With the system-enhanced potion essentially acting as a cheat, the outcome of this gambling duel had been decided from the very beginning.
After ten rounds—
Anatoly didn't win a single one.
Before the match began, the two had set terms. According to the agreement, Anatoly now owed Luke another 100 chips—a total of $10,000.
At this moment, Anatoly sat there in a daze.
His face was ashen, his eyes unfocused, as if his entire worldview had just collapsed.
The seductive blonde woman beside him had long since disappeared, clearly afraid of becoming his punching bag. Being a disposable companion was already miserable enough.
Amid waves of worship and cheers, Luke rose slowly—
Like a king who had completed his conquest.
The crowd parted automatically, forming a path for him.
Luke signaled the casino to cash out his chips.
Meanwhile—
Inside a hidden surveillance room within the casino, the entire night's events had been recorded and replayed.
Casinos with ambition often hired expert gamblers to oversee operations.
Tonight, this casino happened to have a former Las Vegas gambling champion on-site.
At that moment, the casino manager had invited him to review the footage.
Just as Luke had anticipated—
The bizarre nature of tonight's game had already triggered the casino's alarm.
"Mr. Paul… take a look. Is this guy cheating?"
The manager wiped sweat from his temple, clearly stressed.
Reports had just come in—
That "dwarf" had walked away with $200,000 tonight.
That wasn't a small number.
It was equivalent to one or two years of income for an average American household.
Of course, for a casino, it wasn't devastating—
Normally, they'd just write it off.
But tonight?
Everything about it reeked of foul play.
The manager needed answers.
Paul, a meticulous middle-aged man, earned a high salary here. He had also heard whispers about the mysterious boss behind the casino.
Now—
It was time for him to prove his worth.
However, after replaying the footage multiple times—
He shook his head.
"Cheating in Sic Bo? That's extremely difficult…"
After watching a bit longer, he added hesitantly:
"Unless this man is truly a gambling god… I don't think he's cheating."
In other words—
He believed the game was legitimate.
"Legitimate my ass!"
The manager almost cursed out loud.
This is normal?!
Was he blind?!
"That dwarf—he's clearly not normal!" the manager snapped internally, veins bulging on his forehead.
"You're telling me he's been winning all night… purely on luck?"
Paul's expression twitched.
Even he found it hard to believe.
Could someone's luck really be that absurd?
But—
There was no evidence.
Luke's hands never left the camera frame.
Unless…
He had reached a level where he could cheat with his feet.
The more experienced Paul was—
The more confused he became.
After a long silence, the manager sighed and stepped aside to make a call.
When the line connected, his tone turned extremely respectful.
"Mr. Wesley… you've already been informed, correct?"
There was a brief pause.
Then a calm, low voice answered:
"No one steals money from Kingpin."
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
The manager wiped cold sweat from his face and hung up.
He glanced at a nearby bodyguard.
The man immediately understood—and left without a word.
Holding the bank card in his hand, Luke felt its weight.
The casino had issued it to him directly.
No paperwork. No identity required.
Black-market operations were second nature to them.
Inside the account—
$210,000.
Luke had never held that much money in his life.
"How many loot boxes is this…" he murmured, deeply satisfied.
"Hey, hey… we're just leaving like this?"
Perched on his shoulder, Rost sounded disappointed.
"Why don't we blow this place up?"
"Relax."
Luke smiled faintly.
After leaving the casino alone, Luke walked straight into a dim alleyway.
He deliberately lingered there for a few minutes.
Soon enough—
The alley was sealed from both ends.
"Took you long enough," Luke muttered with a cold smile, standing still.
"Kill them! Kill them all!" Rost shouted excitedly.
From both ends of the alley, two muscular men each approached—four in total—attempting to trap Luke.
In the faint light, Luke recognized two of them.
They had been inside the casino earlier.
Casino enforcers… or Russian mob, Luke guessed.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
He feigned panic, stepping back.
One of them grinned coldly.
"Anatoly sends his regards."
Without another word—
All four men drew knives and lunged at him.
"Nen Energy Shield!"
Luke wasn't about to tank blades with his body.
He wasn't there yet.
A brilliant orange barrier instantly expanded—
Forming a 360-degree energy shield around him.
About one meter in radius, semi-transparent—
Glowing.
The attackers' faces were illuminated in orange light.
Two of them slammed straight into it and were thrown back.
They stabbed wildly—
But their blades couldn't penetrate even a fraction.
Instead—
The knives were knocked out of their hands.
"What the hell is this?!"
They were completely stunned.
Luke wasn't.
He trusted the shield completely.
Property 1: It would not break until its energy was depleted.Property 2: It would absorb at least one attack completely.
Luke stepped forward.
Leaped—
Short-range punch!
Crack!
One man's ribs shattered instantly.
He flew back at least three meters.
The other three froze in shock.
Luke showed no mercy.
In a place like this—
Mercy meant death.
Within seconds—
Grunts, bone cracks, and bodies hitting the ground echoed through the alley.
Luke remained inside the shield—
Striking again and again.
Each hit—
Dropped another man.
They tried to fight back—
But couldn't even touch him.
In moments—
All four collapsed, unconscious.
Luke turned to leave—
But footsteps echoed from outside.
He paused.
Didn't dismiss the shield.
Five figures appeared at the alley entrance.
Guns.
They opened fire instantly.
Gunshots tore through the night like firecrackers.
No warning.
No negotiation.
Just execution.
"Kingpin's men… probably."
Bullets slammed into the energy shield—
Creating rippling distortions like water.
Every shot was blocked.
But the shield dimmed slightly.
The gunmen froze.
He was unharmed.
"It's that thing!"
"Keep firing!"
More gunfire erupted.
These men were far more ruthless than the Russians.
Their objective was simple:
Kill him.
Luke had clearly angered the wrong people.
The shield flickered—
Growing weaker.
He couldn't just stand there.
Time to strike back.
With a flick of his hand—
A small glowing vial appeared.
An electrified grenade.
He threw it.
Then immediately raised another shield.
The vial rolled to their feet.
They hesitated—
Boom!!!
A violent explosion shook the alley walls.
Screams followed.
Gunfire stopped instantly.
Through the shield, Luke saw—
Blue-white electricity crackling across their bodies.
Two survivors convulsed violently—
Then went still.
"So… that's the shock effect…"
Then—
He saw the bodies.
Mangled flesh.
Scattered limbs.
His stomach churned.
He turned away—
And vomited.
Who the hell said killing doesn't make you throw up?!
"Beautiful! Kill them all!" Rost cheered.
Then, noticing Luke's reaction, mocked him:
"Pathetic. Can't handle a little blood? It's just limbs and organs—you'll get used to it."
Luke vomited again.
Wiping his mouth, he snapped:
"Before this, I was just a normal person! I've never seen anything like this in real life!"
"I was a shut-in, okay?!"
"Whatever," Rost shrugged.
Then added in a faux-philosophical tone:
"People are shaped by pressure… you adapt or you die."
Luke fell silent.
"…You know what?"
"That actually makes sense."