Yashu was still holding her breath, observing my every micro-expression. Her eyes flickered incessantly; her genius brain seemed to be running at full capacity to decode the frantic glances I was sending her.
( Is Tianxia... asking me to stand behind him? )
Yashu's gaze swept toward the ceiling, meeting the colossal eye that stared down gloatingly. For a brief moment, her pupils constricted. She understood. Without a single wasted movement, Yashu moved silently, her footsteps light yet precise. She stopped right behind my chair, her petite silhouette becoming a perfect screen, completely severing the "informant's" line of sight from above to the cards in my hand.
The casino owner remained oblivious that the script had been flipped. He leaned back in his chair, a triumphant smirk spreading across his flabby face. His stubby fingers beckoned the dealer with sheer arrogance:
-"Kid, this is the final round. After this, your life won't even belong to you anymore."
His smile was distorted and grotesque, like a piece of rubber stretched past its limit, revealing yellowed teeth and a ravenous glint. I felt a cold current surge down my spine, but my hands remained motionless on the table:
-"Save the talk. Deal the cards."
The sound of shuffling echoed-dry and rhythmic, like Death's own countdown. In a silence so heavy I could hear my own heartbeat, my mind began to reel with a barrage of questions: What if my hunch is wrong? What if he actually has mind-reading abilities? Or worse, what if he has other trump cards I haven't accounted for? Even if I've cut off his communication, will luck side with someone who has lost almost all their senses like me?
"Clack."
The sound of the final card hitting the wooden table was sharp, snapping the chaotic thread of my thoughts. The dealer stepped back, leaving both sides to face their destiny. Two cards lay still before each player, carrying the weight of life and death.
Slowly, I lifted my two cards, peeling back a corner just enough to see: A King and a Jack.
Two face cards. A total of 20. A near-perfect score-a promising signal in the midst of this life-or-death gamble.
However, my heart refused to relax. I narrowed my eyes, focusing all my attention on the owner across from me. Sure enough, Yashu's presence behind me had created an unexpected effect. The man no longer possessed his previous composure. His eyes began to dart frantically—first toward Yashu's obstructing figure, then up at the ceiling, searching for the giant "eye" that was now blocked.
He was panicking. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and his fat fingers tapped restlessly against the table. He kept looking down at his hand and then back up, as if waiting for a signal that had been unceremoniously cut off.
After a fierce internal struggle, he grounded his teeth and took a desperate gamble, his trembling hand drawing an extra card from the deck. The moment the card touched his hand, the atmosphere seemed to freeze. He stared at the card he had just pulled in stunned silence, then suddenly let out a furious roar, violently flipping his entire hand onto the table.
"Bust." His total score had exceeded 21.
I froze for a heartbeat, staring at the cards scattered on the table. The owner pressed his palm against his forehead, rubbing hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to hide the shock of his secret "help" suddenly vanishing.
The referee stood by, observing coldly, before reaching out to adjust the scoreboard: 1 - 3. The gap had narrowed. The thousand-pound weight in my chest seemed to have a corner chipped away, leaving a small space for hope to creep in. Yet, I knew this journey was far from over. The tunnel ahead was still dark, and I had to hold my ground for at least two more rounds to truly escape the clutches of this madman.
After that first victory, the momentum completely shifted. Each "click, clack" of the cards falling onto the wood now sounded like a hammer striking the owner's nerves. I won two more consecutive rounds to the utter astonishment of everyone present. The powerful man who had been so arrogant moments ago now looked like a cornered beast, his sanity crumbling into pieces.
The final decisive hand was revealed: An 8 and a Jack. A total of 18 - just enough to finish him off once more.
At this point, the casino owner had truly gone insane. He clawed at his head manically, strands of hair falling away, his eyes rolling back until only the dull, crazed whites were visible. The moment victory was sealed, I felt a wave of cold, black miasma rush toward me from his direction. But unlike the previous pain, this energy enveloped me gently, soaking into my skin like drifting silk threads.
The paralysis vanished. My hearing, taste, and especially my sense of touch suddenly reconnected-powerful and vivid, like an electric current running down my spine. I had regained myself.
But the joy was short-lived. Before my eyes, the owner began to exhibit horrific symptoms. His body shriveled, then suddenly twisted in an inhuman fashion, as if his entire internal skeleton had turned to liquid. Sharp, dry cracks rang out repeatedly. His head snapped backward at an impossible angle, so violent that the skin on his neck tore open, exposing bleached-white vertebrae piercing through raw, red flesh.
The hall, once noisy with the chatter of nobles, fell into a deathly silence. No more whispers, no more clinking glasses. The air grew thick, cold, and reeking of death. All those wealthy socialites were now nothing more than stone statues, staring wide-eyed at the malformed creature taking shape in the center of the casino.
Standing behind me, Yashu heard the sickening "cracking" sounds and turned around in horror. A gruesome sight met her eyes, causing her pupils to shrink: the being before us was no longer human.
The owner's mouth had torn open all the way to his ears, revealing quivering raw flesh. From his stark white eyes, thick, dark blood-dark like tree resin-slowly leaked out, trailing down his deformed face. His limbs twisted at unthinkable angles, joints snapping upward toward his head, his legs folding into segments like a broken puppet assembled incorrectly. He stood there, a terrifying, mutated entity, pinning a dull yet murderous gaze upon the two of us.
I didn't dare breathe heavily, my heart hammering as if it wanted to leap out of my chest. Instinctively, I bolted up from my chair and began to back away with the utmost caution, trying not to make a sound that might provoke the "object" in front of me. Yashu coordinated perfectly; she lifted her feet softly, her trembling hand slowly reaching for the handle of the hall's grand doors, hoping to burst open the only exit from this hell.
"CRACK!"
A dry sound of snapping bone tore through the silence.
The man's twisted legs suddenly moved—two segments, three segments... he forced himself up from the floor. In the next second, green veins bulged across his body like worms crawling under his skin, and fresh blood sprayed from the tears in his flesh. With inhuman speed, he lunged toward us. A hoarse, frenzied scream erupted, echoing throughout the hall:
-"I... MUST... WIN! CANNOT LOSE! I MUST WINNNNNNN!"