Chapter 11: Gambling Duel

Chapter11: The Wager

"Who dares claim the seat of my Pao Ge Guild?!"

A hoarse, ancient voice reverberated through the vast, enclosed underground arena, echoes overlapping and colliding until they coalesced into a thunderclap that deafened the ears.

Dense, clamorous footsteps surged closer like a tide; a massive throng of Hunshui Pao Ge brothers, the Yazi tattoo inked upon their necks, flooded into the arena.

A sea of black heads, numbering well over a hundred, filled the entire arena in the blink of an eye, the air thick with a murderous chill.

Amidst the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, four burly Pao Ge brothers whose arms had been replaced with mechanical prosthetics stood out starkly; they bore a massive sedan chair, halting behind Li Jun and Kuang Qingyun.

Zhao Ding, his head a crown of white, was wrapped in a black greatcoat, sitting astride the chair with the bearing of a titan.

Behind him stood two young maidens clad in cyan cheongsams, the delicate characters "Fu Weng" embroidered at their collars.

Their features were exquisite, bearing the classic traits of the Ming people, yet their brows and eyes held only a frigid indifference, utterly devoid of life.

They were bionic attendants produced by Chengdu Prefecture's largest medical consortium, now methodically operating a massive life-support system; countless spiderweb-thin tubes snaked into Zhao Ding's greatcoat.

Li Jun turned to gaze upon the old man's withered, sunken face, a sensation of plunging into an ice cellar gripping him whole; the corners of his mouth slowly curled into a bitter, self-mocking smile.

No wonder even Crow Hua knew it was Zhao Dou who had betrayed him; turns out this damn thing wasn't a secret at all.

The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind; so in this entire game, he alone was the sole cicada caught in the trap.

"Nine Dragons Street hasn't seen so many distinguished guests in a long, long time. This old man failed to greet you from afar; please forgive my discourtesy."

Zhao Ding's slightly clouded eyes swept the arena; wherever his gaze fell, reactions varied wildly.

Luo Zhen's face flickered with shock and suspicion, shooting a glare of profound annoyance at Zhao Dou.

Before entering Nine Dragons Street, this heir apparent of the Hunshui Pao Ge had sworn up and down that Zhao Ding had but a breath left in him, unable even to stand.

Hu Zhong's face was cold and hard as iron, the tiger stripes on his cheeks twitching, his expression that of one facing a mortal enemy.

Zhao Dou merely hung his head, daring not meet Zhao Ding's eyes, his fingers digging into his palms—the very picture of a fearful, cowardly, yet unwilling defeated cur.

Zhao Ding's gaze lingered on Zhao Dou for a moment, a faint trace of sorrow flashing through the depths of his eyes before he smiled at Luo Zhen: "Inspector Luo, if this old man heard correctly just now, it was you who spoke up demanding Kuang Qingyun hand someone over?"

Luo Zhen's brows knitted tight, his voice deep: "It was I who spoke. Does the Guild Master have an objection?"

"Objection is too strong a word,"

Zhao Ding, reclining in the sedan, shook his head, extending a finger to point at Hu Zhong, "This old man merely sighs that the curs who once begged like dogs at my feet now dare bare their fangs at me."

The moment the words left his mouth, an uproar erupted within the Jidao Society crowd.

Quite a few "Ten Nobles" executives who viewed Hu Zhong as a father revealed killing intent, itching to rush forward and tear Zhao Ding limb from limb.

Only Hu Zhong, the one named and insulted, maintained a stubborn silence; only the tiger-striped ornaments on his earlobes swayed of their own accord without wind.

"Not bad, Hu Zhong. Seems you've made some progress in Sinfolk Street these years, knowing a biting dog shouldn't bark recklessly. But betting on Zhao Dou? That was truly a blunder."

"Enough!"

Luo Zhen cast a sidelong glance of displeasure at the silent Hu Zhong, cutting Zhao Ding off.

"This Inspector is here today to resolve a conflict, not to watch you, Zhao Ding, throw your weight around! Today I must take the murderer away; otherwise, once this reaches the Chief Inspector's ears, none of us will walk away clean!"

Luo Zhen had no more patience for shadowboxing with Zhao Ding, directly brandishing the authority of his office to pressure him.

"Since Inspector Luo has put it so plainly, if I, Zhao Ding, refuse to give face, I'd be ungrateful indeed. However..."

Zhao Ding's tone shifted, "However, if the Pao Ge Guild simply hands Li Jun over like this, I'll be toppled from this sedan by my own brothers this very instant."

