Everything Left to the Result

Conrad knew well that he had come into this world with nothing but his own two hands, yet to travel the ends of the earth, he would need at least a little capital.

Thus, he had spent no small amount of time researching ways to make money, and the swiftest, most dashing method was undoubtedly to take a stroll through a casino and walk out with a fortune.

At this moment, the surrounding marines thought he had lost his mind, and the casino bodyguards wore expressions of utter mockery.

When a man suddenly declares he is going to win two billion Beli at a casino, no one is going to believe he has the confidence to actually do it.

"Gambling relies on two things: luck, and technical skill." Tony extended his cigar, and a long-legged waitress in a slit dress lit it for him. He took a puff and stood up.

"But the most important thing is the principal! What are you using to gamble with me? Do you even have the qualifications to bet two billion against me?"

"Why wouldn't I!" Conrad immediately reached into the inner pocket of his marine uniform. He hadn't used the five thousand Beli he'd borrowed before boarding the ship; he only needed a little time to easily build up his starting capital!

Yet, after fumbling for a long while and patting down every other pocket on his person, he found them completely empty.

He then remembered that the clothes he had been carrying money in were blown to bits during the battle, and this was a fresh set.

Under the gaze of everyone waiting—expecting him to pull out some priceless treasure—Conrad silently turned back.

In the silence, he walked up to Kujaku. "That... lend me some more. I'll pay you back when I win."

"Didn't bring my wallet." Kujaku crossed her arms over her bulging chest. "Can't you see the dress I'm wearing? Where would I have pockets?"

Conrad pointed at the seam of her bodice. "Don't you usually keep it there?"

"Didn't bring it, left it on the ship! If you don't believe me, go ahead and look for yourself!" Kujaku puffed out her chest indignantly.

Conrad habitually tried to peer through, staring at the shape for a long moment, but suddenly caught sight of Kujaku blushing like a tomato. His own face grew hot as he realized it was inappropriate.

"We're in public, mind your words and your modesty!"

After saying this, he turned away. It seemed the influence of his inner demons still lingered, clouding his rational judgment.

Kujaku gritted her teeth and lashed out with a whip, striking Conrad across the back.

"Everyone!" Conrad cupped his fists and said, "Whoever has money, lend me some. Once I go in there and clean out the casino, I guarantee everyone gets a cut!"

Aokiji sat cross-legged on his ice sculpture, scratching his curly hair. He only had enough money on him for a few bottles of booze.

"Here." Ain took a roll of Beli, neither thick nor thin, from her cloak pocket.

Conrad took it decisively and started to offer a casual word of thanks.

But Ain cut him off: "Thank you for last night."

She bowed slightly, her tone as cold as ever, her rose-red eyelids lowered.

Although the marines felt Conrad's behavior was impractical, those who had brought money stepped forward one by one and chipped in.

Conrad eventually gathered nineteen thousand Beli—a mere ten-thousand-fold difference from two billion.

But as he walked toward the casino entrance with the money, waving to the blind man, Issho, he projected an air of boundless wealth.

Tony and the bodyguards at the door did not step aside. Even though they didn't believe Conrad could win, stepping up to the table meant uncertainty; until the cards were dealt, anything could happen.

"If a gambler loses money here, they can win it back here; if they want to play, they can keep playing." Conrad stood at the threshold, the golden neon sign casting light upon his straight posture.

"A place that lets you lose but won't let you win is a rigged den. The rule of a rigged den is that there are no rules, and in that case, no one needs to follow them."

The bodyguard said, "Leave your weapon."

"You're all afraid of me coming in alone?" Conrad shook his head, slung his rifle, and stepped into the hall.

"Rest assured, I will not allow anyone to destroy the casino," Issho followed him in. "As long as I still owe a gambling debt."

The marines waited outside. Aokiji watched Conrad's retreating back, propping his head up with his hand. "What a foolhardy mess..."

Just then, the Den Den Mushi in his pocket rang.

He answered it, his brows furrowing, his already dark face growing even gloomier.

The inspector on the other end reported that Conrad had killed the King of the Ilusia Kingdom—a king of a member nation—witnessed by numerous mobsters and residents.

He closed his eyes to think. Once this news was confirmed and spread, the World Government would inevitably throw Conrad into prison.

Aokiji conceived a plan: he could use his own status as a guarantee to cover up and alter the news, but was a reckless, ordinary soldier worth such an effort?

"A gamble? Then let the result of this game decide." He lay flat on the roof of his ice sculpture, bubbles forming from his nose as he began to snore.

In the main hall of the casino, the massive crystal chandelier on the ceiling shimmered with brilliant light, casting a glow over the shifting styles of the casino, making it impossible to tell day from night.

The outer perimeter was dominated by luxurious, glossy lacquered walls, with champagne served by sexy women on gold-leaf trays. The further one went into the private rooms, the more classical it became, with red and black wood paneling evoking a sense of history.

This was Conrad's first time in such a place. The biggest scene he had ever witnessed before this was the three mahjong tables the director and teachers gathered around during the orphanage's New Year celebrations.

The path was thick with smoke, and numerous red-eyed gamblers with dark circles under their eyes stared fixedly at the poker cards on the tables, completely indifferent to what was happening outside.

As long as no one stormed in to smash the tables, the wins and losses on the felt were all that mattered; the gambling table was life itself.

Conrad walked past table after table. He had only ever seen the various gambling tools and giant slot machines on television.

Issho followed behind him, and behind him were the many casino bodyguards armed with pistols.

Conrad's gaze locked onto his target, finally stopping before a dice table for guessing points. It was the only gambling tool he had ever deeply studied and possessed.

His luck could hardly be called good; otherwise, he would have been born into a family of great wealth and status, which is why luck was the very last thing he ever considered.

He excelled at studying technique, practicing his throws day and night without pause.

For a long time, he even managed to achieve an eighty percent success rate in rolling the exact numbers he desired.

Unfortunately, the dealer shook the dice in this game of Sic Bo, and he could only bet on Big or Small.

"Sir, your chips." The bunny girl brought over a tray. There were seven in total—three worth fifty thousand and four worth ten thousand—looking exceptionally sparse on the gold-foiled tray.

Conrad grabbed them with one hand and squeezed into the crowd of gamblers; seeing the large group of people behind him, the gamblers cleared a space.

He looked at the slick-haired dealer shaking the dice cup. He didn't place a bet on the first round because he didn't know the initial position of the dice.

"Miss, could you please get me a glass of milk?" Conrad turned his head to say to the bunny girl.

"Certainly, sir. Would you like anything else to drink?"

"I don't drink alcohol, thank you." Conrad shook his head.

He had once tried to taste the flavor of wine, wanting to emulate the dashing style of those who drank heartily, but unfortunately, he had never once found the taste of alcohol to be delicious.

The milk arrived quickly, and the gamblers had already placed their chips while deliberating.

The dice cup opened: the three dice added up to thirteen—Big.

Faces of joy and sorrow mingled, with cheers and vacant stares existing side by side.

Conrad memorized the positions. When the dealer finished distributing the chips and picked up the dice cup to shake it with a clatter, he watched the man's hands intently, his ears twitching slightly.

The moment the dice cup came to a stop, he flicked his thumb, and a fifty-thousand-value chip spun through the air to land on the seventeen-point spot.

That was right—he had bet on the specific total.