I was a prince in the Middle East

Chapter 9: The Treasure Pierces the Sky!

Walid took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and suddenly pulled open the heavy soundproof door of the VIP room.

With each step, the expensive handcrafted leather shoes clicked softly on the polished marble floor.

In the shadows, a tall figure, like the most loyal shadow, silently took a half step forward.

Second Butler, Little Angari.

"Your Highness."

He handed a thin card to Walid, the movement as natural as breathing.

It wasn't the typical plastic feel of a credit card; it was heavy, cold, and hard.

The card is entirely a deep matte black, with a very thin platinum band inlaid along the edge, and there are no bank logos on the card.

This is the ultimate pass to money and power, a black card that theoretically grants unlimited overdraft limits.

Walid was not surprised that such an anonymous black card would be kept by Angari Jr.

Since there is a young Angari, there must also be an old Angari.

Angari is a family descended from the saint Hassan and is also a religious servant family of the Talal lineage, serving as stewards for the Talal lineage for generations.

The Angari family uniform features an embroidered, extremely fine gold palm branch on the left breast pocket, distinguishing it from the green Salman sword and shield emblem worn by the Suleiman family, who served the Sulay faction.

People who are even closer than those born into the family in ancient China.

Old Angari served Prince Khalid, while young Angari was his shadow from the moment he, Walid, was born.

He was nominally the prince's butler, but in reality, they were like brothers.

The moment his fingertips touched the black card, Walid's lips curled into an almost maniacal smile.

“Little Angari,” he said with a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve, “I’m going down there and have some fun.”

He deliberately emphasized the word "mad".

Little Angari bowed slightly. "What does Your Highness intend to do?"

A hoarse, metallic sound rolled from Walid's throat, "I'm going to overturn this situation."

The word “掀” carries the sharp sound of a steel blade cutting through the wind.

Angari's smile deepened, and then he suddenly placed one hand on his chest—an ancient ritual in which the Angari family had pledged allegiance for generations.

"Wherever your scimitar points," he said, his spine taut like a bow, each word striking the air, "that's where the blood of Angari burns!"

“Your Highness,” Angari looked up and gave Walid a knowing smile.

"God says that the sun will rise again, and you are far more powerful than you think."

Without further hesitation, Walid casually stuffed the black card into his pocket.

With its head held high, like a young lion surveying its territory, it strode down the spiral staircase.

The "tap, tap" of heels striking the metal steps pierced through the clamor of voices below, clearly reaching everyone's ears like the beating of war drums.

Her flowing robes instantly drew all eyes in the opulent hall.

Ignoring all the stares, he walked straight to the gleaming gold betting table in the center.

A huge electronic screen scrolls the odds:

Bugatti Veyron win: 1.8 to 1
Phantom 2000-9 wins: 1.5 to 1 odds
Walid stopped, his gaze sweeping across the screen, a defiant smile playing on his lips.

"A draw. One hundred million US dollars!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it strangely pierced through the noise: "I'm betting on the third possibility!"

The hall fell silent instantly.

After a sharp gasp, a burst of snickering followed.

A figure dressed in a dark green uniform quietly stepped forward from behind Prince Bandar.

The left breast pocket is embroidered with a finely detailed Suleiman sword and shield emblem, the symbol of the steward family serving the Sulei lineage.

Jamal placed one hand on his chest, bowed at a 45-degree angle, and adopted a respectful posture.
“Your Highness, if I may be so bold, there is no third possibility for this race.”

"Ha!" Louder laughter erupted from the crowd, and several young servants even exaggeratedly clutched their stomachs.

Amidst the chorus of mockery, Walid didn't even glance at Jamal.

His gaze, like a quenched scimitar, pierced directly at Prince Bandar in the center of the crowd:
"What?" A clear voice tore through the noise, carrying a blatant provocation.

"Your Highness Prince Bandar..."

Are you afraid to offer the draw option?

"A draw? One hundred million US dollars? Your Highness Walid, after seven years of slumber, what woke you up wasn't your brain, but your sense of humor, wasn't it?"

A young prince slapped his thigh and laughed exaggeratedly, "Do you think this is a race between two camels?"

"Haven't fully recovered from the car accident? How can a sports car and a fighter jet be compared?"

Another voice, brimming with malice, said, "Both engines shut down at the same time? That's even more unbelievable than a camel and a cheetah tying the race!"

People were everywhere, egging them on and making a fuss.

The air in the entire club was thick with calculating sycophancy and backstabbing.

