"A show of deterrence before the gamble even begins"—this was the sudden resolve that solidified in Yang Yi's mind the moment he heard the Japanese man speak.

He had originally intended not to cause trouble tonight, merely to win some pocket money, attract the attention of the casino's highest management, and use the distraction to scatter the Dragon Gang's focus and dilute their powers of speculation, keeping everyone guessing about his true purpose in Macau.

However, the sudden turn of events had changed his mind. He stopped Qin Hou, who was about to intervene, and smiled warmly at the Japanese man on the floor. Beside them, the Englishman, who had initially harbored wicked thoughts toward Feng Shi and Xuanyuan Bing, was now immensely relieved he hadn't made a move first. Fatty Lin’s slap, that kick, and his immediate, decisive snatching of someone else's gun had thoroughly cowed everyone present.

"You—" The Japanese man, hearing the gunshot cease, raised his head in sheer terror to glare at Fatty Lin. He stammered, managing only "You—" without forming a complete word.

"Damn your mother, I'm here to gamble, not to pick a fight! You dare to undermine me? I’ll see this through to the end!" Fatty Lin maintained his usual look of disdain, but internally he was already sweating profusely. He didn't know Yang Yi's true objective for the night, but seeing how Yang Yi had been cautious and yielding at every turn, Fatty Lin knew he had some ulterior motive. Now that everything seemed ruined, of course he felt the pressure.

He glanced at Yang Yi, muttering inwardly, "Damn, Brother Yi, what in the world is going on? Forget it, forget it. Even if I get thrashed when we get back tonight, I have to see this through." Just as he finished this thought and was about to make a move, Yang Yi’s laughter erupted—an incredulous, resounding laugh.

"Hahahaha—Hahahaha—!"

"Wh—why are you laughing?" The Japanese man, hearing Yang Yi laugh so inexplicably, asked with a frozen expression.

"Always leave room for maneuver," Yang Yi mumbled internally, then spoke aloud, "May I ask what name I should use for this gentleman?"

At these words, the composure of two people faltered, each lost in their own thoughts. One man’s face momentarily froze, then broke into a smile: "Heh heh, Brother Yang, this is Mr. Fujiki, visiting from Japan. Since we are all here to gamble, why let trivial matters cause such agitation?"

"I knew you would say that, Qin Hou!" Yang Yi sneered inwardly. He then stood up, walked to the Japanese man, extended a hand, and said, "Mr. Fujiki, my brother has caused offense, I ask your forgiveness. I apologize on his behalf!"

"Hmph—!" Fujiki snorted coldly, standing up without taking Yang Yi’s offered hand.

Qin Hou, seasoned as he was from years in the field, felt confident enough to step in after Yang Yi’s gesture, following up on his words: "Indeed, Mr. Fujiki, please grant me, Qin Mou, this face. A great man shouldn't stoop to the level of petty grievances."

"Hmph!" Though slightly startled this time, Fujiki hadn't been injured, so his pride was now sufficiently restored. "This time, I shall overlook it for Lord Hou's sake."

"Heh heh!" Both Yang Yi and Qin Hou chuckled knowingly, though their thoughts clearly diverged. Only Fatty Lin remained bewildered. But since Yang Yi had taken this step, he trusted his leader had other plans, so he didn't press the issue.

However, in the minds of Tian She and the Korean man, the situation was growing increasingly bizarre. Any intelligent person would recognize this as merely a switch in roles, a calculated act of reciprocal retaliation. Typically, those with real power wouldn't haggle over minor slights to save face; instead, they would step back to reposition for a sharper strike later.

Qin Hou hadn't pondered the situation that deeply, but seeing Yang Yi back down did startle him. It deepened the initial seed of suspicion he held, making him think, "This man is truly not simple. I fear tonight's game is far more complex than a mere wager. Alas, is finding this man a curse or a blessing?"

It was obvious enough.

The Englishman held back, suppressing his inherent arrogant capital. The Korean remained consistently calm and collected, secretly observing Yang Yi and Fatty Lin. The other two foreigners, though surprised by Fatty Lin’s strength—kicking a man clear was no ordinary feat—were internally exclaiming, "YE, that's Chinese Kung Fu!"

Yang Yi, a faint smile playing on his lips, addressed Qin Hou: "Lord Hou, we are all just ordinary people, so it is best not to offend anyone. Regarding the preceding incident, I can only offer you my apologies."

"Heh heh, we are all here to gamble. There's no need to spoil the harmony over trifles; harmony brings wealth, after all!" Qin Hou echoed the sentiment, yet found the words tasted strange coming from his own mouth.

