The Eastern youth had only one comment about King Gamble's words: "Now that's bold!"
Timing is less important than location, and location is less important than unity. Unity is the most crucial. With King Gamble's betting method, everyone present was transformed from spectators into participants. The sway of public opinion intensified a thousandfold. Winning or losing a round wasn't just about yourself—it was about the hearts of all. The subtleties of this, if dissected in detail, would take up too much space.
In short, a showdown like this is like dueling swords in a raging storm at sea. At first glance, it might seem ordinary, but on closer thought, only someone truly wild and supremely confident would dare to stir things up like this.
Compared to this move, the earlier gestures of gifting a thousand gold or waiving the kneeling—just like King Gamble said—were mere parlor tricks.
Nobody expected to be able to join the Centennial Gamble, and everyone got excited, the buzz of chatter filling the air. Mr. Goldwin frowned but didn't back down. Instead, he nodded and said, "Alright, then everyone joins the game. But how do we bet? I don't really trust your gambling tools."
"That's normal—nine out of ten gamblers cheat," King Gamble said nonchalantly. "But with thousands of betting methods, the most cheat-proof and captivating is actually the simplest and most primitive—guessing odd or even."
"Guessing odd or even?" Many people were puzzled. This method seemed way too simple, almost overly so. Shake the dice and guess whether the points are odd or even—any streetwise martial artist, or even a skilled cheater, could guess right most of the time. For a Centennial Gamble, the challenge felt almost insultingly easy, and it seemed impossible to truly separate the winners from the losers.
"Looks like everyone's confused, so I'll do a demonstration—something simple first." King Gamble took out a die and showed it around. "This die has been tampered with. No mercury inside, but iron sand is embedded. If you're a gambling expert, you can roll any number you want." He tossed the die onto the table, and after a couple of bounces, it landed on six.
"Then how are we supposed to guess odd or even?" Mr. Goldwin said coolly, "If you can roll any number you want, isn't that blatant cheating?"
"Gambling is all about cheating. If you can cheat openly and no one can catch you, that's real skill. But this time, that's not how we're playing." King Gamble pointed to the die and said, "Everyone, let's bet on whether the number of iron sand grains inside this die is odd or even."
"Huh? We're betting like this?" Many people suddenly understood. Turns out, this wasn't about rolling for points, but about pure luck—something you can't tamper with. The number of iron sand grains in the die was set the moment it was made, so cheating here would be next to impossible.
"First round, let's keep it small—one tael. Since I made this die, I won't join the bet, just host it." King Gamble glanced at Mr. Goldwin: "Mr. Goldwin, you wager one tael on odd or even. Everyone else can bet on win or lose, and the stakes are up to you."
But Mr. Goldwin shook his head: "No matter if I bet odd or even, you could always pull a trick when breaking the die. King Gamble, your cheating skills are second to none—I'm not exactly reassured."
Many nodded in agreement—breaking open the die to count the iron sand was the perfect moment for sleight of hand. With King Gamble's skills, he'd surely pull it off flawlessly.
"I won't touch the die. Anyone present can be chosen. With your sharp eyes, Mr. Goldwin, are you really worried about a little trickery?" Then King Gamble addressed everyone: "Since I'm hosting this round, if I lose big, I'll pay up—no need to worry about the odds." In other words, even if everyone guessed right, they'd still profit, which made many people tempted to join.
"Alright, let's do it." Mr. Goldwin said, "I bet on even."
Betting on even? The crowd exchanged glances, then started thinking and placing bets. Some bet he'd win, some bet he'd lose. Most kept their stakes small for the first round. But as the bets rolled in, the split in public opinion became clear—seventy percent bet on a win, thirty percent on a loss. It wasn't so much confidence in Mr. Goldwin as trust in his judgment. Many thought, "I can't tell, but if Mr. Goldwin's betting, he must know something."
King Gamble nodded and let Mr. Goldwin choose someone to break open the die. A merchant with no martial arts skill was picked, took up a hammer, and smashed the die. After brushing away the powder, there it was—tiny round grains of iron sand. They counted them: exactly eight—an even number!
"Nice! Mr. Goldwin is impressive!" Those who bet on a win cheered loudly, while those who lost regretted not trusting him. With personal stakes and the feverish casino atmosphere, public opinion was pushed to the extreme. The effect of betting within a bet, and games within games, began to show.
Jack Young bet five hundred taels on a win, and doubled his money in one round. With King Gamble guaranteeing payouts, the odds were at least one to one. Even though King Gamble didn't bet himself, he still lost a fair bit. The pressure was on for both King Gamble and Mr. Goldwin.
But King Gamble looked completely unfazed: "That's exactly how we're betting. What do you all think?"
"Great!" "That's how a Centennial Gamble should be!" Getting a chance to cash in is the biggest motivation for any gambler.
"Alright, then let's officially begin. I'll set the challenge for the first round—whoever sets the challenge hosts the bet." King Gamble looked around, then suddenly pointed to a table piled with fruit: "Bring me one of those oranges. Make sure it's whole."
