Writing a Whole Damn Screenplay, You Crazy Bastard!
Passing through the shabby entrance revealed a flight of stairs plunging into an unknown subterranean depth.
"Just head down this way, sir."
I gave a short nod and followed his lead down the stone steps.
As we descended deeper into the earth, a cacophony of voices drifted up through the shadows.
"Ah, damn it all! Lost again!"
"Take it easy on me, brother! Just a little!"
The place I soon stepped into was an underground gambling den. Contrary to its derelict exterior, the subterranean hall was surprisingly expansive. Every single table was packed to the brim with punters, while throngs of onlookers waited eagerly behind them for an open seat.
Looks like their main game here is Sword Tiles.
Sword Tiles. It was a gambling game played with thin bamboo slips marked with illustrations and numbers, where victory was decided by ranking combinations and sequences. The rules varied by region, but here in Hubei, painted cards were used instead of carved bamboo.
The layout was simple enough: ten cards each of Black Sword, Black Hook, Red Sword, and Red Whip, capped off by a single King Tile to make a deck of forty-one. Excluding the King, the four suits were numbered from one to ten. A matching pair formed Twin Swords; holding a one, five, and ten made Three Absolute Swords; five consecutive numbers created a Linked Sword; and drawing four ones alongside the King Tile yielded the legendary Five Heavenly Kings. Twin Swords sat at the bottom of the hierarchy, while the Five Heavenly Kings reigned supreme.
Why did I know all this so thoroughly? Alongside mahjong, it was one of the single most popular games across the Central Plains. You'd be hard-pressed to find a soul in the Jianghu who hadn't tried their hand at it, so knowing the rules went without saying.
As I casually scanned the room, one table caught my attention. A crowd had swarmed around it, packed several layers deep.
"Who the hell is sitting there to draw that kind of crowd?"
"First time here, friend?"
The man who chimed in had a thoroughly unpleasant face. His protruding mouth and glassy stare gave him an uncanny resemblance to a carp.
"...Something like that."
"Aha, then it's no wonder you don't know! Over there sits none other than the famous Gambler Ghost."
"The Gambler Ghost?"
Having dabbled in gambling over the past decade, I'd naturally heard the name. Hubei's undisputed champion of the underworld tables—Do-gwi, the Gambler Ghost. Was that his real name? Not a single bastard in this hall had a clue. It was merely a moniker bestowed upon him by fellow degenerates: a potbelly vast as a mountain paired with a neck narrow as a needle, cursed to forever suffer the torment of insatiable hunger. A true preta of the gaming dens.
Yet his terrifying fame throughout Hubei stemmed from something else entirely—his notoriously brutal punishments.
"Nine Twin Swords, gents!"
The fellow laying down his cards beamed ear to ear, convinced of his victory, and reached forward to rake in the towering mountain of silver piled in the center of the table. But before his fingers could graze the pot, a drawling voice cut through the air.
"Hey there, Gu Wang-pil."
The sudden call from Do-gwi made the winner's pupils quiver violently.
"...D-Do you know me, sir?"
"Tryin' to pull slick parlor tricks on me from the very first hand, are ye?"
Before the man could stammer an excuse, Do-gwi clamped down on his wrist and slammed a dagger straight through the back of his hand.
Thwack—!
"Aaaaggghhh! Heeeee-aaarrrgh!"
"I'll wager every copper on this table and one of me own hands that there's an extra card stuck to that palm of yours. Now, what're you gonna put on the line, eh~?"
Do-gwi sneered, jerking the dagger up to reveal the hidden card skewered beneath the bleeding flesh of the man's palm.
"Ain't no wonder you lost your stake, boy~ Sam-du."
A mountain of a man looming behind him rumbled in response.
"Aye, Boss."
"Fetch the meteor hammer."
Before anyone could blink, the brute named Sam-du produced a spiked iron hammer weighted with heavy chain.
"Should've watched your step, son. Shouldn't ye?"
"P-Please, have mercy! Just this once...!"
"Heh, heh, heh."
