Dozens of bets soared high, standing tall at the gambling table.
From the very beginning, the guests exhaled in awe at the unusual match, but soon fell silent, holding their breath.
The atmosphere was so tense that it felt like the surrounding air had grown heavy.
It was truly strange. Neither of the two had even raised an eyebrow before or after tossing the dice, yet the mood had drastically changed.
“It’s not even easy to start.”
Amidst that atmosphere, Dogwi spoke up.
“If we keep going like this, it might get light outside before we even begin the game. How about I choose the game and you choose the order? I don’t mind being the latter.”
“Sounds good.”
“Then let’s go with gambling.”
For a moment, the guests fell silent at Dogwi’s words before murmurs spread among them. What was the most famous rumor proving Ho Cheon-an’s gambling skills?
It was the gambling he displayed at Video Tower while defeating the heads of the Outcast Faction in Sacheon City, and the gambling with Tang Do-gyeong and Miss Yeo Il-ye that he orchestrated in front of the Hwang Gold Clan.
To challenge Ho Cheon-an, who possessed such gambling skills, to a game of gambling? It was hard to tell whether it was confidence or arrogance.
“Then I’ll take the latter turn.”
Master Un-jong, watching the scene unfold, recalled the gambling Ho Cheon-an had shown in the past. It was an unforgettable sight of Ho Cheon-an audaciously testing his skills against Hyeong-gyeong.
Was it possible for Ho Cheon-an, with such skills, to engage in a gambling match?
To solve that doubt, Master Un-jong posed a question to Poison Doctor Tang, who was next to him.
“That Dogwi fellow chose gambling; what do you think, Poison Doctor?”
“It’s not a bad strategy.”
A look of puzzlement crept onto Master Un-jong’s face. As if to clarify that doubt, Poison Doctor Tang responded.
“Ho Cheon-an is strong in all genres, regardless of the game. Even if he avoids gambling, the chances of any advantage are quite slim. Therefore, we must approach this from a different perspective.”
“Different perspective…?”
“Gambling is often used as a socializing tool, isn’t it?”
Nodding at Poison Doctor Tang’s counter-question, Master Un-jong replied. Even at an ordinary teahouse, you could easily find someone throwing dice. At inns, it wasn’t hard to encounter gamblers enjoying their games.
“However, this gambling style called ‘yaba-wi’ is difficult to employ as a means of socialization. Unlike most gambling games where you simply toss and draw cards, playing with cups requires corresponding skill.”
“Indeed, that’s true. If one side only bets while the other merely guesses, it lacks any sense of interaction.”
“These days, when would Ho Cheon-an find time to dabble in gambling? He must have been too preoccupied with visiting his in-laws and preparing for marriage. Even if he enjoyed social gambling, I doubt he engaged in ‘yaba-wi’.”
“…Ah!”
Master Un-jong grasped Poison Doctor Tang’s point.
Ho Cheon-an’s actual combat instincts were waning. On the other hand, what about Dogwi? From Dogwi’s attire and appearance, it would not be surprising to hear that he had been earning his travel expenses by playing ‘yaba-wi’ at markets or gambling houses until recently.
Thus, Dogwi’s combat instincts must be sharper than ever.
“Choosing ‘yaba-wi’ as a game was to maximize the advantage of practical skills, correct?”
“Exactly. Ho Cheon-an’s choice of taking the latter turn also stems from this. He likely felt there was no need to take the first turn, already confirming his weakened combat instincts.”
“Hmm. I see. Then I have one more question. Wasn’t Ho Cheon-an under no obligation to accept Dogwi’s suggestion to choose the game?”
“That’s one way to think about it, but the one who threw the suggestion first was Ho Cheon-an. He might not have been able to discern the ulterior motive behind it, but generally, it is customary to roll the dice to decide the game. So, he couldn’t just dismiss Dogwi’s offer after choosing to throw the dice himself.”
Unbeknownst to them, the guests who were secretly eavesdropping on Master Un-jong and Poison Doctor Tang’s conversation were internally exclaiming in admiration.
The bet, which soared high into the air, was now standing tall, and instinctively they felt an unusual tension in the match. However, after hearing this commentary, they realized there had already been fierce mind games before the match even began.
Excitement sparkled in the guests’ eyes.
Just the struggle for the lead before starting was so intense; what would the actual match reveal?
Clang.
In what seemed to be a response to their expectations, Dogwi began to move his hands. The cups flowed with ease, and the guests eagerly followed the dice inside.
Watching that scene, Tang Do-gyeong’s expression hardened.
“Senior Ho, this won’t be easy.”
The gambler Ho Cheon-an was deeply tied to the Tang Clan. He imparted the realization of his skill to Tang Do-gyeong and even taught his techniques to the family head, Tang Guanglie, and Poison Doctor Tang himself.
Through such connections, Tang Do-gyeong always associated with Ho Cheon-an. He sparred against Tang Guanglie and taught Poison Doctor Tang alongside. Having shared that process, Tang Do-gyeong’s impression was straightforward.
The perspective of observation differed.
The territory of understanding was unimaginably vast. Perhaps he had grasped the principles of all gambling and the universe itself.
Within that vast domain, Ho Cheon-an would narrow the opponent’s field.
He rolled up his sleeves before starting gambling to consciously expose his arms and wrists, trying to narrow the opponent’s focus down to his hands. The opponent would only track the dice in the cup, and even if he disappeared, he wouldn’t have a clue about where the dice were outside of that focus.