Someone immediately handed the orange to King Gamble. He inspected it, nodded, and said, "It's a perfect orange. Mr. Goldwin, take a look." He tossed it to Mr. Goldwin, who examined it and agreed, "Perfectly intact."
"Let's keep it simple for this round—guess how many segments are in this orange, odd or even." King Gamble gestured to Mr. Goldwin: "What do you think, Mr. Goldwin?"
Mr. Goldwin gently squeezed the orange, then casually tossed it so it spun in an arc and landed right in the center of the gambling table. "Alright, let's bet on this. How much are we wagering?"
"Any amount—you name it, I'll match it."
"Alright!" Mr. Goldwin waved his hand, and a servant brought out a big chest full of chips. "I bet one million taels, and I'm betting on even!"
One million taels? Starting off this intense? The crowd exploded with excitement, their blood pumping at the spectacle. But those with real skill felt something was off—guessing the number of orange segments isn't that hard. This was a top-quality kumquat, thin-skinned and big-segmented. Even an ordinary orange-picker could probably make a good guess.
For those with martial arts skills, it's even easier. If your cultivation is high enough, the number of segments in this orange is practically obvious.
The Eastern youth muttered quietly, "This orange clearly has eight segments—definitely even. So what's King Gamble going to do?"
He wasn't the only one thinking that, but Jack Young didn't say a word—just stroked his big beard in deep thought.
But King Gamble just nodded calmly: "Alright, you bet a million taels, I'll match it—odd." Then he looked around: "Okay, place your bets."
Odd or even—which do you pick? Time was short, so the gamblers quickly made their choices. Most trusted their judgment—ninety percent bet on even. Time's up, no more bets, and the answer was revealed. Mr. Goldwin signaled, and Golden Fan Young Master stepped forward. With a swing of his golden fan, the orange skin split into eight neat sections, but not a single drop of juice spilled.
"Great technique!" Though it was a fan, he wielded it like a blade. The crowd erupted in applause as Golden Fan Young Master showed off with a smile. Just as he was about to bow, he noticed everyone staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as if they'd seen a ghost. He quickly looked down—and saw that the orange skin had peeled away to reveal just one segment inside!
That's right—the whole orange contained just one lonely segment, perfectly normal and ordinary. The rest of the orange was completely hollow.
"Impossible!" Many couldn't help but cry out in shock, and Golden Fan Young Master was left flustered. He picked up the orange, looked it over from every angle, and checked the skin—nothing suspicious at all.
"What the..." Golden Fan Young Master turned to his boss, and Mr. Goldwin's gaze grew dark. The orange had last passed through Mr. Goldwin's hands, and hadn't gone back to King Gamble before being tossed onto the table. That's why eighty percent of people bet he'd win—no matter how you looked at it, he had the clear advantage.
But the result was plain to see.
"You—you cheated!" Golden Fan Young Master couldn't accept the outcome and angrily pointed at King Gamble. "You must've rigged it!"
"Cheating? Young man, you should argue with reason. If you say I cheated, can you prove it?" King Gamble leisurely sipped his tea. "It's like this finger I have here—how can you prove I took it from your hand?" As he spoke, he produced a teacup, and in the tea floated a man's index finger.
"Huh?" Golden Fan Young Master was stunned, and so was everyone else. All eyes turned to his right hand—his index finger was gone!
"Aaaah!" Golden Fan Young Master let out a miserable scream, his face turning pale. When did it happen? How did his finger get taken without him noticing? In front of everyone, not a single person saw it—one moment everything was normal, the next, the world had changed.
"Take it and find a doctor—maybe you can get it reattached." King Gamble casually tossed the cup, and Golden Fan Young Master caught it like a dog grabbing a frisbee, splashing tea all over himself and forgetting his dignity.
King Gamble stood up and spoke slowly to Mr. Goldwin: "Mr. Goldwin, let's call it a day. Go home and get ready—tomorrow it's your turn to set the challenge and host the bet. If you want to keep playing at the Golden Hook Casino, feel free. I'll be heading out."
With that, King Gamble turned and left, leaving Mr. Goldwin sitting there, his face dark and unreadable.
The crowd was stunned for a moment, then erupted so loudly it nearly blew the roof off. Losers were shouting, winners were shouting, and the confused were shouting too. The Eastern youth stood there, heartbroken—nothing hurts more than losing everything. And the reason was simple: money, all gone.
Lost in despair, he heard the chip exchange girl at the door say, "Sir, your chips total fifty thousand taels. Here are your Da Zhou banknotes—please take care."
"Thanks for your hard work." That calm voice sounded familiar. He turned around—wasn't it Jack Young!
"Hey, hey, hey—wait up!" The Eastern youth darted over, eyes red with envy. "Fifty thousand taels? Where'd you get all that?"
"Just won it betting, of course." Jack Young replied matter-of-factly. "Isn't that why we're here—to win money? It's only natural to win, right?"