Chapter 48: The Goddess of Fortune

“This isn’t Las Vegas, not Atlantic City, not Monte Carlo, nor Macau. Yet this place rivals any casino in the world; the winnings here are enough to let you revel in the pleasures of life.” Leonid Sidorov pushed open the grand doors, and within the resplendent hall unfolded a drama of humanity’s most primal desires. Human greed was magnified without end, and here, a single second could decide whether your life’s path led to heaven or hell.

Ji Ning could barely keep his eyes open. Leonid Sidorov had led him through shadowy alleys, then into a shabby basement, even the elevator they’d used was battered and old. Who could have imagined that their destination would be a place of such opulence? Colorful chips slid under the hands of scantily clad dealers or were swept away in stacks, while well-dressed gentlemen kept an arm around their companions’ waists, eyes never leaving the gaming tables for even a moment.

The drooping crystal chandeliers hung like chilling blades, casting cold light in every direction. The golden carpet stretched endlessly, and the heart-pounding games never ceased. There were no clocks here; time was as muddled as the thick clouds overhead.

“What would you like to play, my friend?” Leonid Sidorov rubbed his hands together. Long before Ji Ning had even entered the casino, his name had already been noted down. A portion of whatever Ji Ning lost here would become Sidorov’s commission.

Ji Ning exchanged his chips and, carrying his case, chose a table at random and sat down. Blackjack seemed to him the game a true gambling master would play; he regretted not slicking his hair back for the occasion. A voluptuous blonde croupier in barely-there attire smiled and inquired about his choice. Ji Ning’s gaze drifted across her plunging neckline, and he couldn’t help but swallow. In his earpiece, Catherine, who had been prompting him in Russian, suddenly paused and then, switching to the Academy’s common tongue, said, “Qin Mo wants you to play a different game.”

Ji Ning cast a reluctant glance at the fiery blonde croupier, then shook his head and walked over to the roulette table, dragging his feet. He’d spent the whole previous night studying blackjack, planning to dominate the tables today. Who could have guessed Qin Mo would suddenly insist he change games? What else did he know how to play?

Only roulette, whose rules were simple enough to require no explanation.

“Place multiple bets, but make your last one the largest,” Catherine instructed. Ji Ning’s goal wasn’t to win, but to find a plausible excuse for losing money and thereby gain access to the Hunter’s Black Room. As long as he behaved like an ordinary gambler, that would suffice.

Ji Ning’s credit card held fifty million rubles—over four million yuan. Two years ago, the only way Ji Ning could have imagined having so much money was in a dream. Now, he needed to lose it all within an hour. Even after so long with the black card, he felt a twinge of anxiety at such extravagance.

“Thirty-six numbers. Pick one. Thirty-five to one payout,” Catherine said cheerfully, glad Ji Ning had chosen roulette, which spared her from laboriously translating any rules.

Qin Mo watched the video feed from the miniature camera hidden on Ji Ning, but her gaze lingered on the edge of the image, where the blonde dealer appeared. Under her breath she muttered, “Wearing so little, aren’t you afraid of freezing?”

Aphra hooked her arm around Qin Mo’s neck, winking. “There’s air conditioning in every casino.”

Zhao Tianxing wasn’t watching the feed at all; he was waiting in an alley not far from the casino, ready to provide backup should Ji Ning’s cover be blown or anything unexpected occur. He was their only support.

Ji Ning took a chip from his box. Carved from amethyst and rimmed with gold, the large number on it made him grip it tightly—a single chip, worth one hundred thousand, equaled eight thousand yuan.

The roulette attendant gave Ji Ning a professional smile, then spun the wheel. “You may place your bet before he calls stop,” Catherine translated, and then added, “I suggest you bet bigger each time, otherwise losing fifty million will take forever.”

Ji Ning agreed and scooped up a handful of chips, tossing them onto the table. High rollers always inspired respect, and the attendant’s smile grew even brighter at the sight of that heap of chips.

The little ball rolled and finally landed on “12.” Ji Ning glanced down; his chips were on “13.” He sighed. Next to him, Leonid Sidorov suppressed his inner joy, putting on a face of disappointment before encouraging Ji Ning, “Use up all your bad luck on the first spin, then the rest will be nothing but good fortune.”

Ji Ning shot him a look. “I know.” He reached for another stack of chips and placed them on the table.

