Chapter 736: Are the Corporation and the Legion Fighting Among Themselves? (2/4)

Chapter 736: Internal Conflict Between the Enterprise and the Legion? (2/4)

“Shut up,” the man called Damon muttered, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Tang Feng. “I’ll knock him down first, then deal with you.”

“Don’t use your mouth,” the other man joked with a grin, putting on a look of amusement. “I’m not into that.”

Tension crackled between the two sides, the entire tavern thick with gunpowder.

Nearly every patron in the tavern cast curious glances their way.

On one side, the Enterprise’s people; on the other, the Legion’s.

If the former backed down, they’d cement their reputation as useless gluttons; if the latter yielded, the Vlandian warrior race’s name would ring hollow.

Everyone wondered how this clash would end.

Including the players drinking in the tavern.

Especially Debt-Eyes, who, never one to miss a chance for chaos, set up a betting pool.

“A little gamble for fun, eh? Anyone placing bets?”

Outlaw: “I bet fifty silver! That Vlandian will beat him down!”

Seeing everyone leaning toward the Legion winning, Debt-Eyes chuckled and spoke slowly.

“Not so sure—that guy dared to stand up and talk back; he’s probably got some tricks up his sleeve.”

When no one believed him, he paused and continued his guidance.

“As everyone knows, folks from Elysium like to carry cybernetic implants and smart wearables; maybe he’s got a mantis blade hidden in his sleeve!”

The veteran player’s words carried weight among the newcomers.

Eyes widened instantly.

“Damn, no bloodshed, right?”

“Awesome! I bet a hundred silver on the Enterprise!”

“I’m betting on the Enterprise too!”

Seeing the odds flip, Debt-Eyes beamed, his eyes crinkling with glee.

Remembering he’d bet on the Legion, Outlaw grew anxious and sidled up to whisper.

“Bro, who’d you bet on?”

Debt-Eyes glanced at him and murmured.

“The Legion.”

Outlaw’s eyes went wide.

Damn!

That bastard’s as sly as they come!

Just as the two were about to come to blows, the bartender behind the counter didn’t know what to do.

Neither side was someone he could afford to offend, so he could only look helplessly at the Alliance’s good Samaritans.

But those guys weren’t even looking his way, seemingly unwilling to meddle in the Enterprise-Legion conflict, just muttering among themselves in words he couldn’t understand.

As the bartender broke into a cold sweat, a light cough sounded from the center of the storm.

“Fighting proves nothing—one man’s valor and a group’s are two different things. Take those mutants, for instance; even I’d struggle to beat one in single combat. But on the battlefield, when we fight on our own terms, they can’t even touch me.”

Hearing the untimely voice, the Vlandian named Damon squinted over and saw a guy in a blue coat, curling his lip.

“So?”

Tang Feng frowned too, looking at the Alliance friend and muttering low.

“Don’t interfere in this.”

“You misunderstand—I’m not trying to stop you, but this won’t settle anything,” Mosquito sighed as both stared at him, then continued slowly. “So why not try a different contest? One more civilized, more elegant, and better at showcasing a soldier’s military acumen.”

Running out of steam, he coughed hard, pulled a few decks of cards from his pocket, slapped them on the table, and ended his rambling.

“Anyway, let’s start with a round of Gwent.”

Both were stunned, especially the Vlandian named Damon.

“What’s that?”

Tang Feng frowned slightly, and another Enterprise soldier beside him muttered.

“I think I’ve heard of it… Was it last year or the year before?”

Mosquito smiled. “Should be last year. My buddy tried to auction it off as a display piece, but that idiot’s no salesman—he didn’t grasp the game’s essence, just copied it stiffly, so it never took off… But no matter, I can demonstrate it myself.”

“So it’s Enterprise rules?” Damon narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that unfair to us who don’t know them?”

“Enterprise rules? No, this is something from our Vault. Clearly, these lads don’t know it either, but they seem eager to try new things,” Mosquito glanced at the eager Tang Feng, then turned to Damon, using a taunt with a smile. “Or are you scared?”

Damon sneered dismissively.