"Very well, since that is the case, let us begin."

"Good. Our stake here starts at a base bet of one hundred million. Five cards, aiming for a Straight Flush. The ante for the hole card is three hundred million. That means anyone matching the previous bet must exceed the previous better by at least three hundred million," Qin Hou patiently explained to Yang Yi.

"Understood."

Hearing Yang Yi’s response, Qin Hou smiled. "Since you understand, let us commence."

The gambling round—or rather, this situation that was less a game and more a calculated confrontation—was thus unveiled.

The initial six participants were joined by Yang Yi and Qin Hou, making a total of eight players. Tian She began dealing. Each person started with one hundred million US dollars as their initial capital, and the hole card ante began at three hundred million.

"Baka! You think I’ll let you off so easily? Humph. Since Lord Hou brought them up, they must be the sure-fire marks for tonight. Well, I’ll show you what skill evolved to the level of the divine truly looks like," the Japanese man thought fiercely.

"Starting from A-Big, Mr. Fujiki, you initiate the betting!" Tian She called out to Fujiki.

"Hahaha, since I go first, then I shall bid a small—ten billion US dollars," Fujiki declared, pushing his chips forward with a provocatively mocking smile.

"I call, fifteen billion!" the Korean man announced.

"I also call, seventeen billion!" the Englishman chimed in.

Seeing how high the first round of bids went, the Americans understood clearly that the targeting was aimed at someone specific. Since the final bidder in the round would be the man named Yang, they offered a cold smile to themselves. "Twenty billion!"

"Oh—My God." The African man, who didn't originally worship Jesus, suddenly seemed to embrace the Almighty now—a slight suspicion of religious boundary-crossing was warranted. "They're all bidding so high on just the first card! Oh, running into a beauty tonight, I have no reason not to follow."

"Twenty-five billion!"

"Damn, this bastard deserves a thousand cuts…" Fatty Lin cursed under his breath. Though he trusted that as long as Yang Yi didn't intend to lose, he wouldn't, seeing all six opponents targeting their side made him undeniably angry.

Qin Hou, meanwhile, offered a faint smile. He elected to remain neutral in this scenario, neither helping Yang Yi nor the other six. "I call! Raising the base ante by three hundred million."

"It's your turn, Mr. Yang," Tian She said with a smile toward Yang Yi.

"Heh heh!" Yang Yi smiled noncommittally, his thoughts hidden. But it was certain that Yang Yi hadn't expected his plan to win big tonight and cause a massive ruckus before casually departing might conclude within one or two rounds.

"What? Mr. Yang, if you cannot match the bet, I advise you to fold. This isn't children playing with sand. If you match, you must beat twenty-eight billion, and the ante goes up to thirty-one billion…"

Before Fujiki could finish speaking, Yang Yi interrupted, "I call, raising by fifty billion!"

"Damn!" Fatty Lin gasped inwardly. "Brother Yi is ruthless."

"This can't be—" Fujiki stared in disbelief.

The others sucked in a collective sharp breath, but only Qin Hou sensed something profoundly wrong. He exchanged a look with Tian She, his brow suddenly knitting tightly.

Tian She maintained his smile and continued dealing the cards. After one face-down card was distributed, he called out, "Mr. Fujiki, it's your turn again."

"This—" Fujiki hesitated, deeply wary of the massive chip stack Yang Yi had just suddenly laid down.

"Heh heh, I wonder if Mr. Fujiki intends to call?" Yang Yi asked with a roguish smile, a strange, dark shadow flickering beneath the surface of his words.

"I call! Why wouldn't I call!" Fujiki, who had been hesitant, couldn't suppress his anger after Yang Yi spoke, immediately pushing forward fifty billion. "I raise by another three hundred million!"

"I fold—!" The Korean man withdrew. The chips now amounted to 'twenty-eight billion plus fifty billion, plus another three hundred million. In total, this round was no longer a gamble; what was the difference between this and betting one's life?' The fact that he could think this proved the Korean man was indeed no simple character.

"I fold too—!"

"None of us will call!"

Suddenly, a group of them dared not continue. With just two cards dealt, the pot had soared to eighty-one billion—or precisely eighty-four billion if you included the final small raise. Who would possibly continue against that?

"Lord Hou, it's your turn!" Tian She seemed entirely unfazed by the others' withdrawal.

"This—" Qin Hou knew that with everyone else folding, the decision now fell back to him: "Should I call, or should I fold!"

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