Urban: Super God-Ring System

Chapter 21

C21 – Bet All His Assets

“I must be on a lucky streak. You’re not seriously hoping to draw a card with an eight or a king, are you?” Mr. Zhen teased Wen Huaimu, clearly in high spirits. His eyes, however, couldn’t resist the occasional sly glance at Miss Zhuang’s chest, revealing his true intentions.

“Number eight, the holder of the sequential poker cards, please announce yourself.”

The dealer suddenly gestured towards Wen Huaimu.

“My turn to speak, huh?” Wen Huaimu gave Mr. Zhen a meaningful look, tapped the hidden cards on the table, and declared with a smile, “I’m all in. I’ll wager everything I have.”

“He’s betting all his assets?”

The crowd around the gambling table was visibly shocked.

Could it be? It was his first time at the table, and he was betting so high.

But as Wen Huaimu confidently slid over thirty million purple coins, it became clear to everyone that the mysterious young man meant business. Did he actually hold an eight or a king in his hand?

Yet, he appeared not to have checked his hole card at all.

The table fell silent, all eyes on Wen Huaimu. Most thought him bold, wealthy, and wasteful.

At this point, Mr. Zhen’s smugness had faded, replaced by a look of confusion.

He was no longer certain about the cards Wen Huaimu held—whether they were the eight or the king.

Receiving no immediate response, Wen Huaimu chuckled under his breath and provocatively met Mr. Zhen’s gaze. “You’ve got a strong hand, and I haven’t even peeked at mine. What’s the matter? Passing up such an easy chance to win my money? Maybe you should quit gambling and leave.”

In an instant, the mountainous pile of purple coins at the center of the table was a sight to behold, amounting to nearly 100 million yuan.

Mr. Zhen, face flushed as if intoxicated, pushed his money to the center and revealed his hand with a flourish: “I’m holding three kings and a pair of threes. Today, I refuse to believe you’ll draw the final eight or a king.”

“What a high score!” Wen Huaimu commented with a surprisingly even tone, as if Mr. Zhen’s strong hand hadn’t fazed him at all.

“Quit your babbling. Show me your cards,” Mr. Zhen scoffed with a sneer.

“Enough talk. We begin the investigation now. And if we’re clean, you’ll sever your own right hand!” Miss Zhuang’s voice turned icy as she pointed at Mr. Zhen’s right hand—the very one that had once been raised against Wen Huaimu’s face.

The onlooking crowd, wealthy and unaccustomed to such brutality, was stunned into silence. This was a place of luxury and leisure, not a battleground for gang skirmishes.

“Miss Zhuang, Mr. Zhen is young and impetuous. If he has wronged you, please accept my apology on his behalf, and let’s put this matter to rest,” implored the short-haired young man at Mr. Zhen’s side, his face a mask of resignation. He shot Mr. Zhen pleading looks, silently urging his friend to rein in his temper.

But Mr. Zhen was beyond caring. Who did this woman think she was? He had made a name for himself in Anbubury over the years, earning the respect of even the notorious Mu Shuxin. Yet she had the audacity to threaten him.

“Fine, it’s decided,” Mr. Zhen said with a cold smirk, his gaze still locked on Wen Huaimu, sharp as ice.

Meanwhile, Wen Huaimu remained nonchalant, secretly sharing a jest with the elfin.

“Diaochan, I owe you big time for this one. I would’ve been utterly disgraced otherwise.”

“So now you remember me? Why not turn to that woman by your side?” The elfin feigned anger, her eyes wide with mock indignation.

Wen Huaimu let out a sly chuckle. “She’s no Diaochan, that’s for sure. What’s the deal with this magic? It’s like having a superpower. Truly thrilling.”

“A superpower? It’s simply a form of mental control within the magical elements. I can use mental energy to mimic many things, and it’s not all that uncommon. But your mental energy is insufficient; you can’t yet harness this type of power,” the elfin boasted, swelling with pride. Her implication was clear: without the elfin, Wen Huaimu would be powerless.

Naturally, Wen Huaimu wasn’t about to slight the elfin. He knew he’d need her help in the future.

Meanwhile, something seemed off to the three young men monitoring the fifth floor quarantine zone. Trouble was brewing, and they quickly vacated the area, dashing up to the eighth floor.

The dealer was a master of his craft. A deck of cards danced through his fingers, eventually being dealt into thirteen precise piles.

The count remained unchanged.

Clearly, there was no evidence of Wen Huaimu’s cheating to be found.

Mr. Zhen’s complexion briefly turned ashen before he sneered through clenched teeth, “If his cheating is so sophisticated, he must be a gambling connoisseur behind the scenes. Our shuffling won’t expose his tricks.”

This time, Mr. Zhen was being unreasonable.

Unfazed, Wen Huaimu gently tugged at the visibly upset Miss Zhuang and asked with a grin, “What are you implying?”