But that scoundrel Zhang Hong utterly ignored Zhou Huan. No matter how much Zhou Huan reasoned with him, the fellow was like deadwood, focused solely on winning back every cent he’d lost the day before; his mind was nothing but money.

"Buddy, stop thinking about winning back all your cash tonight. If you keep thinking like that for a while longer, watch out, or your head will be filled with corpse worms. I fear you’ll soon be gambling your life away instead of just your money," Zhou Huan warned repeatedly, but Zhang Hong was already committed to the gamble and paid no heed to Zhou Huan’s words.

From the start, during the cockfighting, Zhou Huan matched every bet, and at considerable stakes too. In less than half an hour, he had already lost half the money he brought, which caused that fellow Zhang Hong to swell with rapid confidence.

Zhang Hong, a cigarette dangling from his lips, took a deep drag, then turned back and roared with laughter. "Hahaha! Master Zhou, it seems your luck at gambling isn't so great either! Who says a twitching right eyelid means disaster? I’m actually winning money today. What kind of mystical nonsense are you spouting, Zhou Huan? Stop trying to fool me."

"Whether you believe me now or not is irrelevant. Luck at the gambling table is always twisted luck. If you don't believe me, take a good look at your foot. Has it turned black yet? Blacker than charcoal itself, accompanied by the stench of rotting corpses." Zhou Huan sniffed, detecting a powerful foul odor.

Zhang Hong seemed to smell it too, but he completely dismissed Zhou Huan's words. He casually slipped off his sock and stuck out his bare foot. "See for yourself. Has anything changed?"

"Yes, your foot has turned black," Zhou Huan chuckled. "Blacker than charcoal! What else can you say now?"

Zhang Hong held his foot, sniffed it, then examined it closely. His eyes darted around. "Nothing seems different. I just haven't washed my feet in a while; a bit of dirt doesn't matter."

"Very well, let's keep gambling. If you win again, take another look at your leg!" Zhou Huan said with utmost seriousness, but Zhang Hong had no intention of believing him. He was certain Zhou Huan was trying to deceive him, just wanting to stop him from winning.

Subsequently, Zhang Hong scooped up a handful of red bills from the pile of cash and tossed them to the waiter standing nearby. "This is for you. Keep it safe. If Master Zhou runs out of money later, hire a car to send him home."

Hearing this, Zhou Huan burst into loud laughter, and the two resumed gambling. After another half an hour, Zhou Huan had lost another half of the money in his possession. It was at this moment that he noticed his eyelids starting to twitch rapidly, fluttering wildly. This time, both eyelids were jumping without any discernible rhythm. He immediately placed the ‘pause’ marker, stood up, and walked toward the washroom off the kang. Dongzi, however, remained seated, watching the money on Zhou Huan’s side of the table.

Simultaneously, something even stranger occurred: Zhang Hong, the waiter, and Dongzi—all three of their eyelids began to twitch at the same time. The eyelid spasms even seemed to resonate between them. The three exchanged frantic glances before settling back down, appearing as if nothing unusual was happening.

When Zhou Huan emerged from the washroom, the waiter stepped forward, offering a towel to dry his hands, and then helped support him back onto the kang. Next, Zhang Hong went to the washroom. A short while later, he returned. All four people in the room took turns visiting the washroom. However, only after Zhang Hong returned did his face change drastically, draining of all color. Sweat beaded on his forehead like beans, and his lips trembled uncontrollably.

"How about it, kid? Did you see your leg? I estimate the root of your thigh is already black by now."

"Master Zhou, how did you know? What exactly is happening to me?" Zhang Hong, who had been so arrogantly dismissive of Zhou Huan moments before, was now utterly convinced and pleaded with Zhou Huan to explain.

Zhou Huan smiled faintly. "Don't just look at yourself. If I had won your money today, I’d be in the exact same state you are. Take a look at the waiter's hands now; they should have long since turned black and lost all sensation."

Hearing this, the waiter immediately panicked. He quickly looked down at his own hands and tried to move them; he still had some feeling.

Zhou Huan casually took out the iron shovel he had brought and brought it down hard, carving a deep gash into the waiter’s hand.

