Chapter 65: The Casino Match

Chapter 65: The Casino Match

On my way up to the ring, I glanced at the betting board.

Less than ten percent had backed me, while ninety percent were on Gao Haipeng. The odds were just as wildly lopsided. After all, Gao Haipeng had beaten Shi Youcheng, a rank-eight fighter from the Ziyun Sect, in their last clash.

Besides, to everyone else, my jump from guard to rank-eight Grandmaster looked suspiciously fast. In the tournament, I’d only beaten a rank-seven before it was called off. Sure, the Ziyun Sect promoted me to rank eight—but outsiders saw that as a merit badge, nothing more.

Most gamblers didn’t buy my actual strength.

What caught my attention: a few Jianghai Gang disciples had bet on me. I didn’t see anyone from the Ziyun Sect in the crowd.

Then I noticed a fat boss delivering wine. He wasn’t carrying any wine himself; instead, he trailed leisurely behind a beautiful woman pushing a flying wine jar. When he spotted me, he winked.

Another Du Xiaoran shell?

As Gao Haipeng and I approached the ring, the casino owner hurried over and murmured to Gao Haipeng, “Grandmaster Gao, you know the drill. Three rounds. After that, do what you want.”

Clear enough. Make it last three rounds before knocking me out. End it too fast and the show falls flat—fewer bets, less excitement.

After his chat with Gao Haipeng, the owner slipped me a cyan-patterned pill and said quietly, “Grandmaster Song, you’re new, so I don’t know you well. Honestly? I don’t favor you. But for this pill’s sake, give me three rounds. I believe you’ve got that much in you.”

I glanced back at the wagering scene. Lively enough. I was the wild card—unknown quantity, high odds. Gamblers with nerve loved that kind of bet.

I held the extra cyan-patterned pill he had given me and figured there was no reason to turn down something free.

That said—were these pills useful or not? Immortal pills could be exchanged for achievement points, and a cyan-patterned pill was worth ten points, which was no small amount. Still, I wanted to taste it. I still had plenty of gold-patterned pills I hadn’t cashed in, and I had never tried those either, so I had no idea what their effects were.

So I popped the cyan-patterned pill in my mouth. The instant it hit my stomach, something jolted my consciousness body.

Huh.

These pills weren’t for improving physical function. They were for improving consciousness cultivation.

No wonder Du Xiaoran had said these pills came from data distilled out of the Mundane World’s Treading the Wind, Seeking the Dao. These so-called immortal pills were nothing more than wisdom packs gathered from hundreds of millions of people.

But the cyan-patterned pill didn’t seem to affect me. One jolt, then nothing. No strengthening at all.

Did I just waste it?

I ate a gold-patterned pill next. A hundred points’ worth—stupidly expensive. Ought to do something for my force of consciousness.

Same result. One jolt. Nothing more.

Damn it. Shouldn’t have bothered.

This stuff was useless on me. Why? I had no idea.

By all logic, something this expensive—consumed by Great Grandmasters and fighters worldwide—couldn’t be worthless. But when I checked my consciousness body, genuinely nothing had changed. No increase, no enhancement.

What the hell?

The gamblers saw me take a gold-patterned pill before entering the ring. Chatter erupted. A few holdouts started placing last-minute bets.

Some backed me—I’d taken a pill, I should be stronger. Others bet against me—taking a pill meant I was scared.

I watched the betting screen flicker and shift, smiled, and stepped into the ring.

Referee, fighters, all in position.

Referee read the rules. A round-card girl walked the ring with a placard. Everything followed the same rules as in the Mundane World.

I figured I’d hold back my finisher, play around with Gao Haipeng, give the owner his show. The man had thrown in an extra pill, after all.

Gao Haipeng opened big—sweeping, dramatic attacks with obvious restraint. Using sixty percent of the Sweeper techniques’ power was enough.

We traded blows that looked impressive but lacked bite. Veteran gamblers shouted fix. Gao Haipeng had to dial up the power, though he kept it away from vital points.

No reason for me to risk anything yet. I played along, treated it like a warm-up. We muddled through three rounds.

Round four, everything changed. Gao Haipeng came in with killing moves, attacking my vital points like a madman. I went full power too, cycling through Sweeper downloads while weaving in force of consciousness paired with same-frequency sensing, driving it toward him.

Gao Haipeng’s force of consciousness was leagues beyond that rank-six I’d faced. When I fought the rank-seven, his father got kicked out before he could do anything, so I had no baseline.

Point was, Gao Haipeng could resist my force-of-consciousness attacks.

But he couldn’t do what I did—attack with force of consciousness while keeping his martial technique unaffected.

