A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 271 Five-cent profit

When the dealer who was on the blackjack table saw Quinn back at the table, he felt like the sky had fallen.

"You...you still want to gamble?"

I ran into a math whiz at the casino; his card-counting and math skills were monstrous, and I couldn't beat him no matter how hard I tried.

As the largest illegal casino in Aishwell, those who open their doors to do business will eventually encounter extraordinary individuals. They don't cheat or use arcane arts; they are simply exceptionally lucky or have mastered unknown gambling techniques, allowing them to win eight out of ten times like Quinn.

Even casinos can't withstand such excessive winnings. They usually ask people to leave once they've lost enough money, giving them a large sum of money to prevent them from ever returning. Quinn clearly falls into this category, but for some reason, he wasn't asked to leave or blacklisted. He just sat there like he was waiting for the dealer to pay his dues.

"It's still early, what else is there to do besides gambling?" Quinn replied, crossing his legs. "My mom's got me all the motivation to gamble."

Xia Dai'er didn't know why he was here. They had just kissed, and the girl's eyes were still lingering from the kiss. She was currently pulling at Quinn's hand in annoyance, wanting him to go back quickly.
There are only five hours left until school ends, and I still have to calculate the travel time. Every minute I gamble is a minute less I get to do my job.

"Chips, chips," Quinn rummaged through his pockets, having already cashed out all his chips, and said to the man next to him, "Hey bro, wanna trade some chips?"

The person next to Quinn had just sat down. He was extremely burly with a broad back. Although the main races of the Northern and Southern Continents were both white, the white people in the North were taller and more rugged, while the white people in the South had more delicate features and were very easy to identify.

This guy was one of the Razorfen Downs members following Sukhorukov. He sized up Quinn with an unfriendly expression, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes.

Did I just see him?
Oh, it's the guy who beat Rugal to the point of collapse.
He pushed all the chips in front of him toward Quinn and said emotionlessly, "Casinos don't allow private trading of chips, consider this a loan to you. Five percent interest."

Upon hearing the thick Northern accent, the surrounding gamblers all revealed expressions of anticipation for a good show.

As a classic profit-making method for gangs, loan sharking is common in the three major gangs of Seville. While the Golden Winds have the most diverse businesses, they are the most cautious in their lending, primarily focusing on asset-based loans, such as exchanging Rugal's watch for chips. Although the interest rates are high, the prices are considered fair.

The White bandits didn't care whether you were rich or poor; they'd lend to anyone they knew or who had a guarantor. The Peaky's were even more outrageous, requiring no guarantor at all, and their interest rates were the highest. Normal usury was three percent a day—borrow one pound today, repay one pound and three silver coins tomorrow—and with luck, the interest was barely manageable. The Peaky's were different: five percent a day, repayment within three days, and if you didn't pay, they'd kill you. Unless you were a desperate gambler, very few dared borrow money from these Yankees.

Quinn accepted the chips with an air of ignorance. There were exactly ten gold pounds here, which meant that because he was too lazy to run away, he would have to pay five gold pounds in interest after this handshake.

Some of the people around were newcomers, waiting to see him make a fool of himself. The dealer, however, dared not laugh, because Quinn had already staked all his chips on the table.

“Stud is a form of wisdom.”

With a resolute expression, he said to Xia Dai'er, "Back then, Chen Daozai could win 37 million with 20 dollars, and I, Lu, will..."

"Stop arguing," Xia Dai'er said irritably. "Go back now, I don't want my allowance anymore."

"Wait, a new side quest has just been triggered."

Because Quinn bet so much, no one around him dared to follow, and the game at the table became a duel between him and the dealer. This time, the dealer shuffled the cards for an unusually long time, his dealing motions as serious as if he were betting his entire career.

Quinn flipped over his cards, a 10 and a 6, and tapped the table to indicate that he needed to draw more cards.

Before the cards were dealt, the dealer asked with a serious expression, "What are your odds of winning this time?"

Quinn smiled mysteriously, pretending to be an expert by remaining silent.

Soon, when the hole cards were revealed—10, 6, 10, a total of 26—it was a bust. The surrounding crowd booed disdainfully. The ten pounds were accepted by the relieved dealer. Quinn shook his head and said:
"It's not a direct copy of Apple, it's just that the number 16 isn't lucky."

He rummaged through all his pockets, managing to scrape together fifteen gold pounds with a handful of loose change to repay the loan shark, a member of the Razor Party. He then casually remarked, "You're lending money in Golden Wind's territory, don't they kick you out?"

This is a topic you absolutely must never bring up. It's like asking your idol in front of Messi's fans if he stole Ronaldo's Ballon d'Or—you'd get punched.

But perhaps seeing how readily Quinn paid and how his carefree tone suited the Northerner's hearty taste, the Razor Shield member calmly replied, "The Godfather is quite the businessman. That guy's a White Gang member, he's also a loan shark."

