Chapter 237: Already Very Good

How was this possible?!

Shi Le stared at the Ten of Clubs in his hand, his pupils constricting.

gambling cultivators relied on fortune.

He could clearly feel his fortune was as strong as usual, and he had even burned a portion of it when the shadow dealt the cards. How could he draw a card like this?!

If it were an Ace or a Two, he could write it off as not having expended enough fortune; he would simply need to pour more into the next round.

But this card—it was the absolute last card he wanted to see.

Which meant that compared to his opponent, the fortune he had just expended hadn't just fallen slightly short—it had been completely crushed!

The gap between them was so immense that it had completely inverted the outcome, leaving him with the worst possible hand.

How was this possible?!

He looked across the table at Yan Jing, weird energy surging in his eyes.

While a person's fortune was usually invisible, exceptionally high fortune always left some trace.

Yet after observing him for a moment, he saw absolutely nothing.

This only made him more wary.

Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat as a possibility struck him.

Could Luo Sheng be one of those legendary figures born with heaven-defying fortune? The kind who usually kept a low profile, only for their fortune to surge explosively at critical moments?!

His face darkened, and he quickly steadied his mind.

Fortune and momentum were inseparable.

If he lost his nerve before the bet even began, he was almost guaranteed to lose.

Legends were just legends, after all.

Luo Sheng's midwife had died shortly after he was born, and he had subsequently caused his own mother to fall ill. To some extent, he was even responsible for Luo Wang losing his life. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call the boy a walking jinx. No matter how you looked at it, he couldn't possibly be a person of great fortune.

He couldn't afford to scare himself.

"I stand."

According to the rules, he had already busted; he couldn't ask for another card even if he wanted to.

"Both sides, reveal your cards."

The shadow raised a hand, and the two simultaneously flipped over their cards.

"Player wins."

The shadow's declaration sent a ripple of commotion through the onlookers.

"Yan Jing won?"

"Advisor Yan won."

"Didn't they say his opponent was incredibly strong?"

Someone shot a suspicious look at the Old Man from earlier.

"Are you just blowing hot air?"

"Heh."

The Old Man sneered. "Have none of you ever been to a casino? You don't even recognize a basic trick like this? Nobody makes you lose right out of the gate."

"Ever heard of baiting the hook?"

The crowd exchanged doubtful glances.

After all, the opponent only had fifty plots of land. Losing ten in a single go seemed like awfully heavy bait.

"Just watch. That Advisor Yan is about to suffer a terrible string of bad luck."

Only the Old Man spoke with absolute certainty.

"The player takes the dealer position."

Since Yan Jing had won, he became the dealer for this round.

Once the cards were dealt into his hand, he lifted his to check the face.

Seven points.

If the ten points from the previous round had been a mediocre hand, these seven points were absolute garbage.

Hitting carried a huge risk of busting, but standing left his hand too weak.

Although changes in expression were taboo at the gambling table, Yan Jing couldn't help but look down at his own hands.

Just what kind of awful luck was this?

As for Shi Le across the table, he similarly frowned upon seeing his hand.

Because his card was ten points.

The exact same hand his opponent had started with in the previous round.

A deck only had four of each card, and three tens had already been played.

This was what gambling cultivators called a 'mirror hand'—if his opponent could win with ten points, but he couldn't do the same now that he held ten points, it meant his fortune had fallen short once again.

Shi Le furrowed his brows.

As a gambling cultivator, he would normally hit without hesitation; he would be confident in pulling a half-point card.

But today, he glanced at Yan Jing, his eyes flickering, and finally raised his hand.

"Hit!"

He dared to hit when his opponent wouldn't; he dared to bet when his opponent wouldn't. That was what it meant to be a gambling cultivator.

A gambling cultivator must always believe in their own fortune.

Quickly, another card was dealt to him.

He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky-obscuring cloud of fortune that only he could see. Then, he reached out with his left hand and tapped several points on his body. In the distance, inside the black Curtain, his remaining upper half once again began to spray blood, gradually turning transparent, while the fortune hovering above his head surged dramatically.

He had borrowed fortune from New Heaven.

And this time, it was dozens of times more intense than before!

In this life, he, Shi Le, only cared about one thing, and that was winning!

He then peeled back the corner of the card in his hand.

The next instant, the corners of his mouth curled up.

A Queen of Clubs.

"I stand."

Right at that moment, the crowd noticed that Xu Qiao'er, whom Shi Le was possessing, seemed to be emanating an invisible momentum.

It was completely invisible, but it felt as if a wave of air was rising from around her, surging straight into the clouds.

"Here it comes!"

The Old Man exclaimed excitedly:

"The momentum is building!"