It is well known that Prince Bandar and Prince Khalid are at odds due to their overlapping arms trade dealings.

It is true that the Talal line, represented by Prince Khalid, is synonymous with wealth, but Prince Bandar was the eldest son of the third generation of the Sudri line, which was the most powerful line in the royal family at that time.

They have more power and influence.

Now, on Bandar's home turf, facing a young prince who, by seniority, should address Prince Bandar as "uncle," these shrewd hyenas know all too well who to bite.

not to mention--

"A miracle?" someone snorted dismissively.

"Sleeping for seven years will allow you to win the hearts and minds of the people," the prince said, his knuckles turning white as he held the crystal glass.

The thorns that had pierced the hearts of the young noblemen had now turned into venomous laughter.

How can this good-for-nothing who didn't even finish high school be able to gain faith through a car accident?
Those who shed sweat and blood at military academy became mere foils!
"Your Highness! Money delivered right to our doorstep! Money from the Talal faction, why not take it if it's free!"

"Open it! Open this option now!"

"Let us show you what it means to 'make money while lying down'! Haha!"

"Your Highness, His Highness Walid is bringing you money!"

The mocking, ridiculing, and gloating laughter surged in like a tide, almost drowning Walid.

Those gazes were filled with naked contempt, as if they were looking at a fool who was eager to prove himself but made a huge fool of himself, or a good-for-nothing who inherited a fortune but was destined to squander it all.

Walid ignored him, his gaze fixed on Prince Bandar.

The moment he uttered the word "tie," Prince Bandar's confident smile of complete control froze slightly, his fingers holding the cigar trembled violently, and a long ash silently drifted onto his expensive white robe.

Does this kid know something?
The Talar faction's intelligence network...

Theoretically, it's not impossible.

but……

If that old fox Khalid really figured out his hand, then his wolf-like brother Alwaleed would be the one to come!
Let some brat who's been in a coma for seven years cause trouble? He's not even worthy of being a mouthful of my food!

Bandar was filled with doubt and uncertainty, but the urging gazes around him felt real.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several figures dressed in white Emirati robes raising their glasses in a toast.

He can't show weakness!
"Hehe, young people are always so adorable, full of youthful vigor."

The prince suddenly burst into laughter, the red dot of his cigar tracing a composed arc.

The waiter bowed and presented the gold-plated tablet. He tapped it lightly with his fingertips. "Since Your Highness insists on experiencing this 'one in a million' pleasure, then open it."

布加迪威航胜：1赔1.8，幻影2000-9胜：1赔1.5，平局……”

He paused, glanced at Walid's "foolish and rich" face, and smiled, "Then... let's set the odds at 1 to 50!"

Walid said nothing, but made a gesture of invitation.

Upon seeing this, Bandar's thoughts raced.

His offer of 1 to 50 odds is clearly a joke, just a way to give Walid a way out!
He believes that if Walid hadn't been completely brainwashed by the car accident, he would have understood his meaning upon seeing these ridiculous odds:
Either bet on something else, or bet a token amount of a few hundred thousand.

If Walid really dares to bet 100 million on a draw...

There are only two possibilities:
Either this little bastard isn't really out of his mind yet and is just being reckless and courting death;

Or... it's the situation he fears most—that the Talal faction's intelligence network has actually pierced through their Iron Curtain!
However, Bandar felt that it didn't matter even if the Talal faction knew in advance.

If they had known, they would have known long ago, and that old fox Khalid would have made his move long ago.

Since he did not take action, Khalid must have been planning to profit from the situation later.

They will definitely use the excuse that their son was scammed to launch an attack and force him to give up more money as compensation.

But... so what?
As long as this deal with the shale oil company goes through and revitalizes the business, I'll have plenty of money!

This compensation is nothing!

Thinking of this, Bandar sneered:
In that case, the advantage is in my hands!

After giving Walid a deep look, he tapped on his iPad.

The large screen refreshes.

"1 to 50 odds? The prince is so generous!"

"Your Highness Walid, are you satisfied now? Fifty times! Exciting enough?"

Several princes, each holding a bottle of tequila, clinked glasses and laughed heartily.

"Place your bets quickly, Your Highness! Let everyone see how the 'Prince of Miracles' throws money around!"

"Yes, let's see what the prince of the Talal faction has to offer!"

Laughter erupted again, the greed and mockery intensified.

A draw with odds of 1 to 50?

That's pure fantasy! In their eyes, Walid, this spendthrift son, has put his face and family dignity on the ground for everyone to trample on.

