The centipede was definitely getting riled up.

His fist slammed onto the table multiple times.

But it seemed like that wasn’t enough to vent his frustration. He grabbed the three zero-point cards and ripped them to shreds, throwing them aside.

He cursed loudly,

“What kind of damn garbage cards are these! Where’s the dealer? Bring me a new deck!”

The people at the mahjong hall quickly brought him a new deck of cards.

I took out 1,500 yuan and handed it to him.

This covered the house fee of 1,350 yuan from the last round, and the rest was for tips and the cost of the deck.

I then passed 9,000 yuan to Old Black. He had put in 4,500 last round and ended up winning as well.

“I’m going to keep betting you!” the Centipede threw the deck in front of me, speaking with a venomous tone.

I opened the deck calmly, replying,

“You can bet, but it looks like the money on the table isn’t enough…”

The Centipede had started with 50,000 yuan. After losing 27,500 in the last round, he only had 22,500 left.

As for me, after taking the house fee and giving Old Black his share, I still had over 40,000 left.

“Get the money!” the Centipede reached out and called to his underlings.

One of them hesitated for a moment, whispered something into the Centipede’s ear.

It seemed they were out of cash and had only brought 50,000 yuan.

Sure enough, the Centipede muttered under his breath, then slapped the remaining money on the table.

“I’m all-in this round, this is all I’ve got!”

He added, perhaps still unsatisfied, glaring at the bystanders,

“Come on, everyone bet, bet higher. Let’s make sure this bastard loses big this round!”

In gambling circles, it’s not uncommon to see players who curse and yell, especially when their cards are bad.

My goal was to win, so I didn’t care about his insults.

The others, out of respect for the Centipede, reluctantly placed their bets.

But none of them were big bets, most were around 200 or 300 yuan.

Old Black, though, bet 2,000 yuan, deliberately trying to rile up the Centipede

“This money is from the last win, well, actually, it’s from picking up some leftover winnings. I’ll just bet 2,000…”

The Centipede’s face darkened with anger, but he didn’t say anything.

I shuffled the deck, and the Centipede demanded to cut the cards.

He cut the deck six or seven times—just as well, it was nearly the same as reshuffling.

I couldn’t help but laugh to myself.

Facing a seasoned cheat,

even if you cut the cards to pieces, it wouldn’t help.

After all the cutting, the deck was returned to me, and I began dealing.

“Hold on!” the Centipede suddenly interrupted.

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He pointed at the table, saying,

“Put the cards down!”

I was confused but put the deck on the table.

“I’m afraid you might be cheating, so you can’t hold the cards in your hand. Place them on the table when you deal, and you can only use one finger to deal them…”

Though the Centipede wasn’t a professional cheater,

he had been around long enough to know some tricks to prevent it.

Unfortunately, this trick wouldn’t work against me!

I slightly tilted the cards on the table, using one finger to slide the top card.

The Centipede stood up, his two underlings glaring at my hand, their big heads practically glued to my hand.

They dared not blink.

I sneered inwardly.

The fool thought this would stop me from cheating,

not realizing I had already done my work when I shuffled the cards.

Though he cut the deck multiple times,

I had already set the cards up to my advantage.

Even if I dealt using just one finger,

the Centipede wouldn’t be able to tell.

Cheating is all about speed and precision.

A top-tier cheater can deal so quickly,

even security cameras wouldn’t pick up on it.

The cards were dealt. Without waiting for anyone else to reveal their cards,

I confidently flipped mine.

I had a 9, Jack, and 2—just one point.

As soon as I revealed my cards,

the other three who had bet also revealed theirs.

All their hands were better than mine.

One player who had bet 200 revealed an 8-point hand—twice the bet.

I paid off their bets and looked at the Centipede and Old Black, who hadn’t revealed their cards yet.

Old Black didn’t reveal his cards. He liked to shuffle the cards before showing them.

When we played "Zha Jia," he always shuffled them as if the numbers inside would change.

Also, he was worried for me.

My hand was so small, just one point.

The Centipede could easily beat me with any other hand.

The Centipede, on the other hand, was too nervous to reveal his cards.

Having lost to me with zero points last round,

he still seemed haunted by the loss.

Seeing that Old Black didn’t reveal his cards, the Centipede glanced at him and angrily asked,

“Why aren’t you revealing your cards?”

Old Black grunted, his neck stiffened, and he shouted,

“Mind your own business, reveal yours first!”

The Centipede noticed that Old Black wasn’t going to give in.

He grabbed the first card and flipped it over.

It was a King, zero points.

Seeing that it was zero points, the Centipede frowned.

The last zero points still haunted him.

The second card, however, he didn’t reveal right away. Instead, he began to fidget with it.

He lifted the card just slightly, then turned it sideways, slowly twisting it.

His two underlings behind him started shouting,

“Three sides, three sides…”

"Three sides" referred to a sequence of 6, 7, and 8 in cards, often called out by gamblers in baccarat.

After a moment of fidgeting, the Centipede slammed the card down.

It was a 6 of diamonds.

Now, the Centipede’s total was six points, while mine was just one.

Statistically speaking, he had a much higher chance of winning.

If the third card wasn’t a 4 or 5, he would definitely win.

The Centipede rubbed his hands on the table,

starting to focus on the third and most critical card.

Old Black, clearly nervous, stood up and leaned over, peering at the Centipede’s cards,

muttering under his breath, “Two sides, two sides…”

In a deck, "two sides" referred to a 4 or 5.

If the third card was either of those, the Centipede would lose to me.

Meanwhile, the Centipede and his underlings kept shouting,

“No two sides, no two sides!”

This meant the cards could only be A, 2, or 3.

If the third card turned out to be one of those, the Centipede would win.

Everyone around started to feel the tension.

Then, one of the underlings shouted nervously,

“Blow, blow, blow!”

The Centipede’s eyes widened in rage.

He gasped loudly, stood up, and slammed the cards onto the table.

He spun around to his underling, cursing,

“Blow you, it’s all your fault…”

The Centipede started barking like a rabid dog, while his underling looked utterly innocent.

The bystanders, seeing the Centipede's shredded card, couldn’t help but gasp.

But no one dared speak up, all afraid of the Centipede, who was notorious in the area.

The third card for the Centipede was a 4.

6 plus 4—he was back to zero points.

I won again!

Old Black, finally at ease, laughed heartily.

“This time it’s my turn to reveal! Give me a big hand, kill me, Chu Liu!”

“Kill me” was just a playful joke from Old Black.

This time, he didn’t shuffle the cards.

He slammed his cards onto the table with a loud thud.

“Holy shit!”

Everyone, except the Centipede and his underlings, gasped in shock.

Even Old Black himself stared, wide-eyed, in disbelief.

His hand was a Three of a Kind—3s, ten times the payout.

He had bet 2,000 yuan, meaning I owed him 20,000 yuan.