Chapter Eighty-Four: Fourth-Level Undead

An underground casino is, by nature, a place that shuns the light of day. Such establishments are typically well-concealed, and their connections with the police are always intricate—at the very least, they receive wind of any impending raids in time to vanish and thus evade the law. For this reason, Qin Yang had no intention of relying on conventional means to resolve this particular conflict.

With Yu Wenfei at his side and a suitcase containing one million in cash, he navigated a labyrinth of alleys until they reached their destination. The moment they entered, the stench of cigarette smoke assaulted their senses, mingling with the harsh curses that echoed through the air. Two men stood guard at the door. Recognizing Yu Wenfei, they exchanged a sly grin, notified their boss—Hu Ming—and quickly ushered the pair into a shadowy, secluded room. There, Yu Wenxiang was bound hand and foot, his entire body bearing the marks of brutal treatment. His once delicate face was now pale and drawn, his eyes dull and brimming with pain. Yet, upon seeing Yu Wenfei, he managed to protest, “Sister, why are you here? Go! Don’t try to save me.”

“Shut up.”

Hu Ming was a man in his thirties, his bulk impressive. He stepped forward and said, “Yu Wenfei, did you bring the money?”

“I did.” Qin Yang tossed the suitcase onto the table. “There’s a million in here. You can count it. Once you’ve confirmed it’s all there, release him.”

Hu Ming waved his hand. One of his lackeys hauled over a currency counter, and stack after stack of bills was fed through. Once satisfied that the sum was correct, Hu Ming allowed himself a pleased smile. Qin Yang asked, “Can we have him now?”

“Not so fast.” Hu Ming’s voice was oily with menace. “Yu Wenfei, it seems you’ve found yourself quite the sponsor.”

“What more do you want? You have your money,” Yu Wenfei protested, her heart aching for her battered brother. “Are you planning to go back on your word?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hu Ming replied. “You’ve paid the ransom for cheating at cards, that debt’s settled. But my records are very precise. Your brother borrowed over a hundred thousand at exorbitant interest from me. With the interest compounding, the total’s now about a million.”

The moment Hu Ming finished speaking, Yu Wenxiang exploded, “You bastard! That’s nonsense! It’s only been a few days since I borrowed your money—how could it balloon to a million? You said yourself the million included the loan repayment!”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Hu Ming replied, utterly unapologetic. “If someone’s willing to pay, why shouldn’t I take a little more for myself?”

Yu Wenfei’s face went pale, at a loss for how to proceed.

“Of course,” Hu Ming continued, his leering gaze fixed on Yu Wenfei, “if you’d care to spend the night with me, I’d happily let the million go.”

Qin Yang sighed. “So, you want another million? I don’t have that much cash on me tonight. Perhaps you’d let me try my luck at your tables?”

“Of course. But let me be clear—if you lose, don’t expect to walk away unscathed,” Hu Ming cautioned, clearly wary that Qin Yang might back out.

“No problem.” Qin Yang waved dismissively and led Yu Wenfei into the main gambling hall. She gave him a pained smile. “I never imagined he’d try something like this. Just go. Once I’ve saved my brother, I’ll keep our agreement.”

“It’s only a million,” Qin Yang replied, unconcerned. “I know a little about gambling. Winning a bit shouldn’t be difficult.”

Yu Wenfei tried to say more, but Qin Yang had already strode into the casino. The hall was bustling—over thirty tables packed with nearly a hundred gamblers, the air thick with desperation and excitement. A cold, amused smile played at Qin Yang’s lips as he approached a poker game—Three-Card Brag. Without hesitation, he placed the five thousand in his wallet on the table and lit a cigarette, Yu Wenfei anxiously hovering behind him, wanting to intervene but always held back by Qin Yang.

“Minimum bet is five hundred. Open bet, two hundred. No upper limit. Blind bet is double,” the dealer explained succinctly. Once seven or eight players had placed their ante, the cards were dealt. Qin Yang didn’t even glance at his hand; he sat back, smoking leisurely, eyes roaming the room. “Raise,” he announced. “I’m short on time. If I lose it all, I’ll just leave.”

The others sneered at such bravado, but after checking their cards, they all matched the bet. Qin Yang threw his money in without hesitation. As the pot swelled to over twenty thousand, only one other player remained. The rest had either been beaten or lost confidence.

“You’re out of money. Let’s see what you’ve got. Since it’s your first time here, I’ll humor you.” The opponent, clearly a seasoned gambler, revealed his cards—a flush, nine, ten, queen. Yu Wenfei’s heart jumped, but Qin Yang only chuckled, “Apologies, but it’s not a straight flush.” He tossed his cards onto the table—a straight flush, three, four, five.

The man’s face darkened, jaw clenched in frustration.

