Caught off guard, Mo Rubai was shoved forward, still looking somewhat dazed. What on earth was Zhenren Lingzhi trying to do?
What was Shen Zhiwei trying to do? Naturally, he was “nurturing” the romance between the male lead and the female lead.
Yes, Xuefu was also one of the female leads, though she could only be considered half a heroine. Compared to Ming Xiangchu, Xuefu was Mo Rubai’s first woman—the one who truly transformed Mo Rubai into a man.
However, because of Xuefu’s unique traits and the fact that she had countless men before the male protagonist, she was only counted as “half” a heroine.
Men, after all, always harbored the urge to play the savior of fallen flowers.
Once Xuefu helped the male protagonist shed his chastity, she would henceforth be single-mindedly devoted to him as his woman, even willing to remain without any official status. Shen Zhiwei found it rather a pity; such a free-spirited and uninhibited woman had to cross paths with the male protagonist.
“Junior Uncle,” Mo Rubai asked with lingering doubt, “what do I need to do?”
“Why are you asking him?” Xuefu had initially thought this young man, despite being slightly lacking in height, was still quite young and might grow up to possess a robust and muscular physique in a few years, even contemplating trying to hook him. But now, tsk…
“You’re a fine, strapping young man; why do you have to ask others about everything?” Xuefu sneered mockingly. “Come here, I’ll teach you a few tricks. If you go up to the gambling table later and lose the trousers right off your waist, you’ll be the one crying.”
How could Mo Rubai fail to catch the woman’s sarcasm? He said coldly, “Since that’s the case, let’s begin.”
The smile froze on Xuefu’s face. How had this person’s aura suddenly changed?
Shen Zhiwei said with displeasure, “What are you dawdling for? Miss, we only have half an hour left.”
Xuefu figured she must have misread the situation, slapped a fake smile back onto her face, and said, “Then let’s begin.”
The half hour passed in a flash. When the tea house owner opened the door and saw the “old witch” sprawled exhausted across a chair, followed by those two glowing, energetic men, his heart skipped a beat. He knew what kind of person the old witch was—draining a man dry was the least of it; how came she now looked like she was the one drained by the men?
The tea house owner cupped his fists toward the two men, his expression solemn. “I am deeply impressed.”
Mo Rubai was completely baffled. Impressed by what?
Xuefu, however, caught the drift. She stretched lazily and cursed irritably, “Impressed my foot! I didn’t make a single sale today. Let’s go, to the gambling den!”
Now it was the tea house owner’s turn to be mystified. No sales? Did that mean these three really just spent half an hour drinking tea?
Without overthinking it, the tea house owner quickly packed up his things and dashed off in a certain direction.
To the gambling den, which opened only once a month.
The gambling den was one of the main reasons why countless cultivators came to “The Third Level,” and it was the very reason why there were so many people here today.
Gazing at the somewhat stiff snake curled up in the corner, Shen Zhiwei hooked the corners of his lips and told Mo Rubai, “I want that one later.”
“Huh?” Mo Rubai looked at the listless snake and asked uncertainly, “Junior Uncle, it’s just a snake.”
“I happen to be lacking a spiritual pet,” Shen Zhiwei replied irrelevantly. “It’s not bad.”
Was there something special about this snake?
Mo Rubai couldn’t help taking a few extra glances, but accidentally locked eyes with the snake. In that instant, a chilling wave rushed across his scalp and his blood ran in reverse—he wanted it!
Mo Rubai forced himself to snap out of it. This was something Zhenren Lingzhi had set his sights on… Yet, a vague, lingering intuition told Mo Rubai that this snake belonged to him!
Shen Zhiwei was in a rather good mood. Not only could he poach the male protagonist’s spiritual pet right in front of him, but he was also going to make the male protagonist deliver that spiritual pet to him with his own hands!
This feeling was quite delightful.
“You’re unwilling?” Shen Zhiwei chuckled softly, reaching out two fingers to pinch Mo Rubai’s delicate chin. “Too bad, I’ve taken a fancy to it.”
The lips beneath Shen Zhiwei’s mask were tinged with a rosy hue. Looking at him with that half-smile, it felt as though he were intentionally trying to seduce him. Mo Rubai’s heartbeat accelerated slightly before he spoke, “I’ll win it back for you.”
After a moment’s thought, Mo Rubai grasped the hand that was still pinching his chin and asked, “Junior Uncle, why don’t you play the matches yourself?”
If Zhenren Lingzhi personally took the field, his odds of winning would likely be much higher.
“Because I trust you more,” Shen Zhiwei pulled his hand free. “Let’s go, it’s about to start.”
Why was Zhenren Lingzhi’s attitude toward him so bizarre?
With a mixture of suspicion and alarm, Mo Rubai stared at that small expanse of fair skin beneath Shen Zhiwei’s mask. This person was highly likely to be his enemy; how could someone so vicious possibly utter such words?
Mo Rubai didn’t dwell on it for long, because the gambling match was about to begin.
The so-called gambling match differed entirely from those in the mortal realm; it wasn’t a matter of simply shaking ordinary dice.
What cultivator lacked spiritual energy? If ordinary dice were used, everyone would try to cheat and control the outcomes with their qi, reducing the dice to fine powder before they could even be rolled.
The gambling here used dice condensed entirely from spiritual power, and both parties secretly contested, forcing out the exact required number points to win.
That sounded simple, but it was exceptionally difficult in practice.
First, the dice required only a minuscule trace of spiritual energy. If one failed to control it and shattered the dice, both parties lost and the house won.
Second, materializing objects out of spiritual power was no simple feat. In truth, the “spiritual power” used here was actually “demonic qi.” It was merely called spiritual power to sound more palatable to the public.
Using demonic qi to make “dice” was something only the lunatics of “The Third Level” could dream up.
To craft a single die, a low-grade demonic creature had to have its demonic qi extracted.
Once its demonic qi was drained, the demonic beast naturally died.
For “The Third Level” to have operated for so long without any demonic beasts coming to seek revenge, they certainly had impressive means.
It made one wonder whether “The Third Level” had any ties to the Cangqiong Sect.
“Junior Uncle, when do we start?” Mo Rubai had just learned the rules and felt a faint stirring of anxiety. “I have a bad feeling something is going to happen.”
“What are you spouting nonsense for, you brat!” A burly man nearby spat onto the ground and barked, “A little punk like you who doesn’t know how to speak should go home and suck on his mother’s milk!”
Berated like that, Mo Rubai’s face flushed crimson. Just as he was about to defend himself, he saw his own hand lift up and lightly tap against the burly man.
The next second, the burly man hit the ground with a loud thud.
“Hahahaha…” A burst of boisterous laughter erupted from the surrounding crowd.
The burly man had clearly only seen this kid flick out a casual palm strike before he himself tumbled over. Realizing he had kicked a steel board, he was fortunate that this was “The Third Level”—had they been outside, he might have lost his little life right then and there.
Therefore, the man simply turned deathly pale, cupped his fists toward Mo Rubai, and fled without looking back.
Mo Rubai turned around in surprise, staring at his calm and composed Junior Uncle.
Did his Junior Uncle really make a move on his behalf?
“Come, come, come! The first gambling match is about to begin!”
Before Mo Rubai could voice his thoughts, a voice cut through the air.
“The first item—a demonic beast!”
Following the direction of the voice, a young woman dramatically appeared up on the viewing platform!