[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-shadow-empire":3,"chapter-the-shadow-empire-the-shadow-empire-chapter-926":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Shadow Empire",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2268546,4428,"Chapter 926: The First Step Into Hell","the-shadow-empire-chapter-926",926,"\u003Cp>Mo Lisi grew up in casinos—illegal private ones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His upbringing paralleled the evolution of gambling tables: from plain wooden tables without cloth to today’s marble ones, paved with felt like a pool table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even now, he still works in a casino.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People in Jingang City grow up exposed to gambling and gambling tables; Ao Ge was no exception.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first thing he did after coming of age was to visit a casino.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In fact, most Jingang residents do the same upon reaching adulthood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They pull the lever on a slot machine, watch the spinning images, then let out a heavy sigh—or a sharp cheer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They also gather around gambling tables to watch how the games are played.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There’s a very interesting phenomenon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Learning a simple skill might take three days to a week.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But mastering a gambling game he’s never encountered before—quickly learning it, becoming proficient, and developing his own insights—takes only one night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two guys on the next bed were loudly boasting about how much they’d won recently at the casino, making Ao Ge’s palms itch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew how to play cards and had been to casinos; his best day, he won over sixty yuan, his worst, he lost twenty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So it seemed he won more than he lost at the casino?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He recalled local travel magazines and newspapers, which constantly reported how some lucky soul had just struck it rich at the casino—as if a new fortune-seeker achieved wealth overnight every single day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He rolled over, lay on his back, and recalled the gambling table games of his past.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two more days passed, and some workers in the hospital with conditions like his once again spontaneously went to see Vice Chairman Walter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had hoped Mr. Walter could offer them some help, but sadly, they were disappointed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mr. Walter advised them to take out a bank loan to get through their current hardship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But taking out a loan wasn’t easy; Ao Ge went to the bank to inquire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>First, the interest rates: Jingang City had ample housing inventory, and the mortgage rates in Licaizhou were slightly higher than in the Lianbang Central Region.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The common explanation was that Jinzhou and the Lianbang Central Region had more developed financial industries, making real estate more of a “financial commodity.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in southern regions and industrial economic hubs—places where financial sectors lagged—real estate lost its financial attributes, and banks became far more cautious with property collateral.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fewer loans, higher rates.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ao Ge’s house had a market value of about twelve hundred yuan; the bank’s preliminary assessment offered only five hundred yuan in loan, at an interest rate of eighteen percent, for three years maximum.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With interest exceeding fifty percent, even a five-hundred-yuan loan meant repaying seven hundred and fifty yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And even if they gave him five hundred, it wouldn’t solve his problem—he couldn’t afford the other fifty yuan he needed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bank manager also told him that if he planned to mortgage his house, he couldn’t get the loan immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bank had its own procedures: they’d first send someone to inspect the house’s condition and assess Ao Ge’s repayment ability.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the bank’s perspective, Ao Ge being unable to repay might actually be ideal—but procedures were procedures.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had to prove repayment ability before the bank would lend; this was a safeguard, preventing the bank from shedding its chains and becoming a monster that devoured people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if he agreed to the loan, disbursement wouldn’t happen until late May or early June.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This crushed his last hope—he could rely on no one but himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two days remained before the hospital demanded payment for his medical bills; again, he heard the patient on the next bed talk about winning hundreds at the casino.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had he been winning all these days?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ao Ge turned to look at him. “How much did you win?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The patient paused, then laughed. “About a thousand yuan.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing that number, Ao Ge’s heart stirred—if he had over a thousand yuan, he could solve his current crisis.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He no longer cared much about the refugee attackers; what mattered was saving his house—twenty years of hard-won achievement!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You won so much—your stake must’ve been huge?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his mind, to win big, you needed big capital.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The patient shook his head. “I started with only fifty yuan. Then I got lucky—by the end of the first day, I turned it into over two hundred!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My god!” Ao Ge sat up abruptly. “How did you do it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man laughed heartily. “Don’t think it’s hard. Look: if you win once with fifty, you get a hundred. Win twice, you get two hundred!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If I win three times, I get four hundred!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The patient’s face wore a slightly morbid satisfaction. “Win four times, I get eight hundred. Five times, sixteen hundred!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brother, just five wins!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is that hard?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shook his head, immediately retracting his own words. “Maybe it’s hard—otherwise, on day one, I wouldn’t have turned fifty into two hundred. I should’ve gotten four hundred—or more.