"What exactly do you mean, Zhao Ding!" Luo Zhen roared.

Resembling a withered lion, Zhao Ding smiled faintly, a brilliant, domineering aura radiating from his frame, "My meaning is this: if the Jidao Society wants to reclaim its honor, it must be done the Pao Ge Guild's way!"

Hu Zhong, who had remained silent throughout, finally reacted; he bowed slightly to the apoplectic Luo Zhen, then addressed Zhao Ding: "Then please, Master Ding, set the terms."

Zhao Ding's voice was cold: "We are all wretches scraping a living in the slums; naturally, whoever has the bigger fist makes the rules."

"With Inspector Luo present, the Pao Ge Guild won't bully the few with the many. Li Jun did the killing, so let the juniors settle it."

"I see the Jidao Society's 'Ten Nobles' are all here today. Hu Zhong, you pick a man for the ring. If he can beat Li Jun, his life belongs to the Jidao Society."

"Good!" Hu Zhong agreed with crisp finality.

At that very instant, Zhao Dou, who had kept his head bowed, suddenly snapped it up, his face twisted in savagery as he stared at the old man on the sedan, screaming in a trembling voice: "I want to raise the stakes!"

Kuang Qingyun flew into a rage, cursing: "Zhao Dou, you heartless, deranged beast!"

Zhao Dou howled like a mad dog: "Kuang Qingyun, you shut your damn mouth! You have no say here!"

A dense sorrow rose on Zhao Ding's emaciated, dry face as he spoke slowly: "What do you wish to wager?"

"I stake my life against yours, wagering the position of Hunshui Pao Ge Guild Master!"

"I accept." Zhao Ding's gaze was sharp as a blade, each word bitten off distinctly.

Kuang Qingyun's face paled with anxiety, "Master Ding!"

Zhao Ding waved a hand, eyes turning to Li Jun, "A-Jun, today's mess is this old man's fault. If you're unwilling to step up, I can have you smuggled out of Chengdu Prefecture right now."

"Hmph, what big talk!" Luo Zhen snorted coldly, deeply displeased with Zhao Ding's words.

Zhao Ding treated Luo Zhen's fury as empty air, still smiling at Li Jun: "Don't worry. No one can threaten you today. A dying old man, gone mad—no one can stop him."

The moment the old man finished speaking, the arena fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone waited for Li Jun's decision.

Li Jun lifted his head, scanning the surrounding Hunshui Pao Ge brothers. He hadn't been in this world long; these faces were almost all strangers, yet those pairs of blazing eyes were intensely familiar.

The Pao Ge disciples who had traded lives with the Jidao Society's Japanese pirates in the warehouse had worn that exact same look; its meaning was self-evident.

"How can it be said we have no clothes? We share our robes with you."

"I'll fight. Just happens I haven't killed enough Jidao Society men yet."

Li Jun's answer was equally decisive.

Because he knew, if he chose to flee, even if Zhao Ding truly smuggled him out of Chengdu Prefecture, Nine Dragons Street would run with rivers of blood today.

Among these innocent Hunshui Pao Ge brothers, many would not live to see tomorrow's sun.

And if Zhao Dou replaced Zhao Ding, he would face endless pursuit from both the Pao Ge Guild and the Jidao Society.

"Good!"

Zhao Ding looked deeply at Li Jun's resolute face, then couldn't help but steal a sidelong glance at the manic Zhao Dou. The grief choking his chest made the old man's breathing quicken.

"Lang Ren, the Jidao Society's honor rests with you."

Hu Zhong tilted his head slightly; a Japanese pirate in a loose kimono stepped forward from behind him—none other than Lang Ren, the foremost of the Jidao Society's "Ten Nobles."

"What the hell, you want to play with swords?! We'll play to the death!"

Kuang Qingyun swore in a thick Shu accent, and under Li Jun's astonished gaze, produced a sheathed longsword from his voluminous sleeve as if by magic, tossing it over.

"Killing Japanese pirates requires this to be satisfying."

Li Jun drew the blade; a streak of cold, pale light flowed from the scabbard, ringing with a clear, resonant, lingering chant.

The hilt was the length of a grown man's forearm, the blade exceeding a meter; dark blue quenching patterns crawled from the guard down the spine, the edge so keen it struck terror into the heart.

It was a weapon form Li Jun had never seen before, and he couldn't help but ask in wonder: "What manner of blade is this?"

Upon Kuang Qingyun’s delicate features, a murderous ferocity flared, and he sneered, “The Qi Family Saber of our Great Ming Empire—forged expressly to butcher the Wokou!”