Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 451 Flames and Vipers

"At Harrens's gambling table, family ties are chips, weaknesses are chips, even breathing is a chip."

But remember—a true gambler leaves himself no chips.

—From *The Abyss of Gambling: A Commentary on Life and Death*

On the other side of the hall, the silver-white queen Elena stood up quietly.

She didn't look at anyone else; her silver hair lost its luster under the light, and her eyes seemed hollow.

At that moment, she was no longer the "Silver Queen" who ruled the casino, but just an old, empty shell of a woman.

She slowly walked through a hidden door in the main house, her steps steady, yet like those of a prisoner about to be executed.

The door closed, leaving behind a deathly silence.

—A few dozen seconds later, a gunshot rang out.

"boom!"

The air in the hall seemed to shatter, and everyone held their breath.

Fat Hack snorted coldly, his voice rough: "She'd rather die than be my possession. Ridiculous."

He raised his eyes, a hint of coldness creeping into his thick eyelids, and stared at Si Ming: "Remember, so am I."

Si Ming pushed up his thick glasses, a glint of light flashing in the lenses, then lowered his eyelids, feigning a wooden, indifferent expression.

Hack said nothing more, turned around, and the gold chain swayed on his chest.

He strode over to another gambling table.

"Let's go, the next game is starting."

Si Ming silently followed, but his eyes, through his glasses, coldly swept over the hidden door, leaving an unspoken thought in his mind.

At another gambling table, the lights suddenly came on.

Carlos was sitting on one side.

His burly body was as if cast in steel, and his leather jacket was covered with burn marks and bullet holes.

A golden cigar sat across his lips, sparks flickering as he exhaled billowing smoke with each heavy breath.

He was like a human cannon, exuding violence and gunpowder.

On the other side is Victor.

His dark gold suit was impeccably pressed, and his tie was neatly tied.

His eyes were as cold as a snake, his face expressionless, only his fingertips were lightly fiddling with a cheap children's watch.

His silence, however, carried a chilling sense of oppression.

Fatty Hack led Siming to the table, a cigar dangling from his mouth, and snorted, "Watch closely, this round is Qin Pai."

He glanced at Si Ming, his tone languid yet concise:
The rules are simple—

Two people, each with ten cards. They take turns drawing and discarding a card, trying to form a sequence or a set of three or four of a kind.

If you have less than 10 points left in your hand, you can 'knock down' to end the round.

If you collect them all, that's called Gin, and you'll make a fortune.

Remember—the most dangerous thing is intercepting your opponent's move; if your hand has a higher score than theirs, you'll give away all your points.

Si Ming nodded blankly, repeating in a low voice, "Ten cards... straight... three of a kind... Gin... interception."

Carlos slammed his fist on the table and chuckled gruffly, "Enough talk, deal the cards!"

Victor merely raised his eyelids, his gaze sweeping lightly over Hack and Siming, like a snake looking at a mouse in the grass.

The dealer pushed aside the deck of cards and dealt them to the two players in sets of ten.

—Fire and venom, the game begins.

The card game begins.

Carlos's methods were as brutal as he was: drawing cards and slamming them down, his movements were as fast as slamming a table.

The embers of his cigar flickered, his breathing was heavy, and each fold felt like a heavy hammer blow.

Victor, however, was quite different.

He moved slowly and calmly, his movements as he picked up the cards resembling a snake flicking its tongue, extending an inch and retracting an inch.

Each fold was executed with a measured pace, seemingly casual, yet subtly orchestrating the rhythm.

Soon, the gap became apparent.

Carlos drew three useless cards in a row, and the value of the dead cards increased instead of decreasing.

Victor steadily organized his hand into two groups, drastically reducing the points of his dead cards.

He finally spoke, his voice low and laced with sarcasm:

"Carlos, you're still the same as before, all you do is shoot blindly."

His eyes, like a venomous snake, coldly stared at its prey. "You know what? When you drew your second useless card, your eyes already told me that your straight was broken."

Carlos's face suddenly darkened, and he exhaled a cloud of smoke onto the table, scoffing, "Bullshit!"

Victor's lips curled slightly as he reached out and placed the children's watch on the table, pressing it lightly with his fingertip.

Snapped--

The light screen projection pops up.

In the video, a little girl is tied to a chair, her mouth is gagged with a strip of cloth, and tears are rolling down her cheeks.

The hall fell silent.

