The Money I Lost Gambling Isn't Gone, It's Just Being Kept Somewhere Else for Now

Cicero stiffened when he heard that familiar voice.

He turned around, and Zhou Yun's smiling face suddenly appeared before him.

Zhou Yun strode toward Cicero at an alarming pace, as though afraid Cicero might run away, extending a hand toward him as he approached.

Cicero instinctively took a step back and raised his hand to shield his face, terrified that Zhou Yun might suddenly punch him again.

But Zhou Yun did no such thing. Instead, he stepped forward, grabbed Cicero's hand, and pulled him closer.

The smile on Zhou Yun's lips remained unchanged as his psychic power seeped slightly into Cicero's body. Cicero's internal organs gradually became clear in his vision.

Lucretius had previously told Zhou Yun that Macragge's age of witchcraft was over, and that what remained was nothing more than a few petty tricks.

But Zhou Yun had to say: Macragge psychic power was for country bumpkins. Did they even understand psychic processing techniques?

Indeed, psychic power was severely restricted in Macragge, and very little strength could be brought to bear.

But weak power did not mean it could not kill. Even the force needed to move a sesame seed could be deadly and dangerous if used properly.

For example... under Greyfax's guidance, Zhou Yun had learned which artery in the brain would prove fatal if blocked by a clot, and which blood vessel could be manipulated to induce cardiac arrest.

At such close range, Zhou Yun could easily take Cicero's life and disguise it as an accident.

"My dear brother Cicero, would you prefer a cerebral infarction or cardiac arrest?"

Cicero's expression stiffened. He did not understand why Zhou Yun had suddenly become so enthusiastic, nor why he was asking such a question.

"I don't like death." Cicero tried to pull his hand free from Zhou Yun's grip, but failed. Zhou Yun's fingers clamped around his wrist like iron pincers—or, more precisely, around the veins in his wrist.

"No, no, my friend. We are not discussing death. We are discussing the manner of death."

Zhou Yun shook his head and said earnestly:

"Do you remember your theory?"

"People come into this world to gain more experiences and sensations."

"Aren't cerebral infarctions and cardiac arrest part of life's experiences too?"

"If you were going to die tomorrow but had never experienced a cerebral infarction or cardiac arrest, wouldn't that be a regret?"

Cicero was stunned for a moment, then lowered his head as though pondering it.

A moment later, he raised his head and nodded at Zhou Yun. "That actually makes sense!"

He actually thought it made sense... Hearing Cicero's words, Zhou Yun even felt a bit of solemn respect.

At least this guy was pure in his madness.

What a talent. I really wanted to put him on the Golden Throne and let him experience it... Emperor of Piyang, at least leave him the technique for finding substitutes to die in his place!

"If I had to choose, I'd probably prefer a cerebral infarction, because the experience lasts longer." Cicero thought for a moment. "And the mortality rate is lower. After experiencing it, there's still a chance to experience cardiac arrest—you suddenly brought this up for what?"

Zhou Yun released Cicero's wrist, then reached out and patted him on the back.

"Because I've been thinking!" Zhou Yun put on a grave expression. "After thinking it over, I believe there is great wisdom in your philosophy. People are born to enjoy themselves and experience things. Even if they will die tomorrow, they should keep enjoying themselves today."

"Especially after my failed suicide attempt a few days ago, I understood the wisdom in your philosophy even better."

"A failed suicide attempt?" Cicero raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Yeah. A few days ago, I tried playing tug-of-war between my neck and the ceiling. I didn't lose—the rope I bought was too poor-quality. Before the ceiling and I could determine a winner, the rope snapped."

The rope snapped... It took Cicero several seconds to understand what Zhou Yun meant by playing tug-of-war between his neck and the ceiling.

So that was what had happened. Cicero suddenly understood. It seemed the witch's curse had worked, but the rope Zhou Yun had bought was of such poor quality that it snapped by accident, preventing him from dying.

"Then why did you punch me a few days ago?" Cicero could not help complaining.

"Oh, dear brother, if I hadn't done that, how would Tita have taken out her father's compensation money and given it to me?" Zhou Yun grinned. He subtly twisted his expression with psychic power, making himself appear shameless and depraved in Cicero's eyes.

Even Cicero was taken aback. "You really are a bastard."

"How could you call that being bad?"

Zhou Yun's expression suddenly turned serious, and he said solemnly, "I've realized something, brother. The money you lose gambling isn't gone. It's just being kept in the casino for the time being. As long as I keep gambling, I'll get it back eventually—but if I quit, then I truly won't be able to get it back."

"Brother, take your big brother to withdraw his money!"

"Now that's more like it, good brother." Hearing Zhou Yun's words, Cicero smiled slightly and patted him on the back. "There happens to be a banquet today. Same old place, the Agate Baths."

"Come to think of it, why are you in the Temple District? I remember you don't have a faith." As Cicero led Zhou Yun onward, he asked curiously.

"Oh, a temple behind us was handing out fish sauce—what about you? Do you believe in Semuneta?" Zhou Yun raised an eyebrow and asked back with interest.

"No. My faith is my philosophy." Cicero smiled. "It's just that the Semoneta Church is undergoing reform internally. Some old fossils are stubbornly clinging to their old ideas. Priest Libo invited me to teach the believers and correct their views."

"Oh..." Zhou Yun turned his head and glanced at Semuneta's church.

Suddenly, his steps halted, and his gaze shifted slightly.

He was not looking at Semuneta's church, but at a star to the northwest.

While the light of every other star was obscured by the four moons, that star remained bright. It hung above the tower of another temple, like the lingering spark atop a lighthouse...

Ever since earlier, Zhou Yun had faintly sensed a certain gaze... a gaze coming from that star...

"What got you in the mood to look at stars—oh, the Lighthouse Star." Cicero followed Zhou Yun's gaze and saw the star as well.

"Hm?" Zhou Yun gave a soft grunt.

Lighthouse... He recalled the mountain he had seen in his prophecy, and the voices he had heard.

At the time, the Tita in the prophecy had called that mountain a lighthouse.

"Oh, you're a grammar professor, so you probably don't understand matters of theology. That star is the Lighthouse Star worshipped by the Broken Lighthouse Temple."

As he spoke, Cicero raised a finger and pointed at the tower directly beneath the star.

"They believe that star is a lighthouse forged by an ancient god, its starlight crossing time and space to shine upon all living beings forever... But the divinity within the lighthouse has shattered, which is why its light is so dim."

"They also claim that it was their God of the Broken Lighthouse who sent down the Obelisk of Judgment, piercing Macragge's satellite Formakas to create the Father's Eye, crushing the terrifying King of Witchcraft to death, and ending the darkness of Macragge's Old Night."

"Crushed the King of Witchcraft to death?" Zhou Yun was somewhat intrigued.

The King of Witchcraft had been the ruler during Macragge's Old Night, eventually replaced by the King of War of Macragge—but the exact course of events had long been buried beneath the dust of history.

"There are at least eighty, if not a hundred, temples claiming their god ended the King of Witchcraft's era. You don't need to take it seriously." Cicero waved a hand, patting Zhou Yun on the back and urging him toward the baths.

Zhou Yun's gaze lingered on the Lighthouse Star for one final moment before he looked away and left the Temple District with Cicero.