracy.
But no one knew if such a gutsy move would draw the displeasure of this powerful man.
Even the other S and A-ranks at the table had their eyebrows tightly furrowed.
However, Zong Jiu, at the eye of the storm, remained calm and collected, and was even in the mood to order a tequila from the attendant.
There was no shame in cheating. It was the person who came next who would be shamed.
In any case, he had put the chips in, shown his hand, and meticulously done all the prep work he could.
As for what the end result would be, whether this would knock the Devil off his high horse, split the rewards equally, or get pitted in return; he could only leave it to the heavens to decide.
Zong Jiu guessed that, by this time, the system had already informed the Devil of the surprise news that he knew the identity of the instructor.
Although Zong Jiu didnât know who the instructor was, the tarot reading told him that the Devil was either the instructor himself, or the Devil had used some unknown means to manipulate the original instructor.
Most importantly, this information was ruled by the system as information that couldnât be casually revealed. Or, put another way, the timing was not yet right for it to be revealed. Otherwise, the Devil could have simply sat in the instructorâs stand directly, instead of going through the trouble of pulling strings behind the scenes himself.
Everyone silently awaited the outcome.
Unexpectedly, even after several minutes had passed, there was no movement from the person on the prominent seat.
As before, the man still sat on the scarlet high-backed chair with an elegant and dangerous carriage, his ponytail brushing against the shoulders of his suit. He lowered his gaze slightly, falling absently on his own two facedown cards before him.
The patterns were endlessly dark under the lighting.
No one knew that these two cards were exactly the same as the two that were just revealed.
The Devilâs white-gloved hands were interlaced, making subtle rubbing motions, as if he had unconsciously entered deep contemplation.
Light and shadow spread from the crown of his head; brilliant white wings fell in the light, while ominous twilight coiled around the shadows.
Just when everyone thought that something big was going to happen, the Devil suddenly laughed lowly.
âHahahahahahahaââ
The laughter crescendoed, from low to high, finally tailing towards a hair-raising shrillness.
Everyone present felt prickles shoot up their spine.
He stood up from the highest seat, black leather shoes stepping on the jagged, inverse reflection of the crystal chandelier, his eyes closed while he roared with laughter as if no one was around. He was like the legendary Gotham clown associated with sinful darkness and his trademark âwhy so seriousâ; like the crazy redhead, the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland, lost in his own world.
Anyone with ears could tell that this wasnât a sneer or a sarcastic laugh, but genuine, sincere laughter.
It was wholly out of heartfelt pleasure.
Evidently, no one could understand what made him laugh with such delight. But there was no doubt that this chilling scene, at the same time, was brimming with a strange, bewitching charisma.
The dealer in purple gently reminded, âSir, youâre not allowed to leave your seat for prolonged periods of time during the course of the game.â
From the moment the cards were dealt, through the three rounds of betting and the final result, it was absolutely forbidden to leave the table. If any player insisted on leaving for more than three minutes, the system would treat him as having forfeited the game.
Obviously, it had already exceeded three minutes. But what was more unfortunate was that because all the community cards had been opened, there wasnât any way to fold now.
Soon, a system prompt coldly rang out.
[No. 1 has forfeited the game.]
No one would have thought that without the option to fold, No. 1 would simply choose to forfeit the game.
This meant that he wouldnât get back all the chips he had bet in the game.
However, the Devil seemed entirely heedless of this.
His dark golden eyes were transfixed on the white-haired young man standing there, and he suddenly took a stride forward.
His leather shoes tread on the soft reddish-gold carpet, bringing with it a faint, elongated shadow that, with every step, pressed two shades darker.
Time seemed to stretch on for so long it felt like half a century had passed. It gave an illusion of oppressiveness, of danger, of wandering on the edge of death.
He crossed the dangerous boundary that strangers kept clear of, pulling the distance between them to armâs reach.
Yet Zong Jiu stood there like it didnât involve him, not taking a single step back, and even giving him a polite smile.
Motherfucker.
Zong Jiu still had the heart to curse in his mind.
Did everyone in the infinite loop use survival points to increase their height? How were they all so much taller than him?!
He thought that his own height of 1.8 metres was already pretty good, but never expected that after he came in, he would be looked down by two people, one after the next. It really made him displeased.
The two of them locked eyes for a moment. Then, the Devil made a move that surprised everyone.
He suddenly drew out the budding red rose from his breast pocket.
Sharp gasps could be heard around the hall.
This was the man of the myths, after all!
The distance between the two of them was so close that Zong Jiu could see the crystalline dew on the crimson petals and the sticky malice wrapped in the pupils of the man facing him, as if about to pull him down into the mire, into a dark golden prison of eternal captivity.
No one knew what drawing out this rose symbolised, but everyone knew that the red item was essentially a trademark of the Devil.
Was it possible that he thought this white-haired C-rank was promising, and was expressing his admiration?
Heh.
If there wasnât that bitingly sharp killing intent emanating from the other, Zong Jiu would almost have believed it himself.
In truth, he was now caged in the shadow of the otherâs tall figure, and all the muscles in his body were pulled taut.
Gazing into the hissing, catlike vigilant eyes of the white-haired young man, the Devil laughed again.
He lowered his voice, sending the red rose over. His voice was husky and teasing like a loverâs murmur.