Chapter 183#
Price 06#
A deathly silence.
Countless gazes once again turned to the “Monarch” at the center.
Having received such special treatment, holding the “scepter” that commanded the life or death of the entire camp, and even being safeguarded to this extent by Mist City…
Was it because he had chosen the central position?
Because of the position, or simply because of the person himself?
Beneath the faint, cold light, the flawless silhouette stood aloof and unassailable, as if born to be the supreme sovereign.
Some recalled that when they first arrived, everyone had avoided the central seat. Only he had calmly walked over and sat down, his expression as natural as if the seat had always belonged to him.
As the croupier punished the disrespectful, and the spectators in the stands gasped in suspicion, the VIP seats of Everbright seemed shrouded in dark clouds.
“Ohhh~~” a sarcastic voice came from a black raincoat on the left. “What, is someone trying to snatch the rice bowl here?”
“Hahaha,” said the black raincoat on the far right. “Mist City, how about you come work for our company?”
“Do you want this blessing, or not?”
“I’m not happy,” said the black raincoat in the center. “I praised you for nothing.”
Their tones were laced with irony and a chilling edge. Even the usually calm Arga now had a hint of hostility in his eyes.
Against this backdrop, Claro’s smile seemed especially innocent and carefree.
He leaned in close to Murphy and said, “See? Everyone’s acting weird. It’s not my fault.”
The crystal pendants hanging from the ends of his umbrella ribs swayed and clinked against each other with his movements, producing a crisp sound that grated on the nerves.
Murphy irritably pushed his umbrella aside.
Finally, Arga spoke up. “How about we discuss some betting strategies?”
“I already said it,” Claro replied. “The weirder the weapon, the faster they die.”
Arga analyzed calmly, “Weapons are an extension of power, not power itself. Over-reliance on special weapons inevitably leads to neglect of one’s own abilities. That makes sense.”
Xina chimed in, “The pinker the hair, the fiercer the fight?”
——But no one with pink hair had been seen here yet.
Arga seemed unwilling to say more.
Black raincoat: “Props aren’t allowed, so special powers brought in are useless. As for physical fitness, since we’re all from the Eternal Night, we’re roughly the same. Looks like this time it’s not about power but about awareness.”
“With all this talk, no one has said how to actually bet.”
“Let’s watch a few rounds first. The soldiers start first—it’s a low-tier match. Surely we can tell who’ll win?”
“Even if we can’t, we can still discuss.”
“You theorists can just bet with us security folks.”
Fate whispered softly, “But you have no brains.”
“?”
“?”
“?”
The company was starting to feud.
Only Yufei Chen seemed detached. From the moment of that earlier disturbance, he hadn’t spoken a word.
An Fei looked at Yufei Chen. “What are you thinking?”
Yufei Chen’s eyes were lowered, the light casting dark shadows beneath his lashes.
His long fingers held a red-and-white chip, tapping it rhythmically on the table, over and over. No one knew what was on his mind.
Hearing An Fei’s question, Yufei Chen lifted his eyes to the demon statue at the far end of the arena, a cold sneer evident in his gaze.
He nodded toward the croupier. “What did you do to it?”
So fiercely resentful, yet still unable to fully let go.
For a moment, even Yufei Chen couldn’t determine what Mist City’s stance toward An Fei truly was.
——But this uncertainty only deepened his disgust.
Hearing this question, An Fei blinked slowly and replied, “I haven’t remembered yet.”
His frost-blue eyes were serene and empty, his tone calm as a summer lake, as if he were telling the truth.
It seemed he didn’t care what Mist City planned to do with him. Hatred or love, no matter what others did, his attitude would not waver.
Something pulsed in Yufei Chen’s blood.
Looking at An Fei like this, Yufei Chen suddenly understood one thing.
A person like this could easily earn others’ faith.
And just as easily reap intense hatred.
That was fine.
Just as he was thinking this, An Fei lowered his lashes lightly, his voice gaining a hint of gentle care. “When betting, don’t focus too much on power itself. Victory or defeat lies in whether the will can fully dominate one’s own power.”
He smiled again. “But then again, you already know that.”
The light on Yufei Chen had already gone out. At this moment, only An Fei’s surroundings were still illuminated. Everyone saw the monarch at the center smiling as he spoke, like ice suddenly melting.
Yufei Chen’s impatient attitude toward the croupier seemed to soften slightly—only slightly.
And the croupier finally continued where An Fei had interrupted.
“The match begins now.”
“White Soldier 1263, Black Soldier 1172, please enter the arena.”
——The numbers of black and white pieces were actually not equal.
That made sense.
When first entering Mist City, people’s factions were randomly assigned, and the numbers of black and white were balanced back then.
But some had killed more white pieces, others more black.
When the second faction confirmation came, those who had killed more black pieces became the white side.
So, based on overall strength, the final faction distribution ended up being unbalanced.
That also meant that among the surviving guests, the numbers of black and white were not equal—there were nearly two hundred fewer black pieces than white.
The contest between black and white had been foreshadowed from the very beginning.
Two people entered the arena. They were similar in build and age, both looking tense and wary.
Yufei Chen’s gaze swept over them.
No introductions, no information—only names and similar ranking numbers.
In moments like this, what techniques could still be useful for betting?
Only relying on the experience of a thousand battles, using minimal information to make the greatest possible deduction.
When two people’s power levels were close, victory was decided by their respective wills. That made sense, but the eyes couldn’t see it; only intuition could perceive will.
This time, Yufei Chen bet on the white side.
Apart from An Fei, he was closest to Discipline, who also bet on white.
“White?”
“White.”
“Mm, white.”
The others were comparing answers.
Betting on nothing but instinct made even them a little uneasy, but wasn’t the point of sitting together to discuss the answers?
Just then, an extremely cold wind arose from the center!
The candle flames swayed. The wind was mixed with mist, swirling like a vortex around An Fei, separating him from the others.
Yufei Chen: “An Fei?”
An Fei showed no reaction at all, as if he hadn’t heard him or seen his movements.
A second later, An Fei slowly looked around. His gaze paused nowhere. Then he reached a hand toward himself, but it was stopped by an invisible barrier, unable to move further.
Yufei Chen realized that An Fei had been isolated—he truly couldn’t see or hear anyone else.
The monarch’s choice could only be made by him alone. And the cost would be borne by everyone.
Like an ancient proverb, or an eternal curse.
“Monarch, please place your bet.”
All around turned into a vast sea of mist. An Fei could only see the arena and the croupier’s figure. In the silence, only the croupier’s voice and the sounds of the fighters could be heard.
—As if the others were merely spectators, and he was the only one truly in the game.
The gold chip landed on the white side.