Chapter 127: Casino Incident
The sports car hummed down Beitian's bustling streets, the engine purring like a caged beast. Wu Yifan stared out the window, his mind drifting to the strange shifts in his body lately—faster reflexes, a strength he'd never felt before. He cleared his throat, addressing the voice in his head.
"Xue'er," he said quietly, "be honest—has my body really changed that much?"
The AI's reply was crisp, as always. "Yes, Master. The enhancer's effects accumulate. Each use tweaks your physiology—subtly, but over time, the changes become significant."
Wu Yifan frowned, tapping his thigh. "Is it the agility? The strength? I feel… different. Like I could outrun a car, or punch through a wall. What if it's too much? What if I turn into something… inhuman?"
Xue'er's tone softened, almost reassuring. "The enhancer adapts to your biology, Master. It amplifies what's already there, not warps it. Agility boosts speed and reflexes; strength enhances muscle density. No mutations. No… *monsters*."
He exhaled, relieved. Still, he flexed his hand, feeling the coiled power beneath his skin. It was thrilling—and a little terrifying. "No side effects? Nothing permanent?"
"None detected. Your vitals are stable. Libido, stamina, even cell regeneration—all optimal."
Wu Yifan laughed, shaking his head. "Good. I'd hate to explain *that* to Ye Xiwen."
Song Mingjie, who'd been humming along to the radio, glanced over. "Talking to yourself, Brother Wu? You've been weird since this morning."
"Just thinking," Wu Yifan said, grinning. "About how we're gonna make that five million."
Song's eyes lit up. "Right! Let's see what this Japanese bastard's got. If he's as good as they say, taking his money'll be like stealing candy from a baby."
They pulled up to a sleek building emblazoned with neon: *Dreamland Nightclub*. It was flashier than Infinite—gold-plated doors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and two hostesses stationed outside, their short skirts and low-cut blouses leaving little to the imagination. They perked up as Song's car screeched to a halt.
"Brother Song!" one purred, stepping forward to open his door. Her red lips curved into a smile, and she let her hand brush his arm. "You're finally here. We missed you."
"Missed me, huh?" Song laughed, slinging an arm around her waist. "Or missed my wallet?"
The other hostess giggled, pressing herself against his other side. "We missed *you*, Brother Song. Last night was… unforgettable."
Wu Yifan rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile. Song's charm was crass, but it worked. He followed them inside, noting the marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and the faint thump of bass from somewhere below. This wasn't just a nightclub—it was a kingdom, and Song was its gluttonous king.
The underground casino was a world apart. No neon, no music—just the clink of chips, the murmur of bets, and a tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Smoke hung in the air, and a dozen or so men lingered around a felt-covered table, their faces grim. At the center sat Mei Kan Kuzi.
He was small, even for a Japanese man, with a neat goatee and eyes sharp as shards of glass. He wore a tailored black suit, his sleeves rolled up to reveal a gold watch that glinted under the harsh lights. In front of him, stacks of yuan bills rose like a miniature mountain—easily eight million, by Wu Yifan's estimate.
"Pathetic," Mei was saying, his Chinese fluent but accented. "Beitian's so-called 'best' gamblers? I've played better in back alleys in Tokyo."
A middle-aged man—Song's manager, by the looks of him—forced a smile. "Mr. Mei, our young master's on his way. He'll—"
"Your 'young master'?" Mei scoffed. "Another amateur? Save your breath. I'm leaving. There's no challenge here."
"Leaving?" A voice boomed from the entrance. Song strode in, flanked by the two hostesses, his belly jiggling with each step. "Before you've even met the *real* boss? That's rude, even for a Jap."
Mei's eyes narrowed. "And you are?"
"Your worst nightmare," Song said, grinning. He slung himself into a chair, kicking his feet up on the table. "Heard you've been cleaning house. Three million? Impressive. For a beginner."
The room went quiet. Even the dealers froze. Mei's lips curled into a冷笑. "Beginner? I've won more in a week than your club makes in a month."
"Bragging's easy," Song shot back. "Anyone can get lucky. Let's see if you're *good*."
Mei leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "You want to play? Name the game. Baccarat? Dice? Poker? I'll crush you."
"Crush me?" Song laughed, loud and harsh. "First, I need snacks. All this talk's making me hungry. Xiao Qi—get me a roast duck. Xiao Wu—find some girls to rub my shoulders. Xiao Liu—put on some music. This place feels like a funeral."
The manager paled. "Brother Song, maybe we should—"
"Shut up," Song said, waving a hand. "I'm the boss here. This Jap wants a show? We'll give him one. But first… I need to get comfortable."
Wu Yifan watched, amused. Song was stalling, sure—but he was also riling Mei up, picking at his pride. The Japanese man's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he watched Song order his men around, as if the casino was nothing but a playground.
"This is absurd," Mei snapped. "Either play, or admit you're scared."
"Scared?" Song feigned shock. "Of *you*? Please. I've slept with scarier women. But fine—let's make it interesting. Winner takes all. Your eight million… against mine. Say… ten million?"
Mei's eyes flickered. Ten million was a bold bet—more than most casinos saw in a month. But pride won out. "Deal. Baccarat. Best of three."
Song grinned, clapping his hands. "Now *that's* a party. Wu—you in? Watch me school this guy."
Wu Yifan shook his head, but his eyes were sharp as he studied Mei. The man's posture, his steady breathing, the way he didn't blink—he was good. Focused. But everyone had tells. And with the enhancer, Wu Yifan would spot them.
"Nah," he said, leaning against the wall. "I'll just watch. For now."
Mei sneered, sliding a stack of chips forward. "Let's begin. And when I win? I'll tell everyone in Beitian—your best is nothing."
Song's smile vanished. He nodded to the dealer, his voice low. "Deal the cards."
The tension in the room spiked. The dealer's hands trembled as he shuffled, the cards clicking like tiny bones. Outside, the nightclub's music thumped on, unaware of the war being waged underground.
Wu Yifan crossed his arms, a faint smile playing on his lips. Five million. This was going to be easier than he thought.