He was compromised. His strikes weakened noticeably. When he ramped up physical power, his force of consciousness faltered. That gap let me push deeper. His blockade was strong but unsustainable.

I pressed both fronts—intruding with force of consciousness, intensifying physical attacks. With my arsenal of techniques and rapid transitions, I buried him in variations. Soon he was purely reactive, scrambling to keep up.

Just when I thought I had it, Gao Haipeng shape-shifted. Human fighter became massive black beast, savage and hulking.

Wait, what?

That was allowed?

I hadn’t noticed that clause. I’d barely been in the virtual world—hadn’t learned to shape-shift yet.

The beast’s power nearly doubled. Its force of consciousness dropped to almost nothing.

Technically, a creature without force of consciousness shouldn’t fear force-of-consciousness attacks. It has none. Treat it like a big idiot.

Gao Haipeng miscalculated. He didn’t realize my intrusion wasn’t meant to attack his brain—it was meant to control it.

That’s what made pseudo–mind arts terrifying.

Facing the thick-hided beast, I dodged its snapping jaws while ramping up my intrusion, pushing that water-and-sand force of consciousness to its limit. I broke through into Gao Haipeng’s brain and hijacked his mind.

The beast had been roaring, rearing up, about to lunge. Everyone thought Gao Haipeng was unleashing his final surge.

Then it stopped. Scratched its back. Swayed its hips to the rhythm and started doing a plaza dance.

The exaggerated routine terrified the crowd.

Gamblers stared at the casino owner in unison. None of them had seen anything like this.

What kind of illness was this?

Only after toying with Gao Haipeng for a while did I make the beast crash heavily to the ground. Gao Haipeng reverted to human form in agony. I flew up and kicked him out of the ring.

He’d lost.

Gao Haipeng actually lost.

Emotions exploded. The bizarre finale couldn’t be explained as legitimate sport. Shouting, pounding, shredded tickets, airborne trash—venting rage. Only the handful who’d won sat quietly, smiling, waiting to collect.

I realized I’d forgotten to bet on myself. Wasted a guaranteed payday.

The fat wine-seller had the beautiful woman start hawking drinks to the winning gamblers. Since the odds had been high, the winners bought drinks one after another to celebrate.

The casino owner rushed over and asked if I’d caused that bizarre scene.

I pointed at the contract. “Boss, nothing in the rules banned force of consciousness, did it? I know mind arts. I could’ve finished that idiot anytime. I let him have a few rounds to give you face. If I hadn’t held back, he’d be dead. Wouldn’t you say?”

Fear flickered across his face. “True, true. I appreciate the consideration. Jianghai Gang is a major sect locally. Grandmaster Song sparing him gives them face too. Everyone saw it. Ah—may I ask, what’s your relationship with Young Miss Pu Liuqian?”

So that was it. He thought my pseudo–mind arts came from Pu Liuqian.

No wonder he was rattled.

Pu Liuqian’s reputation ran deep.

The owner looked shifty, so I leaned into his fear. “What do you think? Don’t dig into things you shouldn’t.”

He nodded rapidly. “Of course, of course. Please rest inside. I’ll have your payout brought immediately.”

Shortly after, he paid me 610 points—winner’s commission—plus the ten-point base. Total: 620 points. So that’s why base pay was low. Everyone chased commission.

I collected and stepped outside. The fat wine-seller was waiting, grinning.

“Grandmaster Song, have a drink. Cocktail. On me.”

“Smells nice. Not poisoned?”

“Listen to you. The metaverse is a showcase for consciousness bodies. What poison are you afraid of? This is authentic Dusk Wine—nourishing, refreshing, on par with a cyan-patterned pill. Won’t you try?”

“You said cocktail. Why does the name keep changing? Cyan-patterned pills don’t work on me. Your wine might not either.”

“Dusk Wine’s the brand. Cocktail’s the pour. How about we head to the Dusk Bar? I’ve got Pavilion Elder Wine saved—only people sent by the Shadow Pavilion get to drink. One cup loosens the body, sharpens the spirit a hundredfold.”

I smiled. “Fine. Let’s go. But I saw you bet nearly five hundred points on me. Bold move. Weren’t you afraid I’d lose and wipe you out?”

He lowered his voice. “Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know. Of course I knew you’d win.”

“Since you cleaned up, you’re paying.”

“You really are tight. Your commission wasn’t small—I saw it all. 620 points, plus the 1,730 for rank-eight Grandmaster. That’s 2,350 points. And you’re eyeing scraps in my pocket. Fine. I told you—stick with me and you’ll eat well.”

By then I’d already downed the Dusk Wine.

Tasted decent.

Just a bit strong.