An He Zhuan: Act Eleven – Chapter 1

When will the scorching sun pass?

No cool breeze can be found…

In Sihuai City.

This small city lay near the Supreme Wushuang City, serving as a waypoint for many traveling there. At the edge of Sihuai City stood Tianxia House, one of the four great gambling establishments in the world. Beyond Tianxia House, continuing forward, one could see Wushuang.

These days, the most discussed topic in Sihuai City was naturally Zhuo Yue’an, the young city lord of Wujiancheng who challenged Wushuang while wearing a mask and carrying a paper umbrella. The gamblers coming and going from Tianxia House with real gold and silver hotly debated the upcoming duel while raising the betting pool to nearly a million taels of silver.

Even for Tianxia House, such an enormous wager hadn’t been seen in many years.

The current manager of Tianxia House—the young man Su Muyu had met that day, Lord Haoyue—waved his folding fan while watching several wooden plaques in the distance. A young man with exceptional lightness skills leaped high and flipped the leftmost plaque. The characters on it changed to read “Song Yanhui, Victory, One Pays Two.” Lord Haoyue smiled faintly and closed his fan. “It seems fewer and fewer people are betting on our Wushuang City Lord.”

Beside him stood the short, stout man who had guided Su Muyu that day, continuously wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. He spoke worriedly, “If Wushuang City truly falls, things will become difficult for Tianxia House as well.”

“What is there to fear? A centipede dies but doesn’t go rigid immediately. Even if Wushuang City declines, it will be a long process. Tianxia House might gradually be forgotten by people, but what of it?” Lord Haoyue smiled. “By then, another Tianxia House will appear in the jianghu, and I will be its new master. Young man, don’t make your path too narrow.” Suddenly, Lord Haoyue noticed a remarkably handsome young man appear in the crowd below. The man’s expression was calm, his eyes clear, looking at the wooden plaques above with slight confusion.

“There’s prey,” Lord Haoyue smiled slightly.

“I’ll go check,” the stout man immediately understood and hurried downstairs. The young man’s exceptional appearance and the jade-inlaid golden thread belt at his waist suggested noble birth. Combined with his confused expression when looking at the plaques, he seemed unfamiliar with gambling. In a casino, such a person was considered a fat sheep.

The stout man made his way through the crowd to the young man’s side, speaking with feigned familiarity: “Is this your first time at our Tianxia House, young master?”

The young man was briefly startled, then looked at the stout man and shook his head. “It’s my second visit.”

“Oh? I don’t recall you, how surprising,” the stout man wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“With so many people coming and going in this gambling house, you can remember them all?” the young man asked, puzzled.

“Hmph. Their eyes are like dogs’ noses. Whenever someone carrying the scent of money enters, they watch them like predators watching prey. Within an hour, they investigate the person’s identity and background, determine the maximum wealth they can access, then devise meticulous plans to strip them clean during their stay at Tianxia House, chewing even the bone fragments to nothing,” said a hunched old man beside them with a cold laugh.

“Old Ding, what nonsense are you spouting here!” the stout man shouted angrily.

Old Ding continued laughing coldly, completely unafraid: “That’s exactly how you lot swindled me of everything I owned back then!”

“I have no interest in the gambling here,” the young man shook his head, then pointed at the plaques above. “I’m merely curious what those represent.”

“Ah. This concerns a major event in the jianghu—Zhuo Yue’an, the orphaned heir of Wujiancheng, challenging Song Yanhui, the lord of Wushuang City. You can bet on Zhuo Yue’an winning: one pays one—bet a hundred taels of silver, win two hundred if he’s victorious. Or bet on Song Yanhui: a hundred taels wins you three hundred if he wins. You can also bet on a draw, which pays two hundred for a hundred-tael bet,” the stout man explained.

The young man shook his head, confused. “Why does betting on Song Yanhui’s victory pay more?”

The stout man was stunned, thinking this person must be incredibly naive, and continued explaining: “Because fewer people betting are favoring his victory. After all, the previous Wushuang City Lord already fell to Zhuo Yue’an, and Song Yanhui’s reputation isn’t much greater than Liu Yunqi’s.”

“I see,” the young man nodded.

“But more importantly, people love stories. A nearly forgotten sect, an unknown swordsman defeating Wushuang City’s top disciple, the Four Swords of the Lecture Hall, Great Elder Jian Shanyue, and former City Lord Liu Yunqi—what an inspiring tale! If he then defeats City Lord Song Yanhui, wouldn’t that be the perfect ending?” the stout man smiled. “In gambling, there are no absolutes. The results often reflect people’s wishes.”

“I understand. What’s the minimum bet?” the young man asked.

“Minimum three taels of silver, maximum one city’s worth!” the stout man announced loudly.

“Good, I’ll place a bet.” The young man took out a piece of fine silver from his robe and placed it in the stout man’s hand. “Three taels of silver!”

“What?” The stout man’s jaw dropped in disbelief, amazed that after all his setup, the young man would only bet three taels. Still maintaining patience, he asked, “Young master, who are you betting on?”

“Naturally, I’m betting on myself,” the young man walked to the stout man’s side and whispered so only he could hear.

Lord Haoyue, watching from the second floor, read the young man’s lips and was greatly startled. No wonder the man had said this was his second visit to Tianxia House—he was the masked man who had come for the Wushuang Command that day. His brows furrowed as he used all his concentration to study the man’s features, trying to memorize his appearance.

This person had always appeared masked in public. If his true appearance could be recorded and published, it would make for quite a profitable venture.

But to his surprise, the more carefully he looked, the more blurred the man’s features became. After several glances, his mind went completely blank.

Then the man below patted the stout man’s shoulder and turned to leave. Just before exiting, he suddenly looked back up.

Cold sweat drenched Lord Haoyue’s back!