Chapter 77
Chapter 77
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: Bring the Money
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Bring the money.
Right.
The waiter's explanation was perfectly reasonable. I might not know much about military tactics, but I'd read Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Even if it was the comic version with plenty of artistic license, the advantages of terrain in sieges around castles or major battles—what gamers call 'map advantage'—were absolute. It was common sense that breaching defenses held by people familiar with rugged mountains would take dozens of times more troops.
I glanced around the dim interior of the inn. The cramped, shabby space was filled with rickety tables and chairs that looked ready to collapse at any moment. It was as pitiful as could be.
"But isn't the Beggars' Sect usually bigger than this?"
The waiter scratched his head sheepishly and replied.
"Yes. Of course, we have some branches a bit larger, but most keep this small scale. No point drawing attention. Occasionally, with the sect leader's permission, we expand a base... but that's rare."
He added,
"Anyway... wherever the sect leader is, that's the heart of the Beggars' Sect."
Right. I nodded. A sudden curiosity struck me.
"So, what's the income like here?"
"Haha..."
"What income? As you see, we run this inn, do some coachman work... pickpocket a little now and then, but mostly it's from selling information. Lately, rumors of Demonic Cult unrest have drawn more people seeking the main branch, but before that, the Central Plains were so quiet our earnings were dismal."
"Even now, it's not much, but enough to put food on the table for the family. But why do you ask...?"
Why ask, huh.
"I need money."
"Pardon? Money?"
The waiter's eyes went wide. Behind him, the men who'd quietly picked up their weapons again tensed visibly. Anxiety spread through the dark inn like mist—the fear that this guy might try to rob us. I waved it off lightly to dispel the misunderstanding.
"I'm not that kind of guy."
Only then did the waiter sigh in relief, patting his chest.
"Phew... So why do you need money?"
"Got more women, but the house is too small."
For a moment, every sound in the inn stopped. The waiter blinked, then shouted with a mix of awe and admiration.
"Whoa! You've got skills!"
The wariness vanished from his face, replaced by the camaraderie of a fellow kindred spirit.
"Women do love a big, nice house. Of course, who wouldn't."
Hm. Yeah, that made sense. The Azure Dragon Squad's lodging was just temporary. With Soso, Ha-eun, and now the rabbit in human form—three women—it was way too cramped and inconvenient. I needed my own space, and they needed theirs.
I pulled two heavy gold ingots from my robe and set them on the table.
"Can't I get a decent manor with these?"
The Beggars' Sect members' eyes bulged. The waiter stared for a moment before smacking his lips with a troubled look.
"Hmm... This could buy a decent house. But... a manor? Probably not."
"If you're looking inside the Murim Alliance headquarters, as I suspect, land there is insanely expensive. No way with this."
I see.
"Got any good ideas?"
The waiter crossed his arms, deep in thought. Calculations flashed across his face. He groaned for a while, then his eyes lit up as if struck by inspiration.
"Ah!"
He slapped his knee and leaned toward me.
"How about multiplying your money?"
Multiply money?
"Our branch runs a gambling den."
As expected.
I leaned back deeply into the chair and asked,
"Inside the Murim Alliance?"
"Yes."
The waiter shrugged as if it were no big deal.
"Got the Alliance Leader's permission. Nothing illegal, so don't worry, Vice Squad Leader."
Hm?
He'd just called me 'Vice Squad Leader.'
"You knew who I was?"
The waiter blinked in genuine surprise.
"Yes...? Of course?"
This guy.
I couldn't help but chuckle in disbelief.
"Then what was that encirclement earlier? Looked like you were ready to kill me."
"Well... you showed up with our missing sect leader's token. Standard procedure, right?"
He said it without a hint of embarrassment, as if it were obvious.
"We might shelter in the Alliance, but our sect leader comes first over the Alliance. I'm sure you understand, Vice Squad Leader."
Fair enough.
It made sense. Their roots were in the Beggars' Sect, not the Alliance. Loyalty lay elsewhere. Fine. No point arguing.
But something still nagged at me.
"Gambling to make money... feels iffy."
I tapped the gold ingots on the table with my finger, staring him straight in the eye.
