Chapter 245 Flowing Gold Roulette, Gamblers, and Hand-to-Hand Combat

Flowing Gold Roulette.

As the only casino in the entirety of Molten Scale Town, despite the settlement's modest size, its nature as a money sink allowed it to rake in unimaginable wealth from townsfolk and traveling Adventurers every year.

Coupled with this, the casino boss, Rotten Toe, employed highly effective methods—clearing channels in both the criminal underworld and legitimate circles, and securing the backing of several powerful Class Holders.

In just a few years, it had grown into one of the most influential factions in Molten Scale Town. Thanks to its management treating enemies with extreme cruelty and ruthlessness, it had also become a source of terror for the surrounding commoners.

Of course, no matter how terrible the boss's reputation was, Flowing Gold Roulette remained immensely popular with the support of countless gamblers. Lately, there were even rumors of an expansion.

Even though it was still daytime and nowhere near peak business hours, the scorching air inside the casino was already filled with the rattle of dice cups and the fanatical roars and shouts of the gamblers.

"Clack, clack, clack."

The crisp sound of dice colliding inside a wooden cup was like a bugle call ordering a charge on the battlefield.

Hearts beat violently; hot, boiling blood pumped through their bodies.

Luca sat at the table, his neck craned, his body subconsciously leaning forward.

His cheeks bulged slightly from his tightly clenched jaw, contrasting with the unnatural flush on his face. Reflected in his bloodshot eyes was the image of the dice cup shaking in the dealer's hand.

At this moment, he looked absolutely nothing like his self-proclaimed title: the most loyal guard of the Wycliffe Family.

As if he were a completely different person, caught between winning and losing, his fanatical pursuit of money and thrills made him no different from the wealthy merchant at his table or the poorly dressed commoner.

"Smack!"

The dealer slammed the dice cup heavily onto the table.

The hot air instantly fell silent, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing from around the table.

To the gamblers, those few dice no bigger than a fingernail had become the most important things in their lives.

Even if the world were to end the very next second, they would still rush up to see the result.

Wearing a standard professional smile and watched by countless burning gazes, the dealer gently lifted the wooden cup.

"Fuck!"

A thick palm slammed heavily onto the table.

Luca cursed. His body, which had been tense as if in the middle of a battle, instantly deflated as he leaned back against his chair.

He could only watch as a scruffy, homeless-looking man on the other side of the table—who knew where he had gotten the money to get in—joyfully scooped the chips into his arms. Those chips included an entire month of Luca's guard salary.

His rugged, honest face, which had always remained resolute even when facing formidable enemies, now displayed a frustration and dejection he had never shown in public.

In his palm, his last chip was already soaked with sweat.

The gold coins he had brought this morning were already gone.

His eyes were glued to the dice in front of him, the dealer's sweet and highly seductive invitation to place bets echoing in his ears, his mind swaying under the temptation.

'Just one more hand, maybe I can win it back.'

'I still have some spare gold coins stashed at the inn that I haven't taken out. If worst comes to worst, Young Master Hai'an is so kind. If I ask him for an advance on my pay, he definitely wouldn't...'

Suddenly, a gust of cold wind blew in from nowhere.

It made Luca, who was sinking deeper and deeper, suddenly shiver. A flash of clarity crossed his fanatical, dazed eyes.

Practically forcing himself to stand up, his gaze lingered reluctantly on the dice cup.

Finally, he shot a few hard glares at the scantily clad dealer—as if that could make up for his losses—and left the gambling table.

His fingers brushed over his empty waist pouch, recalling the thick, bulging feel of it when he had first walked in this morning.

Realizing what he had done, the emptiness of his wallet transmitted to his heart, and regret surged forth like a spring.

Of course, no matter how much he regretted it now, resolving never to set foot in such a place again...

Once next month's pay was in his hands, and his stress dissipated after the mission ended, leaving him with nothing to do... all his current resolve and guilt would likely be thrown out the window.

This cycle had already repeated countless times.

He reached up and felt the hard, cold object under his shirt against his chest, confirming that the Metal Block he had accidentally picked up hadn't been stolen by some opportunistic thief in the chaos just now.

Luca felt a bit more at ease.

This thing was far more valuable than the month's salary he had just lost. Once they returned to Sticky-Tree Territory, whether it was ultimately bought by the mage in their party or by Xia Nan, the gold coins he'd get from selling it would likely be enough for him to splurge recklessly in the casino for quite a while.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but tighten his shirt collar.