Ho Cheon-an could be called flawless regarding the principles of gambling. With no weaknesses, he simply enjoyed finding and exploiting the opponent’s vulnerabilities to gain an advantage.
Thus, Tang Do-gyeong secretly thought that no gambler could match Ho Cheon-an.
Even if there was a gambler who could defeat Ho Cheon-an, it would merely be a stroke of luck. Tang Do-gyeong firmly believed that nobody could surpass Ho Cheon-an’s caliber.
He thought that until he witnessed Dogwi’s cup manipulation.
“It’s vast.”
The breadth of Dogwi’s skill was endlessly wide. As the various techniques of cup mixing culminated, Tang Do-gyeong couldn’t help but think of one word.
Endless ocean.
It felt like looking at an endlessly stretching sea. It seemed foolish even to try to pinpoint what technique was Dogwi’s specialty or what his advantages were.
If just one cup mixing demonstrated such vastness, how far could Dogwi’s range extend?
Perhaps Dogwi’s territory surpassed Ho Cheon-an’s.
With that thought, Tang Do-gyeong turned his gaze towards Ho Cheon-an. Would he truly be able to perceive weaknesses and narrow down against Dogwi’s immense domain?
“Two cups on the left.”
Ho Cheon-an calmly made his first move.
“Wrong.”
He failed.
Ho Cheon-an’s turn was taken from him.
A small commotion arose among the guests upon realizing this, but Ho Cheon-an maintained a steady hand, gripping the cup.
The game of ‘yaba-wi’ started immediately.
The cups were soon swirling in a dazzling display. The guests burst into gasps, marveling at the skill that truly suited the description of a master gambler, yet Tang Do-gyeong’s face remained less than bright as he watched Ho Cheon-an’s moves.
Ho Cheon-an’s maneuvers were painfully precise. His mixing of cups, based on meticulous calculations of all possible outcomes to cover, was the ideal form of play. There would hardly be anyone capable of guaranteeing victory in this game against such expertise.
Thus, it felt strange.
Ho Cheon-an had the habit of consuming the value of his initial move for information. He would sacrifice the upper hand of one move to ensure a more definite victory.
Yet here he was, using all his strength from the very start.
Is he implying that even with his strength, he can’t afford to plan ahead against Dogwi?
If that were the case, then this cup mixing by Ho Cheon-an would determine the outcome of the match. Choosing to rely on seizing the initiative instead of information, if Ho Cheon-an failed in defense, he would undoubtedly find himself in a disadvantaged position.
Thud.
As Ho Cheon-an’s cup came to a stop, all eyes drew toward Dogwi. Would Dogwi be able to see through Ho Cheon-an’s moves?
Those who understood the flow of gambling held their breath, wondering which direction the match would take, while those in the Martial World, unfamiliar with gambling, pondered whether a commoner could grasp the bewildering moves of the cups.
Receiving countless gazes, Dogwi opened his mouth to reveal the answer.
“I’ll bet two in the center.”
Without a word, Ho Cheon-an lifted the center cup. At that moment, subtle gasps arose from all around.
There was nothing inside the center cup.
Both players returned the match to square one.
—
Doubts about Dogwi’s gambling skills crystallized into certainty.
“Left, I’ll bet two.”
“Correct.”
Those doubts became affirmation.
Their skills were on par. Although there were variations in mastery due to personal preference, no disparity could overturn their inherent compatibility.
No matter how confident I might be in my skills, I couldn’t overcome my opponent’s lows. Ultimately, I had to take him down through compatibility and counter-moves, but I never had the opportunity, with Dogwi finding himself in the same situation.
So I could do nothing but accept it.
Dogwi was my equal.
Otherwise, the result of our 112 rounds could not have perfectly resolved into 50 bets each.
It was clear evidence that both luck and skills were evenly matched.
Looking down at my hands, I realized golden light had graced them. Only then did I shift my gaze to see the sun painting the world in gold.
Had I alone lost track of time? Among the guests, there were murmurs expressing similar sentiments about the passage of time.
Continuing the game any longer would surely be impossible.
“How about we call it a day here for now?”
“As long as you don’t give up on the match, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Very well. As you know, I can’t spend all day gambling. However, I have no intentions of avoiding the match. So, I propose we meet every day from noon until sunset for our showdown.”
“Sounds good.”
The agreement was settled.
I cleared away the dice and cups, pulling in the cups and drinks from thin air and placing them on the gambling table.
“Alright then, let’s share a drink now.”
Dogwi stared at me then chuckled, extending his cup. I filled it with liquor and said, “As for the snack, hearing about your adventures will be just perfect.”
“Trying to rob others of their winnings, are we?”
“Who came to gamble at someone else’s wedding?”
His words seemed to land a bit awkwardly, and Dogwi simply chuckled to himself as he downed the drink. To be honest, regardless of the rudeness of my request, I was the overwhelming offender. My boasting about adventures implied that I was skinning his winnings dry.
However, I genuinely wanted to hear about Dogwi’s adventures. More specifically, I was too curious about how he came to master gambling—what sort of adventures led him to the pinnacle of gambling, a feat I had never achieved amidst the myriad experiences in the Martial World.
Perhaps sensing my intent, or perhaps wishing to share the undoubtedly lonely and treacherous journey, he began.
“It was after I met you in Nangyang.”
Dogwi started to recount his story.
