The dimly lit, abandoned casino emitted a thrilling ambiance as a focused beam of bright light cascaded from a drone suspended from the ceiling.
In the center of the lit area, a man in casual clothes, wearing plastic gloves, steadily dissected with a scalpel—a mummified corpse—peeling away the dry, withered organs and blood vessels, muttering various technical terms under his breath.
Not far from him, within the shadowy reaches the light didn’t touch, on either side of a poker table, and in the croupier’s position, a long-haired woman ghost, her face entirely covered, was shuffling what appeared to be a very abnormal deck of cards.
In front of the two ghostly figures were several chips, each of differing design. In front of the specter wrapped in tendrils from a twenty-one-eyed die, lay six or seven varieties of chips, each adorned with a terrified human face.
Whereas, in front of the other, more substantial hand of the ghost, rested a single black chip, which seed rather ordinary by comparison.
As the croupier inserted the deck into the dealing shoe, both ghosts moved simultaneously, their chips malleable like modeling clay, swiftly kneaded and transford, until they beca a hundred coin-sized chips each.
[What ga are those ghosts playing?]
[It’s too dark, can’t see clearly, but they dealt two cards at first, it shouldn’t be Thirteen or Big Two,]
[F***—Strear, shine the light over there, who wants to watch you dissect a corpse?!]
[Exactly, I want to watch the fierce ghosts play cards!]
[Damn, they dealt three hands, are they including the strear by default?]
...
With the comnts flashing by, everyone began to notice the issue. While the strear was engrossed in his dissection, one card in light and one in shadow had been dealt to his direction by the long-haired ghost, forming a strategic angle with the other two phantoms.
The long-haired woman ghost seed to glance around the table, then opened her hand in a single motion to a signal for the betting ghost to bid. The betting ghost glanced at his cards and then tossed two chips into the pot.
Seeing this, the ghost hand reached out, grabbed two chips, and tossed them in front of the table. The woman ghost nodded and then looked towards Bert, busy dissecting the corpse.
[Strear! The ghost is asking you to bet!]
[Check your cards already! It’s so frustrating! Just look at the damn cards!]
[What so interesting about dissecting a corpse?]
Apparently, the strear grew a little impatient with the comnts, Bert furrowed his brows and said:
"Why check the cards, I told you all not to believe in superstitions, not to gamble! What? I gambled myself unhard... How is that the sa thing? Why not gamble if there’s free money to be won?"
But just as Bert uttered those words, as if triggering so rule, the ghost reached out and the audience watched, eyes wide open, as a wisp of white mist rose from the strear’s body and ford two coin-sized chips on the poker table.
Besides the faces on the chips belonging to the strear, they were almost identical to those of the betting ghost!
[Damn, those chips are the souls of people killed by the betting ghost!]
[The strear just has to say sothing akin to agreeing to gamble and he’ll be in the ga!]
[Strear, don’t ntion gambling again, for god’s sake!]
The comnts imdiately speculated on the unfolding situation, but Bert was completely oblivious, rely continuing on with his task.
"You guys see the heart of this corpse, although it’s already shriveled, there’s a clear abnormality in the muscle texture. Before death, there must have been so unnatural contraction, perhaps due to an injection of so special dicine or so kind of stimulus, causing an abnormal heart rate, which ultimately led to shock. Looking at it this way, it really does seem like the kind of death you get from betting too much at the casino and not catching your breath after losing."
Bert murmured to himself, propping himself up to walk towards another corpse, the whole process smooth as flowing water, without even glancing at the gambling table once.
Seeing that the other two players waved their hands, the croupier ghost pushed all the chips on the table towards Feng Xue. Right under the watchful eyes of the audience, Bert, whose skin had been sowhat dull, imdiately perked up as if he had taken so Power Pill, his complexion turning rosy and even the freckles and fine lines on his face began to fade imdiately. Not even a beauty cara could act this fast!
[Damn, what’s going on here?]
[Betting with life, huh? The other two ghosts didn’t follow, so all the chips go to the strear!]
[Two sentences, and the ghosts help regain my youth?]
[Damn, where’s this casino? I want to go too!]
[Wake up, do you have as tough a life as the strear? Are you as lucky as the strear? Do you have a spirit backing you up like the strear?]
[Exactly, if you went, you’d just be adding another dried-out corpse to the ground!]
...
The barrage went crazy for the strear’s regained youth, and many big shots had already started making arrangents, but at the center of the event, Bert remained completely oblivious. He cut open another dried corpse’s chest, clicking his tongue in amazent:
"Look at this little heart, must have gone all-in with their entire fortune and life, huh?"
As soon as these words were spoken, the croupier who had just dealt two more cards reached out, but this ti, she scooped up hundreds of chips from Bert’s body.
Bert aged visibly, but he seed unaware, simply stretching lazily and saying:
"Why do I suddenly feel a bit tired... Is it because I’ve been staying up late studying dicine recently?"
[Strear, look in a mirror!]
[You look at least 60 now, ok?]
[Sixty? My grandfather isn’t even that old at eighty!]
"Hey, hey, that’s too much, I may be a tough-as-nails strear, but I do rely on my looks to so extent. Cursing to grow old is sothing I can’t tolerate!"
Bert took out a mirror from his pocket, discontent. At the sa mont, perhaps due to the big bet he placed causing both ghosts to fold, all the hundreds of chips along with the two ghosts’ base chips returned into him. Bert looked at himself in the mirror from side to side, speaking with great satisfaction:
"Where have I aged? The strear looks like he’s just eighteen, right? But speaking of which, so it’s true that looking at a handso guy can refresh you! I just looked in the mirror, and all of the tiredness from before swept away. Say, shouldn’t I sell so pictures? With this fatigue-relief function, charging 50 credit points isn’t too much, right?"
[Damn!]
[Damn!]
[Damn!]
Seeing that the live chat had turned into a football field, Bert sighed and said:
"Keep it civilized, even if you disagree with the strear, don’t do this. I see it’s just jealousy because the strear is handso! Forget it, being envied for good looks is common. The strear won’t argue with you. Let check how this one died... Damn, their eyeballs have burst out, could it be they went all-in with four Aces only to run into a straight flush? Damn, why do I feel tired again..."
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