Li Yicheng had actually paid the huge sum of 1.3 billion.
As the crowd of gamblers watched Qin Fan's carefree departing figure, they broke into thunderous applause. It seemed to be for Qin Fan, but even more so for Li Yicheng's upstanding integrity.
After seeing Qin Fan off with a 1.3 billion payout, Li Yicheng didn't linger in the gambling hall. He took the seven or eight burly men in suits and returned to the office floors above.
In Li Yicheng's office, his confidant, Zhong Liang, trailed closely behind him, stepping on the expensive wool carpet. "Second Master, should we—" he asked, making a sharp, throat-slitting gesture.
"Shut up!" Li Yicheng turned his head slightly, his brows knitting together as he scolded in a low, firm voice. "I, Li Yicheng, have held sway in Macau for so many years. When have I ever resorted to something like that? Don't ever mention it again!"