His gaze swept to the side.

The dragonborn Sava was still locked in a heated battle with the dealer at the card table, but her luck was far better than his.

They had entered the casino at the exact same time, yet his wallet was completely empty, while the chips next to her were piling higher and higher.

Luca felt a twinge of resentment.

But he merely paused for a moment before tearing his eyes away.

Taking two quick steps, he practically smashed his last chip onto the bar at the side of the casino.

"I'll have a glass of 'Thermal Surge Dragon's Breath'!"

"Right away! Please wait a moment!"

Watching the uniformed bartender take the chip and exchange it for a large mug of fiery-red, crystalline liquor...

...Luca finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He took a fierce gulp, feeling the icy sensation travel straight down his throat and into his chest. Only then was the instinctive human pursuit of excitement—that urge that drove countless people into the abyss—temporarily dispelled.

"Luca? Why are you sitting here by yourself? Where's Sava?"

Before his seat had even warmed up, a familiar voice suddenly called out from the noisy crowd nearby.

He looked in the direction of the voice.

He saw Xia Nan and Verol walking toward him.

Quickly standing up with an awkward, foolish smile on his face, he scratched his head and answered, "Uh... I got a little bored, so I came out to rest for a bit."

"Sava is still over there playing. She seemed to be having a great time, so I didn't bother her."

Following his gesture, Xia Nan's gaze swept over the chips on the dragonborn's card table, then glanced at the deflated waist pouch on the man before him and the liquor glass on the bar behind him.

Xia Nan didn't need it spelled out to guess that Luca had gambled away all his money.

He wasn't worthy of sympathy, but Xia Nan wouldn't make any sarcastic remarks either.

As long as he hadn't gotten so desperate from losing that he pawned the [Dream Weaving Corridor] for cash, everything that happened was his own choice.

He nodded expressionlessly.

"Verol and I just happened to be passing by. We heard you guys were in here, so we came in to take a look around."

Of course, they were just taking a look around.

Sweeping his gaze around the venue, Xia Nan mentally compared Flowing Gold Roulette to the Bagful of Gold in Kalanfor, which had already been reduced to ruins during the battle between Forgan and another powerhouse.

Without a doubt, whether in terms of foot traffic or interior decor, the latter was the clear winner.

After all, being close to Rivervale Town meant a steady flow of wealthy Adventurers. A remote settlement located out in the Wilderness like Molten Scale Town could hardly compare.

But no matter how well it was decorated, thanks to the widespread awareness of the harms of gambling in the advanced society of his previous life, and the countless horrifying cautionary tales flooding the internet in the information age...

...Xia Nan wouldn't bet even a single copper coin here—unless, of course, a Goddess ritual required it as an exception.

They chatted casually for a bit. Seeing that Luca had already lost his money and that Sava felt she was on a hot streak and refused to leave the card table...

...the trio found a table near the bar to rest temporarily, planning to head back to the inn together in a little while.

As they talked, Xia Nan suddenly smelled a waft of alcohol.

Looking over, three flushed punks with their arms around each other's shoulders came into view.

Having drunk some booze, lost some money, and with their buddies by their side...

...their courage had naturally swelled. It seemed they were looking to "borrow" some spending money from a couple of passersby.

Xia Nan could sense that the trio's original target was supposed to be their table.

But perhaps it was due to Luca's overly burly physique, or maybe Xia Nan's own fully armed Adventurer attire actually carried a deterrent effect against ordinary people.

He watched as the drunks leaned in to mutter a few words among themselves, then turned their steps, shifting their target to a similarly well-built young man sitting all alone not far to the front-left of Xia Nan's group.

Compared to the gamblers inside Flowing Gold Roulette, this young man, dressed plainly like an ordinary townsman, had not been infected by the frenzy in the air.

He merely sat inconspicuously by himself in the corner, a half-drunk bottle of beer on the table in front of him. One could vaguely notice his gaze scanning around the tavern.

Xia Nan suddenly felt that this person looked a bit familiar, as if he had seen him somewhere before.

While he was still pondering, the three punks had already gotten into a conflict with the man.

...

...

Lawson was in a terrible mood.

It had been exactly two days since they found the corpse of the gnome Bogu in the alleyway.

