SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS - Chapter 1030 - 1030: New Gambling House!

Fatty Ben adjusted the lapels of his robe, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes as he walked through the bustling path carved along the lower slopes of the Heavenly Phoenix Range.

The crowd was enormous, and the excitement of the Golden Heir Tournament hummed in the air like electricity. Countless stalls lined the path, each boasting colorful flags, glowing trinkets, exotic food, and most interestingly to Ben, plenty of gossip and speculation about the tournament’s frontrunners.

“Let’s see who the fools are betting on this time,” he muttered, his belly bouncing slightly with every step as he waddled towards the first cluster of rowdy onlookers.

The first stall he approached was a simple one, with a chalkboard showing names and odds hastily scribbled in glowing ink. A trio of burly cultivators with tankards of spirit wine were arguing loudly.

“I’m telling you, Feng Lian from the Divine Moon Sect is going to crush the rest! Her sword art is flawless, and she already passed the ninth layer of the Heavenly Flame Trial,” one man declared, slamming his mug on the wooden table.

“Bah! That’s nothing. What about Jin Hao from the Iron Heart Valley? They say he can bend metal with his breath. The guy’s practically a living weapon,” another chimed in.

Fatty Ben chuckled and joined their circle. “Ah, gentlemen, such good taste. But have you considered the underdog approach? Always where the real profit lies.”

They looked at him, amused. One of them offered a drink. “You’re one of those gambling types, eh? Planning to lose money this time, too?”

“Not at all. I just study the odds,” Ben said slyly. “So tell me, who’s been winning the small bouts? Any dark horses?”

The conversation opened up from there. Without spending a single mana crystal, Ben picked up valuable names. There was Bai Yun from the Scarlet Vine Temple, who could channel the power of blooming flora and was said to have tamed a blood lotus. Then there was Liang Zhen from the Silver Storm Pavilion, a dual-wielding spear prodigy with a knack for calling lightning.

“They say Liang Zhen electrocuted a whole arena once when someone insulted his sect,” one man whispered.

“Really? Sounds like a moody one,” Ben grinned and moved on.

He made his rounds with the same strategy—befriending, joking, sipping drinks he didn’t pay for, and collecting nuggets of gossip like they were priceless spirit herbs. One particularly valuable bit came from a refined older woman selling amulets.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “but the Syndicate may rig this. The title of Heavenly Monarch comes with too much power. And the marriage contract, oh, you didn’t know?”

Ben’s ears perked up. “Marriage contract?”

“Yes, yes. The winner gets to marry Lady Shaya, the daughter of the Southern Cloud Empress. She’s known as the Jewel of the Nine Skies. Cultivation level aside, she’s a divine alchemist. Having her by your side means unending resources.”

“So that’s what this is about…” Ben murmured, eyes narrowing with calculation.

He thanked her and moved along. Several other stalls confirmed the news, and soon, a clearer picture of the rewards emerged:

The title of Heavenly Monarch, recognized by all seven nations.

Direct favor from the Seven Nation Syndicate—a single request of their choosing would be granted.

A marriage contract with Lady Shaya.

Control over the future tournament venues for fifty years.

“No wonder the odds are wild,” Ben smirked as he entered one of the larger, established gambling houses. The interior was filled with boards showing live odds. Names and figures flickered, changing as bets were placed.

Ben sat in a corner and began studying the trends. Names like Feng Lian and Jin Hao topped the lists. Liang Zhen and Bai Yun had decent odds, but one name was missing entirely.

“Perfect,” Ben said to himself. “Kent King—no one suspects him.”

After noting the odds structure, house rules, and bet handling practices, he headed to the highest level of the administration area. A grand building with dark red pillars and a golden phoenix crest housed the officials of the Seven Nation Syndicate.

The reception hall was guarded by two stoic Supreme Magus officials, but once Ben showed the credentials given to him by Kent, including the seal from the Red Silk Kingdom, he was ushered in.

The Syndicate Hall was enormous, designed like a miniature palace. A portly administrator named Vigor Su met him with a practiced smile.

“You wish to open a gambling house during the Golden Heir Tournament? You’ll need to register and post a deposit of at least fifty thousand Ultra Refined mana crystals.”

Ben gulped theatrically. “That’s a heavy price.”

“For your own protection,” Vigor Su smiled. “We cannot allow fraudulent houses to escape with bets. The entire system is managed and monitored by syndicate spirit arrays.”

“And the profits?”

“You keep seventy percent of net earnings. Thirty percent goes to us. But you’re allowed to raise or lower odds as you please. So long as you can pay, we do not interfere.”

Ben’s eyes lit up. Seventy Percent is more than he anticipated. Now, he need to get funds from Kent. “Elder, I will pay the deposit in an hour.”

“Wonderful! Then consider this the start of something beautiful,” he grinned.

Vigor handed him the registration forms, and Ben signed them with a flourish.

As he exited the hall, Ben was already plotting. He would build the House of Fat-Fortune near the third arena plaza which is the biggest Area where important fights happen.

Special odds for Kent—one hundred to one. When Kent won, the payouts would be monstrous. But if he kept it low-key and with Kent’s ability, he could earn a fortune.

Ben’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Time to bring back the old fire. Let them bet. Let them laugh. But when Kent wins…”

He laughed to himself. “…they’ll be crying spirit tears.”

With the sun dipping below the peaks and the first fireworks of the tournament eve lighting up the sky, Fatty Ben returned toward his group, whistling an old tavern tune, his mind-spinning like a roulette of profit.

Tomorrow would be the first day of chaos.

And he would be at the heart of it, raking in every mana crystal fate had to offer.