In the distance, Xu Weizhou looked puzzled. "That guy almost lost his life to the guy across the table back in the day, and now he's cheering for him? What kind of mindset is that?"

Beside him, Fan Jue hit the nail on the head, speaking in a mild tone:

"That way, his loss back then isn't his fault."

At the table, both Yan Jing and Tiger, who was standing behind him, could feel that the Shi Le across from them was different from a moment ago.

It was like two completely different people.

Yan Jing looked at the card in his hand, then turned back to look at Tiger behind him, shooting him a glance.

Hit or stand?

Tiger was a little dumbfounded.

He didn't know if this was a problem with Advisor Xiao Yan or Young Master Luo, but wasn't this luck a little too terrible?

He felt like he had never drawn such terrible hands two rounds in a row.

He closed his eyes, trying to tap into that feeling he had figured out on his own, but just like before, the feeling was suddenly nowhere to be found.

So, he shot Yan Jing a glance back.

Hit or stand, we're probably losing this one.

Yan Jing understood.

"Hit."

He raised a hand.

Hitting didn't cost extra bets anyway, so he might as well.

He wasn't relying on Tiger for this round.

He, Yan Jing, decided to handle this one himself!

Did they really think of him, Yan Jing, as an unlucky bastard?!

Soon, a card was dealt into his hand.

Yan Jing took one look, then mysteriously closed the cards, not even letting Tiger and the Old Man behind him see.

Facing their anxious expressions, Yan Jing raised a finger, signaling them to stay calm.

Seeing Yan Jing's unfathomable expression, hope flared in their hearts.

Could it be...?

"Hit!"

Yan Jing raised his hand.

Quickly, another card was dealt to him.

Looking at this new card, Yan Jing nodded.

"I stand."

He then flashed Tiger a thumbs-up.

Seeing this, the Old Man and Tiger behind him grew even more excited.

He was giving a thumbs-up! He had definitely drawn a good hand!

"Both sides, reveal your cards."

The shadow announced.

Across the table, Shi Le gave a cold sneer and revealed his cards first.

Ten and a Half.

Tiger and the Old Man's hearts leaped into their throats at the sight.

"Dealer, reveal your cards."

Yan Jing similarly gave a cold sneer and revealed his first card.

A Seven of Diamonds.

The second card.

A Jack of Diamonds.

Watching Yan Jing's confident expression, the onlookers widened their eyes.

Could it be...

Even Shi Le across the table, who had already built up his momentum, frowned at Yan Jing's demeanor. He unconsciously clenched his fists, his heartbeat accelerating.

It was absolutely impossible! He had brought New Heaven into this game. New Heaven was on his side now!

"Heh heh."

Yan Jing flicked his finger, and a card fell into the crowd's line of sight.

It was—

The Four of Spades.

The crowd lost their composure.

Wasn't that a bust?!

The Old Man and Tiger couldn't catch their breath, nearly slipping and falling flat on their faces.

The Old Man called out softly, pulling Yan Jing away from the table and whispering to him:

"Young Master, that's already a bust. Ten and a Half is the highest."

He assumed his young master hadn't understood the rules.

"I know, Master Liu," Yan Jing nodded.

"Then why did you give a thumbs-up just now?" Tiger asked in confusion.

"I meant..." Yan Jing flashed the thumbs-up again:

"You're still better at this, Huzi!"

Tiger staggered, nearly tripping.

The Old Man didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Sure enough, this was exactly how their young master always was.

"Just letting him have one,"

Yan Jing said in all seriousness.

But unexpectedly...

He ended up letting him have two rounds, three rounds, four rounds—

Across the table, Shi Le's momentum grew stronger and stronger, while sweat poured down Tiger's forehead behind Yan Jing, causing his mascot headpiece to wrinkle.

By the time Yan Jing lost his ninth round—during which Shi Le even drew a five-card trick that paid out double, costing them forty plots of land in total—the Old Man couldn't watch anymore and pulled Tiger aside.

This couldn't go on. Losing a third of their real estate was a minor issue; they could always win it back later. But if this continued, Tiger was going to break completely.

"Huzi, Huzi."

He reached out and patted Tiger's face.

Under the Old Man's increasingly heavy pats, Tiger's vacant eyes gradually regained focus.

"Old Man..."

He let out a long sigh. "Old Man, I don't think I can win anymore. I can't find that feeling I had before..."

Tiger's face was completely crestfallen. "Maybe it was just dumb luck before, and now it's run out."

"Old Man, I've let you, Mr. Yi Ji, and Young Master Luo down..."

As he spoke, the fabric of his mascot headpiece grew damp.

