Demigod Mage in America

Yes, of course there are.

Ryan stood at Resorts World, the largest casino in Queens, oh, of course, its true nature is a world-class resort hotel.

There are restaurants, bars, and various event spaces such as stadiums.

It just so happens that there is an entertainment venue available for guests staying at the hotel and other visitors to experience.

"Is that you in the photo?"

"it's me."

The security guard held the U visa handed to him by Ryan, which is a crime victim visa, a special green card that can be obtained after being a victim of crime in the United States.

If you hold the card for three years and actively cooperate throughout the process, you can convert it into a green card.

"This is not you."

The security guard's hand was already on the gun handle at his waist, as if he would empty the magazine if Ryan didn't cooperate.

"You're saying he's not me?"

The man on the ID card was a slightly simple-minded man with pockmarks on his face, and he was clearly over 45 years old, a stark contrast to the face of Ryan, who looked like a college student.

Anyone who isn't blind would think this identity belongs to him.

"Yes, I suggest you come with me to the room next door; we have some trouble to resolve."

Ryan was taken aback. He hadn't expected that casinos in America were so strict. He had barely used any magic to fool them before; he had just swiped his card and gotten through.

"I said this is who I am."

A strange pink glint flashed in the security guard's pupils. After a moment of confusion, he released his right hand from the gun and returned the certificate to Ryan.

"Please come in, and remember not to cause trouble." He frowned, feeling as if he had overlooked something, but he wasn't quite sure.

Watching Ryan's departing figure, she couldn't help but mutter to herself that this Asian man was so handsome it made her jealous.

Especially the receptionist next to him, she stood up, her long, slender legs encased in stockings stretched straight, her eyes practically glued to him.

"baby?"

"I'm here, Daddy?"

"You should register the next customer now."

"Okay, okay!"

Seeing the girl's reluctant gaze, the man felt a wave of weariness wash over him.

Ryan fiddled with the chips in his hand, and couldn't help but sigh that American society was truly cannibalistic.

They don't let you play with real money, but give you chips to make people feel like they're not playing with real money, but with virtual currency.

And since he came in, he has noticed one thing: although this place is called a hotel, no matter which way you go, you will eventually pass by a casino.

The casino floor is bright and vibrant, constantly enhancing one's mood, and the background music is all fast-paced songs, making people want to have a blast there.

There are no clocks or windows here, only ATMs everywhere.

Meanwhile, the road signs only tell visitors where there are different gambling options, but not which way to go to find the exit.

Ryan went to the slot machines first. He noticed that most of the people who came here had one thing in common.

That means they are old, with the vast majority being between 5 and 60 years old or older.

Moreover, many of them are of Asian descent, or even clearly of Chinese descent or of Chinese descent.

Some people went to ATMs to withdraw money, while others went straight to the slot machines.

Here they have only one dream: to win big.

Ryan shrugged at this. He didn't understand gambling, but he did understand luck and misfortune.

When fortune smiles upon you, misfortune always follows closely behind.

He walked up to a machine and inserted a 100-dollar chip.

信用额是1：100，选项则是50、100、150……最高一把500信用额。

In other words, it's $5 per click.

In the United States, washing dishes for 5 hours a day might only earn you around $85.

While Ryan was pondering, the machine had already stopped.

Three identical patterns lined up in a row, pleasant music started playing, followed by the clattering sound of a large number of gold coins colliding.

"BIG WIN!"

Below the gleaming gold lettering was a row of red numbers: 6000, and Rennes' bet amount had changed from 95 to 155.

"No wonder so many people's values ​​are warped the moment they step into this place."

If Ryan were an ordinary person, he would be fine if he lost after staying here for one night, but if he won, his worldview would be shattered.

After all, you can earn hundreds of dollars just by doing something, so why go to work?

Unfortunately, he wasn't; he was there to cheat.

The second time, I didn't win anything.

The third time... the fourth time... all the way to the ninth time, Renn didn't hit a single one.

Clearly, he was under "newbie protection" just now, but that protection has now ended.

With only 110 left in bets, the middle-aged man next to him turned his head to look over.

"Little turkey, are you from Nari?"

Looking at his face, which resembled Vincent's, Ryan returned a polite smile: "I'm from South China."

Seeing that Ryan actually replied in Chinese, the middle-aged man was quite excited, and then he spoke in a very sober manner.

"Oh dear, let me tell you, don't gamble, it's harmful..."

Ryan glanced at the $50 left on his screen, smiled, and said nothing, continuing to place his bets.

The difference this time was that he gently placed his hand on the slot machine instead of pulling it away after pressing the buttons as before.

The middle-aged man continued to ramble on, but his hands never stopped working, betting again and again, only to fail once more.

However, his incessant chatter soon caught in his throat.

Because in the short time it took him to turn his head, Ryan's bet had increased from 110 to 500.

And just as he was looking at it, Ryan won again, this time the grand prize.

25000 points!

Gold coins poured out like a fountain, accompanied by background music, creating an effect of widespread advertising.

Renn smiled and took his hand off the machine. Although gambling with magic was low-class, he was broke anyway.

His balance had now reached $2645, but Ryan's smile quickly froze.

According to the rules told to him by the receptionist, if the winnings exceed 1000, a tip is required.

A 10% tip is required for transactions exceeding 1000. Thinking of this, Ryan's face immediately darkened.

The tipping culture in the ditch!

As for your question about who serves Rennes and therefore requires a tip?

Of course it's the front desk! The front desk handles prize redemption, chip replacement, and tax recording—aren't these all services?

What? This is my job? Don't talk like that, it's socialist stuff.

Time to pop the rice.

Actually, it's fine not to give it, but it would seem petty. Ryan sighed, silently got up, and pushed a hundred-dollar chip to the front desk.

He walked away to other areas while being stared at by the other person's infatuated gaze.

Slot machines are just for fun; you can't make money that way.

No matter how fast the banker makes money by betting on the players, can it be as fast as the winner taking all the spoils?

The middle-aged man who had previously advised Renn against gambling got up and silently followed behind Renn.

He had a gut feeling that his fate might be rewritten today.

Following the road signs, Ryan arrived at a bustling area.

This is a roulette game, and across from it is a white man and a Latino man.

"Looks like you're having a bad day, Raymond."

"Enough with the nonsense, Murphy."

Ryan walked to the empty seat opposite them and sat down. This was the kind of gambling he wanted. Playing against machines was nothing compared to playing against people.

His smile widened even more when he saw the two guests' table piled high with chips.

If we close this box, we'll have at least 30 chips per person.