Twenty-One

[Part 1 · Midnight]

Half an hour before the gunshots rang out.

Jim Crow shuffled the cards between his thick fingers. They leaped back and forth as if they were living serpents.

"Young man, I want you to play a game with me. I'll offer you terms you can't refuse."

The two Jokers flew out of the deck—useless cards in a game of blackjack.

Wen Bucai gripped his pistol, ready to fire at any moment. If he could see this fat man's Soul Might spirit, he could pinpoint the enemy's Gate of Death.

"I can negotiate with your corpse."

He tried to provoke Jim Crow. When it came to contests of Soul Might, Alcoholism feared no opponent.

"You came here for revenge." Jim Crow flicked a card out. With a magician's skill, the game had already begun. "Then root out evil completely! If you want to kill bandits, start with the strongest, most ruthless, most despicable bandit chief! Kill the Big Leader of the Perfume Bottle! He's the one to blame for everything!"

Wen Bucai hesitated. He released the buffalo-horn grip of his revolver and moved a finger to his hole card, stealing a quick look at its value.

"Hit me."

The rules of blackjack were simple: get as close as possible to the right total without going over twenty-one. Whoever came closest won.

If two players had the same total, the number of cards decided it. Getting twenty-one in three cards beat getting it in four. The game was straightforward: the shortest route won everything.

"I've got a fine gun, just bought it in Texas." Jim Crow was trying to set a wolf against a tiger. He wanted to get the Arrow in his hands and cut off the Big Leader's escape route for good. "Help me out, and