Betting everything.
“Is that your choice?”
Wi Ji-cheon looked down at his hand.
24.
In terms of hand strength, it was one of the pretty good hands.
On the other hand, the hand that Ho Cheon-an had was a number that even Wi Ji-cheon couldn’t be sure about.
The probability of it being one of the undisclosed winning cards was high, and if not, it was likely a low number, probably not a good hand.
Wi Ji-cheon recalled the undisclosed winning cards.
The game continued, with various plays exchanged, but there were six winning cards that had never appeared on the table.
Among those six numbers, there were no fatal hands capable of beating the combinations that could connect to 24.
In fact, this was a natural conclusion.
Both Wi Ji-cheon and Ho Cheon-an were seasoned gamblers.
They had confirmed that a strong hand, whether by a good combination or a single powerful play, could act as a formidable variable, using all their techniques to claim such cards as their own.
In that situation, the six undisclosed winning cards were proof that they were relatively lower-value cards.
They were hands that couldn’t pull off a reversal.
He bet with such cards.
Doubt flitted through Wi Ji-cheon’s mind.
“Is there a moment I might have overlooked?”
“That could be possible.”
Wi Ji-cheon accepted the doubt that arose in his mind. For an average person, it would be easy to dismiss it as merely the opponent’s trickery, but Wi Ji-cheon accommodated that thought within himself.
However, he wouldn’t let himself be trapped by that possibility.
It was difficult to fully predict the outcome of a technique.
But if one could have a guess at which technique would be used at any given moment, it was entirely possible to foresee those signs.
Could he really be so tense that even with the maximum state of alertness, he hadn’t caught the signs of the techniques Ho Cheon-an was performing?
“If there is that kind of skill gap between Ho Cheon-an and me, then there’s no hope in this game from the start.”
“I’ll accept.”
A total of 122 bets went onto the table as the two players picked up their cards facing down and revealed them.
Ho Cheon-an’s hand: 13 and 32, a total of 45 points.
Wi Ji-cheon’s hand: 24 and 12, calculated to be 60 points.
“I won.”
Wi Ji-cheon casually opened his mouth, trying to gauge Ho Cheon-an’s reaction, but all Ho Cheon-an did was take a deep breath to gather himself.
The winning cards exited the table, and three dice appeared for the next game’s decision.
This time, it was Ho Cheon-an’s victory.
“It’s your turn to choose the game. Will you go with dice or gambling?”
“I’ll choose dice.”
Wi Ji-cheon looked at Ho Cheon-an, who was placing two dice into the cup, filled with questions.
“Why did he choose dice gambling?”
Dice gambling was a game that Wi Ji-cheon had an undeniable advantage in, so why choose it?
That point left Wi Ji-cheon puzzled.
The peak martial artist, the public servant, was gambling in an underground casino.
The peak experts of the underground gaming world performed unique Martial Arts Gambling Techniques, but the public servant’s techniques were the closest to true martial arts and boasted a level of mastery that could not be diminished.
It was called the Echo Sound Technique.
Dice gambling was considered a game of luck among gamblers, and that was for a straightforward reason.
The limit of perception.
Shaking a cup isn’t about finger movements like playing cards or big motions like in gambling.
You had to gauge the numbers just from the indirect shaking of the cup and the sound of the dice rattling inside—this was dice gambling.
You had to properly see how the cup shook, and accurately hear the crashing sounds of the rolling dice to deduce anything next.
The Echo Sound Technique was a martial arts gambling technique that complemented this sense.
A martial artist’s internal power is extremely enhanced through specialized training.
However, hearing is different.
“There are many martial arts that can sharpen one’s hearing, but… very few techniques can solidify the information that hearing provides.”
Cling. Cling!
In Wi Ji-cheon’s mind, a transparent cup appeared as he employed the Echo Sound Technique. With his extremely trained eyesight, he perfectly mirrored Ho Cheon-an’s movements with the cup, and within it, he visualized the rolling dice.
The shape that emerged in Wi Ji-cheon’s mind was more like clouds or spheres rather than dice, but as the game progressed, the disjointed image would increasingly resemble real dice.
Although significantly taxing on mental energy, Wi Ji-cheon was at a level he could handle.
