Return of the Mythic Bloodline Chapter 158: Master Gambler

"Initialising Host’s request..."

"Activating Vyaghra’s blessing..."

The dark tiger spirit erged from my forehead mark, swallowed my body whole, slowly vanishing my presence.

I undressed my tuxedo, wore a normal T-shirt and trousers, and drew the strands of my front hair down, covering my eyes.

Once the disguise was completed, I descended the wall with subtle movents, reached the open ground, and moved towards the camp being settled in front of the city.

The three Mid-Tier Awakeners were setting their camp in the middle line—snake-faced and bald-head at the corners and Theon’s camp at the centre.

Just on a whim, I decided to move towards the left corner—under the control of the bald head.

Most of the people were busy mounting the tents. However, so were sparring with each other like unfriendly animals, and a few idiots were even running into the border jungle of the Forest of Gumiho.

As I passed by dozens of under-construction tents, a heavy frustrated male voice echoed.

"Tch, are we gonna stay here for two whole months just because of that fucking array?" A middle-aged man with a terrible horizontal scar across the centre of his face muttered.

"We didn’t even bring that much food with us, and consuming the Soul Stones just to keep our body moving is a fucking waste," another beside him, with a short brown beard and a cigar in his mouth, added.

"If not for that damned soul oath, I would have already run away."

As the two were complaining, one more man— the only figure with decent attire—joined in.

While his clothes were decent, he also looked the most out of place in the army. The moron was wearing a long knee-length furry coat and tight trousers, while his eyes were covered by black rectangular glasses. His skin was pale, and his hair unnaturally blonde, obviously dyed.

"Hohoho~ what do we have here?" he drawled, elongating his words. "Two poor people crying over so Soul Stone. Tsk-tsk, how pathetic."

"Who is this pimp?" the scarred man asked.

"How the fuck would I know? I don’t even know you," the cigar man replied, breathing out a cloud of smoke.

"Now that you ntion it, I also don’t know you. Not even —there’s no one here who knows each other."

"Hmm, an enemy can easily infiltrate our camps, and nobody’s gonna notice shit."

The two stared at each other and then began laughing like madn, completely ignoring the guy.

"Hmph, how dare you boars ignore ?" the blonde snarled. "Since your knowledge is ugly like your faces, let tell you about myself. My na is Vyrion. I’m the watchman of the Grade 2 Mid-Tier Soul Stone mine of Dreadspire and the most handso man in the Abandoned Land. Ho-ho-ho."

Several veins popped on both n’s heads at his remarks.

Forget about them—even I was getting annoyed hearing his boastful words.

"I’m gonna fuck up this pimp’s face," the cigar man muttered, drawing his sword.

"Wait-wait, blonde hair... watchman of the Dreadspire mine..." The scarred man snapped his fingers and asked, "Are you that famous Gambit Master?"

"Hohoho~ so you aren’t that ignorant after all."

He drew two dice from his hand, made them dance on his fingers, threw them upward, and caught each of them between the middle and ring fingers of both hands. "Do you wanna earn so Soul Stones?"

---

Within a few minutes, a man sized wooden box was set up beside the camp with a poster of ’Win big or go ho’ mounted.

The cigar and scarred n stood on his left and right as his bodyguards.

"Put your wager in the ga of even or odd," Vyrion announced. "If you win, you will receive double the amount, and if you lose, you have to leave seventy-five percent of the amount you bet. However, a person can only make three bets per day."

People began gathering around the table on hearing his announcent.

"Is this a war camp or a fair?" I murmured, completely taken aback. "How could soone think of starting a business here?"

After a mont, an eye-patched man ca forward, placed a pouch on the table, and declared, "Ten kilograms of Grade 3 Low-Tier Soul Stones."

Vyrion, twisting his upper and lower lips in opposite directions, making an absolutely hideous face, muttered, "What the fuck. I got a beggar as the first contender."

He drew a couple of Mid-Tier Soul Stones from his space ring, threw them on the man’s face, and hushed, "Take these and scram, idiot. I don’t have ti for a charity sucker."

The gatherers began laughing, so even slapping their thighs, turning the bettor’s face red from humiliation.

"Bastard, how dare you?" he muttered, launching a fist at Vyrion.

However, before he could connect the punch, two kicks landed on his guts, sending him flying into the crowd.

"As long as we are here, none can touch him," the scarred man announced.

"Hohoho~ since you were the one who attacked first, I will keep these Soul Stones as well," Vyrion said, putting the pouch and the stones he had thrown at the bettor into his space ring.

"Anyone else wanna make a bet?" Vyrion shouted. "Make sure the bet is at least worth sothing, so you don’t embarrass yourself."

"Ten kilograms of Grade 2 Low-Tier Soul Stones," a beast with the face of an elephant but a humanoid body ca forward.

"Hah! Another bag—"

"Control your tongue, pimp," the elephant beast muttered. "Why would I gamble a high amount, clearly aware that we have to survive on Soul Stones here for two whole months? What if you are just a scamr, as your face tells?"

"Yeah, the beast is right."

"His hairs are definitely that of a scamr."

The crowd chattered, putting pressure on Vyrion.

"Alright-alright, I shall accept your bet," Vyrion sighed. "But let make it clear: I’m no fraudster."

Pulling a long cup from his space ring, he put the dice inside it, shook the glass aggressively, slamd it inverted on the ground, and asked, "Even or odd?"

"Odd," the beast replied.

Vyrion slowly lifted the glass and counted the numbers on the dice.

"Nine. Congratulations! You won the bet."

He pulled out a pouch of Soul Stones from his bag and threw it toward him.

"Here, your twenty kilograms of Grade 2 Soul Stones."

"Hahaha, this is fucking easy," the beast laughed. "I wanna bet again."

I slapped my forehead and murmured, "He got him."