Deep within Hell's Kitchen stood a massive club dominating an entire block.
This was one of the Maggia crime family's core businesses, pumping out staggering profits day and night.
Even at this hour before dawn, the place blazed with lights and roared with noise.
Outside the club entrance, more than a dozen gangsters stood guard openly, pistols bulging beneath their jackets, shapes clearly outlined.
As soon as Daniel approached, two of them stepped forward to block him.
"Routine check."
"Sure."
Daniel didn't resist. He let them sweep him head to toe with a metal detector.
All his equipment was stored in the in-game inventory anyway.
"No problem. Go on in."
Daniel nodded and stepped into the roaring sea of sound.
The interior was huge, packed with every entertainment option imaginable.
Daniel scanned the area briefly, then headed straight for the liveliest section—the casino floor.
Behind every table stood a sexy dealer, live-dealing cards with professional charm. The plunging neckline below their collarbones swayed precariously, and the gamblers around them stared wide-eyed—whether at the cards or the cleavage was anyone's guess.
Daniel took an empty seat. The dealer immediately flashed a trained, captivating smile.
"Sir, what game would you like to play?"
"Dou Dizhu."
"…"
Her smile froze. "I'm sorry, we don't offer that."
"Big Two, then?"
"No."
"Surely you at least have Tractor?"
"No!"
Her chest heaved with anger—this guy was obviously here to mess with her!
Daniel clicked his tongue. "Boring. Fine, let's just play Big or Small."
"Very well, sir."
Finally hearing something familiar, the dealer snapped back into business mode, picked up the dice cup, and began shaking it rapidly.
Daniel's eyes widened, staring intently at the blurred motion in front of her chest—
What bounce—no, what speed!
A dozen seconds later, she set the dice cup down.
"How many chips would you like to bet, sir?"
"All-in, of course! Big!"
Daniel threw out a single chip with grandeur.
The dealer: "…"
One chip? And he dared call it all-in?
This chip had been lifted from another gambler earlier. The guy hadn't protested at the time, so surely he wouldn't mind.
The dealer lifted the cup.
Five, five, six.
Sixteen. Big.
Her expression didn't change. She chalked it up to beginner's luck—hardly rare in a casino.
She pushed two chips toward Daniel.
"Congratulations. Would you like to continue?"
"Of course."
Ten minutes later—
"De-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de…"
Daniel hummed a cheerful tune while sipping a cappuccino.
A small mountain of chips now sat in front of him—easily worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.
[Skill: Blessing of the God of Gamblers' Apprentice]
[Description: Your gambling skills have reached transcendent levels; in a casino, few can match you.]
[Evaluation: Chen Daozai once turned 20 dollars into 25 million. You turning 200,000 into 5 million is no problem. But remember: you must never spend the winnings. They can only be donated to charity, or terrible misfortune will follow.]
With this skill, Daniel was only slightly below the God of Gamblers himself.
Unfortunately, that nasty debuff ruined the dream—
otherwise tomorrow's billionaire rankings might've changed names.
"S-sir… would you… like to continue?"
The dealer's voice shook. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
Winning fifty rounds in a row—this wasn't luck. This was mastery.
"Of course."
Daniel nodded.
Taking a deep breath, the dealer began shaking the dice cup like a woman possessed.
She even tugged her neckline lower in an attempt to break his focus.
She shook it for a full five minutes—long enough to make Daniel's eyes ache—before finally stopping.
"All-in! Triple six!"
Without hesitation, Daniel shoved every last chip forward.
The dealer swallowed hard. Her trembling fingers slowly lifted the cup.
Six. Six. Six.
A perfect triple!
The payout skyrocketed by dozens of times.
Instead of panic, the dealer actually let out a soft, relieved laugh. She quietly unlocked her phone and began browsing coffin styles she liked.
Losing over ten million dollars in a single night—
the Maggia wouldn't kill her quickly. That alone would be considered mercy.
At that moment, a burly man in a black suit approached the table, eyes cold on Daniel.
"Sir, please come with me."
"What? You planning to stiff me because I won too much?"
Daniel raised his voice deliberately, drawing the attention of nearby gamblers.
The man twitched.
They were gangsters, true—but they still had to maintain the illusion of fairness.
Otherwise, who would dare come play again?
Suppressing anger, he whispered, "You misunderstand. It's just that the amounts at this table have grown too large. Would you care to move to a high-roller VIP room?"
Once they isolated him, he'd be theirs to deal with.
"No need."
Daniel waved lazily, a teasing smile on his lips.
"If you don't want me to keep winning, that's fine. Just pay me ten million dollars right now, and I'll walk away immediately."
The man stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
"Why don't you go rob someone instead?"
Daniel widened his eyes. "How did you know I was going to rob you?"
The man: "???"
Before he could react, Daniel drew a ridiculously flashy golden Desert Eagle, a grin stretching across his face.
"Hands up, everyone!"
"This is a robbery!"
Deep inside the club, in a hidden VIP lounge—
A burly Russian man known as Hammerhead lounged comfortably on the sofa. His massive, hammer-shaped skull was unmistakable. His furry mitts roamed freely over two terrified dealers beside him.
"Hammerhead, what do you think of the offer I proposed?"
Across from him sat a man wearing black-rimmed glasses. He frowned at Hammerhead's blatant pawing.
Hammerhead didn't even lift his eyelids. His tone dripped disdain.
"Wesley, tell Kingpin to talk to me himself."
"Mr. Fisk is very busy, but he has fully authorized—"
"Then no deal!"
Hammerhead cut him off, arrogance overflowing.
Wesley—and the Kingpin behind him—meant nothing in his eyes.
Wesley narrowed his gaze.
"I heard a new group calling themselves the Demon Gang has been interfering with several of your operations recently. If we cooperate, we'd be happy to assist."
"No need for your help!" Hammerhead snapped.
"I'll deal with those damn Demons myself!"
"Their leader seems quite strong. Relying solely on your people might—"
"So what?!"
Hammerhead slapped his giant head with a thunderous thud and grinned.
"Bullets can't even pierce me! Some tiny Demon Gang thinks they can topple the Maggia? Biggest joke I've ever heard!"
"Let me tell you—
In Hell's Kitchen, nobody dares mess with the Maggia!"
"Nobody can afford to mess with the Maggia!"
"Nobody!!"
BANG!
The lounge door slammed open.
A terrified thug burst in, shouting, "Boss! Bad news! S-someone's robbing the place outside!"
Hammerhead: "???"