SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS - Chapter 1032 - 1032: Ghost From The Past!

Back in a quiet pavilion, Kent stood with Amelia, observing from afar.

“You see that?” she asked, holding up a communication orb.

The illusion showed Fatty Ben dancing with his team of Golden Rat girls while coins and cheers rang in the background.

Kent smiled faintly. “He’s having fun.”

“He’s making you famous.”

“No. He’s making the name famous. That’s all we need.”

Amelia chuckled. “People think you’re a joke. A long shot.”

Kent turned his eyes toward the arena’s vast stone floor, where hundreds of fighters were preparing for the first day.

“Let them mock,” he said. “When the odds drop, and the bones fall silent, they’ll remember the day and me.”

Sophia came with a big wine jar and brought the two dragon sisters with her. Together they began discussing the tournament while enjoying the wine.

Suddenly Fatty Ben came back with a tired-face.

All the ladies immediately began asking him about the gambling house.

Ben explained, “I placed Master Kent’s odds at 1:10. High enough to attract gamblers. No one knows your name yet, so people are already curious. Some even think you’re a fake participant.”

Sophia muttered, “They won’t laugh for long.”

Kent chuckled. “Let them laugh. The more bets they place against me, the sweeter the payout will be.”

Ben slapped the table. “That’s the spirit! Like old times in Silver leaf Town when we robbed all spectators!”

Everyone laughed.

“But seriously,” Kent added, voice calm and sharp, “I want you to track the odds. If anyone tries to manipulate the system or if any sect tries to cheat, I want names.”

Ben gave a half bow. “Consider it done. The Golden Rat will not just bite coins—it’ll bite ears.”

Just then, a young attendant stepped into the pavilion, breathless. “Master! Word has spread—your gambling house is drawing a crowd. Dozens already lining up at the stall. The official came for an inspection.”

Ben stood up, brushing off his robes. “Then I must grab all the wealth.”

Kent smiled faintly. “Go. Play your-game. We’ll handle the fights.”

As Ben left with a flourish, Amelia looked at Kent. “You seem… at ease.”

“I’m not,” Kent replied quietly. “But this is how wars are won. In silence before the storm. Let the world guess. When it matters, I’ll show them the storm wears a name.”

–

Heavenly Phoenix Range…

Immortal Living Pool Academy’s temporary camp, three figures emerged in flowing aqua-blue robes. Each bore the sigil of a Pool of serene water—marking their origin from the Immortal Living Pool.

Leading them was none other than Young Master Lee—a figure of arrogance, pride, and talent. With wavy jet-black hair bound in a golden jade clip and a slender sword swinging at his waist, Lee walked with the demeanor of someone who believed the ground beneath him existed solely for his feet.

Following him were Qiu Mei and Tan Gou, both core disciples and personal followers of Lee. The three walked among the crowded paths of the Phoenix Range, inspecting treasures, belittling stall owners, and shamelessly flirting with servant girls or pressuring weaker disciples into handing over spiritual items.

“Look at this low-grade flame talisman. Hah! Do you peasants even know what fire is?” Tan Gou scoffed, tossing the scroll back onto the stall as the old vendor trembled in silence.

Qiu Mei leaned toward a terrified young lady in servant robes, whispering mockingly, “Don’t you want to serve someone worthy like us, little bird? You’ll never find a phoenix while picking garbage.”

Their laughter rang out, cruel and self-assured.

Then, suddenly—a boy in common robes sprinted toward them, panting.

“Young Master Lee! Urgent news!” he gasped.

Lee didn’t even turn around at first. “If you’re here to whine about a stall dispute, save your breath.”

“No, master… it’s about… Kent King!” the servant choked out the words.

Lee stopped.

A cold silence froze the laughter around them.

He turned slowly, his brows twitching. “What did you just say?”

The servant gulped. “A new gambling house opened near the Third Arena. It’s offering odds of 1:10 for a participant named Kent King winning the first round.”

Lee’s eyes widened, his face pale for just a split second. A name he had buried in the dusts of the past was now spoken aloud like thunder in his ears.

“What kind of gambling house throws 1:10 odds in the Golden Heir Tournament?” Tan Gou blurted out. “That’s almost begging to lose!”

Lee didn’t answer. He took one step forward, then another, and clenched his fists.

“That bastard is alive?” he whispered.

“You think it’s the same Kent King?” Qiu Mei asked. “Maybe just a name coincidence?”

“No.” Lee’s voice turned venomous. “There’s only one Kent King who fought me to the edge of death. That insane brat escaped with his life when he should’ve died. We hunted him for months. And now… he dares show up? Here?!”

“I thought you said he was crippled,” Tan Gou said warily.

“He was! I saw him fall. There was no way he could’ve—” Lee’s teeth ground together. “Unless… someone saved him. Or he’s more persistent than a cockroach.”

He turned to the servant again. “Where is this gambling house?”

“Right near the Third Arena… called Golden Rat Gambling House, master.”

Lee scoffed. “Hmph. What a name.”

But inside, his heart beat faster. The name Kent King had once haunted his dreams—of the battle that didn’t end in victory, the mocking smirk Kent left him with before vanishing into the chaos.

“Let’s go,” Lee commanded. “I must see him with my own eyes.”

Qiu Mei tilted her head. “Are you going to fight him again?”

Lee smirked darkly. “I don’t know yet. First… let’s see if the rat came to die in a phoenix nest.”

–

Meanwhile, at the bustling Golden Rat Gambling House, things had reached a fever pitch.

The wooden structure, shaped like a giant rat holding a golden store, stood proudly near the Third Arena. Fatty Ben stood at the entrance, draped in robes embroidered with gold coins and surrounded by two dancers dressed as mice holding “LUCKY WINNER” placards.

He had set up colorful banners that read:

“Bet against the Underdog, Win Like a King!”

“Kent King – Odds 1:10! Beat the odds, feed your purse!”

Crowds flooded in from nearby arenas and food stalls, many chuckling at the audacity of the house.

“Who in their right mind offers ten times return in this damn tournament?” a burly man laughed.

“Must be a fake house. Maybe the owner’s drunk!” another joked.

“I heard the owner’s some fat guy who lost a bet and started gambling on dreams!” someone else cackled.

But Fatty Ben only smiled, waving at everyone.

“Welcome, welcome! The Golden Rat only bites treasure, not people! Come place your bets! Just ten mana crystals can earn you a hundred!”

Ben struck a ridiculous pose and called out, “Ladies! Gentlemen! Don’t miss your chance to ride the golden rat to prosperity!”

A group of young girls giggled as he winked at them.

“Who even is Kent King?” someone asked.

Fatty Ben leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “That’s the mystery, isn’t it? A man forgotten… a beast reborn. Will you miss the rise of the next monarch?”

He handed out miniature golden rat pins to the first 100 betters.

Within an hour, people were pouring mana crystals into the betting house, half out of curiosity, half for the thrill. Other gambling houses stared, stunned, unwilling to match those risky odds. The Third Arena grew louder as rumors of

Lee and his followers reached the edge of the crowd gathering around the Golden Rat.

“What’s all this noise?” Qiu Mei said, frowning.

“Excuse me,” Lee barked as he pushed through the crowd, glaring. “Make way.”

The crowd recognized his robes and status and stepped aside nervously.

He saw the ridiculous rat-shaped house, the banners fluttering, and the cheerful Fatty Ben greeting guests like a celebrity.

And then… he saw the name Kent King on the central odds board.

The name glowed in golden runes. Below it, a massive 1:10 ratio blinked proudly.

Lee clenched his jaw.

“Bring me the owner,” he growled.