On a winter afternoon.
The weather in Anling City changed rapidly, bringing winds, clouds turning overcast, the sky above dismal with dreary clouds, blanketing everything in a grey haze. The biting cold wind penetrated an underground gambling den, producing a rumbling sound, as if ghosts were sobbing.
This underground gambling den was very concealed.
From the outside, it looked like a warehouse, with half-closed rusting iron doors allowing a sliver of dim yellow light to escape, frequented by a few young people who resembled the unemployed.
Every so often, vans would arrive, disgorging one punter after another, like lambs to the slaughter.
This was a gambling den set up by the Baisheng Group in Anling.
But its purpose extended far beyond simple gambling. Every gambler that entered was ensnared in a trap. One false step and they fell into their clutches, to be manipulated at will.
