“That’s easy to talk about.”
Di Hou, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, looked indifferent. “You can start with some pinball or slot machines. Once more guests arrive, you can set up tables for gambling—mahjong, pai gow, dice, whatever you like. This place only provides the tools; we don’t interfere with how you play.”
“What the hell…” Xiao Cheng was taken aback. “So your setup is for ‘participants’ to gamble against each other?”
“Or you can gamble with me,” Di Hou replied coldly. “But I play big, and I doubt you can handle it.”
“You…”
Xiao Cheng knew full well that Di Hou had run this place for years and was undoubtedly a seasoned gambler. Going head-to-head with him rashly could lead to a crushing defeat.
“Sister Tiantian…” Xiao Cheng turned to her. “We might need to discuss this…”
“Both of us have ‘Echoes’,” Tiantian said. “Rather than risk dying at any moment in the coming days, it’s better to make our deaths meaningful now.”
Zheng Yingxiong nodded in agreement. “And we might not die.”
After a moment’s thought, Xiao Cheng stopped hesitating. He counted out six “Tao” and handed them to Di Hou.
Di Hou took them without ceremony. “You’re lucky. The standard price is four, but since you’re new faces, I’ll give you a discount—two each.”
“Stop lying,” Xiao Cheng retorted, frowning. “The sign on your wall clearly says the entry fee is two.”
“Oh? Right.” Di Hou nodded. “No choice, folks. A casino owner who doesn’t lie won’t last long.”
The three of them stopped arguing with Di Hou and turned to enter the casino.
Inside, there were indeed solo gaming machines. If luck was on their side, they might earn a few extra “Tao” before other participants arrived.
Xiao Cheng rummaged through his pouch and pulled out three “Tao,” handing them to Tiantian.
Puzzled, Tiantian accepted them, only to see Xiao Cheng do the same for Zheng Yingxiong.
“Three each. Let’s split up,” Xiao Cheng said. “Those solo games are all luck-based. It’s unfair to rely on just me. If we play separately, our chances of winning more ‘Tao’ are higher.”
“But will that work?” Tiantian asked worriedly. “I don’t understand any of this…”
“I’m not much better,” Xiao Cheng admitted with a shake of his head. “We’ll just have to trust our luck.”
Zheng Yingxiong looked down at the three “Tao” in his hand, his expression a mix of surprise and gratitude.
“But I can’t…” his youthful voice wavered. “These things…”
“We’re a team, kid,” Xiao Cheng said, patting his head. “This is an ‘Earth-level Game.’ You can participate too.”
Zheng Yingxiong looked up solemnly. “Really? I can?”
“Why do you always ask ‘can I’?” Xiao Cheng frowned. “Didn’t we agree on this when we brought you along?”
“But… I’ve never played a game before…” Zheng Yingxiong murmured. “I was already happy just being able to join you these past two days.”
“Never… played a game?”
Xiao Cheng and Tiantian exchanged glances, baffled.
His memories seemed to stretch far back, yet he’d never participated in a game?
“Don’t worry,” Xiao Cheng said after a pause. “Whether you’ve played or not, we’re in this together now. You can do whatever you want.”
Zheng Yingxiong clenched the three “Tao” tightly and nodded with determination.
After scouting the nearby machines, the trio split up.
Xiao Cheng soon came across a “coin pusher.”
Though called a “coin pusher,” it was more accurately a “Tao pusher.”
The machine was packed with round “Tao,” teetering precariously near the edge, ready to spill out—tantalizingly close.
At the top was an entry slot, perfect for inserting “Tao.”
Xiao Cheng had played coin pushers in arcades before. These machines weren’t about luck so much as they were about deep pockets.
With just a few coins, you’d walk away empty-handed. But with hundreds, the machine could turn a profit.
After some thought, Xiao Cheng moved on.
Though the “Tao” looked ready to fall, they could also stack. Without perfect timing, he could lose everything in seconds. Better to pass.
A few steps later, he spotted a long table.
At the far end were six holes arranged in a triangle: one at the top, two in the middle, and three at the bottom.
The top hole was tiny, barely the size of a “Tao,” labeled “8x General.”
The middle row had two slightly larger holes: “3x Left and Right Vanguards.”
The bottom row’s holes were the biggest: “2x Foot Soldiers.”
On Xiao Cheng’s side of the table was a spring-loaded launcher labeled “Charge.”
The distance between the launcher and the holes was over three meters—plenty of room for error.
The game seemed to treat “Tao” as soldiers charging into battle. Landing in the “General” hole meant slaying the enemy leader, rewarding eight times the bet—one “Tao” becoming eight.
The game wasn’t purely luck-based; it required some skill.
But the “General” was well-guarded, surrounded by “Foot Soldiers” and “Vanguards.”
The holes were sizable, making the eightfold reward a tough win.
On either side of the table were troughs filled with lost “Tao”—fallen soldiers left where they’d failed.
After some consideration, Xiao Cheng decided this game would test the overall difficulty of “Di Hou’s Games.”
Hesitating too much would leave him without enough “Tao” to gamble when others arrived.
He placed one “Tao” into the launcher, took a deep breath, and pressed the trigger.
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