This hand, I purposely wanted everyone to win, except Centipede. That way, no one would suspect I was cheating.

Giving Old Black a Three-of-a-Kind was intentional—I'd purposely shifted the money to him. After all, in this mixed-up place, leaving money with someone like Old Black, who had a black tower-like presence, was definitely safer than keeping it with me.

But what happened next proved I was wrong.

Centipede glared at Old Black's Three-of-a-Kind, his eyes full of jealousy and, more than that, a deep hatred.

Two rounds of zero points. Fifty thousand gone.

Centipede gritted his teeth and, after a long pause, he snapped at Old Black, seething:

"Old Black, you have a Three-of-a-Kind, you deal the cards, and I'll keep betting!"

Centipede was broke now. But in a big game like this, there were always loan sharks lurking. I guessed that he, angry and losing, was already thinking of borrowing money at high interest.

I didn't want to play anymore.

Losing fifty thousand wasn’t enough for Centipede to flip out, but if he lost more... things could get out of hand.

Liu Ye had once said:

In a gambling game, a good cheater doesn't measure his success by how much he wins or loses. The real skill is knowing when to walk away.

And now, this was my moment to leave. Otherwise, I wouldn't have given Old Black a Three-of-a-Kind and let him deal the cards.

I feared Old Black might impulsively start dealing again, so I tried to signal him.

But before I could, Old Black had already spoken.

He let out a hearty laugh, stuffing money into his pockets—one pouch filled, then the other. He turned to Centipede and said:

"I don't care if you laugh, Centipede. I’ve been playing for years, but this is the first time I’ve won this much. It feels fucking amazing! I’m done for today. If you love dealing, I’ll let you take the house for free. Go ahead, push the cards..."

Old Black chuckled again, as if he were just thrilled about his win.

Though he was a bit simple, Old Black wasn’t dumb. We’d already won fifty thousand, and if we didn’t leave now, we’d look like idiots.

Centipede’s face turned white with anger. He jumped up suddenly, pointing at Old Black and me, and spat out:

"You’re not going anywhere! Neither of you is leaving today—keep playing!"

Old Black snorted, glancing sideways at Centipede.

"Just because you say I can't leave, that means I can't? What, you want to fight? Don’t think I’ll let you off easy. I don’t need Chu Liu to step in, I’ll take all three of you on myself. You want a piece of me?"

Old Black had worked security here before. He wasn’t a big shot in the underworld, but his strength was well-known.

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Hearing Old Black issue the challenge, Centipede didn’t dare respond, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down.

He bit his lip, simmering for a long moment, before finally saying, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we play again. Are you two up for it?”

“No time,” Old Black responded sharply.

“Then don’t blame me if I bring him into it!”

Centipede’s eyes narrowed as he glared at me.

I wasn’t worried about his threat.

After taking the money, Old Black and I headed downstairs.

By the time we reached the first floor, the restaurant was still buzzing with activity. Old Black was in high spirits, and as we walked, he said excitedly:

“Chu Liu, you’re not just my Liu Master—you’re my god of wealth! I’ve won twenty-nine thousand today, and I’ve never won this much in my life. Here, this one thousand is for you, to celebrate!”

Old Black was generous.

I’d won the money, but he didn’t know I’d been cheating to help him win. Still, he wanted to give me a thousand as a gift.

I thought about explaining the real situation later, but before I could, Old Black had already begun pulling out money from his pockets.

As he reached into his pocket, his face suddenly changed.

“Damn it, where’s my money?”

Old Black had split his twenty-nine thousand into two pockets—one with nineteen thousand, and the other with ten thousand. But now, he only had the nineteen thousand left. The other ten thousand was gone.

A small tear remained in his pocket, clearly sliced by a knife. It was obvious—someone had stolen from him.

"Could it be Centipede and his crew?" I asked.

Old Black turned around, heading back up the stairs, and said, “No way. They don’t have the guts or the skill to steal from me…”

By the time we reached the second floor, we were both still in a hurry to find the thief. Though it was late, the Mahjong tables on the second floor were still packed.

We were heading back to the fourth floor, where we’d played earlier, when I casually turned around.

And there, at one of the Mahjong tables, was a familiar figure: the little beggar who had been hanging around our game.

I’d watched him earlier and confirmed he wasn’t a cheater, so I didn’t think much of him.

But now, when our eyes met, the little beggar quickly averted his gaze, not daring to look at me directly.

I stopped.

Watching him closely, I walked toward him.

Though he didn’t meet my gaze, I knew he was keeping an eye on me out of the corner of his eye.

As I was about to pass him, he suddenly shifted, and in one swift motion, he slipped past me like a rabbit, too fast for me to react.

Fearing he might escape, I yelled at Old Black:

“Old Black, grab him!”

Old Black, who had been near the stairs, heard me and rushed forward. With one swift motion, his large hand grabbed the little beggar by the collar.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” he bellowed.

But to our surprise, the little beggar didn’t panic.

Without even turning around, he simply raised one hand and swung it back.

I heard Old Black cry out in pain, and he involuntarily let go.

I quickly stepped forward, trying to block the beggar.

But just then, the little beggar grabbed the railing, jumped, and leaped from the second floor directly onto one of the restaurant’s tables on the first floor.

He rolled smoothly, then bolted straight for the door.

The entire movement was fluid, almost like a well-rehearsed performance.

The only word that came to my mind was "graceful."

I turned to look at Old Black. Blood was dripping from the back of his hand.

The wound was shallow, but what bothered him the most was that he didn’t even know how he had been cut.

But I knew exactly what had happened.

The little beggar had a small razor blade hidden between his fingers, and when he swung his hand back, the blade cut across Old Black's hand.

His speed was so quick, even the best cheaters in the world would have a hard time matching it.

We quickly bandaged Old Black’s hand and went back downstairs.

He was still cursing under his breath, determined to catch that little beggar.

Earlier, the kitchen staff had mentioned that they knew a bit about the beggar. They said he lived under the bridge at East Market Street.

Without hesitation, Old Black grabbed me, and we made our way to East Market's bridge tunnel.

It was already late, and the old street was mostly dark, with only a few scattered lights.

The bridge tunnel at East Market had some light, but it still felt eerie.

After the earlier incident, Old Black had grabbed a rolling pin from the restaurant kitchen, just in case.

The bridge tunnel was partially blocked by a broken wooden door.