Yet, the treasure stolen from the Red Dragon Lair was still nowhere to be found.

He knew better than anyone what this meant.

It meant that if a third-party faction truly existed and had snatched the item from Bogu...

...two days was more than enough time for them to stock up on supplies in town and leave.

If they traveled at a faster pace, they might have already crossed a good portion of the Molten Scale Mountains by now.

Nearly two years—over six hundred days—of meticulously perfecting the plan, going through untold hardships, draining nearly all his savings, and watching all his teammates die until he was the only one left.

A desperate gamble, all for a prize he had finally acquired.

Yet it had been snatched away by some other faction whose identity he still didn't know.

The pent-up rage in Lawson's heart was nearly ready to explode.

Regarding this, Rotten Toe—who was bowing and scraping beside him like a lowly servant—had a very profound understanding.

If he had dared to defend his investigation results a couple of days ago, now, facing Lawson's curses and reprimands, he didn't even dare breathe or cough too loudly, terrified that a single misstep would ignite the powder keg in the man's heart.

As a so-called "big shot" with quite a reputation in Molten Scale Town, even on his own turf and in front of countless subordinates and guests...

...Rotten Toe still shamelessly trailed beside Lawson like a servant, awaiting his orders.

After all, he knew clearly that everything he currently possessed had been bestowed upon him by this high-level Class Holder.

To take it back, he wouldn't even need to make many arrangements.

Just a grip of the sword hilt and a light swipe across his neck.

Then, he could only hope that the donations he had sent to the nearby Church a few days ago would save him from hell and allow him to ascend to the divine kingdom to enjoy the afterlife.

"Have the entrances and exits been carefully checked recently? Are you sure there haven't been any suspicious individuals?"

"Absolutely certain, Mr. Lawson. For the past two days, only ordinary merchants and adventurers have been passing through. There are hardly any who even look like Class Holders."

"Trash! Trash! Useless trash!"

Rotten Toe kept his head lowered, not daring to utter a single word.

And right at this moment, a commotion suddenly erupted from up ahead.

He saw that the gamblers—who should have been sitting at the card tables, working hard to buy him his nineteenth storefront in town—had inexplicably gathered in a crowd.

Amidst the jeers and cheers, the muffled sounds of fists striking flesh could faintly be heard.

"Who dares to cause trouble on my turf?"

Rotten Toe furrowed his brows and merely waved his right hand lightly.

His underlings, who had previously been too terrified to make a peep, immediately assumed their proper roles as lackeys, shoving through the crowd to clear a path for their boss and their boss's boss.

By now, the fight was already drawing to a close.

Two battered and bruised punks lay slumped on the casino floor, their fates unknown.

The sole remaining punk was swinging his fist and charging straight at their target—the young man dressed in plain clothes who had been sitting alone in the corner.

The disparity in strength was far too immense.

The young man didn't even dodge. He merely rested his left hand forward, and with a crisp snap of bone, the punk's right arm was broken and dislocated.

At the same time, he took a step forward with his right foot, assuming a rather unusual stance. He seemed intent on thrusting upward into the punk's lower abdomen, but then, as if reconsidering, he halted his right leg in midair. Abruptly shifting its trajectory, he changed the thrust into a stomp, bringing it down right on the punk's knee.

"Crunch."

Accompanied by a miserable wail, the punk's left leg twisted out of shape, and he collapsed to the ground, twitching like a puddle of mud.

Flowing Gold Roulette wasn't a good place, and its boss, Rotten Toe, was a notorious villain in town.

But they still had a business to run. Since it was obvious these drunk punks had started the trouble, they naturally wouldn't make things difficult for this young man.

In fact, if he had been injured, they might have even offered compensation.

Therefore, when the young man lowered his head slightly and tried to leave the scene after swiftly dealing with the three punks, none of Rotten Toe's men stopped him.

However, at the exact same moment, the gloomy figure standing like a shadow behind Rotten Toe...

...upon seeing the special stance the young man had instinctively assumed in combat and then hastily retracted...

...felt his pupils suddenly contract.

And just as the young man was about to disappear into the crowd, with a speed that ordinary people could only perceive as a blur...

Whoosh—

...he stepped forward.

His five fingers dug into the young man's shoulder blade like steel claws, completely immobilizing him.

By his ear came a cold, hoarse voice thick with the aura of death:

"That move of yours... looks a little familiar to me..."