[At the same time as Wu Xuan and Lingyu's search for the girl]
Meng Zhi stepped into the gambling den, pushing open the grand, ornate red doors. A cacophony greeted him—cheers of victory and moans of defeat, the rhythmic clicking of tiles, and the constant cries of gamblers. Adorned with countless red lanterns, the hall seemed to be drenched in the crimson glow of a setting sun.
Meng Zhi had never indulged in gambling. Yet, the thought of returning empty-handed was too disheartening. "What am I really doing?" he whispered under his breath, as if to dispel his rising guilt. Inflicting harm upon Jun Peak was not his intention. Unbeknownst to him, a peril as grave as Xul'goth was hidden within the Lotus Sect. Had Meng Zhi knew that complying with the Lotus Sect would drain his Shidi's vitality, he would have never consented.
The red glow of the gambling hall cast his mind back to bygone days. He pondered whether Wei Yunhe, Mei Qingxuan, and the others were faring well. Like Wei Yunhe, he too was privy to Yu Lingyu's secret. "What have I done?" he exclaimed, as tears brimmed in his widening eyes.
"Don't inhale too much fragrance; it's harmful to the living," someone whispered into Meng Zhi's ear, snapping him back to reality. "Huh?!" He appeared disoriented momentarily. He spun around to search for the advisor, but no one looked out of place. With his hand over his mouth, Meng Zhi moved to an area with less incense.
In the corner of the hall, on a modest stage with a few steps, a petite girl with keen eyes and a cunning smile surveyed the scene. Her eyes, dark as polished obsidian, fixed a piercing gaze on Meng Zhi.
"Welcome!" she said, descending the stairs slowly. With every step, her loose red robes fluttered in the breeze. Her voice was sweet yet laced with danger. "What brings you here?" she inquired, her gaze fixed on Meng Zhi, showing more interest in him than his purpose. His short tri-colored hair and bright red eyes were indeed an uncommon sight.
Meng Zhi's throat felt dry. "I am in search of the Crimson Dragon token."
The girl's smile broadened, and her red lips stretched into a thin line. "Fortune favors the brave, don't you think?" she asked.
Meng Zhi gave a nod of agreement. Around them, people were engaged in gambling, placing various bets at different tables. "Come with me," the girl suggested with a playful wink.
He made his way through the throng and entered an enclave draped in red curtains. The customary incense was replaced by the fragrance of sandalwood, and the beads adorning the curtains whispered softly. The clamor of the crowd seemed distant. Meng Zhi's gaze was drawn to a regal figure seated beyond the red, semi-transparent veils. "Enter," the girl instructed. "You are today's twenty-third bettor. Give it your all, congratulations!" Her final words dripped with sarcasm.
After her departure, he gently drew the curtain aside and stepped into the cabin. On the small table lay an assortment of sweets and bottles of alcohol. The individual seated inside had one leg crossed over the other, his right elbow propped on the arm of the chair, supporting his head with his hand. Clad in black robes with bright silver adornments, his bright blue eyes shone prominently. His long black hair cascaded over his shoulders, and one could easily mistake him for a Supreme Immortal, so alluring was his presence.
"Sit down," he said, offering a small smile. Meng Zhi took a seat across the table, his gaze fixed on the stranger. "Call me Mao," the young man declared.
"I am Meng Zhi," said Meng Zhi, bowing his head slightly. The young man reached for the small cup on the table and downed the liquid in one gulp. "So, what makes you want to get into the 908?" he inquired.
"A personal reason," Meng Zhi stated. The young man arched his eyebrows and offered a little smile. "I understand," he said. "You have three chances."
Meng Zhi cocked his head, appearing puzzled. "I'll shake the dice cup three times. Guess the correct value twice, and you win," the young man elaborated.
"As you can see, there are two dice here. If their sum is more than six, it's called 'high,' and if it's less than six, it's called 'low.' You only have to bet high or low. But…" He paused mid-sentence, and Meng Zhi looked towards him. "What are you going to bet?!"
Crap! Meng Zhi had forgotten the most crucial thing. The last of his spirit stones had been spent to enter this place. He had nothing but the clothes made of thick thread that he wore. "You came to gamble with nothing?" The young man scoffed.
"I...I bet my life," Meng Zhi declared, his hands clenched. The young man appeared slightly surprised. "Oh? You do realize I've outplayed the twenty-two before you. Are you certain about this?"
