Chapter 8: The Chicanery Sect's Blue Path: Wrecking the Gambling House

"I definitely won't lend you money, but I can help you win it back!" Dylan Weedy slowly rose to his feet. Turning to Shaun Sinjen beside him, he declared, "The Jade Leaf Game is back! I'm heading to the Gambling House to clean up!" Quentin Luet wiped the sweat from his brow. "Dylan, quit fooling around. Just lend me the money. Everyone in the world knows that Young Master Weedy loses nine out of ten bets. When have you ever won?" "Quit talking crap. Lead the way!" Clearwater Court had an elegant name, but it was actually a brothel. It barely ranked among the capital's top ten, yet it remained the favorite destination of every young nobleman in the city. That was because Clearwater Court housed the finest and best-equipped Gambling House in the entire capital. When Dylan Weedy and Quentin Luet arrived, a woman in her late twenties, still carrying plenty of mature allure, blocked their path. In that feudal society, where commoners married at thirteen or fourteen and nobles had to be betrothed by seventeen or eighteen, a woman who had not yet turned thirty was already considered a mature lady. "Both Young Masters, Vanessa and Skye have been dying to experience your manly prowess!" the woman purred. Quentin waved her off. "We don't have time for that. Dylan and I are going to clean up on the third floor. Once we win some money, we'll have Aurora arrange some girls for us." The first floor of Clearwater Court was a restaurant where guests drank wine with courtesans and listened to music. The second floor provided rooms where guests could spend the night with the girls. The third floor was the Gambling House. The woman managed the first two floors. To put it plainly, she was the Old Madam, Aurora Duffus, known by the name Aurora. Dylan and Quentin brought their entourage to the most luxurious private room on the third floor, Heavenly Suite No. 1. The moment they entered, they saw several young noblemen seated in the resplendent room. The man at the head was Troy Warburton, the son of the Warburton family, the Marquis of Brocade. Beside him sat this year's Top Scholar, Quinn Cadden, who had married into the Warburton family. Quinn was a man, yet he had covered his face in rouge and powder. With his fussy, feminine manner, he was the perfect example of a pretty boy. If he had lived in Dylan's previous life in the Shenthyr Empire, all he would have needed was a pair of suspenders and a basketball. After shooting a few hoops, he could probably have debuted as an idol. As Dylan took his seat, a wave of clarity washed over him. "I never noticed before. This room has a trick to it." The corners of Dylan's lips curved into a faint smile. The room had an unusually high oxygen content, and someone had lit incense meant to refresh the mind and sharpen the senses. Gamblers could easily get carried away in such an environment. They stayed alert without feeling tired, making all-night gambling sessions the norm. As for extracting pure oxygen, ancient practitioners of Elixir Refining had already known how to do it. The Calm Dragon Recognition recorded that gases containing True Energy could remain still at ground level or rise to the clouds. Using metal, sulfur, charcoal, and other materials, one could separate gases into yin and yang. The yin gas, or Lunar Energy, was oxygen. The true owner behind Clearwater Court was the Warburton family. The Warburtons belonged to the Eight Marquises and Four Dukes as the Marquis of Brocade. Although they ranked a level below the Weedy and Luet families, they had a large clan, and many of their members held important positions at court. Troy Warburton was one example. His father was the Deputy Director of the Bureau of Astronomy. The Bureau of Astronomy observed the heavens, calculated the calendar, and dabbled in Elixir Refining. It was hardly surprising that they knew how to extract oxygen. "Dylan! It's been days since we last met. You look well!" Troy greeted him. "Don't bother with the fake pleasantries!" Dylan lazily propped a leg on the gambling table. Beside him, Shaun Sinjen handed him a tobacco pipe with a golden-thread nanmu stem and a jade bowl. Dylan took a puff of the top-grade Eastern Pass Superior Leaf, tobacco more expensive than gold. "I have to win back the money you took from my cousin. As his older brother, I can't just stand by." "If Dylan was determined to give me his money, then I would be rude to refuse." Troy smiled. "You can choose the game." Dylan waved his hand. "Anything is fine." "Then let's play dice. Big or small." Bob Hayde, the manager of Clearwater Court's third-floor Gambling House, entered with a dice cup and began shaking it vigorously. "Big or small! Place your bets!" Dylan's sharp hearing immediately picked out the result: five, six, six. Big. He waved casually. Shaun Sinjen placed a five-hundred-tael banknote on Big. Troy glanced at Bob Hayde, then placed another five-hundred-tael banknote on Small. Bob lifted the dice cup and shouted, "Five, six, six! Big!" Dylan flicked the five-hundred-tael banknote he had won and grinned at Quentin. "See that? Beating this Little Bastard is child's play. Troy Warburton is a boat, and I can row him wherever