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wins and losses are normal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His face lit up with the urge to share. “I’ve got a tip—maybe it’ll help you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you have fifty yuan, split it into two twenty-fives. If you lose the first bet, the second one’s very likely to win.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t gamble on low-probability games. Stick to simple even-odds bets—big or small.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you win, you’ve got seventy-five. Split it again, keep betting—you always keep a safety net.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just win twice, and you’ve got a hundred!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But remember one thing: quit while you’re ahead!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this strategy, Ao Ge was tempted. His face softened. “Will it really work?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The patient on the next bed laughed again. “Don’t ask me if it works—look at how much I won!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some other patients were intrigued; others dismissed the theory—they had their own systems.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ao Ge thanked him, thought for a moment, then left the hospital in the afternoon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He returned home, retrieved his passbook, withdrew another sixty yuan from the bank, combining it with his cash to make exactly one hundred yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He asked the reporter to help him walk, leaned on his cane, and headed to the casino—this might be his last resort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether it was an illusion or not, the moment he stepped into the casino, his mind felt suddenly clearer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stood inside, glanced back at the street bathed in sunlight outside the door—it felt like another world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside, he’d been numb. Now, stepping in, he felt reborn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps… this was fate’s design.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter watched nearby. In truth, the man on the next bed had been specially hired—to provoke him, to lure him here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The editor-in-chief had told them: award-winning reports must sting society.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If you don’t sting society, society won’t feel the weight of your words. If your writing isn’t heavy enough, your reporting isn’t deep enough—why should it win an award?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To win awards, fabricating news, manufacturing stories—this was nothing unusual in journalism.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People say entertainment, politics, and finance are arenas of fame and profit—but any circle tied to profit is an arena of fame and profit!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The casino’s lobby manager saw Ao Ge and immediately ordered a wheelchair. The casino was wheelchair-accessible, with both stairs and elevators.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ao Ge said “Thank you,” then went to the counter and exchanged his hundred yuan for chips.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He followed the advice of his “gambling god” roommate: he took two twenty-five-yuan chips and one fifty-yuan chip, then headed to the most basic dice table—betting big or small.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d planned to bet fifty, but hesitated—ended up betting twenty-five. When the round ended and the result was revealed, he slapped the table edge and cursed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hadn’t lost—he’d won!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dealer pushed his chips—his original twenty-five plus another twenty-five—toward him. He’d won, yet his expression wasn’t happy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he hadn’t hesitated and bet fifty instead of twenty-five, he’d now have seventy-five!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fuck!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t bet again immediately. He waited. After four consecutive small results, he was certain the next would be big.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He placed his entire fifty-yuan chip on big—but again, it came up small.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He cursed again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether he won or lost, his temper was always off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dealer took his fifty yuan. His palms grew sweaty; his mouth turned dry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stared at five consecutive smalls—this time, it had to be big.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what if it came up small again?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t know what “independent events” meant—but he knew it was possible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d heard stories of ten or twenty consecutive smalls. He hesitated, then placed twenty-five on big.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he lost this time, next round he’d bet everything on big.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He got lucky—he won again. But he still cursed himself, even slapped his own face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why couldn’t he just be bolder?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He glared at his chips: one hundred yuan total, won twice, lost once—wasted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, he didn’t hesitate—he placed his fifty-yuan chip on big. He believed that after so many smalls, big would come in a streak. But soon he realized he wasn’t good at guessing big or small.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Five points—small…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dealer began clearing the table. Ao Ge’s breathing grew rapid. He watched as the dealer took his chips; his fists clenched tight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t understand why—betting twenty-five always won; betting fifty always lost.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Was God telling him to always bet twenty-five?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hesitated, placed twenty-five—clearly, God didn’t mean that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had only twenty-five yuan left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Five minutes later, he stared blankly at the gambling table, and a gentleman beside him smiled and asked, “Are you still playing?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Friend!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oge snapped back to reality, looked at the man, and after a few seconds said, “No, I’m done.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had the reporter push him away from the table; less than twenty minutes later, he had lost a hundred dollars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides the forty dollars the editor had given him, those sixty dollars were what he had saved over nearly half a year.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All his effort over half a year vanished in an instant; he hated himself deeply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Go back?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Asked the reporter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oge pressed his hand to his chest, his eyes wounded yet fierce: “Push me to exchange chips…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter paused for a moment. “You’ve already lost a hundred dollars.