“I’m intrigued. Could you explain further how it works, Mr. Jensen?” Jared asked, his curiosity piqued.
He was keen to see just how many had placed bets on his victory.
Rory flashed a faint grin and said, “Mr. Chance, I must warn you not to get upset when you see the figures.”
With that, he gestured for Jared and Cloud to follow him as he led them to the gambling house run by the Pathfinder Sect.
Jared knew that most people would have bet on Aiden to win. After all, Aiden’s cultivation level far exceeded his own, making it a logical choice for the majority.
As Jared and his companions approached the entrance of the gambling house, the sound of lively chatter and heated discussions reached their ears.
“I’ve put all my clothes on the line, betting on Jared’s victory. If any of you believe in me, place your bets here with me!” a loud voice echoed from inside. It seemed someone was betting on everything-even their clothing!
Hearing this, Cloud glanced at Jared in surprise. “It seems there are still people who believe in you, Mr. Chance,” he mused, clearly curious about who could be so fervent in their support of Jared in a city like Southedge.
Even Rory seemed caught off guard. He hadn’t expected anyone to back Jared so passionately.
Jared, however, couldn’t help but smile faintly. He recognized the voice right away-it was Alastair!
“Alastair, are you sure you want to bet your clothes? How much could those ragged things possibly be worth?” one man jeered from the crowd.
Another scoffed, “You’re not only putting all your money on the line, but you’re betting your clothes too? Why would you back Jared in the first place?”
“Alastair, Mr. Aiden is already at Ultimate Realm Level One, and rumors say he’s at the peak of his level, ready to break through to Ultimate Realm Level Two any moment now. Jared doesn’t stand a chance against him!”
“You’re just trying to trick others into betting with you. Who would be stupid enough to fall for this?” The ridicule was relentless.
Alastair was well-known in Southedge City. He had a wide network of acquaintances, but due to his reputation as a trickster, people were reluctant to place any trust in him, much less money. However, Alastair didn’t seem fazed by their mockery.
“Laugh all you want. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover!” he retorted confidently. “I’m telling you, Jared is going to win. I know how strong he is. I’ve seen it firsthand, and I’ve faced life and death with him. He’s more powerful than any of you could imagine!”
Standing in front of everyone, Alastair looked almost comical. Dressed in nothing but a pair of oversized shorts in the freezing weather, he seemed more determined than ever.
Southedge City was known for its harsh, bitter cold, where even seasoned cultivators layered themselves in thick animal skins to stave off the chill.
While cultivators could use their spiritual energy to resist the cold, this was only sustainable for short periods.
Prolonged use of spiritual energy for such a trivial purpose would be wasteful, so most chose to wear a layer of beast skin instead.
Moreover, beast skins were not just a means of warmth; they were also regarded as valuable resources for cultivation. That was why Alastair’s peculiar gamble of even wagering his clothes was attracting so much attention.
At that moment, Jared entered the gambling house, exclaiming, “I’ll go along with your bet.”
When Alastair followed the sound and spotted Jared, his eyes immediately lit up with excitement. He opened his mouth, ready to shout in joy, but Jared silenced him with a single, pointed glance.
Jared was cautious; he didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself in the competitive arena.
He knew that revealing his identity could invite a world of trouble, especially since, while his name was well-known throughout Southedge City, very few had actually met him in person.
Understanding Jared’s unspoken intention, Alastair quickly adjusted his demeanor. “Young man, you’ve got a keen eye. Bet with me, and I guarantee you a life of luxury!”
With a flick of his wrist, Jared pulled out a bag full of purple spirit coins and tossed it onto the gambling table. He then added nonchalantly, “I also bet that Jared would win…”
Everyone’s eyes widened in disbelief as they stared at the bag full of purple spirit coins.
Seeing the scene unfold, Rory smiled faintly, opting not to reveal Jared’s true identity. Regardless of how much Jared wagered, the Pathfinder Sect, as the hosts well-versed in the game, would always stand to benefit, no matter the outcome between the parties. They would take their cut from the guaranteed profit, ensuring the result favored them.