The wheel spun again and again; the chips changed hands time after time.

Twenty minutes passed, and Ji Ning hadn’t won a single bet. The anger on his face was no longer an act; he was genuinely uncomfortable.

“That’s enough,” Catherine checked the time and issued her only instruction since Ji Ning had sat down.

Ji Ning glared at the roulette wheel, then hefted his entire case onto the table and roared, “All in!”

Leonid Sidorov’s heart skipped a beat. He wondered why lately he kept running into these madmen. So much money! The young man’s eyes were bloodshot with gambling fever. Though it wasn’t Sidorov’s first time seeing a gambler pin all his hopes on a final bet, it was the first time he’d seen one go all in with half his chips still remaining.

The blonde croupier carefully counted the chips, nodded to Ji Ning, then spoke rapidly into a walkie-talkie. Moments later, a middle-aged man in a suit, clearly a manager, approached Ji Ning, spoke a few words, and extended his hand. Ji Ning shook it, his attention focused on the earpiece.

“You bet too much; ordinary staff don’t have the authority to be your banker. This is their manager,” Catherine explained in his ear.

Ji Ning mused for a moment, then muttered in Chinese, “Qin Mo, which number would you pick?”

The manager suddenly asked in fluent Chinese, “What did you say?”

Ji Ning remained unfazed, glancing at him and pressing his hands together. “I’m seeking guidance from fate. My girlfriend’s name is Qin Mo.”

Qin Mo flushed red, Aphra shot her a teasing look, and Catherine whispered in the earpiece, “I forgot to mention, managers here are at least fluent in several languages. Next time you might not get away with that.”

Unperturbed, Ji Ning closed his eyes. “Qin Mo, please tell me—which number should I choose?”

The suited manager didn’t rush him. He knew every gambler had their own rituals. He’d once seen a man play blackjack with a fishbowl on his head, claiming it was his lucky charm. Compared to that, muttering prayers before a bet was nothing. As long as the money stayed, he didn’t care if the gambler recited the oldest Eastern spells.

“Nineteen,” Qin Mo finally relented, her cheeks aglow, half shy and half exasperated. She suspected that if she didn’t give a number, Ji Ning would keep repeating himself endlessly.

A nineteen-year-old girl, young, proud, yearning for a love that would bloom like a bouquet.

Ji Ning, without hesitation, pushed the case onto number “19.” With his agreement, the manager personally moved to the roulette table, gestured to Ji Ning, and spun the wheel.

The ball rolled slowly, the rapidly spinning wheel gradually losing speed. Ji Ning couldn’t help but grow tense. Though his intention was to lose all his money, as the ball skipped over “28,” “27,” and drew closer to “19,” he held his breath. At last, the ball settled on that miraculous number.

Ji Ning couldn’t help but leap into the air, his spirits swept clean of all previous gloom. Even Leonid Sidorov’s face flushed as he shouted in excitement. Catherine, cool as ever, fell silent for a moment, while Qin Mo let out a small gasp of surprise, and Aphra’s shriek made Zhao Tianxing, waiting outside, have to pull off his earpiece and rub his ears.

No one remains unmoved by such wild swings of fate; every heart in the room raced faster.

Catherine was the first to recover. “Bet it all again—lose everything this time.”

Ji Ning took a deep breath and declined the manager’s offer of a bank transfer. “One more round.”

Leonid Sidorov stood frozen, transported back to the bar last night. He muttered, “Can miracles really be contagious?”

Ji Ning pointed at nineteen once more, declaring in halting Russian, “I’m putting everything on this number.”

The crowd, already drawn by the commotion, burst into applause at his words. Even the blonde croupiers adjusted their outfits as they passed by Ji Ning, their movements subtle yet unmistakable.

Watching the screen, Qin Mo narrowed her eyes. “With so little fabric, what’s there to adjust?”

The sweaty manager forced a smile, reporting upwards via walkie-talkie. Once he received approval, he once again took his place at the wheel.

Roulette, unlike card games, was a spectacle—no one minded being watched. Half the casino had gathered, eager to witness a wager that would go down in the establishment’s history.

The little ball bounced across the spinning wheel, each ricochet tugging at every heart. Later, when those who witnessed this night recounted the tale in bars, none could recall how long the ball had danced—perhaps a million years, perhaps only a second. All that mattered was that, when their gaze returned, the ball had finally come to rest.