The Red Face who studied the losses they face because of Fatty Ben, directly smashed the table in anger.
He thought for a long time before coming to a conclusion.
"Gentlemen," Red Face began, his voice low, "the fourth round will decide everything. We've already lost millions in wagers against Kent, but if he wins… even by chance… we'll be gutted like fish."
A lean man in a black robe, head of the Silver Fang Betting Hall, tapped his fingers against the jade table. "The boy's luck carried him through the treasure round. But this is Ling Long we're talking about. She's a Long family prodigy. It's already over."
"Not enough," Red Face cut him off. "I don't want 'likely.' I want guaranteed. The odds they set were too high—if Kent somehow loses, we will get everything. No risks.
For that we will ensure the match ends in less than ten breaths."
The room went silent. Everyone understood the unspoken plan.
