Chapter 11: Storming In to Claim My Bride, Who Could Stop Me?

Dylan Weedy laughed aloud and casually tossed down 100,000 taels in banknotes. Then he turned to Troy Warburton. "You're flat broke, and you're trying to gamble with chicken feathers?" "I... I'll stake my life!" Quentin Luet sneered. "Little Bastard, your life isn't worth as much as a dog's. What use would I have for it?" "Then... then what do you want me to stake?" Quentin slammed his hand on the table. "Your bride! You won my fiancée last night, so I'm taking back my dignity today. Stake your betrothed, the Grand Tutor's daughter!" "Fine, I'll stake her. I'll put the Grand Tutor's daughter up for 50,000 taels..." Quentin cursed disdainfully. "You must be out of your mind. Do you think the Grand Tutor's daughter has gold or diamonds down there? Is she worth 50,000 taels?" Dylan held up three fingers. "At most, 30,000 taels." "That's too little..." "Then we're not gambling." "Fine, 30,000 taels it is. I'll stake her!" "Thirty thousand still doesn't cover the 100,000 taels. How about this? Stake that pretty boy Quinn Cadden's wife, your own sister, for 20,000 taels." Troy Warburton had completely lost himself to the gambling fever. All he cared about was winning Clearwater Court back. No matter what the others asked him to stake, he agreed without hesitation. "Fine... I'll stake her!" "Stake your mother too..." Dylan quickly covered Quentin's mouth. "Can we not make this so goddamn perverted?" He turned to Troy. "Your Warburton family has a treasure. The Human-Shaped Fo-Ti Root bestowed on your family by the Late Emperor. I'll count it as 50,000 taels." "Fine, I'll stake it!" "Sign it and seal it with your thumbprint." Dylan waved his hand, and Shaun Sinjen immediately had his men draft a contract and bring it to Troy for his signature and thumbprint. Dylan then slapped the house deed and land deed for Clearwater Court onto the table. "Little Bastard, do you want to win Clearwater Court back?" "Yes! I do!" "Your Warburton family once came from a line of Gold-Touching Captains. You did plenty of digging up graves and robbing tombs in the old days." "Rumor has it that the Warburton family possesses a priceless Spirit Essence, the Spirit Coffin Fungus. Are you willing to stake it in this wager?" "The Spirit Coffin Fungus!" Those three words restored a sliver of reason to Troy, who had been completely consumed by madness. The Spirit Coffin Fungus, also known as the Human-Head Fungus, was a highly poisonous mushroom that could only be used medicinally after special processing. Its formation required extraordinarily harsh conditions. It had to grow inside a coffin made of golden‑figured phoebe wood. That timber could resist decay and insects for a thousand years. Other coffin woods rotted before the Spirit Coffin Fungus could mature, producing nothing more than dog-pee mushrooms. Of course, golden‑figured phoebe wood was only one of the requirements. The occupant of the tomb had to be male, with vigorous Solar‑Fire. Before his death, he also had to have consumed a large quantity of rare and expensive medicinal herbs. Only then could the medicinal energy condense within his body without dispersing after death. After enough time passed, a mushroom stalk would emerge from outside the coffin. It took at least a thousand years for it to mature into the Spirit Coffin Fungus. Legend claimed that medicine made from the Spirit Coffin Fungus could cure even the most severe illnesses, bring the dead back to life, and regrow flesh over bare bones. Those claims were exaggerated, of course. The fungus could not truly resurrect the dead, but it could extend a person's lifespan. Once specially processed, its medicinal properties became mild, making it perfectly suited for Benedict Weedy. "I... I can't make that decision myself..." When Dylan saw Troy hesitate, he kept waving the house deed and land deed in front of him. "Quentin, this place will belong to us from here on out. I guarantee Grandpa will praise me when I get home." Quentin laughed as well. "My dad will definitely praise me too. Clearwater Court rakes in money every day. We won't have to worry about money anymore..." The small amount of reason Troy had recovered vanished again. He began pounding the table like a madman. "Gamble! I'm in!" Dylan waved his hand. "Have him sign and seal it!" Once everything had been arranged, Troy turned over the Three of a Kind in his hand and shouted excitedly, "I won! I won!" "You won jack shit! Look at my hand!" Dylan's Three of a Kind was even higher than Troy's. The sight drained half the life from Troy's body, and he collapsed onto the floor. A moment later, Troy staggered to his feet and pointed at Smiling Tiger. "It was you! You set me up!" "Young Master Warburton, I'm only a card dealer. How could I have set you up?" After speaking, Smiling Tiger bowed respectfully to Dylan. "Boss." "Very good, very good. You know which way the wind is blowing. I like you." Dylan smiled. "Here are 3,000 taels of silver. From this day forward, you're the floor manager of the third-floor gambling house." "Oh, and pass down this order. All the staff at Clearwater Court, except for the people from the Warburton family, will keep their positions. Their pay will be doubled." "Thank you, Boss!" The burly men who had guarded Clearwater Court all bowed and thanked Dylan. "Take this penniless, empty-handed, utterly broke Young Master Warburton and throw him out. He has no money, yet he was still trying to gamble with chicken feathers!" "Yes, sir!" A group of burly men hoisted the dazed, lifeless Troy Warburton and the slick-haired, powdered pretty