Chapter 479: Masked Buddha Gold-Inlaid Jade

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

"En," Guan Yu nodded very calmly, but he didn't give the exact number; however, from his few words I could guess that the handling fee was certainly not small.

He glanced at me, calmly said: "Don't worry too much about it; that amount is not even a tenth of what you helped me win."

With a ding, the elevator doors opened. Guan Yu made a gesture to reach out, 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 thought we would never cross paths again in this lifetime. Guan Yu is the type who values righteousness over life, yet he is also someone who cannot tolerate flaws. Such people are easy to get along with but also hard to get along with.

They clearly separate favors and 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 favors 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 arrogant and aloof, able to die for righteousness without hesitation, yet stingy and holding grudges.

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

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

However, judging from that night's fight, the Masked Beast's intelligence isn't very mature. At most it has merely opened its Spiritual Aperture; it could never reach the heaven-defying level of being able to speak 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; as long as he still wants to harm people, I will surely catch him.

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

As Guan Yu described, the top-floor dark chamber is a grand medley, and moreover a high-end medley. The gambling hall is lavishly decorated in gold and splendor, the dealers dealing cards are all tall, beautiful women, absolutely 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.

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

Besides that, the gambling hall also offers killing. You can bet your own life at the gambling table. The winning side can hand over the loser's remains to the hall for processing, asking the hall'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 to play here are not ordinary people. Even within just these 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 owners.

What caught my attention was a table of solid gold Texas Hold'em poker. 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 that table, a small ornament caught my eye. The chips on the gambling table included gold bars and necklaces, but among the pile of jewelry lay a piece of Buddha statue that was entirely translucent green.

To be precise, this 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. The exterior is jadeite, the interior a gold figurine. Small in volume, but its value is not insignificant.

Among the jewelry pile, there is a Buddha statue with both hands covering its face. This is Thailand's Masked Buddha, which should be a solemn and sacred image, 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 around forty. His mouth was unusually large, sometimes laughing loudly without restraint, sometimes lecherously stuffing RMB into the chest of the female server. Although dressed in gold and silver, his attire luxurious, his country-bumpkin nature showed through every move.

The final winner was that middle-aged nouveau riche with the big mouth, who won with a straight against the opponent's three of a kind. After winning, he became even more overbearing, roughly groping the butt of the female server beside him, casually throwing a stack of money onto the table, picking up the jewelry and striding away.

He carried the jewelry to the VIP room of the dark chamber; half an hour later he came out empty-handed. 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 this gold-inlaid jade piece, unable to put it down.

I followed him out of the casino, under the escort of its security guards, 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 rub, and foot bath. In fact, any star-rated hotel club, as long as you go up to 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 obviously went there 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 idly sat in a convenience store, drinking many cups of beverages. Until it got dark, I still hadn't seen that nouveau riche exit the club's door. I waited until I was furious, wanting to rush up and drag out that middle-aged nouveau riche, snatch his jade pendant, and thoroughly examine it.

However, I knew I couldn't do that. At least I didn't have confidence I could subdue his two bodyguards.

These two bodyguards are military personnel; even their walking posture differs greatly from ordinary people.

Ordinary people walk either with arms swinging naturally or looking left and right. Successful people generally walk slowly. But if you look closely, you'll notice a trait: nowadays people usually have uneven shoulders, and their steps lack a fixed rhythm, alternating fast and slow. Whether ordinary or career-oriented, no one keeps an unchanging pace.

Unless they are specially trained. Their shoulders stay balanced, their steps quite steady. And if you pay attention, you'll find that each step they take follows a specific pattern. One cannot say the rhythm is exactly the same per minute, but they hardly differ. 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 motionless—they are two experts.

So I could only wait, wait for that middle-aged nouveau riche to come out, wait for those two bodyguards to send him home and leave, before I had a chance to strike.

Finally, at eight o'clock in the evening, the middle-aged nouveau riche came out with his two bodyguards. I hurriedly put down my drink, using the crowd as cover to quietly follow him.

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

Afterwards, the middle-aged nouveau riche quickened his pace, turning into a side alley.

"Could I have been discovered?" I hesitated, but still quickened my steps to follow.

But when I entered the dark alley, I found they had vanished. As I hurried forward, checking around the alley's corner, 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, I almost vomited bile. When I barely steadied my stance, I finally made out the 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!" A bitter smile crossed my mind; before I could act, the bodyguard suddenly crouched and charged at me like a bull. He grabbed my waist with both hands and exerted great force, using an inverted vegetable posture to slam me onto the ground.

"Damn... Israeli martial arts!" That thought flashed through my mind at the same time. I instinctively braced my hands on the ground, and fortunately this inspired move allowed me to protect my neck.

Israeli martial arts is currently recognized worldwide as one of the most vicious combat systems. This black-clad bodyguard's recent move aimed to severely injure my neck and brain; once he had you locked, he would immediately hug you and perform an inverted vegetable; once your head hit the ground, he would then forcefully press you down, with a crack, injuring your head and, via impact, twisting your neck.

Although I timely braced my hands against the ground, shedding most of the force, I barely managed to hold my neck. Yet 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 threw me to the ground did the middle-aged nouveau riche bite the gold-inlaid jade of the Masked Buddha, hands on hips, arrogantly stride out from the back alley.