I please!" "First blood! Dylan, you're incredible!" Quentin cheered. The next round began. Dylan heard the dice come up one, two, three, Small, and immediately tossed a thousand-tael banknote onto Small. When the cup opened, however, the dice showed Big. Troy beamed. "Sorry, Dylan. I've won back everything, with interest." Dylan looked toward Bob Hayde. With his keen eyes, he clearly saw the man use a strand of hair wound around his finger to alter the dice when he lifted the cup. The motion was so subtle that most people would never have noticed. Dylan lost ten rounds in a row, five thousand taels in total. Quentin's forehead broke out in sweat. "Dylan, did you dip that hand in shit? How are you this unlucky?" Dylan reached over and patted Quentin on the head. "I did. Just a moment ago." "Stop fooling around! We've lost so much already. Let's quit. Lend me some money to settle my debt, then we'll go downstairs and find some girls." "No! I'm on tilt. I have to win it back!" Dylan pulled out a banknote worth ten thousand taels. "Small. I refuse to believe I can lose every single round!" Just as Bob Hayde was about to lift the dice cup, Dylan suddenly stopped him. "For fuck's sake, look at that ugly face of yours. I can't stand looking at you. Get someone else to open the cup." He pointed at the maid who had been serving tea. "You. Do it!" "Young Master, that isn't according to the rules…" Before Bob could finish, Dylan rose and slapped him across the face. Dylan infused the blow with Hidden Force, rupturing Bob Hayde's eardrum. "Ah!" Bob clutched his ear and shrieked like a stuck pig. Dylan clearly had no intention of letting him off. He seized two of Bob's fingers and bent them with all his strength. Crack! The sound of breaking bones rang through the room. Bob Hayde was a member of the Blue Sect. His ears and fingers were vital to his craft. With that single move, Dylan had ruined his livelihood for good. "I'm finished! My whole life is over!" Bob's eyes turned bloodshot. He frantically drew a dagger from his waist and thrust it toward Dylan's face. Bob knew that his talent for cheating was the only reason he could manage the Gambling House. Without it, the Warburtons would never have employed him. He also knew too many of the family's secrets. The Warburtons would never let him live. Either way, he was going to die. He might as well take Dylan Weedy with him. Dylan stood motionless. His expression did not change. Just as Bob reached him, Jade Jauncy, who had been standing in a corner, strode forward and seized his knife-wielding wrist. Crack! Jade had rushed in too forcefully and failed to control the strength, crushing the bones in Bob's wrist. Clang! The dagger slipped from Bob's hand. Its tip plunged into the floor. "What a sharp knife," Dylan said. "You dared to attempt to murder the Young Master. That crime warrants execution!" Dylan lunged forward and drove an upward kick into Bob Hayde's groin. His balls were crushed, and the little rooster let out a dying cry. Every man in the room shuddered and instinctively covered himself. Bob's body turned red like a boiled lobster. He hunched over, wracked by unbearable pain. The agony was so intense that he could not even scream. Dylan found the fourth and fifth vertebrae in Bob's lower back and hammered down with his elbow. The blow shattered the lowest section of Bob's spine. That area bore the greatest weight, and the broken bones damaged the cauda equina nerves. Unless a miracle occurred, even if Bob survived, he would suffer from incontinence and paralysis in both legs for the rest of his life. Dylan planted his foot on Bob's motionless body and shouted at Shaun Sinjen, "Get back to the manor and round up our men! Tear this dump apart, then haul every member of its management to the Six Doors Bureau!" "For fuck's sake, he dared to attack the Young Master with a knife! My grandfather has just rendered unparalleled service, and Clearwater Court is obviously colluding with foreign powers!" Everything happened in the blink of an eye. By the time Troy processed what had happened, Bob Hayde was already lying beneath Dylan's foot, his life hanging in the balance. "Dylan Weedy, how dare you! Clearwater Court belongs to my family!" Troy smashed his cup against the table as a signal. A group of hulking brawlers immediately charged into the room. Jade stepped forward and shielded Dylan. With that mountain standing between him and the enemy, Dylan felt an overwhelming sense of security. Dylan strode forward and seized Troy by the collar. "So it was your Warburton family that wanted to wipe out the bloodline of the Duke of Weedy's Manor? Fine. Let's go to the palace and ask the emperor, my father-in-law seated on the Nine-Dragon Throne, what he thinks we should do!" "Dylan, don't do this. We're all brothers. Let's talk it out!" Sweat dripped from Troy's brow. Attempting to murder a Young Master in public was a crime punishable by Nine-Generation Extermination. Bob Hayde was also a member of the Warburton family, and the attack had taken place on Warburton property. If the matter escalated, the Warburtons would not escape blame. They might not suffer Nine-Generation Extermination, but they would certainly pay a heavy price.