“The Alliance’s custom explosive bullets—even at close range against an A-Rank Ability User, they’ve got the power to blow a head clean off with one shot.”
Lin Cheng picked up the exquisite revolver from the table. This wasn’t part of the Alliance’s standard gear; Litchi had scavenged it from the black market, and she’d placed a single bullet right there beside it.
The atmosphere grew heavy once more.
Every sound in the room rang out like a pin dropping in Xu Wanyue’s mind. Lin Cheng loaded the bullet with deliberate slowness. Once it was chambered, he set the revolver back down on the table.
“The rules are simple. You can shoot first, or I can—no matter. No limit on the number of shots. Every time you pull the trigger, you take twenty million in chips from the table. No cap. When you’re done, it’s my turn, until we’ve fired six shots total. Then the game ends.”
“You first? Or me?”
Lin Cheng’s voice, soft and gentle once again, hit Xu Wanyue’s ears like a death knell. She was utterly convinced that her “luck” had responded to her, yet cold sweat still poured from her forehead. Her legs clenched tight under the table; otherwise, they would have trembled uncontrollably.
She raised her hand, but even in her vision, that pale arm of hers shook without restraint.
Lin Cheng’s voice sounded again. “If you’re scared, I can go first.”
“Do you hope… I go first, or you?” Xu Wanyue looked at Lin Cheng.
“Either works for me, but out of the goodness of my heart, I suggest you start,” Lin Cheng said with a smile.
Xu Wanyue suddenly remembered: ever since Lin Cheng had sat down at this table, he hadn’t lied to her once.
He had already given her the best advice—take that hundred million in chips and walk away. But she hadn’t listened… She had her reasons for staying. Now she stared into Lin Cheng’s eyes, searching for any telltale sign of deception or truth. But those eyes held only calm—a serenity that inexplicably steadied her nerves.
She pressed the revolver’s muzzle to her temple. Her finger trembled on the trigger, cold sweat dripping steadily from her brow. Even her snowy shoulders and delicate collarbones glistened with beads of perspiration, as if she’d just finished an exhausting, sweat-drenched workout.
She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.
“Boom.”
The sound reverberated through the private room.
In that instant, Xu Wanyue’s body went limp in the chair, her clenched legs splaying apart involuntarily. Her frame shuddered and spasmed without control. But when she opened her eyes, she was perfectly fine.
The “boom” had only come from Lin Cheng’s mouth.
“Twenty million.” Lin Cheng slid the chips toward Xu Wanyue, then met her gaze. “Want to keep going?”
It took Xu Wanyue a long moment to muster her strength. She sat up slowly. The “luck” she sensed now nearly enveloped her entirely—this was the foundation of her security for all these years. But doubt crept in. Her trembling body and ragged breaths left her in a strange state of arousal. Facing the smiling Lin Cheng, she broke into laughter of her own. Hers bordered on manic next to his playful smirk. “I refuse to believe luck would abandon me!”
She jammed the revolver against her temple again and pulled the trigger—once, twice, three times!
Three empty clicks.
That made four pulls total, and now she was utterly spent, slumping boneless in the chair. She didn’t fire a fifth.
Litchi, ever considerate, fetched a towel and dabbed the sweat from her forehead.
She also lifted the “suggestion” buried in her mind.
“My turn, right?”
Lin Cheng pushed sixty million in chips her way, then snatched up the revolver from the table. He pressed it to his own temple without a hint of hesitation and pulled the trigger.
The gory scene Xu Wanyue had braced for never came.
Just an empty click.
Lin Cheng grinned. “One shot left. You’re up.”
He swung the revolver toward Xu Wanyue’s forehead, adjusting it deliberately so the muzzle kissed the spot right between her brows. Her eyes flew wide. “No… don’t… no…”
“The odds of a revolver barrel exploding? One in a million. About the same as you raking in thirty million at a casino over three days.”
Lin Cheng’s smile faded. His eyes darkened with depth as his finger settled on the trigger.
“I figure you don’t have the guts to pull this one, so… I’ll do it for you.”
“No… don’t… please…”
Lin Cheng pulled the trigger.
Xu Wanyue had collapsed completely into the chair. She felt a vague, sticky warmth spreading across her body. She’d heard the gunshot clearly this time—no dud.
But the bullet merely whipped over her head, slamming into a painting on the wall. The room’s walls were lined with reinforced metal, sparing them from outright cracking, but Litchi blurted out on instinct, “My painting!”
“Huh?” Lin Cheng glanced up at her.