With a smile, Qin Yang swept up the pot—over twenty-three thousand—and exchanged it all for chips. He then moved to the Texas Hold’em table. Relying on his “Yin-Yang Eyes,” he tossed bad hands away and pressed his advantage with good ones, raising methodically. Within forty minutes, he’d amassed over two hundred thousand.

Hu Ming stood nearby, gnashing his teeth. He ordered his men to watch Qin Yang’s every move, but there was nothing amiss—Qin Yang never looked at his cards, lounged back with a cigarette, even had Yu Wenfei massage his shoulders. He showed none of the signs of a cheat, and Hu Ming couldn’t very well throw him out for winning. He could only curse his own men’s incompetence.

“Bring out Old Six,” Hu Ming growled.

A subordinate hurried to a nearby room and dragged out a bearded man, indicating Qin Yang with a jerk of his head. “That guy’s been winning big. See if you can make him cough it up.”

Old Six took a swig from his flask and gave Hu Ming a reassuring look before striding over with two hundred thousand in chips. He was clearly skilled, able to read nearly everyone’s hands—Qin Yang’s included. But Qin Yang refused to take the bait; he played on only with strong cards, folding weak hands, occasionally bluffing just to keep the others from folding every time he bet.

“Impressive,” Qin Yang remarked, sipping from a bottle of water. “In twenty minutes, I’ve only managed to take five thousand off you.”

Old Six sneered, but inwardly he seethed. Just as he was about to keep going, Qin Yang moved to the dice table. Old Six exchanged a glance with the dealer, then took over the dice cup himself.

“I’m not too familiar with this game. If I bet on the total, what’s the payout?” Qin Yang asked Yu Wenfei.

“Ten to one,” she replied quickly. “But the odds are terrible—”

“Alright, roll,” Qin Yang said with a smile.

Old Six grinned coldly, shaking the dice cup with practiced flair. He was confident that, unless someone had supernatural hearing, no one could possibly guess the outcome. Others around the table flicked their lighters, creating distractions. Qin Yang found their efforts amusing. Glancing at the satisfied smirk on Hu Ming’s face, he sighed. As Old Six set the cup down, the other gamblers placed their bets cautiously on “big” or “small.” Only Qin Yang slid his entire stack of two hundred thirty thousand in chips onto “seven.” The color drained from Old Six’s face.

“If I see you cheat again, you’ll learn what it means to wish you were dead,” Qin Yang threatened, twirling a single hundred-denomination chip between his fingers. A chilling aura radiated from his eyes—like a storm of black clouds swirling in his pupils—sending shivers down Old Six’s spine, sweat beading on his forehead. Hu Ming, seeing this, realized Qin Yang had guessed right again and tried to intervene, but as he stepped forward, a gleaming dagger embedded itself in the floor before him. One more step and it would have been in his body.

“Open it,” Qin Yang ordered coldly.

Old Six’s hands trembled as he lifted the cup—two, three, two. Exactly seven.

Hu Ming staggered back, his face ashen, only kept upright by his men. Qin Yang retrieved his dagger and, with a flick, freed the man whose arm he’d pinned, showing not a trace of pity. The sight sent a fresh wave of terror through the crowd. They’d seen fights break out before, but never such ruthless violence.

“Two hundred thirty thousand. After deducting the ten percent house fee, that leaves two hundred and seven thousand. I’ll forgo the small change. Add that to the million owed by Yu Wenxiang, and I’ll take the remaining million. Hand it over,” Qin Yang said, standing before Hu Ming, dagger in hand. “I don’t have time to waste.”

“Here, take it,” Hu Ming stammered. He was truly afraid of Qin Yang, and in front of so many witnesses, to renege on a payout would ruin his casino’s reputation. He returned the million Qin Yang had put up, and Yu Wenxiang was released at last. Yu Wenfei rushed to his side, afraid he might be hurt again.

“Let’s go,” Qin Yang said, picking up the money and leading the siblings away.

After they left, Hu Ming’s face darkened. He waved his hand. “Tonight, torch Yu Wenfei’s house. As for that bastard, cripple him if you can.”

“Yes, boss.”

Meanwhile, Qin Yang and the siblings walked for half an hour before flagging down a taxi and returning to their modest home—a dilapidated courtyard with two bedrooms and a living room, the other rooms little more than ruins. As soon as they entered, Qin Yang heard a soft, melodious sigh.

Startled, he opened his Yin-Yang Eyes and saw, within an old storage cabinet, a woman in a red brocade dress, her features delicate and reminiscent of Yu Wenfei, but with an added gentleness and intelligence absent from Yu Wenxiang. He was astounded—she was a fourth-level wraith.

“Who are you?” Qin Yang asked, mind to mind.

The woman seemed surprised he could address her. Her beautiful face lit with excitement. “I am Yu Wenrou, sir. How did you know I was here?”

“So it’s Lady Rou… Yu Wenrou… another remarkable one indeed.”