Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

----

"Really? Is this a place for doing business?"

Following the address, Ego and Theon made several turns, eventually leaving the bustling main city area and heading further and further into a dark alley.

Beggars, vagrants, homeless children—what other towns have, this place has too.

It seemed that the stinking sewers of Lagras were no better than those of other towns. These people, who huddled in the shadows and whose entire lives consisted of simply "living," showed little emotion at the arrival of strangers. Their eyes were numb, their pupils devoid of light, as if frozen in time.

Igor instinctively avoided looking them in the eye, because once their gazes met, his developed mind couldn't help but wander into all sorts of thoughts.

I have always looked down on the surname Zolael.

But what if I hadn't been born into the Zolael family? Would I be one of them now, or even worse?

Fate is something you can't really figure out too much; the more you think about it, the more afraid you become.

To escape this oppressive feeling, he moved his lips and asked, "So, is anyone still following us?"

“…That’s it.” Theon shook his head. “Ever since we entered this area, no one has followed us. Like dogs in other territories, they smell the scent and dare not go in.”

“What kind of analogy is that?” Igor muttered irritably, scratching his head. “I suddenly feel like this is a bit far-fetched. What kind of merchant would set up a transaction in such an unrelated place… Could they have been scammed?”

"What's the point?" Theon's questions always hit the nail on the head.

“I don’t know, it might be a honey trap. He knows I’m Zola El and set me up. This city makes me feel very uncomfortable,” Igor said half-jokingly. “If a fight breaks out later, my little knife can only kill one person at most, and the rest are up to you.”

“The only two Zolael in the world whose lives are safe, yet I'm the one who has to protect them,” Theon said with half-closed eyes. “Fate is such an interesting thing.”

……

We finally arrived at our destination, a cellar door that was wide open.

Warm candlelight shone from the ground.

They exchanged a glance, and Theon decisively drew his two Mauser pistols—in the confined space of a cellar, marksmanship was no longer important; the sheer density of fire was enough to overwhelm the enemy. The Mauser's high rate of fire could easily compensate for any lack of accuracy.

As for Igor, he drew the dagger that Tao had given him. In a critical moment, this dagger could at least take someone down by surprise.

……

"We've already said the Raven can't hold that much cargo anymore. Can't we distribute it to other ships? We..."

"In this respect, we're all pretty much the same."

"Piracy is rampant in the Strait of Lawrence. They rob and run, and the White Heron is too big to catch! We need a ship like the Kenkawa, specifically designed for naval warfare, or we should just put the newly purchased warships into actual combat..."

"Does anyone know how to operate that thing?"

"What else could it be? Was it just bought for show?! The boss has invested so much money in this route..."

"We're losing hundreds of dollars a month right now. Whether to fight or not, and how to fight? The boss isn't here, so it's up to you to decide, Ren!"

……

"Who?!"

Ren suddenly realized something, shouted, and looked towards the end of the stone steps.

The two people stared at each other, both somewhat at a loss.

Chapter 480: Sorry, I didn't recognize you just now!

"Wait a moment."

The gatekeeper put his hand on Zhang Renfeng's shoulder, squinted, and stared at him up and down for a while. Although he didn't say anything, it was as if he had said everything.

Zhang Renfeng sighed. He had already experienced the same thing enough in various parts of America, but there was nothing he could do. Racial discrimination was one of the underlying logics of this society, and it was not so easy to change. He also didn't have the willpower to do so.

On someone else's turf, as long as you don't go too far, it's better to avoid trouble.

Fortunately, the security guard was reasonable enough not to say anything offensive. He just gave them a slightly contemptuous look and said, "You're all from out of town, right? Let me explain the rules. To get through that door, each of you must exchange for at least $30 worth of chips. Otherwise, forget it."

30 dollars.

In San Quintac, Italians also ran many casinos, where the maximum bet was $20.

In Lagras, this isn't even enough to meet the minimum entry requirement. Along the way, the city's urban planning, prosperity, and consumption levels far surpass those of San Quintac.

Correspondingly, the environment here is naturally not much better. The billowing black smoke from the factory has shrouded the entire city in a black haze. Even from a block away, the thunderous roar of the machines can still make your eardrums throb.

The security guard continued, “Eating, drinking, performances, and all other services are incidental. Inside, chips can be used directly as cash, and they will be exchanged for real money when you leave. There are many games to play inside, and all of them have rules. We assume you know the rules before you play. If you don’t know them, please ask someone else. Don’t use that as an excuse when you lose; we don’t accept that kind of thing.”

"You can use anything of value as collateral: pocket watches, belts, rings, necklaces, jewelry... whatever the black market accepts, we accept it all. Things the black market doesn't accept, like wives, daughters, houses, and horses, we accept them too."