"If you're planning to fleece me, better quit now."
The waiter waved his hands with an exaggerated laugh.
"No way! We just give weary martial artists a fun time and make a little profit on the side."
His lip curled slyly.
"Though... if you lack the skill and lose it all... well, that's on you."
This punk.
"Lead the way."
Delight lit up the waiter's face.
"Right away!"
He replied cheerfully and took the lead. The creaky inn door opened again, revealing the ordinary bustle of the marketplace as if nothing had happened. The waiter deftly wove through the crowd, guiding me.
The gambling den wasn't far. It looked like an ordinary tavern from outside, but the entrance buzzed with noise.
The moment I opened the door, a wave of heat and shouts assaulted my ears.
"Over here! All in!"
"Aaaagh! One tile short...!"
"Waaaaah!"
What. So many people.
The building was packed to the brim, no room to step. From burly men stripped to the waist slamming down tiles, to dignified warriors in martial robes rolling dice. Their faces twisted with hope, despair, desire, and madness. Clinking coins, clacking tiles, cheers, and groans swirled into a massive vortex of noise.
Was gambling this popular an entertainment?
As I got lost in the chaos for a moment, the waiter grinned obsequiously beside me.
"What do you think, Vice Squad Leader? This is our Beggars' Sect's pride—the Dragon's Den."
Dragon's Den, huh. Fitting. The writhing heat of desire all around proved it. In one corner, the crisp clack of tiles rang out loudly. Mahjong. I'd seen it in comics but always skipped the rules, just looking at the pictures.
Pass on that.
I turned to the waiter.
"Got anything simpler?"
"Ah, yes! Of course. How about the shell game?"
Shell game? What's that.
Reading my face, he quickly explained.
"Hide a small object under one cup, shuffle them fast with empties, and guess which has it. Simple."
Ah. Three-cup monte. Just spot the sleight of hand.
"That sounds good."
"Great choice! This way!"
He beamed like it was his own win and led me to a corner swarming with spectators. Pushing through, I saw a man sitting before a worn board.
Wow. That guy.
He looked the perfect con artist. How does someone even look like that? Skinny frame, greasy hair, beady rat eyes, yellow teeth flashing in a sleazy grin. If physiognomy were real, his forehead would scream 'I'm a scammer.'
I sat in the spot the crowd made. The con man eyed me with a greasy smile.
"Heh heh. What'll it be?"
How much you betting, probably. Hm. In the rush to enter the Beggars' Sect, I'd forgotten to exchange the ingots for silver. All I had were the two heavy gold ones.
Hmm...
After a moment's thought, I pulled out one ingot and slammed it on the table with a thunk.
Instantly, the noisy surroundings went deathly quiet. The con man's rat eyes bulged at the gold, then he coughed and schooled his face.
"Oh, a young master. An honored guest."
His attitude flipped to deference as he neatly arranged three cups. He lifted one to show the small wooden block underneath.
"See? Normally four cups, but for you, young master, just three."
Sensing his emotions, total bullshit. Three was standard.
I nodded silently, pretending ignorance, and sharpened my eyesight. The world sharpened, slowing slightly.
"Here we go!"
His hands danced. Swish, swish. Cups clinked and swapped noisily. Fast, but not impossibly so. Normal eyes could track it.
After a dozen shuffles, his hands stopped, cups lined before me.
My enhanced vision clearly saw the block end up under the rightmost cup. But... oddly, my qi sense detected nothing. Just the cold board under the right one.
What.
I glanced up. His lip twitched in a smug, confident smirk.
Ah. Rigged game.
Sleight of hand swapped it out during the shuffle. Every cup a dud. Whatever. Fine.
As planned, I pointed to the rightmost.
He sighed theatrically, laughing.
"Haha! Tough luck, young master!"
Confident in victory, he reached for the cup I'd picked. The instant he lifted it—I planted a subtle suggestion.
'Put the block you hid in your hand back under that cup.'
Clack.
The small block rolled out from under the cup he'd triumphantly raised.
"Huh?"
His face drained white. Murmurs erupted from the crowd.
I looked at him and said quietly,
"Bring the money."