“So,” Griffin asked under his breath as he fiddled with his food in the mess-hall. “Which one is the prick that bet against me?”
Shen-Ya raised an eyebrow at his question. Jun-Ra was currently preoccupied with her Guardian duties, so she couldn’t accompany them.
“The one who hosted the bets? He’s Shu-Lavan, the son of a merchant. We don’t need to fear him, but he’s still a fair deal stronger than you. Don’t pick a fight.”
“Who told you that I was going to pick a fight?” Griffin asked, as he feigned a wounded tone. “I just want to have a quick chat.”
Gazing at him with narrowed eyes, Shen-Ya shook her head. “I promised Senior Sister Jun that I wouldn’t let you get in trouble.”
“Fine, fiiiiiiiiine,” Griffin sighed in surrender. “Can you just tell me if he’s in the mess hall? So I can look over my shoulder just in case he charges at me with a katana or something. I’m the reason why he’s down a thousand qi chips, after all.”
Deliberating on the matter for a few long moments without giving anything away with her eyes, Shen-Ya nodded, “He is.”
Griffin’s lips curled upwards into a mischievous smile, his gaze shifting away from Shen-Ya as he allowed it to sweep across the crowd.
“Shu-Lavan, get over here you filthy mongrel!” Griffin or Gen-Ra, whichever you preferred, screamed at the top of his lungs, the rage in his tone palpable.
The bustling atmosphere in the mess hall died down to near pin-drop silence, as almost every head swiveled in Griffin’s direction. Then, merely a few moments later, they resumed in the shape of enthusiastic whispers that seemed to welcome the chaos instead of being critical of it.
“Hey, Shu-Lavan. Are you going to let that twerp talk to you like that?” A nameless male voice from the north-east hollered.
Finally, there was a response.
Two people abruptly got up from their seats. Reconvening at an aisle in the middle of the mess hall, one took his place before the other. A slightly pudgy man took the lead, his black hair slicked backwards and his vivid green eyes shimmering with rage as he turned his gaze to slowly face Griffin. The black robes with golden embroidery near the sleeves he wore seemed to be fashioned out of a silken material, clearly a few notches above Griffin’s own standard military issue robes.
The tall, lanky cultivator that trailed behind him wore basic robes that mirrored Griffin’s own, so he soon lost interest in him.
“If you have business with me,” Shu-Lavan said as he strode forward, before coming to a stop on Shen-Ya’s side so that he could face Griffin directly. “Then you should have approached me in private, junior,” He replied with a sneer, as his pudgy cheeks started to turn a little red from either embarrassment or rage.
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“Would you be kind towards someone wanting to profit out of your death?” Griffin cocked his head to the side mockingly. “I guess you are a better man than I am, Shu-Lavan.”
Like a pack of hyenas that had spotted prey, the crowd began to holler and jeer for both sides, delighted alone by the chaos that had broken out. Most luncheons in the cultivator world probably didn’t come with in-flight entertainment.
“I will ask you one more time, junior,” Shu-Lavan’s tone had turned threatening as he gazed directly into Griffin’s eyes. “State your business or quiet down.”
“Fine,” Griffin met the merchant-cultivator’s gaze with his own steely one. “I have a proposal for you.”
“A proposal?” Shu-Lavan repeated, baffled by the certain turn in events. Since when had this turned into a business discussion?
“Originally, I was going to take about a week to rest and recuperate before challenging the second floor,” Griffin let his statement linger in the air for gravitas, before continuing, “But for you, I will change the terms. I will head into the second floor of the Gilded Dungeon tomorrow night, as long as you let me bet on myself.”
The crowd could no longer contain itself.
“Heading to the second floor after a day? Has this junior lost his mind?” A male disciple asked his friend.
“Is he that offended by Shu-Lavan hosting a wager on his odds? How ferocious,” A female cultivator remarked, sounding impressed.
“This has crossed the realm of bravery and entered foolishness. How naive,” One cultivator whispered to another standing next to him.
Shu-Lavan, pressured by the crowd, finally had to respond, “Why should I accept your bet, junior. Any paltry sum you can—.”
“Two thousand Qi Chips,” Griffin abruptly cut him off. “Sister Jun-Ra has already agreed to my proposal. If I am lying, then let me be expelled from the sect.”
“Insane,” Shu-Lavan muttered under his breath. “No, no— this is a scheme. You and that— that woman are trying to trick me. You are no weakling, I refused to believe it. I checked your records and Guardian Mok-Rakan refused to tell me. You fraudsters!”
Before Griffin could respond, Shen-Ya leaned forward and began to whisper in his ear.
“I can do that?” Griffin asked, clearly surprised.
Shen-Ya nodded, although her expression had already gone pale from how the events were unfolding.
“Fine, Shu-Lavan. I’ll share my level with you and everyone present in the room. System, please authorize it.”
[Name: Unknown
Calling: Unknown
Rank: E-
Level: 6]
“Level six….?” Shu-Lavan muttered under his breath. “H-How? How is it so low?” His gaze seemed to almost pity Griffin as he looked at him.
“None of your business,” Griffin curtly replied. “Now, will you accept the bet? Collect on it when I’m dead, alright buddy?” He spoke loud and clear as he extended his right hand forward.
“I accept your wager,” Shu-Lavan confirmed, before shaking his hand.
----------------------------------------
“This is why I love gamblers,” Griffin Thorne, The Apostle of Greed said to Shen-Ya as they walked back towards their rooms after the commotion had died down. “They just can’t end on a loss.”