Chapter 56: Hong Ying, the Beauty Die

In this city, dozens of casinos, big and small, aren’t all built on land or rented as venues.

Hong Ying’s casino operates on boats—one converted passenger ship, plus several luxury yachts for VIP guests.

Because he often stays aboard the yachts, in formal settings he’s known as a prominent entrepreneur with investments in mainland China, Hong Kong, and Bangkok; in informal circles, insiders call him “Island Edge Old Hong.”

But he’s not even old enough to be called “Old.”

He looks about forty, in his prime, with thick hair, a square face, bushy eyebrows like inked pine smoke, and a well-groomed beard.

The moment someone meets his eyes, their first instinct is to think he radiates upright integrity.

He doesn’t look like a man running gambling boats—he looks more like some incorruptible inspector.

When Chu Tianshu and Fang Jun boarded the yacht, Hong Ying sat in the shade, sipping tea and reading.

On a small round table beside him lay several books: *The Unruly Chronicles of Min Kuang IV*, *Youyang Zazu*, and *The Water Classic: Vernacular Edition*.

Clearly, his tastes were eclectic.

“What did these boys do to warrant Fang Young Master dragging them to my yacht?”

Hong Ying set down his book, smiling as he looked over, but didn’t rise.

Fang Jun removed his sunglasses: “They attacked our special consultant, Mr. Chu Tianshu. The offense is extremely grave.”

“And according to their own admissions, your brother Hong Yong was assaulted by a suspect we’re investigating and hospitalized.”

“To get the full details, I had no choice but to disturb you, Brother Hong.”

Hong Ying feigned surprise and asked his black-clad attendant.

“Was Yong hit and hospitalized?”

“I thought he’d been parading a bone around like a dog begging for scraps and broke his ribs falling down.”

The black-clad man said: “That’s right—we saw it with our own eyes. Brother Yong was chased by dogs. If you need witnesses, we’re all here.”

Chu Tianshu glanced skeptically over.

Is this man openly stalling and provoking out of old grudges—or is he trying to lure someone into a negotiation?

Fang Jun smiled: “Brother Hong, we’ve always kept to our own waters. Why play these tricks?”

Hong Ying grew serious: “What do you mean ‘keep to our own waters’? As Nie family’s adopted son, there are plenty in the gambling world eager to test you.”

Chu Tianshu recalled he’d checked some Macau-related data online before coming.

Several internationally renowned gamblers had once operated in Macau; the most famous one still living here is surnamed Nie.

He once faced nine gamblers at once in Las Vegas and defeated them all.

Two years ago, rumors spread he’d been diagnosed with a brain tumor, causing major upheaval in Macau’s business circles.

But he seemed to have survived—he didn’t die then, and lately he’s gone quiet.

“Just an adopted son. I didn’t inherit my father’s talent.”

Fang Jun said sincerely, “If I’d been good at gambling, why join the Special Capture Unit? Wouldn’t it be better to sit at home counting money?”

Hong Ying chuckled: “Maybe it’s precisely because you’re an adopted son and learned gambling too well that you were forced into the Special Capture Unit.”

Fang Jun sighed: “If you already think that way, then no matter the truth or what I say, you’re going to demand a gamble.”

“Exactly!”

Hong Ying stood up, solemn: “Those few gambling kings are all aging. Everyone wants to accumulate enough to challenge their positions.”

“Someone organized a gambling tournament—it’ll start soon. The winner gains enough prestige to challenge them.”

“Before that tournament, I want to test myself against a worthy rival, get a feel for the competition.”

Fang Jun stayed silent.

“If you’re worried about damaging the Nie family’s reputation, we can hold a private match.”

Hong Ying continued, “As long as you show your true skill, win or lose, I’ll give you all the information you need.”

Fang Jun looked at Chu Tianshu: “If I refuse to gamble and lose these leads, wouldn’t that count as neglecting the case, dereliction of duty?”

He knew this consultant was desperate to investigate because something precious had been stolen from his own home.

Why ask Chu Tianshu and not someone else? What answer was he truly seeking?

Was he himself eager to gamble, just lacking an excuse?

Letting him gamble would be the perfect solution.

Chu Tianshu said seriously: “I recall that while gambling is legal here for ordinary people, government officials with formal positions are still forbidden to gamble.”

“Do you think I’d advise you to break the law?”

Fang Jun slowly pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and laughed.

“Brother Hong, you see for yourself.”

“Our consultant is standing right here. We’re out of options.”

Chu Tianshu turned to Hong Ying: “But this consultant of mine doesn’t seem to have formal status.”

Hong Ying said calmly: “Do you believe this gentleman is strong enough to be my rival in gambling?”

“I know nothing about gambling, but we’re not betting money.”

Chu Tianshu said, “If being your rival gets me the leads, and failing means I lose nothing, then under these rules, I’ll give it a try.”

Grandpa, this isn’t gambling, this isn’t gambling, this isn’t gambling!

Important things must be said three times.

I’m just making an attempt to get leads.

