The punk girl's rash bet gave me two possibilities.
First, she was on a losing streak and playing recklessly.
Second, she wasn't an ordinary gambler and was preparing for a counterattack.
Whether she was a gambler with high-tech gadgets or a skilled cheat with nimble hands, I couldn't tell.
But no matter which possibility it was, she had jumped out to be the first bird, ahead of me.
Therefore, I just needed to sit back and watch the show.
If the punk girl's skills were substantial enough, it would save me a lot of effort…
…
According to my original script, since the punk girl had raised the bet, she was supposed to win this round.
But reality proved otherwise, the script had gone off track!
The scene I imagined, where the punk girl crushed the dealer with a heavy bet, didn't happen. Instead, she lost decisively.
What confused me even more was that the punk girl's subsequent bets kept getting larger.
No longer were the chips in the thousands, but directly jumping to ten thousand!
Could she also be playing the game of hiding her strength, wanting to win by first losing?
Just as this thought crossed my mind, the final result of the current hand stunned me.
It was 7 losing to 8 earlier, and now it was 8 losing to 9.
It was clear that the dealer in the arcade didn't pay much attention to the betting patterns.
As long as there was a heavy bet on the table, the motto was simple.
Kill!
After losing two heavy bets in a row, the punk girl seemed to have lost her composure. She pushed all her remaining chips, less than thirty thousand, onto the table, going all-in!
Could the suspense of victory or defeat… be in this final battle?
If the punk girl won, she would win back her principal and profit.
But the reality a minute later slapped me in the face again!
It was another 8 losing to 9, a common scene.
The moment the dealer revealed the cards representing the bank, I knew: the punk girl was finished!
At the same time, my deduction about her identity could be finalized.
She was just an ordinary gambler.
The chips, totaling less than fifty thousand, were thrown onto the gambling table, but they didn't even create a ripple before sinking.
Even the most amateur gambler wouldn't lose so helplessly.
It seemed I couldn't rely on borrowing strength to fight. I had to face this dealer myself.
Just as I placed a five-thousand chip on the table, ready to have a good few rounds with the dealer…
The dealer suddenly lit a cigarette, took a big puff, and exhaled without reservation.
As I mentioned before, there were no legitimate dealers or hidden lights in the Baowang arcade.
Take the current dealer, for instance. He wasn't wearing the proper work uniform and was constantly wiping sweat from his sleeves.
What was even more outrageous was that when he lit and smoked, he habitually blew smoke towards the guests at the same table.
Although it wasn't face-to-face, this action was undoubtedly annoying.
I thought to myself, if this dealer continued to be so ill-mannered and didn't change his habit of blowing smoke around, I would have to have a serious talk with him.
While I was contemplating these thoughts, the punk girl, having lost all her chips, stood up as if to leave.
However, before she could even take a step away from the table, a burly young man, leading two subordinates, walked over.
Stopping in front of the punk girl, the young man smiled and said to her, "Little sister, are you in a hurry for money after losing it all?"
"My brother here offers fair dealings! Not only are the interest rates low, but for girls, we can further reduce the interest rate based on your looks and figure."
"In short! For a unique and beautiful girl like you, as long as you're willing to be flexible, the interest rates I offer… can be lowered even further!"
As expected!
Women, especially beautiful women, have privileges everywhere they go.
Even getting a low interest rate for borrowing usurious loans, where's the justice in that!?
However, despite my exclamations, I knew there was no such thing as a free lunch.
If just the words "beauty" could secure a low interest rate for a usurious loan, it would be a pipe dream.
I didn't need to guess to know there was a trap here, a big one.
If nothing unexpected happened, it was the same concept as the L-loans that emerged later.
It was a pity that the bystander saw clearly while the participants were blinded.
The punk girl, eager to recoup her losses, seemed unaware of the hidden schemes. After a brief moment of thought and hesitation, she surprisingly agreed crisply.
Then, she followed the loan shark youth towards the conference room inside the venue…
It's over! Another gambler has been born!
This was the first thought that flashed through my mind after seeing the punk girl enter the conference room with the youth.
After the punk girl left, I cast aside all the distracting thoughts and focused on the gambling game at hand.
Initially, my plan was to test the dealer's bottom line, to see if he would give me some small wins to lure me in.
But to my surprise, this guy was a glutton who only took and never gave. Even though I only bet five thousand chips, he still wanted to eat them all!
As the player, I received a 6, which was a card that couldn't be improved upon in Baccarat.
According to the rules of Baccarat, when the player gets a 6 or 7, and the dealer also has a 6, the player can choose to hit.
I don't know if the dealer wanted to play both sides. After dealing me a 6, he dealt himself a 6 as well, to facilitate hitting.
When drawing the third card from the deck, I clearly saw the dealer perform a sleight of hand.
On the surface, his hand reached for the deck to draw a card, but in reality, using his palm card technique, he had already retrieved a key card from a hidden compartment beneath the shoe and concealed it in his palm.
When he reached for the deck to draw a card, and paused to make the drawing motion…
That palm card was smoothly brought out, and the moment it landed on the deck, the dealer drew it out effortlessly.
The entire process was fluid and seamless.
After drawing the card, the dealer opened it without any hesitation or pause.
Ace of Spades!
6 + 1, a 7-point card.
It was just one point higher than mine, and the bank won.
In less than a minute, my five thousand chips were gone.
Seeing the dealer kill me with such a low-class method, for some reason… a strange anger, mixed with a hint of excitement, welled up in my mind.
The moment this complex emotion intertwined in my mind, I impulsively chose to double my bet, throwing a ten-thousand chip onto the table.