Upon hearing this, the two girls looked astonished, but Mike and Calaway, the two seasoned veterans, acted as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

When a person is under the influence of gambling addiction, there is nothing they won't do or say.

It's perfectly normal for someone to mortgage their wife and daughter's house.

"You can bet whatever you want, but there's only one thing that's not allowed here... Now that you're all here, you should know that you can't renege on your debts. Don't try any of those old tricks like 'I have no money, but you can take my life.' If anyone dares to do that, [Poker Crowd] will ensure that they repay their gambling debts to the fullest extent possible in every way possible."

"Of course, their methods will certainly not be gentle. If it really comes to that, you'd better pray for your own good fortune."

"Poker Crowd?" Zhang Renfeng was impressed by this strange name.

"This is the next thing I want to say: Before you go in, you must hand over all your personal weapons and store them in the lockers over there. There will be people inside maintaining order; they are the 'Poker Gang.' They are characterized by having playing cards in their breast pockets, with half of one card sticking out. If you see someone dressed like this, they are a member of the Poker Gang."

“You’ll occasionally see them punching and kicking people who can’t pay their gambling debts but still want to act like scoundrels. Just do your thing and don’t meddle in other people’s business.”

"Well, did I make myself clear enough?"

Although his attitude and tone were not very friendly, he did not hold back and said everything that needed to be said.

"That's clear enough, thank you," Zhang Renfeng said in a deep voice.

The ability to cultivate a love of reading is innate in every human being. Humans are highly intelligent animals, capable of accomplishing great feats that wild animals cannot through cooperation, and human society is built upon this foundation. However, cooperation inevitably creates relationships, and these relationships are often revealed through subtle, unspoken details.

For example, right now, the person outside the door keenly realized that among these five people, the one giving orders was the Asian man in front of him.

"You're the boss?" He looked at Mike with some suspicion, his habitual thinking momentarily halting, because in his mind, it was usually white people who were team leaders. Especially someone like Mike, bald, with dead fish eyes, dressed like a smart Western cowboy, was even more expected to be one.

There is only one exception.

"??!"

The person is still the same, only their thoughts have changed, and everything will be different.

The gatekeeper's expression was quite intriguing; his eyes were wide, his mouth was half-open, and he looked like he'd seen a ghost. Even his voice trembled, "You...you, you...are you..."

A title loses its value if you say it out loud.

It takes either being said by someone else or being implied by someone else to be classy. At this moment, Zhang Renfeng was particularly perceptive. He gave the guard a meaningful smile, without saying anything, but simply reached out and patted the guard on the shoulder before slowly stepping into the casino.

Even though it's not even 5 o'clock yet, the line to exchange chips is already incredibly long.

When it was finally their turn, according to the rules here, Zhang Renfeng gave each of them $50 worth of chips. Their weapons were stored in a locker, each with its own code. A staff member brought over the coded rope rings; the service was impeccable.

"Are we really okay playing here?" Xiaomei clutched her $50 chips tightly in her hand, as if afraid they would be stolen. "How will Mr. Igor find us after he's done with his party?"

“I arranged to meet him at the casino entrance at 8 p.m., and since it’s about time, let’s go out. A cotton deal involving tens of thousands of tons can’t be settled so quickly.” Zhang Renfeng waved his hand, indicating that she didn’t need to worry. “The chief has already taken care of the hotel. Let’s take this opportunity to have some fun here.”

His tone was very indulgent, as if he truly regarded this trip as a relaxing vacation. After all, his long-awaited trip in Dover Hill had fallen through last time, so this trip to Lagras was, in a way, Zhang Renfeng's subconscious compensation to himself.

"Old Mike, Calaway, keep an eye on these two girls."

He could have fun, but they were still underage, so he needed to leave them in the care of two seasoned veterans before he could truly feel at ease.

“No problem.” Calaway rubbed his chips together, clearly impatient. “Just you wait, Lao Zhang, watch me win back all the accommodation fees I’ve paid these past few days!”

"Just come out when you've lost all your chips," Mike said irritably, staring at him with dead fish eyes.

……

Push the door open and enter.

Zhang Renfeng never imagined that one day he would use "glittering with pearls and jewels" to describe the interior of a building.

So luxurious.

Too extravagant.

A bright red carpet, golden pillars, walls inlaid with seashells and shimmering, and a dazzling array of paintings.

A crystal chandelier hangs high, like a string of stars, suspended in the uppermost part of the hall. A dazzling array of gambling tables comes into view; playing cards, dominoes, dice, chips… all sorts of objects clatter across the surface, mingling with the clapping and shouts of the spectators, creating a solid wave of sound that washes over you. Some are flushed, some are holding their breath, some are laughing heartily, and some are utterly dejected.

