Chapter 171 Chapter 172 Betting on Horses
Baofu was a slightly limping drifter. He had once had a job, a member of the porter’s guild, but on a rainy day, he lost his grip, and the box on his back fell, cruelly ending his career.
The guild compensated him with some money. He sold some money after his wife left, barely got his foot treated, but could no longer do heavy work, becoming a “freelancer” on the streets. Freelancers like him were actually doing much better than he had ever expected.
Having lived in the city for two years without starving to death was proof of that. Moreover, work opportunities were abundant; under his tattered awning, lying around starving for a day meant that intermediaries would come to kick him awake and call him to work.
The job was simple: one copper coin, one bread, go draw lots. If he drew a potion, he would sell it to the intermediary, and all compensation would be paid by the upper management.
Thus, he came here.
“Please line up properly, one at a time.”
A serious female voice came from behind the bar, belonging to a woman in a silver robe radiating a white glow. She looked so noble that she seemed out of place in the dark tavern, a divine emblem hanging behind her, like a rising sun.
She had a flawlessly beautiful face resembling an egg, and though her smile was gentle, like a compassionate goddess, Baofu instinctively turned his head away, afraid to look directly at her.
His stomach growled again.
The people in front of him were moving too slowly, slower than a caterpillar. He really wanted to cut in. But seeing the strong security guards on either side of the line holding big clubs, he immediately discarded that idea.
Time passed second by second, and the line in front of him shortened. Occasionally, someone would win a prize, and a crisp, lively female voice would ring out:
“Congratulations! You have won a blue-quality potion, a financial luck potion originally priced at 50G, free of charge!”
But there was no cheering; the line remained quiet, with only the excited winner leaving with the potion.
Baofu knew that their happiness came from the fact that the potion could yield them money once handed over, and everyone was just a pawn.
After all, who would believe that a vial of liquid could make someone rich overnight? If that were true, why bother with business? Why not just drink the potion oneself?
These truths were what the intermediaries told them.
Baofu deeply agreed.
If I could really get rich overnight, I wouldn’t have to sleep in a stinky tent full of mosquitoes, I could eat bread every day, eat roasted chicken…
Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but smile at his own delusions.
Perhaps sensing the low enthusiasm of the people.
That crisp voice grew increasingly feeble.
“This is your gray-quality potion.”
“Take the purple one and leave quickly, don’t waste my feelings.”
“Xiao Li! Are you busy? Can you come help me take over? All these are just pawns, wasting my feelings.”
A man left, and it was Baofu’s turn.
On the bar counter stood a half-person-high ceramic jar, and a black-haired girl in a black dress full of youthful energy leaned against the counter, her elbow resting on the table, turning to wave at a red-haired maid.
Baofu didn’t wait for her to turn around, didn’t greet her, and directly reached into the jar, pulling out a piece of pottery.
The black-haired girl turned her head, her face beautiful, with delicate and small features that exuded an indescribable attractive charm.
Her little face was filled with weariness as she said, “No words mean no prize.”
Baofu looked down at the dull yellow ceramic piece lying in his palm, blank and empty. He still held out hope and flipped it over, but there were no words on the reverse either.
He felt a wave of disappointment, unable to tell if it was because he didn’t win or because he wouldn’t have a potion to take for claiming a reward.
“Didn’t win.”
He lifted his head only to find the black-haired girl was looking at him, her golden eyes sparkling with intelligence, her lips curling into a small smile, revealing a tiny canine tooth. In an instant, she transformed from weary to full of vitality, like a mischievous child.
Baofu felt there was something enticing about her face, her smile, and her gaze that drew him in, as if a flower blossomed in his chest.
She straightened up and smiled, “Congratulations, you won the biggest prize. Xiao Li, take out the SSSR.”
Won?
Baofu looked down in confusion and saw the whole ceramic shard glowing with a golden light, resembling a piece of gold.
“Wow! A golden legend.” The black-haired girl had a mischievous look on her face as she took the box handed over by the maid wearing a hat.
The box was beautifully crafted, entirely in a festive red, with shiny golden paint spelling out SSSR in four letters. The black-haired girl opened the box with her slender fingers, revealing a potion lying on red velvet. Her little finger seemed to twitch.
The potion immediately captured Baofu’s gaze. The golden liquid in the vial shimmered like molten gold, seemingly filled with an endless number of rolling gold coins.
For some reason, Baofu thought of the rumored treasure trove of the demon lord, which was said to be piled high with gold coins. This potion ignited the greed in his heart; he stared intently at the golden liquid, not knowing why he felt that way, but he just wanted to look at it, to gaze at it.
Perhaps it was the imaginary sound of clinking gold coins in his ears while he was staring.
“Snap.”
The girl closed the wooden box, holding one end of it, and said to him:
“This potion is priceless and can make people 100% rich.”
Liar, why don’t you drink it yourself?
For some reason, he couldn’t even voice his doubts, reaching out for the box.
The black-haired girl retracted the box, and Baofu glared at her, feeling slightly annoyed. The black-haired girl smiled and made a gesture inviting him:
“This needs to be signed by a contract witnessed by the gods; after you get rich, you must cooperate with our publicity plan.”
Baofu was a bit baffled; he was the first to be asked to sign a contract witnessed by the gods. But as long as he could get that potion, he was willing to do anything.
The subsequent experience felt like a dream. He sat face to face with the noble-looking blonde young woman, her tone gentle as she read the words on the contract.
