Watching Jacob directly pick up his winning chip and prepare to leave, the short man felt a slight surge of urgency in his heart. However, the more anxious he became, the less he could afford to show it on his face.
"If you want to leave, of course you can. But don't you want to win a little more?" The short man tried his best to keep his tone calm as he addressed Jacob.
"No... no, thank you."
Jacob continued to maintain his timid appearance, then genuinely picked up the winning chip and stood up, showing no signs of reluctance or hesitation about leaving.
Seeing that Jacob was truly going to walk away, the short man felt utterly helpless and could only pretend to be nonchalant. "Congratulations on making a small profit. You see how easy that was? A million just like that. Outside in the real world, it might take you several years, or even decades, to earn that much money."
"Thank you... I... I'm not gambling anymore."
After Jacob finished speaking, he turned and left the gambling table without looking back.
Watching this unfold, the short man's heart filled with anger, but he couldn't show even a trace of it on his face. He had done everything within his power—if he still couldn't lure Jacob in, there was simply nothing more he could do.
Very few people could resist such temptation, though it wasn't entirely impossible.
If all gamblers were like Jacob, able to withdraw after winning a small sum, they would never fall into the traps so carefully woven by casinos.
But how many people could truly resist the allure of instant wealth?
Human greed was always endless. Even if someone could temporarily resist temptation for a while, as time passed, desire and greed would inevitably corrupt their willpower.
Watching Jacob leave, the short man's eyes flickered with frustration. Losing a chip for nothing made him feel somewhat irritated, but he quickly composed himself and went to search for his next target.
The scene that had just unfolded between Jacob and the short man wasn't particularly conspicuous in the large gambling hall. Rather, similar scenarios were happening every single moment.
In just half an hour, more than dozens of participants had already lost all their chips and Gimmighoul coins, leaving the gambling hall with defeated, dejected expressions.
"No... don't! I'll gamble one more time!" A desperate roar from within the gambling hall instantly attracted everyone's attention.
The speaker was a man wearing a red monkey mask. Unlike the other people in the gambling hall who were dressed in elaborate, expensive attire, he wore a thin, poor-quality T-shirt, and his jeans were severely faded from repeated washing.
"You have no more chips," stated the person standing opposite him—a white-haired old man. Although a mask covered his face, it wasn't difficult to deduce that he was likely quite elderly, and his voice carried the hoarse, raspy quality characteristic of advanced age.
The old man wore a ghost mask, walked with a noticeable limp, and leaned heavily on a tiger-head cane as he regarded the young man opposite him.
"Please, give me one more chance! I'll bet everything I have with you!" The young man with the red monkey mask suddenly collapsed to the ground, kowtowing desperately to the old man before him.
Blood continuously seeped from his forehead with each impact.
"What stakes do you have left that you could possibly offer?" The ghost-faced old man's mask seemed to reveal a cruel smile as he looked down at the kowtowing young man and asked.
"Anything! You can have my life—I can give you anything, even my Pokémon!" The young man, driven to absolute desperation, kept kowtowing frantically, pleading with the ghost-faced old man.
"Your Pokémon?" The ghost-faced man let out a scornful, mocking laugh. "Someone like you probably doesn't even have a Lord-level Pokémon. How much could that possibly be worth? And how much is your life worth, exactly?"
"Even if we counted your corneas, kidneys, heart, and all other transplantable organs combined, it would barely be worth one chip at most. Do you still want to gamble?" The ghost-faced old man smiled coldly as he looked at the young man on the ground.
"You need to think very carefully. If you lose to me, your life will become mine."
The old man's chilling words attracted everyone's attention, but not a single person spoke up to stop him. Instead, they stood silently to the side, and many even picked up their champagne glasses, watching the unfolding scene with interested, entertained expressions.
Gamblers were not worthy of sympathy.
The old man's words made the red monkey-masked man kneeling on the ground fall completely silent. Sweat continuously seeped from his forehead, streaming down his face. At this moment, he had been driven into an absolute corner. Rather than returning empty-handed in complete failure, he would rather die gambling in one final attempt.
The red-faced monkey-masked man steeled his heart and resolve. He raised his head, looked up at the ghost-faced old man towering above him, and declared, "I... I'll bet with you."
"Excellent." The old man nodded, seemingly completely unsurprised by this outcome. He then gestured for the casino staff to prepare a contract, which he handed to the red-faced monkey-masked man in front of him. "Sign it and put your handprint here, and I'll gamble one more round with you."
Looking at the contract and pen now handed to him, the red-faced monkey-masked man sat motionless on the ground, his expression somewhat dazed and distant. But then he gritted his teeth with fierce determination, directly signed his name with a trembling hand, and pressed his bloody handprint onto the document.
Jacob, standing off to the side observing, frowned slightly. He hadn't expected the gambling hall to even provide such contracts for these situations. Looking at the staff's practiced, routine demeanor, it seemed this wasn't anywhere close to the first time such an event had occurred here.
"What are we gambling on?" the red-faced monkey asked.
"Let's play rock-paper-scissors."
"Rock-paper-scissors?" The ghost-faced old man seemed slightly surprised—this was something he apparently hadn't expected. "That's quite an unusual choice, but it's fine with me."
As the two spoke, they walked together toward the free zone, found an available rock-paper-scissors table, and sat down across from each other. The dealer then handed each of them three cards.
"Rock" "Paper" "Scissors"
On the gambling table in front of them was a small card slot, precisely large enough to hold one of the cards.
When the game began, each player could place one of their cards into the slot, then press the confirm button. After confirmation, no further changes could be made to their choice.
The final result would be determined by the universal rules: Rock beats Scissors, Scissors beats Paper, Paper beats Rock.
This was the simplest game imaginable, one that everyone knew from childhood. However, the exorbitant stakes involved made everyone watching feel an unprecedented thrill of excitement.
The red-faced monkey-masked man's expression was extremely tense at this critical moment. He had gambled everything he possessed and had absolutely no room for retreat. He had to win.
The three cards in his trembling hand determined his entire fate.
One choice meant heaven; another meant hell.
The red-faced monkey-masked man continuously took deep breaths, trying desperately to relieve his overwhelming anxiety. Then he closed his eyes tightly and quickly shuffled the three cards in his hands repeatedly.
After shuffling multiple times in rapid succession, the red-faced monkey-masked man suddenly snapped his eyes open, pulled out one card from among the three, and without even glancing at what it was, directly placed it into the card slot with finality.
In this life-or-death gamble, he had chosen to entrust his fate entirely to unknown luck, using a completely random method to select one of the cards.
"Paper."
Although the red-faced monkey-masked man hadn't looked at what card he'd chosen, Jacob, standing off to the side, could see it clearly through his Psychic ability.
The red-faced monkey-masked man had selected Paper.
The corners of the ghost-faced man's mouth beneath his mask subtly curled upward into a knowing smile. Unlike the red-faced monkey-masked man's random card selection, he carefully examined the three cards in his hand with deliberate attention, then drew out Scissors from among them and slowly, confidently placed it into his slot.
Coincidence? Or did he somehow actually know which card the red-faced monkey-masked man had hidden?
Watching this scene unfold, Jacob felt a flash of surprise and frowned slightly with suspicion.
He observed the ghost-faced old man's supremely confident demeanor and body language, and couldn't shake the feeling that this didn't seem like mere coincidence at all.