Joy and sorrow, separation and reunion, are like a stew of all emotions cooked in one pot.

Here, Zhang Renfeng felt for the first time that no one cared whether he was a "yellow-skinned foreigner" or not.

Everyone is immersed in their own frenzied world, unable to extricate themselves!

Chapter 481: "Red Center"?

"Ah! Ah—!! No, no, let me... let me play one more round, trust me, I can definitely turn this round around! I can definitely turn it around!"

Zhang Renfeng strolled leisurely, looking more like someone who was just browsing than a gambler. But before he had gone far, he was drawn by a sound—a few tables away, a bearded man was clinging tightly to the newcomer's leg, sobbing and pleading with heartfelt emotion, tears streaming down his face.

His tie was gone, and his clothes were in disarray, as if he had just been robbed by bandits rather than gambling at the table.

Judging from the cards scattered on the table, he and several other card players were probably playing blackjack, the kind where a dealer is involved.

"Card buddies," despite the word "buddy," meant they had absolutely no connection. The other people at the table didn't even glance at his miserable state, continuing to play their cards as if nothing had happened.

The man whose leg he was holding frowned impatiently, as if he had seen far too many of these kinds of scenes before.

Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled out a wooden stick slightly shorter than a cudgel from his waist. Zhang Renfeng could tell at a glance that it had been soaked in tung oil, which would make the short stick more resilient and, naturally, more painful when it hit someone.

The hand rises, the stick falls.

"Dong dong dong dong dong!"

Six blows per second, as if he were about to beat the man into a beef stew; the sticks were so fast they left afterimages.

The man was beaten until his head was bleeding profusely and he quickly collapsed to the ground. Only then did Zhang Renfeng realize that the man who had attacked him did indeed have a playing card in his breast pocket. It seemed that they were the "playing card gang" that the gatekeeper had mentioned earlier.

The poker player waved his hand, and several of his companions arrived. Each of them grabbed one of the man's legs and dragged him aside, disappearing to who-knows-where. Immediately, a waiter of the next rank, carrying buckets and mops, rushed over and wiped away all the bloodstains from the beating.

Soon, the floor was clean and dry, the poker players dispersed, and the surrounding area remained lively as if nothing had happened.

"Oh..."

What a vivid and realistic lesson it was, completely revealing the true nature of the casino to Zhang Renfeng.

He didn't try to help the man, though.

While it's true that chivalry is important, there are some people and some things that are not worth getting involved in.

He absolutely refused to believe that after helping this man who had gone mad once, he would stop. He would only escalate his gambling, taking the money and continuing to gamble, hoping that Lady Luck would smile upon him and help him win back his losses next time.

……

Aren't you going to play?

A question came from the side.

Next to the gambling tables on the first floor was a designated area for relaxation and entertainment; the security guard had mentioned earlier that drinks and meals could be enjoyed here. A well-dressed bartender in a suit leaned against the bar, looking at me with a somewhat amused expression. "Just watching isn't very interesting."

"I don't understand how to play... If only we had mahjong..." Zhang Renfeng shook his head, his gaze sweeping briefly over the bar counter, where bottles of liquor sat laden with bottles that looked even more expensive and appealing under the lights. "What good drinks do you have here?"

Chivas Regal whisky.

"One drink, please." Zhang Renfeng tapped the bar counter with his finger. "How much?"

"One dollar, just give me the most basic token. We accept cash and tokens here."

"One dollar?!" Zhang Renfeng was shocked by the number and exclaimed, "Compared to you, even bandits pale in comparison!"

"Come on, buddy, you're all this way here, aren't you? You're paying money, aren't you?" The bartender rolled his eyes at him. "Everything here is expensive. Be prepared. Are you in or not?"

"...Damn it, I want to see what kind of wine costs a dollar!"

Zhang Renfeng gritted his teeth, tossed a chip, and the bartender swept it under the bar. Then, he took out a small glass, poured some liquor into it, then poured it into a metal kettle. Holding the kettle with both hands, he performed a very fancy gesture. There seemed to be ice cubes in the kettle, which he shook loudly.

It might be enough to fool a layman, but in Zhang Renfeng's eyes, these actions were quickly dissected. He immediately understood: part of the one-dollar premium was for the bartender's performance.

Afterwards, the whiskey, about the same volume as in a regular pub or bar, was poured into a glass. So precious, Zhang Renfeng didn't dare drink it all at once, only sipping it slowly.

For some reason, listening to the noisy voices, he surprisingly felt at ease.

“Are there many people like me here?” Zhang Renfeng asked.

"Someone like you?" the tavern owner asked casually. "A gangster like you? Or a savage like you?"