Baofu couldn’t wait to stamp his handprint on the white paper, took the box, and only regained his senses when he reached the door. He glanced back regretfully at the silver-robed woman sitting quietly behind the bar; she had the most voluptuous chest that Baofu had ever seen, and he regretted not looking at her longer.
“Hey, did you win a big prize?”
At the door, a well-dressed man wearing a cloak in the heat of the day, with a sword hanging at his waist, came towards him.
Baofu instinctively replied, “Yes.”
“Fifty gold coins must be submitted.”
Baofu didn’t respond but opened the box labeled SSSR.
The intermediary said, “This is the highest price, don’t look, this potion is useless. Why do you look so unhappy? Fifty gold coins, you wouldn’t earn that much even in your lifetime.”
Baofu knew that, but he just couldn’t take his eyes off the golden potion. Although it was enchanting, the wealth it promised felt elusive.
The intermediary pulled out a coin pouch, overturned it, and inside came the clinking sound of coins: “If you don’t submit now, you won’t even have bread to eat.”
Baofu took a deep breath, closed the box, and said, “You’re right.”
“That’s right.”
The intermediary extended his hand, saying, “One hand for money, one hand for goods.”
As Baofu was about to hand over the box with SSSR written on it, he suddenly hesitated, fearing he would regret it, quickly opened the box, took out the golden potion inside, removed the cork, and tilted his head back to drink it all at once.
The wooden box fell to the ground.
The intermediary cursed, “Fool, go be a poor bastard for the rest of your life.”
Saying this, he took back the coin pouch, turned, and left, cursing as he walked.
Baofu bent down to pick up the box, retaliating, “Don’t think I don’t know; you sell the potion above for several times the price.”
“Pah, you won’t even get a copper coin.”
Baofu felt a pang of regret; he could have easily secured fifty gold coins, enough to buy a small fishing boat, fishing equipment, and a set of clean clothes, allowing him to fish for his food when hungry, drink river water when thirsty, and sleep inside the fishing boat when tired. When the clothes got dirty, he could tie them at the back of the boat and let the water wash them clean.
But now, he realized he wasn’t feeling much regret.
What surged more was excitement, like a gambler pushing all his belongings onto the betting table.
Baofu’s heart raced, his hand brushed over the golden SSSR on the box. After thinking for a while, he stepped out onto the street.
He first went to a pawn shop, exchanged the box for six copper coins, then bought a piece of hard bread along the way. This hard bread was made of half peas and bran, the cheapest kind.
Baofu took a bite, confirming that its hardness was quite suitable for self-defense. In front of an inn, he searched for a watering trough for livestock, dove in, and drank water alongside a donkey, then used the water to soften the bread, eating the entire piece.
After soothing his stomach, Baofu felt like he had come back to life. He returned to the sewage-filled slum, found his tent, and beneath a dirty black rag, he turned over a brick, revealing six copper coins buried underneath.
Combined with the leftover money from buying bread, it totaled ten copper coins, exactly enough for one silver coin.
Baofu, wearing shoes that revealed half his foot, walked to the horse racing track located outside of Marin City.
Four years ago, this horse racing track was the only one to survive the wild beastmen’s attack, becoming the largest betting venue in Marin City.
This betting track was quite accommodating; no one stopped Baofu. In the disdainful eyes of the front desk lady, he exchanged for the cheapest tokens.
As he was selecting numbers, he hesitated. His hand trembled.
The people behind him impatiently shoved him forward, and Baofu threw his token into box number nine, feeling anxious as he went to watch the horse race.
There were no seats, and people from his class stood at the very bottom.
Ten horses burst out of the barriers, carrying their riders.
People raised their hands and shouted, their voices merging into a yearning cry for money over the horse racing track.
As expected, horse number nine came in first.
Baofu threw the two tokens he won onto horse number seven, transforming two into four, four into eight…
Three hours later, the tokens were piled high.
Baofu was invited to the best viewing spot in the stands, and the betting venue even changed his clothes, letting many bettors know that a guy who walked in penniless had won a fortune after entering the betting track. For the betting venue, they collected a percentage, and the more customers that came, the better.
The venue was loud, with horses poised behind the barriers, having just braved a rain shower, leaving the track slick.
Baofu stared blankly at the countless envious and jealous gazes below him, feeling a sense of unreality.
Until a sweet voice rang in his ear, “Sir, which horse do you want to bet on?”
Baofu turned his head and saw a young woman with brown skin wearing a skirt that barely reached above her knees; he remembered her.
She was the front desk lady who had frowned while taking his money, tossing the tokens to herself.
Could it be that the betting venue was trying to make amends?
He smiled and said, “Bet on number six.”
“How much?”
“All of it.”
The brown-skinned woman exclaimed in delight, “Thank you, sir.”
“Why are you so happy?”
“Because I get a commission.”
Baofu pointed to another waitress and said, “You help me buy it.”
“Okay!” the waitress replied excitedly.
The brown-skinned woman froze, looking aggrieved as she said, “I’m sorry, sir.”
Baofu didn’t dwell on it and waved his hand, saying, “You can both buy.”
“Thank you!”
The two of them each took a pile of tokens and walked out the door.
As they passed by a man in a cloak, the brown-skinned woman whispered, “It’s number six.”
The cloaked man didn’t respond and hurried away.
Ten minutes later, amidst the shouts of bettors, the riders spurred their horses into a sprint.
Halfway through, the leading horse number six suddenly stumbled, fell to the ground, throwing the rider off. All the other horses overtook it, and a wave of shouts erupted from the bettors.
Baofu remembered that rainy day which ended his career, recalling the box that slipped from his hand and broke his leg, his hands and feet turning cold.
