Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

"I...I agree! I'll sell her to you! You have to keep your word!"

The little girl hiding behind Noze looked desperately at the inhuman man kneeling on the ground, and the tears that had been holding back in her eyes finally fell in large drops.

Noze's fists clenched so tightly they cracked, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged. He wished he could beat this beast to death with his own fists.

Having lived two lives, he had seen all sorts of people, but he had never seen such a dehumanizing beast who would even use his own daughter as a gambling stake.

However, he believed that Graham wouldn't do anything too outrageous, so he suppressed his anger, squatted down, and gently and softly comforted the little girl.

Sophie, sitting on the sofa, had a grim expression on her face. Her fingertips were already on the trigger of the repeating pistol. If Graham hadn't been there, she would have pulled the trigger on the spot and made this beast bleed to death.

Only Graham seemed to have expected this outcome. His face showed no surprise whatsoever. Instead, he clapped his hands, making a crisp sound, and laughed louder and louder.

"Good! Very good! Excellent! I like straightforward people like you, who are pragmatic, decisive, and ruthless enough to stop at nothing..."

As he spoke, he reached into his robes, pulled out an exquisite deerskin bag, and casually tossed it onto the floor in front of the man.

The bag made a dull yet alluring metallic clanging sound as it hit the ground. The bag opened, and seven or eight large, gleaming gold Orentia shields rolled out, each as thick as a thumb, gleaming dazzlingly under the light.

This one gold shield is worth twenty-five large silver shields. These seven or eight are enough for an ordinary dockworker to work for more than ten years without eating or drinking.

The man's eyes widened instantly, like a hungry wolf spotting fresh meat. He pounced on the ground, frantically gathering the golden shield into his arms. The cool metallic touch against his palms instantly instilled boundless confidence in him.

The humiliation of kneeling on the ground, the despair of losing all the money, and the fear of being threatened by the casino thugs all vanished without a trace at this moment.

He suddenly stood up from the ground and slammed the gold shield hard on the gambling table with a loud "thud".

Then, he turned to look at Monet, who sat calmly opposite him, chin held high, all his previous timidity gone. "Hey! You dare to bet with me one-on-one! All the money on this table, plus these eight gold shields! We'll settle this in one round!"

Monet raised his eyelids slightly, his gaze falling on him as if he were looking at a mad dog that would both wag its tail and bare its teeth.

This complete disregard was more humiliating to the man than any insult. His face twitched, and he roared even more frantically, using provocation.

"What? You're scared? You're afraid?"

"Afraid? Afraid of you? No, no, no, I just don't understand..."

Monet shook his head, his tone icy.

"I can't understand how a scumbag like you, who has lost all humanity and has no bottom line, and would even use his own daughter to gamble, can still live this long, while the soldiers who fought for the country died before you... It's really not worth it."

"If any church sells you indulgences, then everyone in that church should go to hell."

This was like a resounding slap across the man's face, instantly enraging him. "Stop giving me that bullshit! Just tell me if you dare to bet! If you don't, just say so!"

"Fine, I'll bet you, scum like you should have died long ago."

Monet spoke up, "I've done something to rid the people of a scourge."

The man, fearing that Monet might change her mind, quickly spoke up.

"Okay, but we're not playing this damn card game anymore. We'll play the simplest one, one that anyone can do: roll two dice and compare the total points. The one with the higher total wins! One round decides the winner, and nobody can cheat!"

He was already convinced that his two consecutive losses against his nemesis were definitely due to Monet tampering with the cards.

It's different when you change the dice. With two dice, the numbers depend entirely on your skill. He's spent half his life in casinos, and his dice-rolling skills are already superb. Even if Monet's magic is amazing, he can't control the numbers through the dice cup, can he?

He must win back everything he lost today!

Upon hearing this, Noze stood there, a slight twitch appearing at the corner of his mouth.

He almost burst out laughing on the spot, thinking to himself that this man was incredibly unlucky.

Others may not know about Monet's dice control skills, but Nozer clearly understood them on the Gold Rush.

Let alone two small dice, even if there were seven or eight more, it would be as easy as a thought for Monet to make them land precisely on the numbers he wanted.

Trying to outdo Monet in dice games is practically suicide.

Monet was clearly surprised that this man could be so stupid. He was stunned for a moment, then chuckled and nodded indifferently, "Alright, dealer, bring the dice."

The dealer, already unsettled by the strange events of the night, immediately responded and ran out upon hearing this.

A moment later, a new dealer carefully placed two sets of polished wooden dice cups and four dice in the center of the gambling table.

Old Jim carefully inspected the dice and dice cup to make sure there were no cheating methods before putting them down.

"All done with the checkup? If you're done, let's get started."

Monet made a move to reach for his dice and dice cup.

Just as Monet reached for the dice cup, old Jim suddenly slammed his hand on the table and shouted, "Wait!"

Monet's hand froze in mid-air. She glanced at him sideways, her eyes full of impatience. "What's wrong with you now?"

"You can't roll the dice yourself. Who knows if you'll cheat when you roll them! If you cheated when you played cards, you'll definitely cheat when you roll the dice too."

"Oh?"

Monet raised an eyebrow, withdrew his hand, and leaned back in his chair. "You want to win my money, but you don't want me to get involved? What do you want then?"

The man didn't reply, his eyes darting around the private room, quickly scanning everyone present.

First, it fell on Graham, who owed him money, but looking at the man's ambiguous smile, he could tell he was up to no good, so it was definitely not going to work.

He then glanced at Sophie on the sofa. She was covered up completely by a large cloak, so he couldn't even see her face, and he dared not use her.

Finally, his gaze settled on Nozer, and his eyes lit up instantly.

That's the kid!

This greenhorn dared to bet everything on a hand of random colors just now. He's obviously a complete novice who doesn't understand gambling at all and has terrible luck. He definitely doesn't have that kind of superb cheating skills.

Furthermore, this person was new to the area and had also lost all his money to Monet, so he definitely wasn't Monet's accomplice.

As Old Jim thought about it, he found that his train of thought became clearer and clearer, without the slightest flaw.