Fang Senyan’s actions might seem like an overreaction, but one crucial point had to be considered: this man had also emerged alone from a hotel room at the exact same time and location! The significance of this could not be overstated. It was highly likely he, too, was one of those so-called "Contractors!" Although Fang Senyan was still largely ignorant about many things, he distinctly remembered the prompt during the world description: "This scenario is a peaceful one; killed Contractors will not drop any items!"

Beyond its surface meaning, this sentence reflected two stark realities. First, Contractors could indeed be killed, suggesting that scenarios promising great rewards for eliminating a Contractor might appear in the future! More importantly, Fang Senyan’s current mission required him to destroy the Spatial-Temporal Node within forty-eight hours. What if there was only a single Spatial-Temporal Node?

Then, without a doubt, his interests would directly clash with those of other Contractors, inevitably leading to someone being eliminated. While the probability might not be high, it certainly wasn't zero! In Fang Senyan's view, sheer force was the best, indeed the only, method to resolve such disputes.

Therefore, Fang Senyan could not simply step aside; he dared not! The bearded man, after opening his door, also remained standing there, showing no intention of leaving. For him, too, worries abounded. Turning around to descend the stairs would mean exposing his back and the vulnerable back of his head entirely to Fang Senyan. If Fang Senyan held any malice, the man would be severely injured, if not killed!

The two stood in a tense standoff on the staircase, both cautiously guessing at the other's identity but hesitant to strike first, as neither was certain of a guaranteed victory. Moreover, each feared a third party lurking behind them. Fang Senyan paused, raised an eyebrow, and slowly pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and taking a deep drag. Amidst the swirling smoke, he squinted as if lost in pleasure, then slowly extended his left hand, resting it on the nearby wooden banister, which was already blackened and decaying.

Fang Senyan’s movements were deliberately slow and gentle, designed to prevent the other man from misinterpreting any sudden shift. With a slight exertion of force from his left hand, the already precarious wooden railing snapped with a sharp crack! He then feigned a clumsy panic and let himself fall. Since they were only on the second floor, Fang Senyan executed a casual flip in mid-air and landed safely. He turned to cast a deep look at the bearded man, whose expression remained placid, then kicked aside two leaning stools blocking his path, pushed open the hotel door, and stepped out onto the street.

Walking along the street still dotted with strings of neon lights, observing the surrounding architecture characteristic of the seventies and eighties, and the assortment of vintage cars, Fang Senyan took a deep breath, a fleeting illusion of having the power to create and rewrite history washing over him. His eyes, however, held a deep, ancient quality, like a well that remained vibrant despite millennia.

He was utterly lost in this city, yet the tasks ahead were numerous: the main mission clearly indicated danger. Therefore, the first priority was to familiarize himself with the local environment, quickly secure some potent, readily available weapons to arm himself, and only then think about locating and destroying the Spatial-Temporal Node. Under any circumstances, only one’s own strength provided the most reliable guarantee.

To achieve these objectives, naturally, the most convenient and fastest method would be crime. Having always been short of money since birth, Fang Senyan was no stranger to robbery and theft. However, he harbored an inexplicable fear of direct criminal acts, so, always following his intuition, Fang Senyan discarded this shortcut.

Finding a suitable guide was another viable method. While there were many ways to secure someone's service, the essence boiled down to coercion or incentive. Coercion was a double-edged sword; without overwhelming power, it could easily backfire. Thus, for Fang Senyan, new to the area, the best approach was incentive.

Yet, Fang Senyan thrust his hands into his pockets, searching his entire person, and found only two five-dollar bills. For Fang Senyan, this amount was barely enough for a single meal, certainly insufficient to incentivize a competent guide. Fortunately, in this world, while methods existed to legally and swiftly multiply ten dollars into a hundred or even tens of thousands, they were rare, they were not entirely absent. Fang Senyan was highly skilled in one such method: gambling.

In his previous life in the real world, Fang Senyan had haunted portside bars across the globe, experiencing every form of legal and illicit entertainment. Relying on his innate high Perception, he actually won more than he lost at the tables. However, Fang Senyan understood when to advance and retreat, never intending to make gambling a hobby or career, thus his reputation remained modest. Still, his skill at gambling was beyond question.

"If I must use gambling to raise funds, then conflict will be unavoidable."