Bandar took a few steps closer, lowered his voice, and spoke with the earnestness of an elder concerned about a younger person's mischief:

"My dear nephew, it's just a game; the important thing is to participate."

He lightly tapped the floating projection with his fingertip, and the scene of the competition became clearly visible. "This system is the same one used in the London Olympics, accurate to one-thousandth of a second."

The smoke rings drifted leisurely toward the Bugatti Veyron: "A draw? To be honest, it's not impossible, but it's just a theoretical possibility. Saying it's one in ten thousand is an exaggeration."

At this moment, Walid suddenly broke into an innocent smile, revealing two canine teeth.
"Your Highness, you should know that fortune and power are found in danger."

Bandar was startled!
Is this kid hinting at me?
He stared intently into Walid's eyes, trying to find some clue.

Walid's saying, "Fortune favors the bold," stung him like a cold needle.

There's a hidden meaning in those words!
This kid definitely meant something!
Could it be?

Do not!
Absolutely impossible?!
That doesn't make sense.

Given the strict secrecy maintained by all parties, he felt the possibility that the Talal faction knew in advance was extremely slim.

The space agency is controlled by the Giruvi-Shamar alliance, which not only has no connection with the Talal faction, but is also a long-standing enemy.

After all, the Ajman tribe led by the Talal line was annihilated by the Sudri line because of the betrayal by the Giluvi-Shamar alliance.

There's no way the news could leak out from our side.

It's even less likely to happen in the UAE; the UAE is the one least willing to see problems with the betting.

The only explanation is that this prince, whose brain was damaged in the accident, was just indulging in wishful thinking and had too much money to burn!
"They're just young people after all..."

The prince smiled, took a solid gold cigar cutter from the waiter's tray, and said calmly,

"Fortune and wealth are sought in danger, and they can also be lost in danger."

Take my advice, it's just a game. Just invest three to five million to play around with.

His movements as he trimmed the cigarette butts were as steady as a rock. "The wealth of the Talal faction should be used in more glorious places."

Upon hearing this, Walid's face displayed a perfect blend of naivety and stubbornness.

He seemed like a hothead, completely enraged by Prince Bandar's "disrespect," and suddenly raised his voice, filled with indignation at being insulted.

"Your Highness! What do you mean by that!"
Three to five million?! Are you looking down on me? Or on the Talal faction?!

He patted his chest forcefully, as if defending the supreme glory of his family.

He perfectly captured the air of a spoiled, good-for-nothing playboy.

There's nothing he can do; he's seen too much in his past life.
Prince Bandar's composure froze, his cigar-trimming motion stopped mid-air, and he stared in disbelief.

Just a moment ago he was filled with doubt and uncertainty because of Walid's saying "fortune favors the bold," but now...

He suddenly realized that he might have been overthinking things.

That little bastard is just a simpleton!

Meanwhile, Walid, his gaze sweeping over the now completely silent dignitaries, snorted coldly and spoke with his head held high.

“My mom said… investing less than 100 million US dollars is an insult to the Talal princes’ vision!”

Each word, spoken slowly and deliberately, was astonishing.

His chin was raised in a delicate arc, his eyes revealing a mixture of spoiled arrogance and a pretentious posturing.

"hiss--"

Deathly silence.

After a brief moment of shock, snickers began to spread from the depths of the hall.

Although they had to admit that the Talal faction did indeed have the resources to cultivate such a successor.

Princess Mona's teachings were correct, and Walid certainly had the qualifications to put this vision into practice.

Can it be used in casinos?
This prince has a truly grand vision!

"He's gone mad! Absolutely mad! Seven years of slumber, he's completely lost his brain!"

"The Talal lineage... Prince Khalid and Princess Mona's illustrious reputations are likely to be ruined by this spendthrift!"

"This is more than just wasteful spending! It's like throwing gold bricks into a cesspool! Is it even going to make a sound?"

"Your Highness! Quick! 1 to 50 is too low! Change it to 1 to 250! Let this 'magnanimous' prince have a good time!"

Some people, seemingly eager to stir up trouble, shouted at the top of their lungs, their voices filled with twisted glee.

As Bandar gazed at the boy's stubborn, or rather foolish, face, which seemed to say "Come on, you're rich and stupid," a strong sense of absurdity overshadowed his initial surprise.

He even felt a strange sense of injustice for his old rival, Khalid.

Khalid, oh Khalid...

The prince unconsciously crushed the cigar ash with his fingertips.

