The Genius Martial Artist Who Remembers Everything - Chapter 226: Tomorrow's Fortune
Sword tiles. The most common gambling game enjoyed by the masses. Thin bamboo slats marked with pictures and numbers, where victory is decided by sequences or pairs, high or low.
Occasionally, there are fake fortune-tellers who use sword tiles to read fates, but mostly it's a means to wager money and take others' coin. Even in the Murim Alliance, sword tiles are a popular pastime. Whenever a few people with nothing better to do gather, someone shows up with coins and tiles.
In his previous life, even when the Small Justice Squad was swamped with work, a guy would appear with coins and sword tiles—a con artist called the Poison-Eye Ghost Sword, Seo Un-chang. Once that bastard joined a game, there wasn't a single day without a brawl. Thanks to his constant sleight-of-hand tricks, knives would flash, and plenty of people at the table ended up with serious injuries.
That ridiculous fucker even carried sword tiles during the later Orthodox-Demonic Great War. Every night, dragging our battle-weary bodies back to the barracks, we'd all sink into a heavy silence, awaiting tomorrow's death. Then Seo Un-chang would pull out his tiles, offering to read tomorrow's fortunes.
What divine power could a leech who'd spent his life sucking others dry possibly have? But after he'd rig a good hand with his tricks, somehow everyone slept easy that night. Of course, no one blamed him if the guy with the good tiles died the next day. They'd just approach him again to shake off the terror of the night's silence, begging for another fortune.
As I idly gazed at the sword tiles, lost in memories, a voice called out to me.
"J-Jin, lay donor... p-please, save me."
No, wait—so what the hell are you doing here?
Looking at his scalp beaded with sweat drops, I couldn't help but sigh.
"Planning to break your precepts?"
"N-no, that's not it."
Ilgak was trembling with fear to the point where even I was baffled. In both his past and present lives combined, I'd never seen him express such intense emotion.
"What happened?"
"W-well..."
The story went something like this. Trying to spread the Buddha's fine teachings(?), he'd wandered here and there, but people kept dodging him, refusing to give him an opening to preach properly. But these folks sitting here actually listened—even if just with half an ear.
While he was talking, one person got up to leave, and everyone else started to scatter. He promised that if they let him sit, he'd share the dharma talk, and these naive fools eagerly took the seat.
The more I heard, the more ridiculous it got.
"Haa... and then?"
"W-well..."
"You put up the Geumgangju as collateral?"
"Yes..."
I tilted my head.
"Isn't the Geumgangju one of Shaolin's Seven Treasures?"
Ilgak looked around in startled panic.
"J-Jin, lay donor! You can't say that so loudly..."
No wonder his immovable mind was cracking—he was about to lose such a treasure.
"Just subdue them and take it back."
"...How could a Shaolin disciple commit such a lawless act...?"
"They're all bad eggs anyway. Beating each other up is their daily routine."
"...S-still, that's..."
Ilgak glanced at the stolen beads, tempted for a moment like a man pulled by some enormous lure, then shook his head as if snapping out of it.
"Besides, that gentleman isn't a bad person. I lost fair and square in a proper game."
The man who'd taken Ilgak's Geumgangju was a mild-mannered scholar type. Knowing its value, he treated it with respect—laying out a small cloth at his feet and placing it carefully atop, all proper etiquette.
I nodded toward the Geumgangju and asked Ilgak, "Losing something like that in a gamble will send you straight to hell. Aren't you scared?"
"..."
Ilgak's face turned deadly serious. Any more teasing, and I might end up in hell with him.
"How much is the debt?"
"T-two hundred silver taels..."
"..."
Damn... lost a ton in that short time.
I pulled twenty gold taels from my bosom and handed them to the scholar-like man.
"I'll cover the debt. So return those old beads."
The scholar carefully slid the beads toward me.
"This wasn't taken in place of money. It was taken in place of a 'wager.' If you want, win it back."
Well, well? He must've overheard us calling it a sacred relic, yet he acts unfazed.
"I don't much like gambling, you see."
In my previous life, I loved it. But after Seo Un-chang died, I was the only one left who could rig fortunes with sleight-of-hand, and my interest faded. Plus, touching these tiles now might conjure images of those who heard their fortunes from me and died.
The scholar pulled the Geumgangju back toward himself.
"Then I can't return it."
"I'll give you thirty gold taels. That's a ten-tael profit."
The scholar shook his head calmly.
"Doesn't appeal."
I pressed my temples hard.
"You heard—it's a Shaolin sacred relic. You can't just sell it off, and you sure as hell can't take it out of here. If push comes to shove, I'll take it back by force."
"I heard the Black Flame Dragon was a reasonable fellow, but maybe not. Or is it true what they say about black path divine beings after all?"
"..."
I cocked my head. The envoy group's existence wasn't public knowledge yet. But this scholar spoke as if he knew not just Ilgak, but me too.
What the hell?
As I puzzled over it, he said, "How about this?" He carefully lifted the Geumgangju.
"No matter how much you lose to me, if you win back two hundred taels from me, I'll return the Geumgangju, just like that."