The desperate pleas were answered only by a low, wheezing chuckle.
The chain whipped through the air.
CRUNCH—!!
With his wrist smashed into a pulverized, dangling mess of bone and gore, the cheater was dragged toward the exit. Yet not a single person in the hall spared the wretch a sliver of pity. If anything, the spectators looked thoroughly entertained, treating the butchery like everyday dinner theater.
Crazy bastards, the lot of them.
"My, my. A fresh face, is it?"
A seductive, mature voice called out from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted an alluring, elegantly dressed woman carrying an unmistakable aura of authority. By the cut of her silk robes, she was clearly the proprietor of this establishment—Madame Jeong.
"Well now, Ye-rim, darlin', you finally decided to grace us with your presence?"
Do-gwi seemed well acquainted with her, greeting her arrival with an oily grin.
"If you've got an itch to scratch, young master, why not join in for this round?" she purred.
At her suggestion, the eyes of every spectator in the parlor snapped toward me in unison.
"Heh, heh, heh. If the lad's willing to sit, I'd be mighty grateful."
As if my participation was already a foregone conclusion, the crowd parted down the middle, opening a clean path to the table. The stone floor before the empty stool was still slick with fresh crimson. But I felt neither fear nor hesitation. It wasn't like I came down here to admire the scenery anyway—I was here to bleed these bastards for their silver.
"...Fine by me."
I took a couple of strides forward, but as I reached for the chair, the fish-faced man who had spoken to me earlier grabbed my sleeve in a panic.
"D-Did you not just see that?! I don't know how good you think you are, but one wrong move and you're a dead man...!!"
"Save your breath. I'm going to win anyway."
I shook off his grip and settled onto the stool. Do-gwi eyed me up and down, his needle-thin neck twitching with mockery.
"Did ye fill your belly with supper before comin' down, boy? Who knows when you'll ever get to use that hand to eat again?"
"Cut the bullshit. I've already tasted the sweet, the bitter, and every pile of shit this world has to offer. Save your cheap tavern jawing for someone who cares."
"Oho, well, listen to the mouth on this one! Got more vinegar in ye than ye look. Fine then, lad. Just like ye said—less talk, more play."
Five cards were dealt to each of us in brisk succession.
I slid the tiles open, checked my hand, and tossed them face-down onto the felt.
"Fold."
Hand after hand followed, and I folded every single time. As my cowardly streak stretched on without end, the surrounding gallery began to murmur.
"Is he just going to fold until he gets carried out like the last guy?"
"What was all that swagger about if he's just sitting on his hands?"
"Tsk, tsk. Another fine wrist about to get smashed to paste."
Amid the growing derision, Do-gwi leaned across the table once more.
"Ye plannin' on dyin' of old age before playin' a hand, son?"
"Whether I fold or die is my business. Did you chip in for my funeral expenses or something?"
"Heh, heh, heh. Just worried about ye, that's all. Wouldn't want you leavin' here missing an arm like that other fellow."
"Drop the friendly act. It doesn't suit you."
As the deck was gathered and shuffled once more, old memories of Master Paeng suddenly drifted into my mind.
—Ho-yeon, you know what people called this master of yours before they crowned me the Blade Tyrant?
—...Master, is this really something I need to learn while I'm squatting over the privy?
Naturally, the old bastard had completely ignored my protest and rambled on.
—Anyway! Back in the day, your master ruled the roost in Hebei. Whether it was mahjong or Sword Tiles, not a single cheat or master could hold a candle to me!
—Look, I get it, so just get the hell out and let me wipe!
Only after a desperate, life-or-death battle in the outhouse had I managed to finish my business. Stepping out into the courtyard, I'd sighed and asked him:
—...So, how do you actually play it?
—Hahaha! I knew your curiosity would get the better of you! Today, this master shall personally impart a few secret techniques.
—Wait, I'm really not that curio—
Master Paeng's thumb had casually grazed the hilt of the massive saber strapped to his waist.
—...is what I would say if I were an idiot, but learning from you sounds like an absolute thrill, Master!