boy Quinn Cadden onto their shoulders and carried them straight out of Clearwater Court. Quentin sidled up to Dylan and asked ingratiatingly, "Dylan, shouldn't we split the winnings?" "Split what? I told you before you sat at the table that all your wins and losses counted as mine. What money is there to split with you?" "Dylan, come on. Everyone gets a cut. Don't be like that..." "Fine. I'll write off the gambling debt you owe Little Bastard." "That's all? Dylan, Little Quentin has been at your beck and call, doing whatever you told me, even leading your horse and holding your stirrup..." "I have a use for the money. I can't give it to you." "Bullshit. Money is useful to everyone..." "I'll give you half the shares in Clearwater Court." "That's still too little... Wait, half the shares? Are you sure?" "Of course I'm sure. But it depends on how you perform from here on out." Quentin suddenly covered his backside. "Damn, Dylan! I didn't know you were that kind of person! I treated you like a brother, and you want to screw me?" "Do you think a mere Clearwater Court could make Luet pay with his body?" "Heh, it could... But Dylan, I'm still a virgin when it comes to that. Please be gentle..." Dylan kicked Quentin squarely in his raised backside. "Don't disgust me. I meant that you should come collect a debt with me. Once we're done, I'll give you half of Clearwater Court." "Easy, easy! All our lives, you and I have had other people collect debts for us. I've never personally gone to someone else's house to collect one. This is the perfect chance to enjoy myself!" At Grand Tutor's Manor, Grand Tutor Winlow was dining with his family when a thunderous crash came from outside. Two battered gate servants hurried in, their faces swollen and bruised. "Master, Master! Dylan Weedy has fought his way in!" Grand Tutor Winlow put down his bowl and chopsticks. "Dylan Weedy? Dylan Weedy from the Duke of Weedy's household?" "Yes, yes!" "What business does that boy have with the Winlow family? What did he come here for...?" Before Grand Tutor Winlow could finish, Dylan's arrogant voice rang out. "I came to pay my respects to my father-in-law, of course! I'm also here to take my bride home. After a whole night of bang, bang, bang and huffing and puffing!" Dylan Weedy and Quentin Luet swaggered inside, one tall and heavyset, the other short and wiry. Dylan took out the contract Troy had signed. "Grand Tutor Winlow, take a look." "Your sister, Skye Warburton, was pledged as collateral..." "Oops, wrong one. This is the contract." Dylan pulled out another contract and placed it before Grand Tutor Winlow. The Grand Tutor carefully read it. His face suddenly darkened, and he slammed his hand onto the dining table. "That damn Troy Warburton actually pledged my daughter to you!" Dylan clasped his hands and bowed. "Father-in-law, please accept a bow from your fine son-in-law, Dylan Weedy." Afterward, Dylan gave an insolent, swaggering look toward a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl dressed in luxurious clothing. She was reasonably attractive, and her bearing marked her unmistakably as a noble lady. "You're Diana Winlow, right? Come on, let your husband give you a kiss." Diana had heard a little about Dylan Weedy's notorious reputation. She screamed in terror and hurried into her mother's arms. "I understand. Girls your age are shy." Dylan grinned. "But don't worry. Once I take you to Weedy Manor, I'll be gentle." As he spoke, Dylan reached out toward Diana's face. "Fair and soft. You must feel silky smooth. A little thin, though. I'm a beast in bed, the kind who can make a girl shit herself. I wonder if you can take it." "Outrageous!" Grand Tutor Winlow slapped Dylan's outstretched hand away. "Dylan Weedy, get out of here!" "Whoa, so you're throwing your weight around?" Dylan sneered. "Your daughter is my wife now. What's wrong with me touching her? It's all in black and white, signed and sealed. I have the law on my side, so who am I supposed to fear?" Dylan threw back his head and shouted, "All of you, get your asses in here!" A thousand Weedy Family Guards and a thousand Luet Family Guards stormed inside, filling the sixteen-courtyard Grand Tutor's Manor until not a gap remained. "Drag my wife back to Weedy Manor!" "Yes, sir!" Diana's tears fell like pearls as she cried out, "Father, save me! Please, save me!" Grand Tutor Winlow grabbed Dylan by the arm. "Leave immediately, or I'll go before the emperor and file an Appeal to the Emperor!" "You can file whatever you want. It won't do you any good. I have right on my side, so who should I fear?" Dylan waved the contract in front of him. "Of course, Grand Tutor Winlow, you often embezzled and accepted bribes, visited the Brothel to listen to songs, fooled around with women at the Music Bureau, and stood on the opposite side from the Weedy family at court. Even so, you're still a responsible and decent official. Your nephew Dylan genuinely respects you from the bottom of his heart." Dylan rubbed his fingers together in front of Grand Tutor Winlow's face. "But I paid good hard cash for this contract, didn't I?" "Someone bring the Young Master 1,000 taels of silver..." "Are you trying to fob me off with a beggar's handout? I paid Troy Warburton 100,000 taels for your daughter!" "Dylan, stop playing the rogue with me. If I truly enter the palace and file an Appeal to the Emperor, you'll suffer consequences you can't escape!" "Whatever. The moment you head to the capital, I'll drag your daughter back to Weedy Manor right behind you. Let's bet on whether my spear can get to work before the emperor's rescue party arrives!"