He Could Afford to Lose

"Saint Sanming, don't get too cocky!" Saint Charmak snarled. "So what if we're betting our wives? I'll see this through to the end!"

The Celestial Dragons around him all gave him a thumbs-up. Saint Charmak was a real man!

Actually, among everyone who lost the bet, Saint Charmak suffered the least. His wives had all been kidnapped, and they needed replacing once he grew tired of them anyway. He hadn't suffered any financial loss at all. The more he thought about it, the cleverer he felt.

So Saint Charmak had his more than twenty wives, along with a woman wrapped from head to toe in bandages, thrown over to Miming. Miming immediately began cursing. "What the hell? This is a corpse, isn't it?"

After being told, "She's still alive," Miming lifted the blanket and took a look. The woman named Stella's face was so swollen that it was barely recognizable. Her entire body was covered in burns from branding irons and lash marks, and she had only a single breath left in her. How was that any different from a corpse?

Saint Charmak gave an affected, heavy snort, put on the air of someone saying, I can afford to lose, and swaggered away.

The people who had won the bet were delighted. At six-to-one odds, one hundred million turned into six hundred million. Opportunities this profitable didn't come often. Since they could be freely unpetrified, being turned to stone was a rare experience in itself. They could happily bet on the Gorgon Sisters in the future.

A bastard named Saint Charlos had bet five hundred million and made a huge profit. He didn't even frown when paying for his depetrification.

A trend had begun among the Celestial Dragons. Whether or not you liked Saint Jalmack's Son, the first rule was not to provoke someone you couldn't afford to offend. In fact, when Saint Jalmack's Son was acting arrogantly, it wasn't a bad idea to make money alongside him. This was especially true of many Celestial Dragon children, who had begun imitating Miming's mannerisms and given their parents a terrible headache.

Captain Dice and Tesoro had both become Saint Jalmack's Son's spoils of war. Captain Dice had originally been one of Saint Rosward's prized mounts, which left Saint Rosward feeling rather embarrassed.

Miming honked the horn. Saint Charmak's wives filled the vehicle, and there were too many of them to fit, so two Snake Princesses had to carry some on their backs. Dice crawled along behind them, carrying the bandage-wrapped woman on his back, along with the unconscious Tesoro.

"Come on! The others can sit up here too." Dice demonstrated his immense strength, lifting the women one by one with his palms and placing them on his back. His broad back was practically a flatbed, and six more people managed to sit on it.

"Can you handle it?" Miming asked.

Although Dice had taken a powerful combat recovery potion, he had been seriously injured just moments ago.

"I can!" Dice replied cheerfully. Miming hadn't stuck an umbrella into his back, and had even given him an injection of recovery medicine. More importantly, Miming hadn't forgotten to demand the slave registry for Dice's brothers and subordinates.

The value of Dice's slaves lay in the twenty-five crewmen who followed him. Only by holding those men's lives in his hands could he firmly control Dice. Transferring ownership of them had therefore been inevitable.

When Saint Jalmack's Son's group passed in front of Saint Rosward and his entourage, Saint Rosward was practically furious enough to go mad.

Shalria turned her head away and refused to look, but Charlos looked so happy he seemed ready to dance. "Hey, hey, Miming! I'm still betting on you next time, hahaha!"

Miming helplessly gave him a thumbs-up. "You're something else."

Saint Rosward's furious voice rang out from behind them. "Don't bet on Miming!"

"Huh? Why not? I'm going to bet on him. Betting on you would mean losing."

"I'll definitely win next time!" Saint Rosward was so furious his nose had nearly twisted out of shape. "I know how to deal with that brat now. Miming! Just you wait!"

"I'll be looking forward to it, Uncle Rosward." Miming waved over his shoulder.

He wasn't afraid of Saint Rosward coming. He was afraid Saint Rosward wouldn't follow through.

Once they reached a deserted area, Miming glanced at Dice, who was laboriously crawling beside them. The man really was built like a tank. When he lay flat on the ground, he looked like an elephant. Even the six-meter-long air car seemed smaller beside him. Despite carrying so many people, he crawled smoothly and swiftly.

"I like people who value loyalty. I don't like riding people either." Saint Jalmack's Son's voice sounded almost sacred in Dice's ears. "From now on, the family will send your brothers out to work and earn money. This is the last time you'll ever have to crawl around like this."

"Thank you, Master! Dice will never forget your kindness!" Tears streamed down Dice's face as he repeatedly knocked his head against the ground, frightening the women on his back into screams.

"Master, this man is loyal too." Dice was referring to Tesoro on his back. "I beg you to forgive him for what he did today. He can't fight anymore, but he can still sing!"

"What use is that little bit of fighting ability?" Miming said. "But his singing is quite good."

Dice began crawling even harder, his heart filled with hope. What he had feared most was Saint Jalmack's Son saying that Tesoro was useless. After all, what use could a blind gangster be to the great Celestial Dragons? The value of his singing couldn't even cover the cost of his treatment.

Yet Saint Jalmack's Son ordered his agents without the slightest hesitation, "Treat them. See if anything can be done for that brat's eyes. And what's the matter with the woman?"

The women sitting together on Dice's back began talking over one another as they explained what had happened.

The woman's name was Stella. She was a slave who had been trained from childhood to become a top-tier songstress, the kind who could be sold for a fortune. Tesoro, who had once been a lowly gangster, had saved up money to buy her freedom. But on that very day, Saint Charmak had bought her first.

Tesoro was a deeply devoted man. He had even turned himself into a slave and entered Mary Geoise, and he had actually managed to find Stella's whereabouts. On the day they met in Mary Geoise, Tesoro screamed himself hoarse from inside his cage while Stella lay on the ground, smiling at him. Saint Charmak stomped hard on Stella's face. How dare this woman smile without permission? And at another man? No matter how hard he stepped on her, she was still smiling?

"You bastard! I'll drown you in water and burn your face with a branding iron so you can never smile again!" Saint Charmak went mad with rage. Even he rarely became that furious.

Later, to trade for Stella's life, Tesoro begged to serve Saint Charmak. He was willing to eat excrement, kill people, sing—there was nothing he couldn't do. He desperately pursued strength and somehow kept surviving miracle after miracle, becoming a slave worth far more than before. Saint Charmak began calling him "Miracle Boy."

But from that day on, Stella could no longer sing. She could only shed silent tears. Tesoro didn't know that every time he begged Saint Charmak to treat Stella, Saint Charmak would beat her viciously afterward. Even if he beat her to death, Tesoro would never know. He would simply continue throwing himself into his work like a fool.

And so Tesoro continued dreaming of buying Stella's freedom, abandoning his own life in the process. Saint Charmak, meanwhile, gained immense pleasure from playing with the two of them and never tired of tormenting Stella.