The Saint

Two hours later, Chen Rui emerged from an inn, thoroughly satisfied, tossing the string of Fire Soul Stone beads in his hand.

"Wait...!" He had not gone far before the man chased after him.

"What is it, Clark?" Chen Rui put on a surprised look. "Want another round? Got anything else good?"

"You dead fatso, acting like a pig to eat a tiger!" the man cursed. "You won every last bit of my property!"

"I was going to leave after winning three rounds." Chen Rui looked utterly innocent. "I didn't force you. You were the one who lost your eyes red and insisted on continuing. In the end, you lost everything. I've been decent enough to leave you the clothes on your back. Otherwise, you wouldn't even have underwear left."

Indeed, apart from his clothes and that red headband, every last jingling trinket Clark had been carrying was gone. He cursed furiously, "Who knew you, you dead fatso, were so vicious? You beat me thirty games in a row!"

"Can't afford to lose?"

"Dead fatso, who says I can't afford to lose? Fine, you're ruthless!" Clark shot Chen Rui a vicious glare, then said sourly, "This is the first time Clark has ever lost this badly. No matter how I look at you, you don't seem like some old fossil, yet you know so much about those ancient magic cards that have nearly vanished! You're far better than that old guy! I still have some use for the Fire Soul Stones, so I can't give those to you. Consider the rest my bad luck—they're all yours."

"The Fire Soul Stones are what I want." Chen Rui shook his head, took out the other trinkets, and tossed them back to Clark. "Take these back."

Chen Rui had taken a slight liking