I run a casino in the immortal realm.

As soon as it was light, Zheng Yifei sat up in bed.

He opened the wooden box containing the Thousand Illusions Mask and pressed it against the bronze mirror. Spiritual energy flowed in, and his facial features slowly changed.

This time, he didn't choose the face with the sallow mustache. Qingyun City wasn't an underground gambling den in the South District. If someone with that poor and shabby appearance walked in, the dealer wouldn't even bother to give him a second glance.

Qingyun Market is not like Heishan Market or Su Family Market. Foundation Establishment cultivators are everywhere here, and late-stage Qi Refining cultivators are as common as dogs. If you're not careful, you might offend a powerful figure and get slapped to death.

Therefore, one must be extremely careful, keep a low profile, be patient, and quietly make a fortune.

A young man in his early twenties appeared in the bronze mirror. He had a clear and bright face, a clean jawline, and an air of composure that only a scion of a prominent family could possess.

He changed into the moon-white brocade robe he bought yesterday for eight spirit stones at a clothing store, and hung a fake jade pendant he found at a street stall at his waist, but laymen couldn't tell the difference.

Zhang Biao pushed the door open and saw Zheng Yifei's new face, and was stunned for a moment.

"He's become quite handsome."

"You post one too."

Zheng Yifei handed over the Thousand Illusion Noodles.

Zhang Biao fiddled with the bronze mirror for a long time, finally conjuring up a square face with thick eyebrows and big eyes. He stood behind Zheng Yifei, looking like a standard aristocratic guard.

"Ling'er, stay at the inn today to review your alchemy formulas. Don't go anywhere else."

Zhao Ling'er peeked out from next door and saw the two new faces. She opened her mouth, but wisely didn't ask any more questions. She then hugged a copy of "The Essentials of Herbs" and retreated back into her room.

Before leaving, Zheng Yifei stood by the window and looked out at the street for a while.

The mornings in Qingyun City are completely different from those in Heishan Market.

An old woman carrying a vegetable basket walking by on the street exuded spiritual energy fluctuations that were at least at the second level of Qi Refining.

The vendor carrying a load of spirit fruits was at the fourth level of Qi Refining, while the roadside sweeper was at the third level of Qi Refining.

Those pedestrians with steady steps and restrained auras are at least at the seventh level of Qi Refining.

Zheng Yifei withdrew his gaze.

"Let's go to Hongyunfang."

Hongyunfang is located at the end of Chuanyun Alley in the East District.

The storefront is small, a two-story wooden building, and the signboard is an ordinary wooden board with faded lettering.

Two guards at the eighth level of Qi Refining stood at the entrance, with short sticks at their waists, and their eyes were filled with a professional scrutiny.

Zheng Yifei led Zhang Biao inside, and no one stopped them.

The moon-white brocade robe and the fake jade pendant worked; the guard only glanced at them before looking away.

It's not very big inside, it can probably fit about thirty tables, but seventeen or eighteen are currently open.

There was a faint, spiritual fragrance in the air, used by the gambling den to keep the gamblers alert. It smelled much better than the bloody smell of the Golden Toad Gambling Den, but the essence was the same—to keep the gamblers so they could lose more hands.

The gameplay is indeed monotonous.

Shake the spirit dice, guess big or small, odd or even, flip the spirit cards. On the left, there's a row of tables full of dice, on the right, a few tables of dominoes, and in the corner, there are two tables for betting on monster battles.

Zheng Yifei went straight to the table where people guessed whether it was odd or even.

This table had the most people, with more than twenty gamblers surrounding it, including independent cultivators, scions of prominent families, and young people dressed as outer sect disciples.

The minimum bet was ten spirit stones, and the fat man who had the biggest bet had just pushed out a few spirit tickets.

The spirit ticket is a blue paper talisman with the three small characters "Qingyun Sect" printed on the front and anti-counterfeiting array patterns on the back. It is issued uniformly by the Qingyun Sect.

The spirit tickets come in various denominations: ten, twenty, fifty, one hundred, five hundred, one thousand, five thousand, and ten thousand yuan. They are valid in all shops and gambling houses throughout Qingyun City.

It's more convenient than spirit stones, and easier to hide than spirit stones.

Zheng Yifei found a spot by the table and stood still, not in a hurry to place a bet.

The dealer was a lean man in his early forties, at the eighth level of Qi cultivation. He had a string of copper coins tied around his wrist, which jingled every time he shook the cup, like some kind of ritual.

Zheng Yifei looked at him three times.

In the first round, after the dealer shakes the cup and places it down, he presses the cup with his right hand and opens his left hand out—a standard action without any spiritual intervention.

The second one was equally clean.

The third one was still clean.

The bookmaker did not cheat.

It's not that I can't, it's that I don't need to.

Guessing odd or even is inherently a game where the house wins, so the odds are naturally skewed, and over time, the gambler will inevitably lose.

The bookmaker only needs to resort to tricks when gamblers win too ridiculously.

Zheng Yifei took out ten spirit stones from his sleeve and pushed them into the "double" area.

"open!"

The dealer flips the cup.

"Two, four, six o'clock, even numbers!"

Ten dollars becomes twenty.

Zheng Yifei didn't immediately increase his bet, but instead lost a round, reducing his twenty yuan to zero. He then took out another twenty spirit stones from his sleeve and placed a single bet.

Won.

For the first half hour, he kept switching between betting amounts of ten and twenty yuan.

He won three rounds and lost two. The number of spirit stones in his hand increased from one hundred to one hundred and sixty, a small increase. He was inconspicuous among a group of gamblers who would bet two or three hundred spirit stones at a time.

