EBE Chapter 236 Bet
Chapter 236 Bet
"Ding Dong——"
Silver chips fell into a black velvet tray, refracting an eerie light under the casino's deep blue holographic projection.
The mechanical waiter in the corner slid silently, and the scarlet liquid on the tray rippled in the glass, reflecting the name on the central holographic screen—Jiang Qi.
Dark red neon tubes cast distorted light and shadow on the metal ceiling, while white mist from the central air conditioning vents mingled with cigar smoke.
Gamblers from all walks of life rubbed the anti-counterfeiting raised dots on the edge of their chips.
The scarlet countdown on the electronic display screen was ticking away—one minute and thirty seconds had passed since Jiang Qi entered the S-level dungeon "囍".
Jiang Qi's real-time image on the holographic screen was flashing. The young man's pale profile was cleaved by the blood-red moonlight, and dark red seeped from under his sleeves.
The constantly fluctuating odds on the betting machine felt like a death knell; the 1:197 disparity was painful to behold.
"The odds have already reached 1:199!"
The dealer, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, rang a brass bell, and an excited commotion immediately rose in the gambling pool.
A waitress in a backless dress carried a champagne glass and weaved through the crowd, her high heels treading over crumpled betting slips scattered on the floor, all covered with the same name.
"If you ask me, Jiang Qi has really run into a death knell this time."
A middle-aged man with a burly face sipped whiskey at the bar, a dark blue tattoo peeking out from his sleeve. "Just finished the Paradise Lost instance last week, and you dare to take on an S-rank this week? Young people are just courting death."
The freckled boy next to him suddenly lowered his voice: "I heard that no player has ever cleared the [囍] dungeon since it was released..."
Before he could finish speaking, someone nudged him with their elbow, and a piercing alarm suddenly blared from the casino's dome. Everyone turned to look at the holographic projection floating in the air.
The scene shows torrential rain, with a young man kneeling on one knee in the mud, his light-colored trench coat gleaming from the blood.
As he raised his hand to wipe the blood from his chin, the Blade of the Frost Butterfly flashed a cold light in the lightning.
Even through the screen, those icy, light brown pupils instantly silenced the casino.
"Fifteen minutes left." The bookmaker's hoarse voice turned like rusty gears. "The odds are now closing at 1:183."
The clinking of chips echoed incessantly.
Chi Miaomiao stared at Jiang Qi's staggering figure as he got up in the projection, her palms damp with sweat.
Why is it Jiang Ge? Why isn't Lu Zhi by his side?
"I'm betting 3,000 points, betting he'll lose."
"Five thousand!"
"Seven thousand! Jiang Qi is doomed!"
"Hey, don't be so sure. With his strength, he'll be lucky to escape with his life."
Amidst the frenzied shouts, Cheng Cuo and Yu Hansheng suddenly caught a faint, cool fragrance.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the beaded curtain swaying at the doorway, and a tall figure wearing a black mask was walking through the bustling crowd.
As the hem of his black trench coat swept across the gambling table, the halo of the crystal chandelier flowed across his short, silver-gray hair, like moonlight gliding over a blade.
"100,000 points." Long, slender fingers pushed the dark green chips across the table, a fresh burn mark visible on the knuckles. "I bet on Jiang Qi to win."
The entire casino seemed to have been put on pause.
The bookmaker's gold-rimmed glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed: "Sir, the current odds are..."
"I know, the higher the odds," a low chuckle came from behind the mask, "the more satisfying it is to win, isn't it?"
"No, why don't you think about it again?"
"No need." The voice behind the mask carried a metallic chill. "Do you want to sign a life-or-death contract?"
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"madman!"
"Definitely a newbie!"
"Just wait and see this silly boy cry!"
The people at the gambling table shook their heads, and some even tried to dissuade him.
"Young man, we're not saying this out loud, but don't cry if you lose everything."
"He and Jiang Qi are complete strangers, why would he bet on him to win?"
The person who came didn't say anything and turned to leave.
The crowd parted to create a passage, leaving him with only his back to them.