"What? Why is there no blood?" the waiter shrieked.

When Zhang Hong looked at the waiter's hand, all that oozed out was thick, foul-smelling phlegm, accompanied by a stench powerful enough to choke someone. Yet, the waiter felt no pain; he had no idea why his nerves couldn't register the agony in his hand.

Zhou Huan then took a handful of glutinous rice and a handful of cinnabar and scattered them onto the waiter's hand. Looking again at the waiter's charred-black hand, white smoke began to rise from it—smoke so acrid it was nearly suffocating. At this moment, however, the waiter writhed in pain, tumbling head over heels off the kang and onto the floor.

"M-Master Zhou, then what about me?" Zhang Hong was truly panicked now, completely at a loss for what to do.

Zhou Huan became genuinely stern this time, roaring at Zhang Hong, "Did you treat everything I said earlier like bullshit?"

"Master Zhou, I... I was deeply engrossed in the gamble at the time. I didn't remember much of what you said. Look!"

"You wait to die!" As Zhou Huan spoke, he swept all the remaining money onto the table. "This last round—win or lose—it’s all yours. I’m going back to my Fushou Hall. You deal with whatever you want!"

Zhou Huan’s shout confused Zhang Hong. Trembling, he pushed the money he had just won, along with all the cash he brought, toward Zhou Huan. "If my father flays me alive, I accept it, but at least I won't die. I don't want this money anymore. Just let me live, Master Zhou, and I won't gamble again."

Seeing that the time to leverage Zhang Hong had come, Zhou Huan turned and instructed Dongzi to properly handle the black, deathly aura clinging to the waiter. Then, Zhou Huan turned back to Zhang Hong and began to speak eloquently, repeating the methods he had mentioned during the earlier gambling. This time, Zhang Hong committed every word to memory, finally saying to Zhou Huan, "Master Zhou, based on what you've explained, I was essentially the bait for this entire operation today, wasn't I?"

"You were the most crucial element. Without you, none of us could have accomplished anything. Don't worry, I won't let you die. If you don't make it through what happens tonight, well... you probably won't have a future afterward," Zhou Huan said gravely.

Only then did Zhang Hong realize that this night might truly be his last. If he could endure and pull through, he would gain a rebirth.

The two resumed their cockfighting, but this time they played very slowly, deliberately setting a measured pace. The previous rapid gambling was Zhou Huan’s intentional way of showing Zhang Hong that his warnings were not deceitful. To backtrack, Zhou Huan hadn't initially known the gambling session would lead to such severe consequences tonight. But ever since he heard that everyone present had been suffering from intense eyelid twitches recently, he suspected the coincidence wasn't random. Zhang Hong's body starting to turn black wasn't something Zhou Huan calculated; it was something Zhou Huan observed once Zhang Hong’s physical state began to change.

Dongzi managed to draw the waiter, who was struggling on the floor, out of his agony. The waiter looked much more haggard than when he first entered, but he still insisted on climbing back onto the kang to serve the ongoing game between Zhou Huan and Zhang Hong.

Before long, the village head knocked and entered, carrying two bottles of unlabeled liquor. "Master Zhou, Brother Zhang Hong, you are both esteemed guests here. Come, come! Have some wine brewed from corn by us old farmers myself." Having said this, the village head glanced at the money chest beside Zhou Huan, which was now empty, leaving only the two stacks of bills on the table. The man's eyes flickered. "Oh dear, Master Zhou, it seems your funds are running low. Would you like me to inject some capital for you?"

"How could that be? If I borrow your money, won't I have to return it?" Zhou Huan replied politely.

"Not at all, not at all. Your word, Master Zhou, is as good as gold. Even if you didn't repay it, we wouldn't ask. Besides, Master Zhou isn't someone short on funds!" the village head said with extreme courtesy and deference.

Zhou Huan smiled, waved his hand to decline the village head's offer, and even specified that he absolutely had to clean out Zhang Hong’s money. Following Zhou Huan’s gaze, the village head looked over at Zhang Hong’s side, where the red bills were already piled high.