This old fox has been cunning for half his life, enduring humiliation and playing the role of a benevolent father for seven years, polishing the facade of "divine miracles" until it gleamed...

The results of it?
What kind of thing woke up?

Seven years of perseverance, and all we got in return was this spendthrift idiot?

God, what a joke...

How ironic!

He shrugged with a wry smile: "Your Highness insists... As for your father, Prince Khalid..."

Walid waved his hand dismissively, exuding an air of magnanimity, "Don't worry, Your Highness! I'll talk to my father! This is just a small amount of money; it's all about the thrill!"
If I lose, it's on me. I won't make things difficult for you!

He's the epitome of a spoiled brat.

Prince Bandar's smile vanished completely, his lips twitching violently.

Looking at Walid's arrogant attitude, as if saying "If you don't let me spend this money, you're disrespecting my whole family," a surge of anger rushed to his head.
"Fine...fine! Since Your Highness insists on this, and the Princess Consort has instructed us in this way...then I have nothing more to say."

The diamond-encrusted black card slapped against the sensor.

A light, understated "beep".

The $100 million deal is now finalized.

The electronic display broke the record: "Talal al-Walid Prince: Draw - $100,000,000".

The brief silence was a deathly stillness, a silence born of being stunned by the naked power of money.

"Holy crap! It really is a hundred million US dollars?!"

One hundred million US dollars, a figure that could shake the finances of a small country, was casually and absurdly cast onto an almost impossible option.

The message on the screen burned like a branding iron on the retinas of everyone present.

No matter how much you despise this "spendthrift," the number one hundred million US dollars itself carries an overwhelming weight, making it hard to breathe.

However, what was brewing in this deathly silence was not awe, but a more surging malice.

He dared not laugh out loud to her face anymore, but the whispered, snake-like comments pierced Walid's ears even more shrillly and clearly.

"Tsk, the Talal-class behemoth, looks like it's destined to sink in this guy's hands..."

"Khalid the Hero, what a son he gave birth to..."

"The royal family has completely lost face..."

Walid stood there, enduring the thorny gazes and venomous whispers from all sides.

The carefully crafted, exaggerated expression of a "spendthrift" on his face vanished as quickly as the tide receded.

There was no shame or indignation as expected, nor the impulsive rage that a teenager should have.

That cold, icy aura—the soul of the transmigrator Huang Mao after gaining complete insight—and the true majesty of the heir to the Talal lineage, like millennia-old ice, instantly covered his face.

His lips tightened, forming a cold, straight line, and the lines of his jaw became as hard as if carved by a knife.

The frivolity and excitement in his eyes vanished without a trace, replaced by a bottomless chill.

Walid slowly turned his neck, his icy eyes, like the most precise searchlights, coldly sweeping over the faces in the hall, some mocking, some disdainful, some gloating.

For some reason, wherever his gaze fell, the whispers stopped abruptly, like ducks being choked.

Or rather, the reason is well known.

It was an invisible pressure, originating from bloodline and absolute power, like a tangible boulder, weighing heavily on everyone's heart.

In the suffocating silence, Walid spoke.

His voice wasn't loud, it was even rather soft, but every word struck clearly on the smooth marble floor, echoing:

"What? Don't you know your own limitations?!"

He slightly raised his chin, a posture of absolute condescension, like a lion looking down at a hyena at its feet.
"Who gave you the audacity to bark in front of me?!"

Arrogant and domineering, today he's going to shatter the heavens with his wealth!
Walid's cold gaze swept over each of those mocking faces.

"Or do you think that the Talal faction... has been giving you face?"

boom!
These words were like a mental bomb, exploding in the luxurious clubhouse lobby!
It wasn't a roar, yet it possessed a more destructive power than any roar.

Talal system!

These four words represent...

It's a crocodile powerful enough to shake the very foundations of a kingdom!

It was Prince Khalid who wielded an iron fist over oil pipelines, the arms trade, and the religious courts.

It is the immense wealth of the Kingdom's investment holdings controlled by Prince Alwaleed;
It is the capital power accumulated over generations;

It is due to Prince Talal's vast network of connections and unfathomable royal influence, a key figure in the royal reform movement!
It's one thing to mock a spendthrift, but when that spendthrift questions the family on behalf of the family, the nature of the matter is completely different!

In the game of royal power, this is tantamount to actively stepping into a life-or-death struggle where family heritage and wealth are the weapons...

No one dared to take responsibility for the consequences.

……

(End of this chapter)