“You must have known that I’ve mastered the public servant’s Echo Sound Technique.”
Ho Cheon-an couldn’t be clueless about Wi Ji-cheon learning the technique from the gamblers in the underground casino.
While Ho Cheon-an wouldn’t go down easily, it remained that Wi Ji-cheon was still at an advantage.
“It would have been most strategic to recover some footing with gambling and then quickly finish the dice round.”
Since he lost the first round, Ho Cheon-an had no choice but to start the second with a disadvantage.
The stakes from the first round carried over to the second round.
Ho Cheon-an had only 100 at the start, while Wi Ji-cheon had 275.
That amount consisted of the 50 from his own pot in the winning card game, plus Ho Cheon-an’s 100 from the winning card game and the 125 bet from the dice round.
Wi Ji-cheon only needed to take 100 from Ho Cheon-an, but Ho Cheon-an had to claim 275 from Wi Ji-cheon.
That was quite the task.
“But losing this round and then entering the gambling round is a risk I can’t afford.”
If Ho Cheon-an lost at dice, he’d face a situation of 100 to 500 in gambling.
There’s a saying about last-minute comebacks, but when one has been pushed around like that, can a fair battle even take place?
Thus, to truly win, he had to pin down the second round.
But why would he choose the dice round, where Wi Ji-cheon had a clear edge, while employing the Echo Sound Technique?
No matter how much Wi Ji-cheon pondered, he couldn’t understand Ho Cheon-an’s reasoning.
However, soon Wi Ji-cheon collected his thoughts.
His consciousness had briefly drifted to deciphering Ho Cheon-an’s intentions, but now was not the time to spend mental energy there.
“I’ll utilize the Echo Sound Technique perfectly to cement my current advantage.”
Wi Ji-cheon cast aside all other thoughts and focused entirely on Ho Cheon-an’s movements and the sounds colliding from the dice in the cup. The once cloudy image of the dice in his mind slowly began to take shape.
Clink. Snap! Clink!
Suddenly, the clear sounds coming from Ho Cheon-an’s cup distorted grotesquely, making the visualization of the dice in Wi Ji-cheon’s head blur at once.
In that instant, Wi Ji-cheon realized that Ho Cheon-an must have deployed a countermeasure to disrupt the Echo Sound Technique.
He was distorting the sound.
The Counter Sound Technique.
A first-rate expert could only clumsily use this technique, but any true martial artist could execute it.
The essence of the Counter Sound Technique lay in producing sound with one’s internal power.
By manipulating the principle behind the Counter Sound, it was not difficult to create counter-sound to interfere with the noise in the cup.
Clank.
At that moment, when Ho Cheon-an’s disruption silenced the cup, Wi Ji-cheon found no number represented in his mind’s eye of the dice.
He couldn’t help but smirk inwardly.
“Such a truly two-sided technique, it really is.”
It was an absolute technique that enabled one to perceive the dice inside the cup; yet, any martial artist could easily halt it if they understood how it worked.
Still, Wi Ji-cheon had confidence.
No matter how Ho Cheon-an planned to interfere, he was confident he could produce a die in his mind with a distinct number drawn.
“Though I haven’t fully formed it yet, will you be able to counter once my mental die is complete?”
With that thought, Wi Ji-cheon opened his mouth.
“I’ll bet one on eight.”
Ho Cheon-an silently raised his cup, and the total of the dice within was 10.
After one bet changed hands:
Wi Ji-cheon performed his technique and mixed the cup. As he murmured the subtle phonetics while thoroughly causing disturbance, he placed the cup down, reflecting,
“Now it’s time to unearth Ho Cheon-an’s hidden trump card.”
How would Ho Cheon-an display his ingenuity in this dice gambling round?
With a 1-cent expectation and 99-cent clarity, Wi Ji-cheon’s eyes widened.
101 bets.
Ho Cheon-an was pushing all the bets he could use for dice gambling forward.
“All of it on six.”
Wi Ji-cheon stared at Ho Cheon-an blankly for a moment.
“What on earth are you thinking?”
Strategically, he could afford to forfeit the dice round. However, if he did let it go, wouldn’t it still be wise to secure what he could?
Ho Cheon-an must have understood that the Echo Sound Technique was mentally taxing.
