Chapter 207: Masked Buddha Gold-inlaid Jade

"Does the top floor also charge a service fee?" I stared at Guan Yu and asked.

"Hmm," Guan Yu nodded calmly, but didn't give a specific number; however, from his few words I could guess the fee was certainly not small.

He glanced at me and calmly said, "Don't worry too much; that amount is nothing compared to one-tenth of what you helped me win."

With a ding, the elevator doors opened. Guan Yu made a gesture to enter, smiling at me: "Go in, I hope you find the answer you're looking for."

"Thanks, Brother Guan!" After stepping out of the elevator, I bowed ninety degrees to Guan Yu inside.

I think we won't cross paths again in this lifetime. Guan Yu is the type who values righteousness above life, yet he also cannot tolerate flaws. Such people are easy to get along with but also hard to get along with.

They clearly separate favors from deceit, even willing to repay loyalty and owed favors with their lives. But deceit is deceit. They are people who cannot tolerate even a speck of sand in their eyes. Even when repaying a favor they treat each other sincerely, yet afterward they still lift their proud heads and walk away coldly.

Yes, they are such a contradictory combination—full of passion and sincerity, yet proud and aloof, able to die for righteousness without hesitation, yet stingy and grudging.

Upon entering this splendidly decorated top-floor dark hall, I became even more certain I hadn't come to the wrong place. Indeed, I was sure the Masked Beast was hidden within this gambling hall. Because the fishy and wolfish smells grew stronger. Of course, this only applies to my keen spiritual sense; others cannot smell it.

The fifth floor and basement level -2 are several floors apart, yet both places retain the Masked Beast's scent. Thus, the Masked Beast is likely a person who moves between basement -2 and the first floor.

But... from our encounter that night, the Masked Beast's intelligence isn't very mature. At most it has merely opened its Spiritual Aperture; it could hardly have reached the heaven-defying level of speaking human words.

I can't figure it out, so I'll just take things as they come. I believe that as long as it's a fox, it will eventually show its tail; if it still wants to harm people, I will surely catch it.

Or perhaps the Masked Beast is merely a circulating commodity? For example, gold and silver jewelry moving between the two floors, seeking a target to strike.

As Guan Yu described, the top-floor dark hall is a grand mixed bag, and moreover a high-end mixed bag. The gambling hall is lavishly decorated in gold and azure, the dealers are all tall beauties, undoubtedly selected after much scrutiny. And the stakes on the gambling tables are not limited to chips and money; besides gold and silver, even antiques are available.

Moreover, the gambling hall has its own unique operating model. If items other than paper money appear on the gambling table, the casino will have professional experts come out to appraise them. Besides paying the casino a one-tenth cut, the winner must also pay a hefty appraisal fee.

Besides that, the gambling hall even offers killing as a service. You can wager your own life at the gambling table. The winning side can hand over the loser's remains to the casino for processing, asking the casino's staff to harvest the loser's life. However, this processing fee starts at seven figures, which ordinary people simply cannot afford.

Of course, those who can come here to play are not ordinary people. Even within just these few ten minutes, I still saw all sorts of people in the hall. Besides the gold-and-silver-wearing nouveaux riches, there were mercenaries reeking of blood. Foreigners of unknown origin, including local gang bosses and bosses.

What caught my attention was a table entirely golden yellow, a Texas Hold'em table. As I walked past it, my heart inexplicably trembled; this sudden chill all over made me stop my steps.

As I gazed at the chips on the table, a small ornament caught my eye. The table's chips included gold bars and necklaces, but among the jewelry pile there was a piece of wholly translucent green Buddha statue.

To be precise, it is a piece of gold-inlaid Jade. Formerly, gold-inlaid jade was a craft used to inlay broken jade bracelets. Now it has also become an ornament: exterior jade, interior gold figurine. Small in volume, but its value is not insignificant.

Among the jewelry pile there is a Buddha with hands covering its face. This is the Thai Masked Buddha, which should be a solemn and sacred statue, yet now it emits a strange, cold gleam.

Only two people sat at the gambling table: one was a young man in a white suit with an arrogant face; his opponent was a middle-aged nouveau riche about forty. His mouth was unusually large—sometimes he laughed loudly without restraint, sometimes he gave a lewd grin while stuffing RMB into the waitress's chest. Although dressed in gold and silver with splendid attire, his country bumpkin nature showed through every move.

The final winner was that middle-aged nouveau riche with the big mouth; he won with a straight against the opponent's three kings. After winning, he became even more overbearing, roughly groping the waitress's butt beside him, casually throwing a stack of money on the table, taking the table's jewelry and striding away.