Victor's voice was soft, yet it seeped into Carlos's ears like venom:

"Your daughter is very cute."

He paused, his gaze sharp: "If you don't want her to get hurt, you'd better not do anything rash."

I'm definitely going to win this game.

Carlos's hand trembled, and the cigar he was biting broke off, sparks falling onto the table with a piercing hiss.

His mouth was filled with bitterness, a mixture of tobacco residue and saliva. He fell silent for the first time, his breathing heavy, his eyes bloodshot.

—The flames were bitten hard by the snake's venomous fangs.

After several rounds, the situation at the poker table had become one-sided.

Victor's movements remained elegant, almost without any unnecessary effort.

His hand was neatly arranged into straights and three of a kind, and the table was clean and tidy.

Dead card points, single digit.

On the other side, Carlos's face was ashen as he roughly flipped through his cards, only to find his hand becoming increasingly chaotic.

With his dead hand worth twenty points, he was like a trapped beast, panting heavily, violent yet powerless.

Victor stared at him coldly, and finally placed a card face down on the table.

"—Knock."

The screen immediately lit up, displaying the score.

The difference is huge.

Victor's chip stack steadily increased, while Carlos's chip stack was drastically reduced.

The atmosphere in the hall was extremely oppressive.

Victor raised his eyelids, his gaze cold, like a snake eyeing its prey before swallowing it whole.

"Surrender."

His tone was casual, yet carried an undeniable air of authority: "Hand over your chips, and I'll reserve a place for you in the family."

"Being my subordinate is better than dying on my desk."

Carlos's heavy breathing roared in his chest like a bellows, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the cards, as if he were about to crush them at any moment.

His mouth was full of tobacco smoke and bitterness, making every breath feel like he was swallowing fire.

Victor pressed the children's watch on the table.

The screen reappeared, showing the image of the little girl.

She sobbed softly, tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice muffled behind the cloth.

"Carlos."

Victor's voice was soft, yet it felt like a blade slowly cutting through his throat.

"you lose."

The flames were tightly coiled by the snake, and seemed about to be extinguished at any moment.

Just when everyone thought the flames were about to go out, Carlos suddenly laughed.

The laughter was rough and violent, like cannon fire exploding in the hall.

"Lost? Haha... Did you think Harrens' people would show any kinship?"

Victor's smile froze abruptly, and his brow furrowed.

The "little girl" in the light screen was still sobbing softly, her eyes blurred with tears.

In that instant, her expression suddenly froze, and her eyes lost focus.

—The next second, her whole body exploded, turning into a ball of blazing fire!
boom! ! !
The explosion's light curtain shocked everyone, causing their expressions to change drastically. Wine glasses overturned on the ground, and the air was filled with the afterimages of charred flames.

Victor's pupils constricted sharply, and he gasped, "You—"

Carlos coldly raised his head, his cigar reduced to a charred butt, which he crushed into powder.

He slowly spread out the cards in his hand.

One set of triplets, one set of sequences.

Dead card points - zero.

“Gin”.

The screen lit up, and the score instantly reversed.

Victor's chips were drained like an avalanche, all flowing into Carlos's hands.

Victor stood frozen in place, his face ashen.

The man, who had been as calm as a snake just moments before, was now like a paper doll being burned by a raging fire, trembling, empty, and helpless.

Carlos stood up, his massive body looming over the entire gambling table.

He drew his pistol, the cold muzzle pressed against Victor's forehead.

“Victor, you have no interest in even asking me to surrender.”

He spoke in a cold, low voice, like a suppressed flame: "Are you stupid enough to think I would have a daughter?"

--boom! ! !

Blood splattered on the gambling table, falling in a soft patter and staining the edges of the playing cards red.

The hall was as silent as a grave.

Carlos wiped the blood from his face, spat out the cigar residue, and laughed loudly.

He turned his head and glared fiercely at Hack, who was watching the fight from the side, his eyes burning like flames.

"Looks like you've dealt with that stupid woman Elena too."

He sneered, raising and lightly swinging the gun as if in provocation:

"Hark - I hope you won't let me down in the next round."

Hark's face stiffened, and a cold glint flashed in the lens of his glasses.

"A gunshot rang out, the snake died, but the flames burned even brighter."

In the abyss of ruin, the victor takes not only the chips, but also their life.

—Harrence's Gambler's Last Words

(End of this chapter)