It was as if he had come here only to gamble on Jiang Qi winning.
Cheng Cuo continued placing his bets, staring at his departing figure, finding it increasingly familiar.
Amidst the curses, the bandaged gambler's prosthetic eye suddenly glowed red: "Wait! When he turned around just now..."
The red-haired woman in the front row suddenly knocked over her wine glass, the amber liquid staining Jiang Qi's name on the betting slip: "He's Song Qingci?!"
The name is like a drop of water thrown into a pot of oil.
As if a pause button had been pressed, all eyes froze on the young man in the trench coat.
Some people's knees buckled and they knelt on the ground, while others clung tightly to the edge of the gambling table—everyone in the Nightmare Game knew that Song Qingci, who had consistently ranked among the top twenty in combat power for years, never bothered to participate in such gambling games.
"Is this Song Qingci, who has consistently ranked in the top twenty of the charts?"
"What, he's getting involved in this mess too?"
Countless eyes followed that figure.
He walked up to the holographic projection and stopped. When he looked up, half of a black code was visible on the back of his neck. It was a mark that could only be obtained by clearing five S-level dungeons.
"Mr. Song!" The mechanical attendant suddenly flashed a green light. "VIP access needs to be activated for you..."
“No need.” Song Qingci raised her hand and pulled up her hood, her exposed earlobes gleaming with the cold light of silver studs. “I just came to…”
He turned his head to look at the holographic screen.
Jiang Qi was tearing open the blood-stained shirt with his mouth to bandage his wound.
Blood flowed down his forearm into his sleeve, and his pale waistline shimmered like porcelain in the moonlight. "Let's watch a good show."
The mechanical waiter wisely left.
Meanwhile, the bag of gold coins left behind by Song Qingci is emitting a faint blue fluorescence in the area of the character "赢" (win).
This is a unique marker for high-level players, and the stakes fluctuate in real time depending on the battle situation.
In front of the holographic projection, Song Qingci seemed to be talking to himself. The silver stud on his earlobe glowed red, and another lazy voice echoed in his mind.
"Xiao Ci, what's the reason?"
"Brother, actually I don't know either."
A gentle male voice slowly spoke, but the sound was drowned out by the sudden blaring of the alarm.
The moment the countdown reached zero, the entire casino was enveloped in blood-red alarm lights, and a huge "Game Continue" message popped up on the holographic screen.
"Wait!" The middle-aged man who had placed the bet suddenly rolled up his sleeves. "I've changed my mind! I'm betting 5,000 points on Jiang Qi to win!"
The big shots always have a sharp eye; if he follows their lead and places bets, he's sure to win big.
A chain reaction erupted instantly.
The waitresses frantically changed the betting slips, while the dealer broke out in a cold sweat.
Chi Miaomiao was short and struggled to squeeze to the front row with her last two chips.
Just then, I saw Song Qingci leaning against a Roman column, toying with a silver lighter between his fingers.
Perhaps it was because Chi Miaomiao's gaze was too intense, Song Qingci raised her eyes and glanced at her.
Chi Miaomiao quickly looked away, and when she looked back, the casino's secret door closed silently before her eyes.
Lin Wanchu was awakened by a sharp pain in her wrist.
The sandalwood bedposts were carved with patterns of intertwined crabapple blossoms, and a corner of the dark red curtains was lifted by the cool breeze, reflecting her suddenly sitting up in the mottled bronze mirror.
A streak of bluish-purple lightning flashed outside the window, illuminating the carved wooden window with a ghastly white light. A torrential downpour pounded on the blue brick eaves, and the mist, carrying the scent of aged sandalwood, washed over her eyelashes.
She instinctively gripped the smooth brocade quilt cover, the cold silk threads making her palms tingle.
The sound of my heartbeat was especially clear in the rainy night.
An unfamiliar scent of agarwood rose in her throat as Lin Wanchu stepped barefoot onto the cool floor tiles.
She sat down on the sandalwood stool and picked up the calendar poster on the carved lacquer dressing table.
It is now the 23rd year of the Republic of China, the Frost's Descent.