He approached the VIP room of the dark hall carrying the jewelry; half an hour later he emerged with empty hands. Surely those ornaments had been exchanged for cash, deposited into the casino's account, or converted into equivalent value and transferred to his account.

However, I saw that he still wore the Masked Buddha he had just won around his neck. He seemed to love that gold-inlaid jade piece, unable to let it go.

I followed him out of the casino, under the escort of its bodyguards, he turned into a leisure club. I waited outside the club, not following him inside.

The so-called leisure club—I've seen many in Dongguan and Shenzhen. They advertise massage, oil rubs, and foot baths. In fact, any star-rated hotel club that reaches the hydrotherapy floor almost always offers special services.

Star-rated hotels usually come with a hidden sex industry. The middle-aged nouveau riche entering this club—no need to guess—he's just gone to enjoy himself after winning money.

So I didn't follow him up; instead I waited across the street from the club for him to come out.

I sat idly in a convenience store, drinking many cups of beverages. Until it grew dark, yet I still hadn't seen the nouveau riche exit the club's door. Waiting made me furious; I wanted to rush up, drag out that middle-aged nouveau riche, seize his jade pendant, and examine it thoroughly.

However, I knew I couldn't do that. At least I lacked confidence in subduing his two bodyguards beside him.

Those two bodyguards are military veterans; even their walking posture differs greatly from ordinary people's.

Ordinary people walk either with arms swinging naturally or glancing left and right. Successful people usually walk slowly. But if one looks closely, one notices a trait: nowadays people's bodies tend to have uneven shoulders, and their steps absolutely lack a fixed rhythm, alternating fast and slow. Neither ordinary people nor those with careers maintain an unchanging pace.

Unless they have received special training. Their shoulders stay balanced, and their steps are quite steady. Moreover, if you pay close attention, you'll find that each step they take follows a specific pattern. Though I wouldn't say the exact number of steps per minute is identical, it certainly varies little. This isn't deliberate; it's a habit formed over time.

The two bodyguards hired by the middle-aged nouveau riche from the casino are likely retired soldiers; their hands are covered in thick calluses. Their steps have a certain rhythm; when walking, their feet move but their shoulders remain completely still—they are two experts.

So I could only wait—for the middle-aged nouveau riche to come out, and for those two bodyguards to escort him home and leave—before I had a chance to act.

Finally, at eight o'clock in the evening, the middle-aged nouveau riche emerged with his two bodyguards. I hastily put down my drink and, using the crowd as cover, quietly followed him.

Suddenly, one of the bodyguards whispered something into the middle-aged nouveau riche's ear. He abruptly glanced at my position, frightening me into quickly hiding behind a pillar.

Afterwards, the middle-aged nouveau riche quickened his pace and turned into a nearby alley.

"Could I have been discovered?" I hesitated, but still quickened my steps and followed.

But when I entered the dark alley, I found they had vanished. As I hurried forward, scanning the alley's corners, suddenly a black figure darted from the turning point and drove a knee hard into my abdomen.

After taking that kick, pain surged through my five viscera and six bowels, almost making me vomit bile. When I barely steadied myself, I finally made out the black figure's appearance.

He was one of the bodyguards who had been standing beside the middle-aged nouveau riche just moments before.

"Sure enough, I was discovered!" I felt a wry smile cross my mind, but before I could act, the bodyguard suddenly crouched and charged at me like a bull. He locked his hands around my waist and, with a mighty heave, drove me to the ground in an upside‑down posture.

"Damn... Israeli combat technique!" That thought flashed through my mind at the same time. Instinctively I planted both hands on the ground, and fortunately that spontaneous move saved my neck.

Israeli combat technique is currently regarded worldwide as one of the most vicious fighting arts. This black-clad bodyguard's recent move aimed to gravely injure my neck and brain; once he has you locked, he immediately pulls you into an upside‑down maneuver—if your head hits the floor, he then drives you down with force, producing a crack, damaging your head and, via impact, snapping your neck.

Although I timely braced my hands against the ground, shedding most of the force and barely managing to clutch my neck, the pain of my head striking the floor left me dizzy for a while; even after he released me, I still clutched my head and rolled on the ground, feeling nothing but pain and dizziness.

Only after the black-clad bodyguard set me down did the middle-aged nouveau riche, biting the gold-inlaid jade of the Masked Buddha, hands on hips, arrogantly stride out of the back alley.