"My un-enhanced self could barely handle two adult males simultaneously; even now, enhanced, I might manage five or six at most. If I were surrounded and rushed, I’d likely have to flee in disarray. Right! My hidden talent, 'Tenacity,' should have activated, but its actual combat effectiveness remains an unknown."

"Time is short; I can only try this first. If it fails, I’ll consider other methods."

Fang Senyan rapidly calculated his options. Once resolved, he glanced around, saw that the bearded man had not followed, and confidently walked two blocks before turning a corner into the middle of a side street. On the ground floor of a tall building to his left, a string of rather dilapidated neon lights cast a dim glow, vaguely spelling out "Dallas Bar." This location was deserted, somewhat remote, and the bar seemed to have a side door in the back, clearly a contingency exit. The entrance featured swinging saloon-style half-doors, the hinges of which apparently hadn't seen oil in ages, emitting a loud creak with every push.

Upon reaching the doorway, he was hit by a wave of warmth—a mixed odor of cheap perfume, stale liquor, and sweat—that made Fang Senyan sneeze twice. The bar inside was noisy and bustling. Cracks riddled the surrounding plaster walls, adorned with crude drawings or aphorisms scrawled in slang.

Weeds sprouted from the dirt along the base of the walls. Beneath the hanging lamp, to the right of the door, stood the bar counter. The wooden planks beneath it were split, and the counter surface was covered in a layer of sheet metal upon which rested large mugs marked with iron bands indicating different volumes. A wooden board was nailed to the wall, holding several glass bottles depicting full-figure portraits of various celebrities. The bottles contained a mix of red and green liquids, nothing more exotic than beer, whiskey, and the like.

The bartender was a bald man, sleeves rolled up, arms crossed over his chest. He had a long face and a pair of jaundiced eyes, warily watching Fang Senyan, the unfamiliar intruder. Fang Senyan walked directly to the bar, casually tossing a five-dollar bill forward, and snapped, "HI, Jack, give me a damn beer."

The bartender took the money, his expression softening slightly, and slid a large mug of beer over, replying coolly, "I'm Martin, thank you."

Fang Senyan took a sip of beer and began surveying his surroundings. The atmosphere was foul; people were huddled in five or six groups, most engaged in gambling. Two butterfly-clad waitresses flitted among them, not only collecting empty bottles and delivering drinks but also skillfully tucking away tips stuffed into their deep cleavage, keeping them delightfully busy.

After circling the room once, Fang Senyan had a general grasp of their methods. He lingered at the periphery of one circle for a moment, offered a few cheers, and then suddenly reached into his pocket, tossing a five-dollar bill into the betting pool. Even though this initial bet was only five dollars, Fang Senyan couldn't suppress a thrill and a long-absent sense of excitement, as this was his entire fortune!

The result proved that Fang Senyan’s superior perception was highly effective; the five dollars became ten. He then lost three dollars, but twenty minutes later, his initial five had multiplied sixfold. Fang Senyan then switched circles to play Texas Hold'em. Overall, he lost more small pots than he won, but he won big when he did bet. In just half an hour, his assets had climbed into the four figures, and the expressions of the surrounding gamblers were growing sour, their glances toward Fang Senyan becoming more frequent and hostile.

When Fang Senyan next cleaned out the man across from him with a commanding Full House, the crowd surrounding this gambling circle had doubled. Notably, two large men had subtly positioned themselves right next to Fang Senyan, one on his left and one on his right. These two deliberately showed off the dark tattoos covering their thick arms and exchanged loud boasts about crippling some poor soul just yesterday, clearly applying psychological pressure on Fang Senyan.

But Fang Senyan continued to win more than he lost, until the small-bearded dealer wearing a cowboy hat across from him was completely cleaned out. However, the dealer acted as if he hadn't noticed the lack of cash, crossing his arms and hoarsely announcing his next bet: "Five hundred."

Fang Senyan shrugged, saying mildly, "You need to show the cash first."

The little man raised an eyelid and sneered, "Looks like you don't know Bloody Jack? Fine. I don't have cash, I'll bet two fingers!"

Saying this, he reached into his boot, pulled out a gleaming dagger, and slammed it onto the table with a sharp thwack.

(To be continued, please visit for the latest chapters: .)