"This table seats four, right?"
"Doesn't matter. I'll handle the accounting. Win two hundred taels, and it's yours, Black Flame Dragon."
Was he after me from the start?
"You seem to love gambling quite a bit."
He shook his head.
"Precisely, I love 'contests.' But as you see, I'm a weakling."
Among black path folk who trained heavy external arts, his scholar's frame looked especially frail.
Hmm. No reason to dodge when he's staking it this far.
"Fine. But keep your promise."
A soft smile curved the scholar's lips.
"Of course."
To Ilgak, whose face had gone pale as if about to be ink-drowned, I said, "Bald senior, step out."
"A-alright. Please! Please!"
Ilgak stared at me with eyes pleading desperately to the Buddha.
Crack. Pop. I cracked my knuckles and neck, settling into the seat.
Daring to utter "contest" against Baekrang Pavilion's certified God of Gambling. I'll make you regret it.
From beside me came Dang Seohui's anxious, trembling voice.
"You have to win this one, you know..."
# As the stakes grew, the crowd stirred. Eyes widened at the piling gold and silver, gamblers swarming like ants to sweet nectar. Gazes increasingly fixed on the winner.
"J-Jin, lay donor... what is this... You don't know sword tiles?"
"...Why'd you sit so coolly? You look pathetic, you know!"
Ah, of course—not saying I was winning.
"...Don't worry. Gambling's about reading the flow first."
I pulled another bill from my bosom.
"Then why are your hands shaking, huh?"
Huh? My hands shaking?
No way. In my previous life, this happened so damn often I couldn't even recall them all. Lost my monthly pay once, my bonus another time. But in the end, I was the final victor.
"...Lay donor, you're breaking a sweat..."
Of course, to outsiders, it might look worrying. Sure, it could.
If I'd lost twenty taels alone here, no chance of winning. I'd be the clear mark at the table.
But three out of four at this table were getting fleeced by that scholar. Not my fault—he was just that good.
Heh. Ah! But that's not a good thing!
"You're pretty good."
The scholar smiled faintly. His innocent grin lifted moods.
The more I saw him, the more likable—minus the taunting.
"Had to use my head to survive, so it came naturally."
"Is that so? You must use it a lot."
"Most rivers-and-lakes matters resolve with force, no? But I knew early my martial prowess had limits."
Chatting with him replayed the storm of prior rounds. Sword tiles is a numbers game. Compare the numbers in your hand to decide win or loss.
With my curse-like perfect memory, I never forgot tiles played. And I could calculate odds from that.
Yet losing this badly meant...
This bastard's counting cards.
Near certainty. No way I'd get one-sidedly crushed like this.
I used memory to count too, but he was getting pushed less, so his math was superior.
What to do...
I'd already gauged his counting skill from prior rounds. Continuing like this, beating him would be tough.
Sword tiles have limited numbers, so fewer combinations. With his experience, he likely recalled likely hands from discards, counting accordingly.
Hard to gain edge on memory alone.
"Let's lower the stakes a bit. Too cutthroat, can't keep up."
A black path man losing like me grumbled.
I didn't even glance.
"No money? Fold."
"What?"
"Fold if no money. I've got something to win back."
"Look at this punk's swagger!"
The black path man snapped sharply—natural, losing money.
Still, I couldn't stop. Needed the Geumgangju back.
Staring only at my tiles, I barked, "Did I say something wrong? Don't gamble if broke. Pathetic, suggesting lower stakes."
Ilgak and Dang Seohui panicked at my attitude, trying to stop me.
"J-Jin, lay donor..."
"B-better stop now, you know."
The black path man's face flushed beet-red, no holds barred as he swung at me.
Thud. Hit unaware, I flipped the next table, instantly turning the place into chaos.
The black path man huffed furiously.
"Cocky little shit talks like he owns the place. Come on, punk!"
Lame taunts didn't register. The punch cleared my foggy head instead.
"Done venting? Scram, you beggar."
I snapped at the black path man who'd punched me, moving to sit—
But he swung again.
Whoosh—thwack.
"Donor, you've swung once already. Best stop."
"L-let go!"
But Ilgak blocked it in a flash.
"We're in the middle of important business. As lay donor Jin said, please leave."
The black path man gaped, unable to grasp how mid-height Ilgak so easily subdued his fist, but overwhelmed by the divine might, he snorted and stormed off.
"Lay donor Jin, you alright?"
"Y-yeah. Fine."
As we cleared tiles and dealt anew, Ilgak and Dang Seohui—who'd checked my wound—stepped back.
The other player sensed the bad vibe, grabbed his stakes, and left.
Now, just the scholar and me at the table.
Checking his tiles, the scholar eyed me steadily.
"...Perhaps get treated first? I won't run."
Even now, concerned for me? This guy felt different from other gamblers. Money wasn't the goal—pure thrill of the gamble?
I shook my head.
"Body's loosened up. Stopping here would kill the buzz."
"If you insist."
