144: Chapter 144 The Man Who Listens to the Dice

The news spread like wildfire, covering the entire state of Nevada in less than half a day.

The neon signs of Olympus lit up in the night, with the massive statue of Zeus holding a lightning bolt, looking down at the gamblers below like ants.

Tonight, Olympus was packed.

The first-floor lobby was crowded with onlookers, the air thick with the smell of sweat and adrenaline.

Those gamblers who usually lost everything were as excited as if it were a holiday today.

They didn't care who won or lost; they just wanted to see blood spilled.

On the second floor, in the VIP room, a massive crystal chandelier cast a soft light.

A long table covered in dark green velvet was placed in the center, surrounded by several prominent figures in Las Vegas, but at this moment, they were merely background decoration.

Chen Mo sat in the dealer's seat.

He wore a well-tailored black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a section of sturdy forearm.

The hunting knife was embedded in the tabletop beside his hand, piercing deep into the wood.

"Boss, the visitor is not here with good intentions."

Nightingale stood behind Chen Mo and whispered.

Her hand never left the holster at her waist.

The crowd at the entrance suddenly parted, like a sharp blade cutting through muddy water.

An old man wearing an old gray suit walked in.

He was very thin with deep-set eye sockets, his face covered in age spots, and he leaned on a blind man's cane.

The most striking thing about him was his eyes.

They were two grayish-white glass beads, without pupils and without light.

But he walked very steadily, his cane tapping lightly on the marble floor with a rhythmic "tap, tap" sound, each step as precise as if it had been measured.

The noise in the lobby instantly quieted by half.

Someone recognized him.

"It's The Listener Antonio..."

An old gambler exclaimed in a low voice in the crowd, "That Italian, I heard that thirty years ago in Monte Carlo, he won half a principality's tax revenue in one night."

"Isn't he dead?"

"This old ghost is actually still alive... It seems Rogers was really pushed to the edge to invite this god out of the coffin."

The Listener Antonio walked to the opposite side of the long table and stopped.

He did not sit down, but merely tilted his head, his ears twitching slightly as if catching the sound of dust settling in the air.

"The heir of Ross?"

The old man's voice was hoarse, "The young man's heartbeat is fast, seventy-two beats per minute. Very steady."

Chen Mo leaned back in his chair, examining the blind man.

The system gave no prompts.

This meant the opponent was not an Awakened with supernatural abilities, merely an ordinary person.

But this was even more terrifying.

For an ordinary person to refine their craft to a level the system deemed "Legendary," that in itself was a monster.

"Mr. The Listener Antonio."

Chen Mo made a gesture of invitation, "How much did Rogers pay you to get involved in this mess?"

"Money?"

The Listener Antonio laughed, revealing a mouthful of broken yellow teeth.

"I'm nearly in the grave; money is useless to me. I owe Rogers a favor; thirty years ago, he helped me keep my ears."

He reached out with a withered hand and touched the dice cup on the table.

"Since this is Ross's territory, let's play something retro."

The Listener Antonio grabbed three ivory dice and threw them into the black dice cup, "High or low. Simple, direct."

"I'll follow the guest's lead."

Chen Mo shrugged indifferently.

The dealer was a young white woman, her hands trembling violently at this moment.

"Shake it."

The Listener Antonio closed those grayish-white eyes.

The dealer took a deep breath, grabbed the dice cup, and began to shake it.

Clatter—

The sound of the dice striking the walls of the cup was crisp and pleasant, echoing in the quiet VIP room.

The Listener Antonio's ears turned slightly with the trajectory of the dice cup; his focused appearance made people feel a chill in their hearts.

Snap!

The dice cup was slammed onto the table.

"Four, five, six, fifteen points. High."

The Listener Antonio called out the number almost the instant the cup landed.

The dealer trembled as she lifted the lid.

Four, five, six.

An exclamation erupted from the crowd.

"A bit interesting."

Chen Mo raised an eyebrow.

The next three rounds became The Listener Antonio's personal show.

No matter how fast or fancy the dealer shook, even in one round where the dice stacked on top of each other, this blind man could accurately call out the points.

It was as if he had grown a pair of X-ray eyes.

No, even more terrifying than X-ray eyes.

He used his ears to "see" every subtle change in the airflow as the dice tumbled through the air.

The chips on Olympus's side were pushed to the opposite side like flowing water.

Ava's face was a bit pale.

She leaned to Chen Mo's ear, her voice very low: "He is here to wreck the place. If you lose tonight, Rogers will proclaim that the myth of the Golden Finger has been shattered, and the deterrence of that ledger will be greatly diminished."

"I know."

Chen Mo looked at the pile of chips on the opposite side, which looked like a small mountain, his eyes still calm.