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oge turned and glared fiercely at the reporter: “Push me to exchange chips!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reporter’s expression grew complicated, but finally nodded. “Alright.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pushed Oge to the chip exchange counter, where Oge handed over his passbook: “Withdraw it all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl behind the counter glanced at it. “I need to make a phone call to check.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oge said nothing. Soon, the girl put down the phone: “There’s thirty-seven dollars left. If you want to withdraw it, you need to sign here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She pulled out an authorization agreement and pointed to the underline at the bottom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By signing here, the casino was legally authorized to withdraw the money from the passbook—though in truth, they could have taken it without this authorization.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lianbang’s banking system recognizes only passbooks and withdrawal slips; in other words, anyone with the password or any valid document can withdraw money from the bank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oge signed his name quickly. The girl then handed the passbook to someone beside her—there was a bank nearby, and though it was a different institution, it could handle this transaction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She placed thirty-seven dollars’ worth of chips on the counter. Oge said nothing, took the chips, and told the reporter to push him back to the gambling table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Less than ten minutes later, the thirty-seven dollars were gone, leaving only a dazed Oge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps sensing his “predicament,” a well-dressed gentleman approached. “You need money.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked at Oge. Oge turned to face him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had heard that some people in the casino specialized in lending money.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were loan sharks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shook his head. “I don’t need money.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man didn’t get angry; instead, he smiled. “I can tell you need money.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you repay within a week, we won’t charge a single cent in interest—consider it making a friend.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you can’t repay within a week, interest and principal will compound weekly at two percent of the total amount.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He spread his hands. “If you want the money, it’ll take only a few minutes: we verify your collateral, you sign a few papers, and the cash is in your hands.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After listening, Oge still shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t need money.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No problem. If you ever need it, you can find me here anytime.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He waved goodbye and left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back in the hospital, he lay in bed, unable to sleep, turning over and over. He had lost one hundred thirty-seven dollars in one day—every last cent he had.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His wife probably still had a little—just a few dollars, maybe ten or so. That was the limit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t sleep all night. Only when dawn broke did he finally drift off in a daze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During the day, his wife came by, brought him some food, and asked if he had seen the passbook.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had little money left, and it was the beginning of the month—the time to pay bills.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oge froze. A sudden shock hit him; sweat broke out all over his body. He could feel every pore exuding moisture!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He forced a calm expression and shook his head. “I haven’t seen it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His wife sighed, comforted him a little, then left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She would go home to search again—but she didn’t know the passbook was right under Oge’s pillow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At noon, the administrative doctor returned. “Oge, we’ve given you plenty of time. If you still can’t pay by the day after tomorrow, we’ll have to sue you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, the doctor’s tone was harsh. He spoke and walked out without looking back, clearly impatient.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For patients who defaulted on medical bills, he couldn’t maintain a good attitude.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his position, unpaid bills meant professional failure—it cost him bonuses and salary. How could he possibly smile at people like this?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the doctor left, Oge silently got up and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stared at his haggard reflection in the mirror—and a voice had already formed in his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In two days, these hospital people would take his house.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So why not make one final gamble before they did?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If luck was bad, he’d lose his house anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If luck was good, he might not only keep the house—he might even make a profit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the afternoon, he had the reporter push him home. His wife wasn’t there. He took the property deed and went straight to the casino.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He found the gentleman from yesterday and handed him the deed. “How much can I borrow against this?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man’s face lit up with a sunny smile. As he examined the documents, he asked, “May I know your name, sir?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oge. Just call me Oge.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright, Oge. Do you know the market value of your house?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oge nodded. “One thousand to twelve hundred dollars.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man shook his head. “You won’t get that much. If it were really worth one thousand two hundred, try listing it at that price and see if you can sell it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I guarantee you won’t sell it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nine hundred fifty or a thousand dollars is its fair value. I’ll give you six hundred. You have six months.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you can’t pay me nine hundred fifty dollars in six months, the house becomes mine. Any problem?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2561,"2026-06-19T21:10:31.886Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","044378e773d6c3540e97c5319d4e5824dfa5782596a6e49bfdcb4665f1223cf1","the-shadow-empire-chapter-927","the-shadow-empire-chapter-925",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-shadow-empire-cover.jpg"]