Hearing this, the Old Man patted Tiger's shoulder. His eyes suddenly grew complicated, and he smiled.

"During my first year learning martial arts, I trained with the saber."

"Huh?"

Tiger froze, not understanding what the Old Man meant by that.

But the Old Man didn't explain. He simply continued:

"I was an absolute disaster."

"The master who took me in had nearly a hundred apprentices and two direct disciples. I couldn't even be considered one of the better ones among the apprentices."

"The funny thing is, when my master first took me in, he said he had his eye on my innate potential."

"I thought so too, until one day I was sparring with a junior brother. I made him angry, and when he got serious, I realized that compared to him, my potential fell completely short."

"After that, I started observing the others, and I realized I was genuinely just slow."

"Everyone hid it from me because our master had given orders to build my confidence."

"Later, I asked my master about it, and he admitted he'd misjudged me."

"But in the Third Lake Prefecture, especially among martial artists, words spoken are like spilled water—they can never be taken back."

"He told everyone to keep me in the dark because he didn't want the truth getting out and ruining his reputation."

The Old Man smiled as he spoke. Tiger couldn't quite tell what his expression looked like right now, but he could feel a deep sorrow.

Still smiling, the Old Man continued:

"But I wasn't willing to accept it."

"I had no skills, just a bit of brute strength. My parents abandoned me when I was young. If I couldn't even learn martial arts properly, I didn't know what else I could do."

"So I went crazy. I found a massive pile of books and trained."

"Since I didn't have their potential, I put in more time. Since I wasn't as smart as them, I just worked harder."

Tiger remained silent.

He had heard Mr. Yi Ji mention that the Old Man used to love deduction back in Old Sin City. Only later did he learn it was because the Old Man had promised Young Master Luo he would become "smart," rather than just being a martial artist.

This Old Man, who had carved his way through the world with his bare fists, sometimes still felt he didn't know enough. That was why he would often squint over books, learning whatever he deemed useful, even at sixty years old.

"I poured a massive amount of effort into it, and finally surpassed everyone around me. Not because my innate potential was good enough, but because I was ruthless enough."

"I couldn't afford to lose. All I had to gamble with was this body. In the end, I succeeded, but this body was also left riddled with hidden injuries."

"Those hidden injuries didn't bother me much normally, but they eventually became weaknesses. In the words of martial artists, they were 'vital gates.' Because of them, I later lost a sparring match."

"My opponent seized upon those vital gates, and I lost the most important match of my life."

"According to the rules of the Third Lake Prefecture, losing a dojo challenge meant accepting punishment, which was death. Only then could you avoid shaming your lineage and silence the crowd."

"My master spent a fortune to buy my life, but on the condition that I never claim to be from the Third Lake Prefecture again, nor ever speak his name. Then, they broke my arms and legs and threw me into the wilderness."

"How did you survive?" Tiger's voice trembled slightly; he had already been drawn completely into the Old Man's story.

"To be honest, I didn't want to survive. I just wanted to die."

The Old Man smiled:

"I had been thrown away by my parents once, and then thrown away by my sect. My family, my lineage—they were all in the Third Lake Prefecture. I grew up there. I couldn't go back, and I was a cripple. I was better off dead."

"I walked to the edge of a great river, wanting to jump in."

"But before I could jump, a teenager called out and stopped me."

"He stood on the bank, looked at me, and asked why I was trying to drown myself."

As he spoke, the Old Man's vision blurred, as if he had returned to that day.

"Old man, what are you doing?"

A youth with slightly curly hair stood on the bank, looking at him as he lay on the ground, only able to squirm forward on his chest. The boy held a Paintbrush in his hand, with a drawing board beside him.

"..."

He didn't answer. He just kept trying to drag himself into the water.

"Oh, I get it! You want to jump in the river!"

The youth walked over, grabbed his broken arms and legs, and dragged him backward.

"You've got quite the strength."

The youth panted.

"What are you doing?"

He glared fiercely at the boy.

"Sketching."

The boy smiled, waving the Paintbrush in his hand:

"My teacher told me to come out and sketch. I haven't found anything interesting along the way, but I think you're pretty good. Let me paint you. You can go die after I'm done."

"Fuck you!"

He couldn't help but curse.

"My mother fell ill because of me. You're cursing at the wrong person."

The boy chuckled. "My midwife died shortly after I was born. All the servants at home secretly call me a jinx."

"Alright, old man, hold still. I'll be done in a minute."

Perhaps the boy's story reminded him of his own childhood, because he actually stopped moving. With a dark expression, he asked:

"So your parents threw you out?"

"You could say that, though they didn't explicitly say it at the time."