He raised his chin and gestured to a guy walking through the crowd in the distance.

“There are some things that the Golden Wind dares not lend, but we can lend them, since the gold lent will eventually flow into his casino anyway.”

The bunny girl dealer listened without saying a word, seemingly in agreement.

"real or fake?"

Quinn's eyes lit up, and he said with great interest, "I'm a gambler, and I want to try my luck in the private room upstairs. I guarantee I'll make a killing! But you know how expensive it is there, and I don't have enough capital. Can I borrow some?"

Although uncommon, it's a very reasonable excuse.

The maximum bet in the main hall is ten pounds, while there is no limit upstairs. These are high-stakes games reserved for the wealthy, and the service is far superior to that in the main hall.

The man stared into Quinn's eyes and said, slowly and deliberately, "How much do you want to borrow?"

Quinn held up one finger.

He frowned and thought for a moment: "I can't make that decision. You need to talk to my superiors."

Is he here?

The man stood up, tilted his head, and gestured for Quinn to come with him.

Xia Dai'er wanted to join in, but Quinn secretly slipped a few chips into her hand: "You play by yourself for a bit, I'll be right back."

Doesn't he have no chips to play?
The clever girl was taken aback for a moment, but quickly realized that he was going to do something important. Although she was very unwilling, she obediently stayed where she was.

She sat down in Quinn's seat and said to the dealer, "I'm asking you, cough, I'm asking you, how do you play this game?"

The dealer was almost moved to tears.

Great! He's a newbie; there's hope for our performance!

In the restroom on the west side of the casino, Sukhorukov and several of his men squatted in the aisle next to the door, smoking.

Their squatting posture was peculiar: both feet were fully on the ground, their buttocks sank down to touch their ankles, and their knees were bent outwards arrogantly, with one hand resting on their knee and the other smoking. This standard Slavic squat, coupled with the men's unfriendly expressions, would likely have made customers consciously turn away and go elsewhere to relieve themselves.

Sukhorukov's usually gloomy face was unusually smiling, and he seemed to be in a very good mood.

“If this is done, you will each receive a thousand pounds.”

Some merchants pooled together a large sum of money, a full two hundred thousand gold pounds, to buy Elon's life.

Although the transactions were conducted through intermediaries, the Razor Gang still managed to uncover the identities of the employers.

Steelworkers, textile factory owners, and construction foremen—all businesses require substantial human resources to operate. These Westville entrepreneurs reap enormous profits by exploiting cheap, undocumented labor, while they live in mansions in Eastville, enjoying their lives. Elon's labor law reforms directly harm their core interests. If labor costs skyrocket, their products and businesses will become uncompetitive, and bankruptcy will be inevitable.

This includes even some major entrepreneurs.

However, these people alone would not be enough to raise 200,000 gold pounds, an amount that would be enough to support an army to attack a city in the Western Continent.

Behind these people are the shadows of the Kingdom's power. Elon's blatant support for the defection has aroused extreme dissatisfaction from the British royal family, and recently Britain has imposed a series of unilateral economic and political sanctions on the Branson family, which is frequently discussed in the newspapers.

His men smoked cigarettes, revealing blissful smiles.

"A thousand gold pounds, Sukabul, that's enough to exchange for three women a day. I want to go to the best beach in the East and make those ladies kneel before me."

The crowd laughed. The desperado showed no fear; he didn't care about any senator, he'd kill him first.

This is the characteristic that allows the Razor Gang, despite its small size, to establish itself in Seaville and strike fear into the hearts of the underworld.

"Keep your mouths shut. Once this is settled, you can go to the East with the boss and live out the rest of your lives there. Even the academy can't do anything to us then."

As he spoke, he quickly closed his mouth again, his eyes turning cold as he looked at the subordinate who had brought Quinn over.

His subordinate made a hand gesture to him, a coded communication signal that only Imperial soldiers could understand, meaning 'the prey has taken the bait'.

Sukhorukov's sparse brows furrowed, and he snapped angrily, "Suka! Didn't I say we should suspend operations for now?"

With the big plan about to succeed, Sukhorukov had lost patience to continue lending money. After all, once a member of parliament was eliminated, all the participants would have to leave, so there was no time to collect debts.

"This fearless guy wants to borrow a large sum of money."

After his subordinate stepped aside and he could see Quinn's face clearly, Sukhorukov's tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly.

He remembered that this was the mathematician who was very good at gambling.

“Shelby,” Quinn said, offering a pseudonym.

Having never heard of this person, the men all stood up. Sukhorukov took a drag of his cigarette and asked with interest, "How much do you want to borrow?"

“One thousand gold pounds.”

"doing what?"

"Make a fortune! With the money I earn, I'll go to the best beach in the East and have the ladies there accompany me to activate Genshin Impact."

Although they didn't understand what 'Genshin Impact activation' meant, the Razor Party members nodded in approval, showing their good taste.

