Fresh off his victorious beat down of Geng Bai, Han Yu sat on the sidelines sipping water like a calm martial arts monk—if that monk were internally scheming harder than a squirrel in a nut vault.
That's when he overheard it.
"...Fifteen to one odds on Han Yu?"
"Make it twelve! No way he wins again."
"Nah, I'm telling you, he's got some freaky strength boost. Dude flipped Geng Bai like a dumpling!"
Han Yu's eyes sharpened. He turned slowly. His enhanced senses had allowed him to pick up on the distant whispers rather easily. Much to the ignorance of all the others who didn't realize their luck was about to flip.
'They're… betting on me?'
Of course they were. Where there was pain and poor servants, there were always gambling rings.
He spotted the ringleader almost instantly— None other than Fatty Kui, the plump, jiggly heart of most underground nonsense in the servant quarters. Kui was halfway into a sack of dried spirit prunes while holding a greasy chalkboard of odds.
