Chapter 338: As If I Were Present

As the gambler stood and approached the man, Mei Lin, who had been sitting between them, also rose from her seat and stepped aside to clear a path, her movements so smooth and fluid that Ning Zhe thought she was just one phrase away from saying, “My lord, please enter.”

“No, no, please don’t… no…”

As the gambler drew closer, the stench of rotting flesh surged forward; a chilling cold, like a parasitic worm clinging to bone, crept up the man’s spine, leaving him limp and slumped on the sofa, his trembling legs unable to support his weight—he couldn’t even stand.

“No, no, no…”

In the silent room, only the loser’s pleas and moans echoed in the air; Ning Zhe saw the gambler’s broad palm clamp down on the man’s skull, five fingers gripping his crown tightly, like a basketball player seizing a ball.

“Hmm?” Ning Zhe frowned slightly, suddenly sensing something was off.

“It’s true that Fen Wu used the gambler’s power to strip Shao You from me, and his goal has indeed been partially achieved—but Fen Wu is terribly unlucky.”

“It is known that the only way to take something from the gambler is to wager something of equal value and win the game, and gambling depends on luck. Coincidentally, the gambler’s luck is excellent right now. He has obtained Shao You’s almanac, gained the serpent god’s favor, and under the protection of auspicious fortune, he is now brimming with powerful luck.”

Earlier, the gambler had played Russian roulette with Sha Li Sha Li and others, and drawn the devil card with Xia Yubing and the rest—through several rounds, he had never lost, a clear manifestation of this “strong fortune.”

“While the gambler’s luck is overwhelming, Fen Wu’s luck is abysmally poor; the gap between them has grown to an unimaginable scale. Under such disparity, even the tiniest probability becomes infinite—flip a coin a Graham’s number of times, and the Graham’s number of outcomes will all favor the gambler. Fen Wu cannot possibly win against the gambler; his chance of victory is infinitesimally close to zero.”

Unless he cheats.

In a flash, Ning Zhe thought of many things; he glanced up—the gambler’s five fingers had sunk deep into the man’s skull, carving bloody holes around his cranium. With a crack, his crown was forcibly pried open, and all three froze.

“No… not right…” Ning Zhe’s heart tightened; he realized something was wrong, but what exactly?

The gambler has good luck, Fen Wu has terrible luck, and victory in gambling depends entirely on fortune—what method could override this disparity and forcibly secure victory?

…There is one.

Cheating, if discovered by the gambler, results in immediate confiscation of the wager—in other words, as long as the gambler doesn’t notice, it’s fine.

Plop. The gambler casually tossed the bloody, hair-clad skull onto the table, his thin, bony fingers like chopsticks plunging into a hot pot, reaching into the man’s open cranial cavity and plucking out a white, plump worm, about the thickness of a finger.

【Tai Sui】 worm.

As the worm was pulled from his brain, the man convulsed violently, his legs kicking wildly beneath the table like a decapitated bullfrog; soon, he slumped motionless onto the sofa.

“This is the ‘wager’ carried by this man, of equal value to the substitute straw doll.”

Seeing the gambler place the worm extracted from the man’s brain beside the substitute straw doll he had previously lost, Ning Zhe exhaled slightly in relief—but also felt puzzled.

In Xia Yubing’s notebook, it was described that the worm parasitizing Fu Suo Le Si’s brain was enormous, nearly the size of—or even larger than—a human brain, bulging and filling his entire cranial cavity. But the worm the gambler had just pulled out was only as thick as a finger—more than ten times smaller than the one inside Fu Suo Le Si’s skull.

Ning Zhe stood and looked down at the man’s open cranial cavity; unlike Fu Suo Le Si, after the worm was removed, his head was not hollowed out—he could still see his pink brain inside, not reduced to an empty shell like Fu Suo Le Si’s.

Even…

Ning Zhe sat back down, studying the man’s vacant expression. His eyes were glazed and lifeless—but the instant Ning Zhe’s gaze fell upon them, both bloodshot eyeballs rolled suddenly, spinning to face the same direction, fixed with a venomous stare directly at him, locking eyes.

Immediately, a strange smile appeared on his face. “Huh…” Ning Zhe smiled faintly: “Interesting.”

As he pondered, the gambler had returned to his seat. Mei Lin, having recovered from her shock, sat back down on the sofa, pale-faced, staring at the man beside her—his face twisted in a strange smile, his pink brain exposed to the air.

The man sat upright, calmly adjusting his collar and cuffs, which had been disheveled during his struggle. He picked up his glass, sipped the gin, then lifted the bloody skull and gently pressed it onto his own head, as elegantly as donning a top hat, offering Ning Zhe a polite smile.

Witnessing this, Ning Zhe understood at once.

The ordinary man had died. The one sitting here now was Fen Wu.

“Forgive me for asking,” Ning Zhe said to Mei Lin, who had just sat down: “Where is your mistress now?”

Mei Lin frowned, her expression wary: “Which mistress?”

“Princess Pulumeliya Fuli Misi Leite,” Ning Zhe said calmly. “Where is she now?”

Seeing that he knew her mistress’s exact name, Mei Lin’s wariness deepened: “I have no obligation to answer your questions.”

“I understand. Then let me rephrase.” Ning Zhe continued: “Is your mistress safe?”

“Safe? Why are you asking this suddenly?” Mei Lin’s demeanor visibly grew anxious: “Do you mean someone is trying to endanger her? Speak clearly!”

“That’s not the way to ask for help,” Ning Zhe smiled. Fortunately, he was magnanimous: “I suspect your mistress is hiding somewhere in the opera house right now, waiting for your signal, ready to ‘take back the move,’ correct?”

“…It’s you!” Mei Lin gritted her teeth. “You’re the one who played the Requiem in the castle and took away the Necromancer! What do you want?!”

“I have no obligation to answer your questions,” Ning Zhe returned her own words.

Mei Lin bit her lower lip, glaring at him as if she wanted to devour him.

“In short, if my guess is correct—that your mistress is truly hiding somewhere in the opera house, waiting for your signal—then I advise you to tell her to run, now.”

Ning Zhe’s face broke into a charming smile, his voice gentle: “If you wait any longer, she won’t escape.”

Because a creature more terrifying than any ghost has already set its eyes on her.

Mei Lin froze, then, as if compelled by some unseen force, turned her head—and saw a well-dressed man lounging beside her, one leg crossed over the other, holding half a glass of gin, his face drenched in blood, smiling broadly.

“You’re quite good,” he said.

He raised his glass toward Ning Zhe: “Better still if you weren’t an enemy.”

(End of Chapter)