Litchi’s gaze bored into him darkly. “That one cost eight hundred thousand at auction.”
“…Make her pay up.” Lin Cheng set the revolver down and jerked his chin at the drained Xu Wanyue. Her eyes stared vacantly now, her breaths coming in desperate gasps. She hadn’t a shred of strength left to speak.
“Game over. My shooting’s as lousy as ever. If you want to walk out with these eighty million… be my guest.”
Xu Wanyue said nothing, as if thoroughly broken.
Lin Cheng rose to his feet, stretching lazily as a smug grin spread across his face. He shot Litchi a look. “Well? Pretty slick, huh? Told you I’d win. Heh heh.”
“…” Litchi pulled the now-cracked painting from the wall, resentment filling her eyes as she glared at Lin Cheng. “But my painting’s ruined, so… no touching for you.”
Lin Cheng’s face fell in an instant. He stared at Litchi with utter grievance. “How can you say that? I protest!”
“Protest overruled.” Litchi crossed her arms over her chest.
“Ugh, now I’m all depressed and suicidal.” Lin Cheng grabbed the revolver from the table, loaded a fresh bullet, and fired four shots at his own head—all duds. He set it down and muttered under his breath, “What a boring power.”
“How’d you beat her?”
“Trade secret.” Lin Cheng’s smugness returned in full.
“Tell me.” Litchi pouted faintly.
“Alchemy’s all about equivalent exchange.” Lin Cheng winked at her.
“Fine… you can have a feel later.” Litchi lowered her voice, curiosity burning uncontrollably in her eyes.
“Her power’s luck,” Lin Cheng said, glancing at Xu Wanyue, still slumped dazedly in her chair.
“Luck… can that really be a power?”
“It’s complicated. Her ability’s top-tier. Put it this way: if she buys a lottery ticket and really, really wills herself to win, she’ll snag at least second prize. And as long as she believes it, the luck keeps rolling.”
“So that’s why you…”
“Yep. That’s why I had you plant that psychological suggestion—tell her her power glitches out for a few minutes every month. It never actually did; she just thought it had. So she figured she’d lost her luck and handed me the win. Her ability’s all in the mind—purely subjective.”
Litchi’s power belonged to the psychic system, high-tier at that. Psychological suggestion was one of its branches. She’d slipped it in upstairs with Xu Wanyue—faking a stumble to brush her finger, implanting the idea that her ability would fizzle for five minutes starting ten minutes from then. Right after the dice game wrapped, the timing hit, convincing Xu Wanyue her luck had dipped out… then returned just in time for the revolver bet.
“So how’d you actually win?”
“When she stops believing in her own luck… nothing but misfortune’s left. That’s her power’s hidden rule.” Lin Cheng flashed a mysterious smile. “I didn’t lift a finger. You did it all.”
Litchi nodded, half-getting it. Then she reached out, seized Lin Cheng’s hand, and yanked him out of the room.
She slammed the door shut behind them.
In the corridor, Litchi stood with arms crossed, tilting her head to scrutinize Lin Cheng. He met her gaze with wide-eyed innocence.
“Did I just accidentally help you pick up another girl?”
“I’ve got zero interest in her.”
Litchi pursed her lips. “Yeah, right.”
“Suspicion’s enough to convict in your book? At least give me a solid reason.” Lin Cheng gazed at her, equal parts amused and exasperated.
“You don’t usually… mess with people like that. Wasn’t this a little over the top?” Litchi trailed off uncertainly.
She wasn’t some delicate flower, but she knew Lin Cheng had a soft spot—he didn’t treat girls this harshly as a rule.
“You’re missing two key points,” Lin Cheng said gently.
“What?”
“First off, why’d she show up all dolled up like a firecracker a few days back? Not to throw off her gambling opponent—she knew her luck guaranteed a win. She dressed to catch one person’s eye. Guess whose?”
“Second, she could’ve pocketed that hundred million and bounced, no sweat. Why stick around for my last thirty million? Money’s meaningless to her either way. She’s no true gambler; she’d pick the safe play.”
Wariness sharpened Litchi’s gaze.
Lin Cheng’s implication hung clear in the air. Xu Wanyue’s identity was no secret: an Alliance Adjudicator.
“Maybe winning or losing’s beside the point. She came here to get on our radar. A luck-wielding Ability User? Every organization’s dream recruit. The Alliance’s watched our rise—they’re nervous. And us? We could sure use someone like her.”
“We don’t need turncoats.” Litchi scoffed.
“No, we need her.” Lin Cheng sighed in resignation. “Her power would help Lemon.”