Even if he lost, extending the time would nibble away at Wi Ji-cheon’s mental strength, yet Ho Cheon-an chose to proceed with transferring.
As Wi Ji-cheon lifted his cup, two conflicting thoughts surfaced.
Disappointment at the last bout, which was to be held after a six-month wait, being a whimper.
Or perhaps, thinking that if it was Ho Cheon-an, he might perform a move that would flip the game in a way that would be beyond my expectations.
With those feelings, he unveiled the contents of the cup to find numbers 5 and 3.
A total of 8.
Ho Cheon-an’s complete defeat for choosing to transfer.
Clank! Clank!
Wi Ji-cheon silently arranged his bets. Once all the stakes were ordered, the difference in the amounts became glaringly apparent.
100 to 500.
Wi Ji-cheon felt a surge of curiosity pressing him to question Ho Cheon-an, but he suppressed that emotion, regaining his composure.
After all, the gambling match was not yet over.
“Such an underwhelming bout can only be claimed once I fully crush Ho Cheon-an.”
Wi Ji-cheon reassured himself, intent on perfectly closing the great war that he had poured his heart and soul into preparing for these six months, and took out the dice.
Although the final round was determined to be gambling, it was necessary to decide who would play first.
The dice were rolled, and based on the outcome, Wi Ji-cheon picked up the cup.
Before spinning the cup,
Wi Ji-cheon scrutinized Ho Cheon-an’s expression one last time.
As always, his face was unreadable. Yet somehow, Wi Ji-cheon felt he grasped Ho Cheon-an’s thoughts.
“Are you once again trying to transfer?”
If so, I shall play my best move.
With that determination, Wi Ji-cheon moved the cup.
Sssssssssss!!
Black Dragon Qi began to envelop the table.
However, the aura created by the Black Dragon Qi was not the same as before; it did not take the form of a barrier.
It transformed as though a living dragon danced through the clouds.
Papapababam!
Within that shape, Wi Ji-cheon’s gambling technique was unfolding.
“I’ve learned so much through you in these five months under the mastery of martial arts gambling.”
Wi Ji-cheon had indeed learned a lot from Ho Cheon-an—everything from the types of gambling to the key points of winning at each game, what to do in the process, how to think, and what to enjoy.
The technique Wi Ji-cheon was deploying now was infused with all the essence of gambling he had learned from Ho Cheon-an.
The application of the Black Dragon’s shielding only hiding a part of the hand at a crucial moment.
It was a refined execution that couldn’t even be compared to the covering used five months ago that shrouded the entire gambling scene.
This was not just about minimizing waste of concentration and Qi—it was also about how sometimes showing can create chaos rather than hiding.
His hand obscured only the core movements of the technique at the perfect moment.
But that wasn’t all.
While moving the cup, he conjured a mass of Black Dragon Qi that appeared to move between the cups, causing confusion in sight.
With Wi Ji-cheon able to move the Black Dragon Qi effortlessly, his martial arts prowess slipped into perfect harmony with his gambling skill.
He thought,
“In this moment, no matter how top-tier a gambler Ho Cheon-an is, I hold the advantage.”
Clop.
Wi Ji-cheon’s previously fluid hands suddenly came to a stop.
Looking at Ho Cheon-an’s face, reflecting through the dispersing Black Dragon Qi, he pondered.
Had Ho Cheon-an discerned the move he was currently employing? Or had he not?
Wi Ji-cheon’s face stiffened as he attempted to fathom Ho Cheon-an’s intentions.
This was because Ho Cheon-an’s hands began to move.
Slowly, with his hands widely open,
Every single bet that Ho Cheon-an had was pulled toward the center of the gambling board without exception.
Transfer!
A choice that might end the six-month-long brain game.
Ho Cheon-an’s expression, having made such a choice, remained unchanged.
“100 to the center.”
Wi Ji-cheon mimicked the motions he had taken so many times before and lifted the cup from the center.
And within the cup in the center…
There were the dice.
Clink, clink.
Ho Cheon-an, already convinced of the outcome, confidently pulled the stack of bets in front of him.
200 to 400.
Even though Wi Ji-cheon still maintained a significant advantage in the gambling round,
The winds of change were beginning to blow.