Meng Zhi bit his lip. What a disgrace for the son of the demon king. When had he become so destitute? Yet, he had nothing else to wager. With no other options, he would have to seize the token and flee. "Yes. If I lose, you may do as you please with me," he affirmed.
"Are you sure? You have very delicate skin and a beautiful face. Aren't you afraid I'll sell you to some unwanted place?" The young man continued his taunt. It didn't take long for Meng Zhi's face to turn red with anger.
"Just start your damn game," he muttered angrily. The young man smiled as he picked up the dice cup. "There, now, I apologize if I've harassed you. Let's begin."
Cradling the dice cup in his palm, he seized the lid with his other hand, gave it a brisk shake, and set it down on the table. "So, what will it be, Mr. Meng Zhi? High or low?"
"Low," declared Meng Zhi after a pause. The cheerful young man raised the lid to reveal a three and a two. It was indeed low. A gleam of joy lit up Meng Zhi's eyes. "Congratulations!" exclaimed the young man, grasping the dice cup once more. "Now for the second round." He rattled it as he had done previously and set it down on the table.
Sweat gathered on Meng Zhi's forehead. If he failed this, his life would hinge on the next round. He inhaled deeply and exhaled.
"High!" he declared.
The young man with a smile unveiled the lid, his blue eyes squinting. Observing the outcome, Meng Zhi's lips pressed together. The dice showed one and four. It was low. A cunning smile crept onto the young man's face.
"So now, Mr. Meng Zhi, let's continue to the last turn. Remember to be careful. You see, if you lose, you will become mine. And I am not such a good master," he said with a wink. "But I am 99% sure you are going to lose."
"Damn you," Meng Zhi whispered softly. He felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. Meng Zhi could clearly hear the sound of his own breathing, even the gurgling in his throat. He also heard the sound of the dice rattling inside the cup. After a moment, the young man placed it on the table, but to Meng Zhi, it felt like an eternity had passed.
"So, what will it be? High or Low?" the young man inquired, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. Meng Zhi took his time, silent. "…High…" he finally muttered, seemingly indifferent to those around him. "Hmm?" The young man arched an eyebrow. "It's high!"
With a grin, the young man lifted the dice cup without a second thought. A four and a two lay there—Low. Meng Zhi's mouth felt dry, his complexion growing paler. "Did I...just lose?!" Disbelief was unnecessary. Could he, the demon king's son, really have lost to a mere spirit?!
The young man offered a gentle smile. "So, my little servant, what should I do with you?" he mused, tapping his cheek. Meng Zhi was too stunned to respond.
"You appear quite pitiful at the moment," the young man observed, rising to his feet. "It's rather disheartening. How about I offer you another opportunity?" he proposed.
"Huh?" Meng Zhi murmured.
A glimmer of amusement appeared in Mr. Mao's eyes. He leaned back, seemingly deep in thought. Then, gradually, a smile crept across his face.
"Victory comes at a price, Brother Meng. I am offering you this last opportunity out of pity. So, if you kneel and place your head at my feet to beg for the token, I will grant it to you," the young man declared.
Meng Zhi's eyes widened in disbelief. "Huh?" His face turned a deep shade of crimson, anger clashing with desperation. He doesn't have to, right? He doesn't need to sacrifice his dignity for a mere token. After all, he is the son of Hu Ze, the king of demons. It's unthinkable for him to commit such a disgraceful act.
Then, with a jaw clenched tight, he knelt down, his pride forfeited for that mere token. Tears of shame filled his eyes, and his body quivered. "Only for Lingyu," he murmured. Meng Zhi understood Wu Xuan's desperate need. "I am settling my debt. That's all," he muttered to himself, bowing his head at the young man's feet. His tears dampened the young man's boots, and Meng Zhi's hands were balled into fists, shaking.
"Please... give it to me," he whispered. "Please, hand me the token."
"I didn't catch that. Could you speak up?!" the young man said, a smug smile playing on his lips.
"Please, Your Highness! Could you please... give me the token?" Meng Zhi implored aloud. The young man, silent until then, burst into loud laughter. "Of course! I am a man of my word. Catch!" he declared, tossing the token onto the ground as he walked away from Meng Zhi. "You're quite the character, Brother Meng. You certainly know how to keep your customers happy. Farewell for now. I hope we meet again, Brother Meng Zhi!" With a playful wink, the young man exited the room, leaving Meng Zhi alone, still kneeling.
"It's nothing," he whispered to himself. "This is trivial compared to my past trials... it's nothing!" Clutching the token firmly, he reassured himself with soft words. "After all, I am merely a half-breed."