“Hmph, since you came with Fang Jun, I’ll give you this chance.”

Hong Ying sat back down. “One round decides it.”

Someone brought over the gambling equipment.

Fang Jun’s expression flickered with surprise.

Because the die wasn’t a standard six-sided die—it was a regular icosahedron.

Each face bore a different character.

“Gambling matches using ordinary dice always risk damage, and without tricks, ties are too common.”

Hong Ying smiled: “So beyond official tournaments, when practitioners practice privately, each has their own style.”

“My twenty-faced die has a name: Beauty Die. It bears twenty characters.”

“Mountains and rivers, beauty, boundless wind and moon, love and hate, grievances erased…”

“Life and death are in Heaven’s hands!”

Hong Ying said, “I’ll roll. I won’t damage the die. You guess the character. If you guess right, you win.”

Chu Tianshu extended his hand: “May I examine the equipment?”

Hong Ying ordered his men to pass it over; his pupils subtly turned blue—he had entered the Opening Qiao state.

Though this man had no reputation in gambling circles, being a Special Capture Unit consultant meant he must have some cultivation techniques.

Hong Ying watched closely, ready to catch any trickery.

But Chu Tianshu took the dice cup, glanced inside, picked up the die, and weighed it twice in his palm.

He didn’t tamper with it at all.

His posture was that of someone who’d seen a few gambling movies and knew dice could be filled with mercury—so he checked the weight.

A complete novice.

Hong Ying frowned slightly as his men returned the equipment, then snapped his fingers.

Mental force radiated; the die shot up from the tray with a hiss, flying into the air.

Hong Ying caught the cup, snatched the die mid-flight, and shook it violently.

Clatter-clatter-clatter!!!

The die rattled and tumbled furiously inside.

Chu Tianshu stood five meters away, right hand behind his waist, watching silently, eyes unblinking, body motionless.

If this were against Fang Jun, both sides would already be deploying techniques.

But Chu Tianshu used not a single interfering move.

After twenty seconds of shaking, Hong Ying found it dull.

Click!

Hong Ying slammed the cup onto the tray, listlessly: “Guess.”

His tone and expression made it sound less like “guess”

and more like “start guessing blindly.”

Gambling is supposed to be luck—but to gambling masters, luck is the lowest, weakest form.

They compete with vision, calculation, technique, cunning, even endurance.

The black-clad men, though masked by sunglasses, turned their heads to watch.

Clearly, they resented this novice daring to challenge their boss.

Chu Tianshu didn’t take offense: “I think it’s the character ‘Heaven.’”

Hong Ying’s expression changed; he sat upright.

Fang Jun paused, exhaled a smoke ring, and smiled broadly.

“You—”

Hong Ying stared intently at Chu Tianshu, then casually lifted the cup.

The black-clad men saw clearly: the die showed the character “Heaven.”

In gambling, Chu Tianshu was unskilled.

But after testing the weight and hardness of the gambling tools, he could discern the force direction and the dice’s response simply by watching the opponent’s hand movements.

Even if all twenty characters were flat, with no engraved depth differences, he could simulate in his mind the entire rolling process—the direction, the number of rotations, the final result.

This was akin to the Taiji skill of sensing force.

Moreover, Chu Tianshu had also cultivated magical arts; even if the opponent used mental force to interfere midway, he would sense it.

“It seems I’ve won.”

Chu Tianshu stepped forward, seized the dice cup, and swept the dice with a flick.

Whoosh!

Chu Tianshu’s body suddenly retreated three steps, floating as if carried by the wind, utterly fluid.

During those three steps, not a single sound came from inside the dice cup.

Because Chu Tianshu had precisely calculated the dice’s motion speed—he ensured the die never touched the inner wall of the cup during the retreat.

After being set in motion by the initial immortal force, the die spun at high speed in midair.

No one could discern by hearing alone how many full rotations it had made.

Only after the third step did Chu Tianshu push the die forward again, returning it to the tray and covering it with the cup.

Hong Ying stared at the dice cup, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll shake it randomly too—it doesn’t count as part of the bet.”

Chu Tianshu smiled playfully and released the cup.

The moment his hand left, Hong Ying’s mental force slipped inside and saw the face facing upward.

“Wind!”

Not the character Hong Ying had originally guessed.

“You can shake dice like this without mental force.”

Hong Ying clapped his hands. “Good, good—I’ve truly learned a lesson.”

In his eyes burned a spark of determination, and a sense of renewed drive from the lesson learned.

This was precisely the purpose of warming up.

At his age, certain flaws were invisible to him—flaws his younger self never had.

He needed a worthy opponent to warm up with, to awaken, and to enter battle in better condition.

“Let me tell you this: the old man who injured Ah Yong was nearly killed by Ah Yong’s men—until another man suddenly appeared and took him away.”

Chu Tianshu asked immediately: “Who was the intruder?”

Hong Ying’s expression turned strange.

“It was the Western Poison, Ouyang…”

(End of Chapter)