“As if.”

Come on.

He was at least a reserve officer, a graduate of a proper military academy, trained in orthodox warfare.

He could fight, but he wasn’t just a brawler.

“Then come sit down,” Mosquito said, beaming as he pulled out a chair for him. “Pick a deck as your own, and I’ll explain the rules—starting with the factions…”

Gwent’s rules weren’t complex; originally, it had 150 cards, including four factions and neutrals.

The board had three main rows: melee, ranged, and siege, plus weather cards, hero cards, and leader cards.

But the deck Mosquito pulled out wasn’t the original—it was a modded version.

For instance, besides the four factions—Nilfgaard, the Northern Realms, Scoia’tael, and Monsters—he’d added a bunch of “self-made” factions and decks, along with “homebrew” rules to make them fit.

Like trap cards, magic cards, equipment cards, and so on.

The Vlandian named Damon wasn’t interested at first, but as the guy rattled on glibly, he found himself drawn in.

And not just the two at the center of the tavern’s attention—other patrons listened curiously too.

After all, there wasn’t much entertainment here; a simple set of rules and a bunch of colorful cards seemed fun enough.

But…

So many cards—could anyone remember them all?

And collecting the whole set would probably cost a fortune…

“I’ve got the basics. When do we start?” Damon, having grasped the rules, looked eager and asked the guy called Mosquito.

“Anytime.” Then Mosquito turned to Tang Feng, sitting across the wooden table, and said animatedly, “What about you?”

“Same here,” Tang Feng said, then added as an afterthought, “Oh, and this is an honorable duel—don’t favor me.”

“How could I? I’m always fair! Even if the Administrator himself sat here, I’d never let him cheat in front of me!”

After all, his eyes were his own—he could close them whenever needed.

Yet the focus of the crowd in the tavern was on something else entirely—

Even the manager was playing Gwent?!

At this thought, everyone perked up, eyes fixed on the card table, abandoning their drinks and crowding in from their seats.

Seeing the excitement reach its peak, Mosquito cleared his throat with a loud cough, and amid the roaring cheers, he rasped out in his unique, grating voice.

“And now—”

“Let the duel begin!”

…

Though playing cards wasn’t as thrilling as a brawl, Mosquito’s silver tongue made up for it; with his glib patter, he somehow whipped the atmosphere into a frenzy.

In a place like a tavern, atmosphere is like a movie’s BGM.

With a rousing soundtrack playing, even a game of Dou Di Zhu could feel more intense than a Boruto episode.

Not to mention the cards Mosquito pulled out—each one brimming with stories and talking points, making it all too easy to spin a yarn out of thin air!

After all, the bystanders crowding around didn’t know any better; swept up in the fervent commentary, they cheered on the evenly matched bumbling rookies.

The noisy clamor in the tavern hall even boosted beer sales.

Watching the fired-up crowd, the boss sitting behind the bar finally breathed a sigh of relief, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and shot a grateful look at Mosquito, who was commentating with all his might.

As for the players watching from the sidelines, they listened in bewilderment, and when they saw the cards the two drew, they were utterly dumbfounded.

“Holy crap, what the hell is a Blue-Eyes White Dragon?”

“How the hell did a Khorne Champion show up?”

“A Druid???”

“Pfft, Teng Teng’s Artifact adds defense??”

After listening to Mosquito ramble for a while, they almost forgot what the original rules of the game were.

But that didn’t really matter anyway.

Mosquito even improvised a bunch of new rules on the spot, completely tossing aside the fairness he’d preached earlier.

Yet because his logic was so self-consistent, no one raised any objections.

The scoring rule changed from best of three to best of five, and the two sitting at the wooden table each took two points.

Now it was the final round; both players clutched their hands tightly, glaring fiercely at their opponents.

Standing behind Damon, a group of Varlants shouted themselves hoarse, hooting loudly.

“Go, Damon!”

“Kill him!”

“Use that Super Mutant in your hand! Smash his head in!”

Hearing these bastards reveal his cards, Damon nearly choked on his rage, almost giving up in despair as he played his strongest card.