From that fateful day on, Master Paeng's gambling lectures commenced.
—So, you're claiming this hand is Nine Twin Swords?
—Yes.
Having trained under his tutelage for two whole months, I had answered with absolute confidence. Yet what flipped over from his fingers was something entirely different.
—It's the Five Heavenly Kings, you fool.
—Wait... Master, that hand?
—What about it?
He spread both palms wide before my face, but there wasn't a spare tile in sight. My eyes widened like saucers.
—H-How did you pull that off...?
—The hand is quicker than the eye! Now tell me, Ho-yeon—what hand do you desire?
—O-One Twin Swords, sir.
—Ashura balbalta... Ashura balbalta!
As he shuffled the tiles with blinding speed, chanting nonsensical incantations, his rugged, battle-scarred appearance matched the absurdity so oddly well that I could only stare in a daze.
—Ho-yeon! Do you want to make coin?!
—Yes!
—Do you want to become a tycoon?!
—Yes!!
Master Paeng slammed five tiles down in a neat, perfect row, his eyes burning with mad fervor.
—Then remember this! These tiles right here are your Murim Alliance Leader, and this one is your Heavenly Demon!
Looking back, my descent into the den of gamblers was entirely that old bastard's fault.
Snapping back to reality, the game was steadily marching toward its climax.
"Sam-du, best get that meteor hammer ready to swing."
Do-gwi's chuckle signaled to the entire room that the real slaughter was about to begin.
Finally, it was my turn to deal the tiles.
A chill swept through the room. It felt as if Master Tang's flying daggers were whistling straight toward my ribs. But fear not. Just as Master Paeng had drilled into my skull: the hand is quicker than the eye.
One from the bottom for Do-gwi, one from the top for me. Another slip from the bottom for Do-gwi, and now the final tile—
SLAP—!
"Hold it right there! Dealing from the bottom, are ye?"
"What's your problem? Let go of me!"
"Pulled me tile straight from the bottom of the deck, didn't ye? Thought I was an easy mark?!"
"Ha! You got proof?"
"Proof? Course I got proof! You dealt me Nine Twin Swords to bait me in, and this tile right here under your palm... this is the King Tile, ain't it?! Look here, everybody! Look at this little rat! You were gonna swipe the King Tile and sweep the whole pot, weren't ye?!"
"You're writing a whole damn screenplay, you crazy bastard!"
"Bwaaa-hahahahaha!"
One of the spectators in the crowd hollered toward the hostess.
"Madame Jeong! Check the tile! Is it really the King?!"
"Don't nobody touch that card!" Do-gwi roared, spittle flying from his lips. "Touch it and your wrist flies off! Sam-du, bring the hammer over here!"
"Hold on," I snapped coldly. "You really need to see blood to be satisfied?"
"Didn't your elders ever teach ye that gettin' caught in a lie costs blood?!"
"......"
A suffocating, blood-soaked tension gripped the parlor. Watching me face down the demon without blinking, the onlookers held their breath, expecting some grand, terrifying reversal up my sleeve.
Too bad the reality was completely different.
Holy shit, what do I do?! Why the hell did I open my big mouth?! If I drop to my knees and beg right now, will he let me off with just a beating...?!
In truth, there was one vital realization I had reached during my training under Master Paeng.
Namely... that I was disastrously, catastrophically devoid of any talent for gambling.
Even after six full months of brutal practice, I had barely managed to learn how to shuffle the deck without dropping the tiles. Master Paeng had grown so thoroughly disgusted by my ineptitude that he gave up teaching me altogether.
Then why the hell had I sat down at this table?
...Well, as a man, the atmosphere just made it feel like running away wasn't an option, you know? Haha.
"Sam-du. Tie both his hands down."
"Aye."
"Now then, shall we see what's under the cloth? Ta-da-da-ran, ta-da-ran, boom-shaka-laka, ta-da-ri-ra-ri..."
His thick fingers reached slowly for the tile.
H-Hold on just a goddamn second—!!