"Young man."

The Listener Antonio toyed with his white cane, "Shall we continue? Your heartbeat skipped a beat."

"Of course."

Chen Mo stood up and waved for the dealer, who was about to cry, to step down.

"Since we are betting lives, it's boring to let others shake."

Chen Mo grabbed the black dice cup, "I'll take this round."

The Listener Antonio's grayish-white eyes seemed to brighten for a moment.

"Good."

Chen Mo grabbed the three dice.

They were made of ivory, hard in texture, and warm to the touch.

He looked at The Listener Antonio with a cruel smile on his face.

Since you rely on listening.

Then I will let you hear enough.

Chen Mo's wrist exerted force suddenly.

The [Gun Kata] brought not only precision in marksmanship but also absolute control over the hand muscles.

At that moment, the muscles in his arm tightened like steel cables, erupting with astonishing power.

Clatter—!

The dice cup transformed into a black afterimage in his hand.

The sound became extremely sharp, like countless steel balls colliding wildly inside an iron can.

The Listener Antonio's expression changed.

His ears twitched violently, and his brows were tightly knitted together.

Too fast.

The frequency of the dice collisions exceeded the limit his ears could distinguish; the sound merged into a single line, like a sharp knife piercing into his eardrums.

Not only that.

During the shaking process, Chen Mo's fingers vibrated against the cup wall at an extremely strange frequency.

That vibration traveled through the air, interfering with the reflection of sound waves.

This was a crushing of pure power and technique.

Snap!

A loud bang.

The dice cup slammed heavily onto the table, even leaving a dent in the dark green velvet.

The world instantly went quiet.

Everyone held their breath, staring at that black cup.

Fine beads of sweat seeped from The Listener Antonio's forehead.

His withered hand gripped the white cane tightly, his knuckles turning white.

He was recalling.

Recalling that last collision just now.

But he couldn't hear it.

Before that loud bang, the sound of the dice... had disappeared.

"What's wrong?"

Chen Mo lit a cigarette and looked at the blind man through the smoke, "The legendary Listener, can't you hear it?"

The Listener Antonio took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"No sound is the best sound."

The old man said hoarsely, "All the dice are stacked together. The top is one point, one point, low."

This was experience.

If it were a master shaking the cup, to prevent being heard, they would usually stack the dice like an Arhat.

A burst of whispering came from the crowd.

"This old blind man is divine..."

"He can hear even this?"

Chen Mo smiled.

He crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray and reached out to grip the handle of the dice cup.

"Mr. The Listener Antonio, your ears are indeed very sharp."

"But sometimes, ears can deceive."

Chen Mo suddenly lifted the dice cup.

No stacked dice.

Even... no dice.

On that dark green velvet, there were only three piles of white powder.

Like a small pinch of ashes, lying there quietly.

The whole place was silent.

The Listener Antonio's wrinkled face instantly froze.

Although he couldn't see, he could hear the sound of people around him gasping, and he could smell the unique burnt odor of the ivory powder.

"This..."

The old man tremblingly reached out and touched the table.

When his fingertips touched that pile of fine powder, he retracted his hand as if electrocuted.

Shattered.

The three hard ivory dice had been shattered into powder by the sheer force during that violent shaking just now!

How much power did this require? What terrifying control?

This was not gambling at all.

This was murder.

This was the murder of the dice.

"Zero points."

Chen Mo looked at the old man, who seemed to have aged ten years in an instant, his voice cold, "The house takes all."

"Pfft—"

The Listener Antonio suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.

It was heart's blood.

The skill he had prided himself on his whole life, the faith he relied on to survive, had collapsed at this moment.

In front of this young man's absolute violent "gambling," his listening was like a joke.

The old man's body went limp, and he fell straight backward.

The white cane fell to the ground, making a crisp sound.

"Save him! Call a doctor quickly!"

Someone nearby shouted.

Chen Mo, however, didn't even move.

He stared at the old man lying on the ground, not a hint of pity in his eyes; instead, a strange light flashed.

That was the look of a Corpse Collector seeing a top-tier corpse.

[Dying target detected: Legendary Gambler The Listener Antonio.]

[Target status: Heart failure, estimated survival time 3 minutes.]

[Extractable entries: Listening to the Wind and Identifying Positions (Purple), Eight Generals of the Thousand Gates (Blue)...]

"Don't touch him."

Chen Mo stopped the casino manager who wanted to step forward to save him, his voice terrifyingly steady.

"This is the rule of the gambling table."

He walked to the old man's side, squatted down as if to check his injuries, but his palm pressed silently onto the old man's chest, which was still twitching slightly.

"If you lose, you leave your life."