For the imperialists, the decadent and extravagant Eastern Kingdom was Jerusalem across the ocean.

Sukhorukov lowered his head and glanced up at him sideways: "Our interest rates are very high."

"But I win quickly."

"I can't borrow that much."

“I just won a thousand gold pounds,” Quinn said arrogantly, like a naive young man. “If I can accept a five percent interest, a new millionaire will be born in this city overnight.”

"You want to go to the private room on the second floor?"

"Otherwise, why would I need to borrow money?"

Sukhorukov narrowed his eyes slightly: "Do you know who we are?"

"The Razor Gang, they'll kill your whole family if you don't pay back your money."

"6% interest, pay it back tomorrow morning." He paused, "Lend me a hundred first, go and win one more time to show me. If you can win, I'll be your guarantor tonight. I have a pretty good relationship with Mr. Godfather."

"random."

"Wait, I'll give you the money."

Sukhorukov didn't waste any time. He turned and went into the toilet, kicked open the door of the second-to-last stall, stared disdainfully at the innocent customer squatting inside for a moment, and then gestured to him to get lost.

The scars on Sukhorukov's bald head, belonging to a serious criminal, would finish his story for him; the unfortunate man squatting in the toilet didn't even dare to wipe his butt, and with a sheepish grin, he pulled up his pants and ran away.

"Flush it, Suka."

The cubicle smelled terrible, so he threw the cigarette in his mouth into it and stood outside the door, covering his nose and waiting for the stench to dissipate with the smell of smoke.

While waiting, he began to think. In his years of lending experience, he had only lent out a thousand gold pounds a few times, so he needed to be cautious. That guy had just won a large sum of money; getting back a hundred gold pounds wouldn't be a problem. If he really had that kind of superb gambling skill, it wouldn't hurt to let him try. Even if he lost it, he could bet against him tomorrow and make him gamble the money back little by little.

I wonder how long Golden Wind can tolerate such a skilled gambler staying in the casino.
Perhaps because so much money was involved, a bad feeling lingered in Sukhorukov's mind. He went into the cubicle, pried open a brick above the toilet, and found two heavy bags inside. He took one out and absentmindedly thought about and recalled something.

Have I seen him somewhere before?
The popular attire in the Kingdom of Ron: a serious-looking middle-aged man in a black shirt. Probably not.

Oh, and he was teaching his companion—a short guy wearing sunglasses and a hat in the casino.
The Empire's propaganda machine often used the term "comical dwarf" to ridicule the South, but despite his short stature, the guy was quite similar in height to the Branson girl, and Sukhorukov remembered his target very well.

girl
Just now at the door, was there a girl kissing someone in public?

Why didn't I notice?
Sukhorukov's eyes twitched suddenly. His superhuman spirituality finally brought him back to his senses. It was a little too quiet outside!

Sukhorukov silently put the bag full of gold pounds back in its place, reached into his pocket to take out his switchblade, and went outside to see what was going on.

He is a knight, and this sword, thanks to the knight's unique ability to "not die unarmed," can cut through steel.

Wait, where's my knife?
Sukhorukov turned his head in surprise, only to be met with Quinn's emotionless gaze.

The two were so close that he had no idea when the ghostly assassin had approached.

In front of Sukhorukov's abdomen, Quinn casually swung his knife with one hand. The stolen switchblade sprang out with a "whoosh." In the dimly lit toilet stall, a cigarette butt still burned on the floor, smoke billowing out, and blood gushed from his abdomen like a splattering crimson line. Quinn was too fast, and the two were too close; Sukhorukov had no time to react. Instinctively, he reached out his hands to try and push Quinn away, but it was a futile struggle.

Intestines, pancreas, lungs, spleen—in a short, fleeting moment, Quinn casually and swiftly stabbed the man, his hand moving like a blur as he stabbed him more than a dozen times in the burly man's body, his body still managing to dodge the gushing blood with ease.

Inside the opulent casino restroom, a "sizzle" sound, like a tap being turned on, splattered blood from the stall door onto the opposite wall. Quinn had already circled behind him, holding his head in one hand and pressing a knife into his back with the other.

The excruciating pain in his left chest told Sukhorukov that the blade was pressed against his heart.

With a thud, he staggered and knelt in the quiet toilet. Sukhorukov, unable to support himself, glanced to the side and saw the corpses of his men lying haphazardly at the toilet entrance, completely still.

Blood gushed from his abdomen faster and faster, spreading horribly before his eyes. He heard the indifferent voice of the "mathematician": "Sequence Nine, Knight. Pull the knife out, and you should live. Ha, provided it doesn't pierce your heart."

Sukhorukov slumped his arms, trying to stop the bleeding from his wound, but the blood kept seeping through his fingers. "You...you..."

"Come on, speak slowly, but quickly. When and where do you plan to do something to the eldest daughter of the Branson family?"

(End of this chapter)