Chapter 93 : Chapter 93
Chapter : 93
I noticed that the muscular man's health bar still had a sliver of health left, and his status bar didn't show [Parasite I], but [Parasite II].
This man had shriveled up to this extent, surely he couldn't still be alive?
Just as I was thinking this, the status of [Parasite II] quietly changed.
The shriveled muscular man began to inflate again at a slow but visible speed, like one of those inflatable tube men at a supermarket clearance sale.
Quite unscientifically, it started from his limbs, gradually filling out and returning to its original appearance.
If I hadn't witnessed the process of the muscular man turning into a shriveled corpse with my own eyes, I would have suspected that the previous events were just my imagination.
[Parasite III (Incubating)]
The seed has completely occupied the hotbed, beautiful flowers have broken through the soil, and the fruit is about to ripen and fall.
Seeing the (Parasitized) tag added after the muscular man's name, I could already imagine what was filling him up.
In any case, it couldn't be his original flesh and blood, or air.
I frowned and took a few steps back, disgusted by my own speculation. Then, I felt a scorching gaze and cast a reassuring look in its direction.
Without permission, Divik remained silent, not rushing up to fight.
I was cautious, but there were still people at the scene who lost their minds due to this overly terrifying scene.
Relying on their own considerable strength, they wanted to rush onto the stage and fight the black-masked man.
It was just a pity that before this person could even get close to the stage, he was stopped by the black-robed men who swarmed out.
Only then did I realize that, unknowingly, all the black-robed men in the entire venue had been replaced by powerhouses of level 70 or 80.
The lowest was level 60, while among the contestants, excluding Divik, the highest level was a level 90 swordsman.
This level gap was indeed surmountable against these black-robed men, but the strength of the black-masked man on the stage was unknown.
Coupled with the strange vines and blue flowers, that swordsman clearly didn't want to cause extra trouble, and besides, he had a good number of chips in his hand.
No one else was willing to stick their neck out. The fat man who had started vomiting blood first was also running towards the mortgage and exchange office while spewing blood.
He could feel his life force constantly draining away, terrified that if he didn't get new chips within ten minutes, he would be directly eliminated.
He didn't want to end up in that horrifying state!
The fat man was filled with regret. He shouldn't have rashly participated in this competition just because he had some luck in gambling.
Fortunately, he still had some assets. If worst came to worst, he could mortgage his title. He remembered that Mandiper even accepted titles as collateral...
“What?!” the fat man exclaimed in disbelief. “What did you say you only accept as collateral?”
The sweet-voiced 'Man'er' behind the counter, wearing a fox mask, spoke chilling words: “Sir, we only accept the contestants themselves as collateral in exchange for chips.”
Although her voice had inflections, it still carried a strong sense of mechanicalness, as if she were a puppet controlled by strings.
“Different parts of a contestant's body can be mortgaged for different prices of chips.
Before the end of the competition, as long as you pay back the debt with double the chips, we will not take your collateral.”
The fat man was speechless: “Weren't you able to mortgage gems before?”
He took off a ruby thumb ring from his right thumb, his voice urgent: “This, this thing is a magic item.
It can resist one attack from a level 70 or below. It's priceless even at auctions.
This can surely be mortgaged for ten—no, five chips, right?!”
The fox-masked 'Man'er's voice was still pleasant and melodious, but it left the fat man with no hope. She whispered softly: “I'm sorry, this item cannot be mortgaged for competition chips.”
The fat man was in agony, his collar already stained red with his blood.
His face was somewhat contorted, “What about my title? I still have a title. Didn't you allow titles to be mortgaged before?”
“I'm sorry, sir. At the mortgage and exchange office during the competition, we only accept contestants using themselves as collateral.”
“Ahhhhhhh—” The fat man clutched his head and cried out. Bright red blood was even flowing from his eyes.
The so-called bleeding from the seven orifices was probably something like this.
I took in this scene from afar. After seeing the fat man finally compromise and choose to mortgage his left arm for 10 golden chips, I withdrew my gaze.
One arm was worth ten golden chips, so a human life was probably not worth much either.
My gaze involuntarily turned to the black-masked man on the stage.
Did this person, who was suspected to be the mastermind behind Mandiper, lure so many people into Mandiper and kill them under the guise of a competition just for that parasitic fruit?
But he could have just secretly captured those people from the Mandiper casino for parasitization. Why would he need to make a big deal out of organizing a competition?
After all, no one would care if one or two people occasionally disappeared from the casino, but this competition could only parasitize about a hundred people at once, and this included many well-known nobles and swordsmen from the outside world.
For so many people to disappear at once, and all of them disappearing within Mandiper, was Mandiper's backing so strong that they weren't afraid of being troubled by the forces behind these people?
The muscular man, who had returned to his filled-out state, was carried away by the black-robed men.
It was unknown where he was eventually taken, but the information of his elimination was indeed made public.
At some point, words appeared on the semi-transparent crystal wall behind the masked man.
One side displayed the number of eliminated people, the other side displayed the number of people who had advanced, and in the very center was a ranking, showing the individual rankings from high to low based on the current number of chips.
The name I registered with was Xavier, so naturally, the name that appeared on the list was also Xavier.