But in this half hour, Zheng Yifei had already figured out the dealer's rhythm of shaking the dice.

This person has a habit—the final shake before dropping the die, if it's forceful, has a greater than 70% chance of landing on an odd-numbered side. If the final shake is light and short, it's more likely to land on an even-numbered side.

It's not cheating, it's muscle memory. After playing thousands or tens of thousands of times, the body naturally forms a fixed pattern.

Even the bookmakers themselves might not realize it.

But Zheng Yifei only needed half an hour to completely dissect this model.

it has started.

"one hundred."

Zheng Yifei pushed one hundred spirit stones to the "single" position.

The dealer glanced at him but didn't pay him any attention. The betting amount of one hundred yuan at this table was considered slightly below average.

Shake the cup. Settle it down. One last shake, with a bit too much force.

"one!"

Two hundred yuan.

Zheng Yifei took back the spirit stones and immediately pushed 150 stones in the next round.

"pair."

The dealer shakes the cup, making a final, light, and short shake.

"pair!"

He gathered the spirit stones, then discreetly slipped two hundred spirit notes into his sleeve and handed them to Zhang Biao behind him.

Zhang Biao took it and put it in his pocket without changing his expression.

In the next round, Zheng Yifei bet 100 yuan and lost.

Next round, fifty dollars, win.

Fifteen minutes later, after winning three rounds in a row, he deliberately lost a big one to reduce the number of spirit stones that had attracted attention on the table.

The winning tickets kept flowing through his sleeves and into Zhang Biao's pocket.

The dealer's attention remained focused on the fat man who had bet 300 spirit tickets—the fat man was sweating profusely from losing, and every time he lost a round, he would curse and slam a handful of spirit tickets from his purse onto the table, making a noise as loud as a theatrical performance.

Perfect cover.

An hour passed.

The number of spirit stones in front of Zheng Yifei fluctuated between one hundred and three hundred, making him seem like an ordinary gambler with decent luck.

But Zhang Biao already had more than ten spirit tickets stuffed in his arms.

"Change the channel."

Zheng Yifei put away the remaining spirit stones, left the table where people were guessing odd or even, and walked to the table opposite where people were shaking spirit dice.

The bookmaker on this table is younger, at the seventh level of Qi Refining, and his technique is even cruder than the one for guessing odd or even.

Zheng Yifei only observed the game twice before sitting down at the table.

Rolling the dice offers an additional "number" option compared to guessing odd or even, resulting in higher odds but also greater difficulty. This is true for the average gambler.

For Zheng Yifei, two shots are enough.

Another hour has passed.

The methods are exactly the same: test the waters with small bets, judge the pattern, place precise bets, pass the winnings to the next person, and treat the losses as money spent on information.

From beginning to end, not a single bookmaker gave him a second glance.

Because he didn't win much, but he also lost a lot, keeping his win rate at just over 60%. In the noisy gambling den, he was just a slightly lucky passerby.

By the time we left Hongyunfang, the sun was already setting.

Zhang Biao followed behind, his steps lighter. His coat was stuffed with talismans, which made a soft rustling sound as he walked.

The two turned into an empty alley, and Zhang Biao immediately took out all the spirit tickets from his pocket and slapped them on the stone platform by the wall.

Zheng Yifei counted them once.

The total is 2,040.

After deducting the principal of 100 yuan, the net profit is 1,940 yuan.

In two hours, one hundred yuan increased twentyfold.

Zhang Biao squatted in front of the stone platform, rubbed his face, and almost rubbed off the Thousand Illusion Mask.

"Brother, I've wasted thirty years of my life."

His voice was low, but he couldn't hide his excitement. "Two hours, almost two thousand spirit stones. I couldn't earn that much in three years of hunting."

Zheng Yifei divided the spirit tickets into two piles. He stuffed the larger pile into a cloth bag and tied it tightly, while he put the smaller pile into his pocket.

"How did you do that?"

Zhang Biao leaned closer, his eyes shining like luminous pearls: "Teach me, please. I'm not greedy, just learn 30% of your skills."

Zheng Yifei glanced at him.

"You can't learn it."

Zhang Biao's smile froze for a moment: "Why?"

"Gambling skills require talent: good hearing, good memory, sensitivity to numbers, the ability to read people's micro-expressions, and dexterity of the hands. You either have these things or you don't. You can't learn them even if you practice your whole life."

Zheng Yifei said calmly, "Your talent lies in strength and fighting, not at the poker table."

Zhang Biao scratched his head, somewhat unwilling: "Can't I even try?"

"cannot."

Zheng Yifei put away the cloth bag, turned and walked out of the alley: "From today onwards, you can follow me to watch the games and help collect money, but you are not allowed to touch the gambling table yourself. Not even once."

Zhang Biao chased after him, exclaiming, "This is too much!"

Zheng Yifei stopped and looked back at him.

"Brother Zhang, when you gamble, you feel like a genius when you win, and you think you can turn things around next time when you lose. If someone without talent gets involved, it's only a matter of time before they go bankrupt."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word he uttered was impactful.

"I've seen far too many people like this in the first half of my life."

Zhang Biao opened his mouth, but ultimately swallowed the words that were about to come out.

He didn't know what Zheng Yifei meant by "the first half of his life," but he knew one thing: Zheng Yifei never spoke nonsense.

"Okay, whatever you say."

Zhang Biao patted his chest: "I'll be your money bag, I'll never touch the gambling table."

"If I find out you're gambling behind my back, you don't need to follow me anymore."

Zheng Yifei walked forward without looking back.

"You don't need to follow me anymore."

Zhang Biao's back stiffened slightly, he grinned, and then remained silent.