The boy smiled, his Paintbrush dancing. "You practice martial arts, right? The muscle definition is great."

"No, I don't."

He denied it flatly. Since he had promised never to mention his sect again, he no longer counted as a martial artist.

"What a pity. You really should!"

The boy smiled.

Those words earned the boy a bit more of his favor, because that was exactly what his master had said when he first found him.

Even though he had been mistaken.

"You're a bad judge."

He said sullenly.

"A bad judge? Impossible! Let me tell you, old man, I, Luo Sheng, never judge anyone wrong!"

The boy announced his name and smiled:

"Then why don't you tell me, what exactly do you do?"

"...I'm a steward."

He answered, suddenly feeling his broken hands and feet itching.

"Hold still, hold still, almost done!"

The boy urged.

"A steward? Hahaha, what a waste of talent! Let me tell you, old man, listen to me—go learn martial arts! You might be a bit old, but you'll definitely be better at it than being a steward!"

The boy flashed a vertical thumbs-up. He thought the kid was praising him and was just about to speak, but then the boy turned his thumb horizontally.

He only learned later that this was a drawing technique.

"Then tell me," he said. "If I go learn martial arts, how far could I go?"

The boy paused upon hearing this, looked up to think for a moment, and then smiled:

"Do you know about the Third Lake Prefecture? I heard it's full of martial artists. Thirty-six martial arts dojos in total. Let me put it this way—if you had practiced since childhood and went around challenging them one by one, you could definitely take down at least three... no, at least five of them!"

When the boy finished speaking, he froze for a second, then burst into roaring laughter.

Five dojos? He had single-handedly torn through sixteen of them. "Kid, and you still brag about your eye for people!"

After he finished laughing, he fell silent, quietly waiting for the boy to finish painting.

He didn't know how much time had passed. He vaguely remembered his eyes drooping shut as he began to doze off.

Finally, the boy walked over and said:

"Old man, get up and see how it looks."

"Oh... alright."

He nodded groggily and pushed himself up from the ground.

It wasn't until he was almost at the drawing board that he suddenly realized what was happening, staring at his hands and feet in absolute shock.

"Top-secret salve I brought from home."

The boy grinned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It only works if you stay perfectly still. Looks like the results are pretty good."

Before he could speak, the boy turned the drawing board around and placed it in front of him.

On it was a painting of himself with his hands and feet completely whole, wearing a long green robe. He stood by the river, gazing into the distance with a high-spirited expression.

"I figured this is exactly what you'd look like when your hands and feet were fine!"

The boy looked him over and laughed:

"Exactly the same!"

"Old man, come with me. You're a steward, and I happen to need a butler."

...

He remembered thinking a lot of things that day, though he forgot why he ultimately agreed to follow the boy, as if possessed.

Just like that, the two traveled together, wandering along the banks of several great rivers.

They grew closer and closer. Not long after, they met Fei Yu and returned to the Sixth Lake Prefecture.

Later, one day, the boy suddenly announced he wanted to learn how to drink.

He agreed, and after a few rounds of liquor, their conversation drifted back to the day they met.

The slightly tipsy boy smiled mysteriously:

"Master Liu! Do you know how I managed to paint you with your hands and feet completely healed that day?"

"How did you?"

He paused. He had always assumed the boy just used his imagination.

Instead, the boy pulled out a newspaper and laid it in front of him.

On it was a front-page headline detailing his successful solo challenge against sixteen dojos. The black-and-white photo showed him exactly as he was—brimming with high spirits.

They both roared with laughter.

Afterward, the boy spoke:

"Master Liu, taking down sixteen martial arts dojos by yourself is already incredible."

"Way better than being a steward."

"I told you! Whatever else you did, it'd never be as good as martial arts!"

"Master Liu, sometimes, you've already done very well. How much does a person really need to pursue in one lifetime—"

With that, the boy slammed a hand on the table:

"Does it mean that just because someone else's steward can defeat seventeen dojos, he's better than my steward, who could only defeat sixteen?!"

"Wrong! If I hadn't found you, my steward might not even be able to handle three!"

It was clearly just ordinary bragging.

But his tears had suddenly fallen then.

He thought of his childhood, of his days practicing martial arts...

Sometimes he always felt he wasn't good enough, but in truth, there would be someone who felt he was good enough.

Snapping back to the present, he looked at Tiger, who was staring blankly at him, and chuckled, patting his shoulder:

"Huzi, you're doing fine. You've already done very well."

"If it were anyone else, how could they have helped the young master get this far?"

"If you were still in the Amusement Park, how could things be better than they are now?"

"Huzi, making it this far is already very good. Just relax."

"You haven't let us down. The young master and I both agree—you're the best dealer."