Having not participated in a single game, Xavier, who still had ten chips, was actually ranked in the lower-middle position.
Below him were many names of people who had already lost until they only had two or three chips left.
I scanned the list but didn't see Divik's name. I knew that Divik had also entered under a false name.
That made sense. Isabelle had sent Divik in to investigate the mastermind behind Mandiper, so it was impossible for him to use his real name.
With Divik's absurd luck from the past, he probably didn't have many chips left by now.
I carefully browsed through the names below Xavier's, but for the time being, I couldn't find a fake name that seemed to belong to Divik.
Forget it, I'll ignore Divik for now. With his strength, even if he encountered trouble, he could quickly get away.
It would be the same if he just stopped playing after losing too much. Anyway, strength overcomes all tricks.
Divik couldn't possibly be stupid enough to mortgage his own body for chips, right?
I refocused my attention on the gambling table. At this point, the contestants at the table had already been replaced several rounds.
With a clear example of someone being eliminated right before their eyes, the contestants were also more cautious when placing bets, and would leave this table after losing a few hands.
I successfully squeezed into a spot. I had already memorized the sounds of all the dice.
For the first three hands, I was more cautious, only betting half my stake on big or small, not even participating in odd or even.
Although I won three hands in a row, I only gained a few more chips.
From the fourth hand onwards, after verifying that my operation was flawless, I started to let myself go. I only kept one chip as a safety net, so that I wouldn't have to mortgage my body parts for chips after losing everything. I went all-in with the remaining chips, not only betting on big, small, odd, and even, but also on the point values in the later stages.
I consciously controlled my number of wins and losses. With both wins and losses, I didn't attract too much attention.
The other contestants participating in the dice game only thought of me as someone who was extremely daring with his bets and had pretty good luck.
Just like that, my chips slowly increased, and unknowingly, they also stacked up into a small 'golden mountain' by my side.
The 'Dealer' looked at me thoughtfully, seemingly aware that I was intentionally controlling the game. His wrist moved, and he continued to shake the dice.
At this moment, my chip count had reached 279. If I won another 39 chips, according to the rules, I would have to leave this table and move to a new one for the competition.
Xavier's ranking was constantly rising. With over two hundred chips, he had already reached the upper-middle position.
"Bang—"
The dice cup was slammed onto the table, and the 'Dealer' gestured for the players to place their bets.
I frowned. Strange, just now when the 'Dealer' was shaking the dice cup, I actually heard the sound of four dice.
The sudden addition of a die's sound broke the scene I had constructed in my mind and also disrupted my train of thought for listening to the point values.
The players at the same table placed their bets one after another, leaving only me who had yet to place a chip.
The 'Dealer' looked at me, “Sir, please place your bet.”
I looked back into the 'Dealer's eyes. There was a hint of provocation in his gaze, as if to say: Can you still hear the point values now?
I tugged at the corner of my mouth, casually picked up a chip, and placed it on the point value I had heard. "This one then."
The 'Dealer' was stunned, as were the other contestants at the same table. Before, I had been throwing in large stacks of chips, at least nine at a time, and by now, I was throwing in dozens at once. Why did I only bet one this time?
But betting one chip was also in accordance with the rules.
The 'Dealer' could not interfere with how many or how few chips a player bet in each round. He pursed his lips, and I could even faintly hear the sound of him grinding his teeth.
I sneered inwardly. Trying to corner me?
Since I wasn't sure of the point value anyway, why should I throw most of my chips into the pot for nothing?
The dice cup was lifted, and the point value was indeed not the same as the one I had heard.
The 'Dealer' shot me an imperceptible glare for foiling his plan, but I had already started to gather my chips.
This table was no longer playable. I was already being targeted by the 'Dealer'.
Continuing would definitely lead to losing more chips. It was better to cut my losses in time.
Seeing me pack up my chips and prepare to leave the table, the 'Dealer' was stunned and couldn't help but grab my wrist. “You're leaving?!”
I looked back at him, puzzled. “What? It was never said that contestants couldn't choose to switch tables on their own, was it?”
The 'Dealer': ...
No, it wasn't. But he had just provoked me like that, and I didn't have any desire to win back and slap him in the face?
I smiled, my posture relaxed.
If he knew what the 'Dealer' was thinking, he would definitely tell him: Sorry, I really don't.
I wasn't an idiot. To keep fighting here under such targeted circumstances, did he expect me to lose all the two hundred-plus chips I had won before suddenly coming to my senses and starting a desperate counterattack?
Sorry, I'm not some OP protagonist from a certain web novel platform. I value my little life very much.
With a slight exertion of force, I shook off the 'Dealer's hand that was holding me and gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“I was thinking that I've already won enough at this table. The principle of not biting off more than you can chew, I believe you understand it better than I do.”
His voice rose at the end, full of teasing, “After all, I've already won so many chips from you. Oh, right, shouldn't I thank you for your kindness?”
I shook the chips in my hand, and only then did the other contestants at the same table realize:
This kid had been winning and losing at this table, but in the end, he actually won so many chips?!
Wait, so all the chips we lost went into your pocket?!
The 'Dealer' was even more furious: He was all prepared to manipulate the gambler's
mentality and win back those chips, but you just pack up and leave with so many chips?!