Just us two, pace quickened. Hitherto one-sided, now it shifted. He'd win three, I'd snag one; later, his two to my one.
Problem: stakes too low on my wins. Needed two hundred taels from him, but I'd clawed back mere thirty; he'd taken over five hundred.
The chattering crowd went silent, watching intently.
The scholar, unburdened, dealt and played as before.
"They say among the rivers-and-lakes divine beings, Jin Gongja's stratagems are top, hence the 'thoughtful' in his title."
"Rumors exaggerate."
"Humble."
He smiled faintly again.
"Heard you have the miraculous gift of never forgetting what you've seen once."
"Gift? Feels more like a curse."
Another loss. He swept the pile.
Dealt again.
"If it were a curse, your name wouldn't be so famed."
"You really think so?"
My win this time. Took less than he'd claimed before, listlessly.
He shuffled and dealt without pause.
"Yes. Without it, neither Tae-eul Gate nor you would soar so freely."
"Fair point."
"That's why I'm deeply curious about you, Jin Gongja. We're alike, you see."
"Good memory?"
He shook his head.
"No. Calculations just... happen, unwanted."
"Calculations... Ever burdensome?"
"Lie if I said no. Foreseeing outcomes robs life of fun. Only gambling remains my joy."
Thought it'd be my win—another sweep by him. His counting superior, as expected.
"So that's why I lose money."
"W-well... Not exactly. Luck plays big in gambling, right?"
"Luck... The margin's too vast for mere luck."
He smiled faintly.
Anyway, my win this round. Head clearing, matching his win rate now.
Since confirming he counted, I bet less on sure losses.
Soon, we traded small wins and losses.
Crowd bored with small stakes, trickled away.
Then, shuffling tiles, the scholar said, "Some divine fortunes with sword tiles, you know?"
"Done it plenty."
No one across past and present lives beat my tile fortunes.
He dealt, checked his hand, proposed, "How about final round as fortune and finale?"
"Final how?"
"End of this hand, I return Geumgangju regardless. But if you lose, give me your Black Dragon Sword instead."
I eyed his hands. Calluses, but not a swordsman's.
"Don't seem like a sword user. Why need one?"
"As a token."
"Token?"
He grinned at me.
"Proof I beat the Black Flame Dragon."
"Why need proof from someone like me?"
"Hmm, just... nice to have."
I checked my tiles. Nodded.
"Fine."
Then Ilgak's desperate transmission: -J-Jin, lay donor... That hand's no sure win, is it?
Oh? Gambling expert now, bald one.
I ignored, stared at scholar.
"Black Dragon Sword's a treasure, but not Geumgangju level. Sure?"
"Rather boast beating Black Flame Dragon than some monk."
"Not sure if I should be flattered. Whatever."
We drew one each, sorting hands. Placed one silver per draw—mere formality.
Real stakes: Geumgangju and Black Dragon Sword.
Scholar stroked his chin.
"First heard Black Flame Dragon rumors, shook with shock. Never imagined such a person."
"That so?"
He nodded slowly.
"Bearing my sect alone, I empathized deeply."
"Not bearing alone."
"Still, heaviest burden falls to..."
Discarding a Ten tile, drawing new.
"...folks like us."
Scholar bared teeth in grin.
"Anyway, my fortune looks better."
Bullshit. Wagering on first sight, now yapping luck?
"..."
"Shall we reveal?"
Placed Geumgangju on table. I unbound Black Dragon Sword beside.
Scholar slowly laid his tiles.
"Pity—I win this round."
Five sequential numbers: Linked Sword hand. Gasps rippled.
"No way he discarded that Ten!"
"Linked Sword... Scholar takes it."
"Yeah. I've only seen it thrice myself."
Unbelievable. Actual Linked Sword. Even Poison-Eye Ghost Sword avoided it in scams—too improbable. On the final, high-stakes hand?
Meant he'd foreseen it from the draw.
I'd flailed in his calculations.
Reaching for Black Dragon Sword, scholar said, "Gotta brag to sect mates. I beat Black Flame Dragon. Heh."
Grinning, ignored Geumgangju for sword.
"Hold it."
I seized his wrist grabbing the sword.
"Who said you could touch?"
Despite martial gap, he smirked leisurely.
"Resorting to force after all?"
"What're you on about?"
Dunno where it went wrong. Probably when that bald guy sat.
Even so.
I wouldn't sit here unprepared.
"Haven't revealed my hand yet."
"Heh, even if—"
Thud—thud—
I laid tiles one by one.
"...?"
His grin froze as I revealed each.
"Wh-what..."
"Game's not over till it's over. Never heard?"
Gamblers' eyes widened per tile.
"Wha... what?! Whoa!"
All revealed, groans erupted.
"Heavens... to witness this."
"That hand even possible?"
Four Ones and one King. Sword tiles' strongest: Five Heavenly Kings.
"F-Five Heavenly Kings?!"
Scholar gawked, alternating stares between me and tiles.
"Guess I got lucky."
I grinned at him.
Why? What? God of Gambling's god for a reason.
Wins somehow, that's why.
You little shit!