Chapter 72
Jiang Jitang had already unpacked the deck. After removing the jokers, he casually shuffled the cards, then closed the deck, seemingly inspecting it. In just a few seconds, he pushed the deck across to his opponent.
“To make sure I’m not cheating, you shuffle.”
The lighting deliberately focused on the table, highlighting those hands—slender, pale with blue-purple veins visible, looking fragile, and of course, appetizing.
Good hands, really good hands. The surrounding monsters were drooling.
But the doctor-monster wasn’t the type to be easily seduced by flesh and blood. It slightly turned its body and shuffled the cards slowly and deliberately.
Shuffle, cut, dealer deals. Jiang Jitang, as dealer, drew cards again and dealt two cards each to himself and the doctor—one face down, one face up.
Jiang Jitang’s face-up card was a J, worth 10 points. The doctor’s was a 7.
“Continue?” Jiang Jitang asked after the doctor looked at its two cards.
The doctor stayed silent for a minute. It couldn’t use any cheating powers—some rule restricted it. Presumably, the same applied to Jiang Jitang.
During this time, the livestream heat continued to rise. From the once quiet darkness, voices started urging the doctor to draw.
“Continue.”
The doctor drew another card. Its expression revealed nothing about the card’s value.
“Continue?” Jiang Jitang asked again.
This time the doctor stopped, revealing all its face-down cards: 5 and K, plus the face-up 7, totaling 22—busted.
Jiang Jitang, meanwhile, had a face-up J and a face-down A. The Ace could be 1 or 11; here, it counted as 11, giving him 21.
The dealer won without dispute.
“Well played, well played,” Jiang Jitang said modestly, attributing it to luck.
The monsters in the darkness stirred, seeming displeased.
“You cheated.” The doctor stated plainly, baffled by how this human had done it. The same rules applied to both of them, so it couldn’t be special powers—just skill.
Thinking about it, it must have been in that brief moment he touched the cards.
The table and cards were provided by the livestream, the shuffle and cut done by the doctor, with Jiang Jitang’s sleeves rolled up and no way to hide anything. Nearby monsters had watched and caught nothing.
The doctor looked at the human before it, clearly delicious, and said seriously: “You’re very skilled.”
The card trick was already a fact. Jiang Jitang hadn’t used any aids—pure memory, speed, and technique—so he calmly replied: “Flattering.”
A crimson flush spread in the doctor’s eyes, fangs appearing with desire. It greedily looked at Jiang Jitang’s hands and brain. “If I eat you, can I get it?”
Jiang Jitang knew it was asking about gambling skills.
“No.” He pulled out the electric gun. “Small bets are fun, large bets ruin lives. Obsession with gambling can lead to ruin or death. I’m a member of the Anti-Gambling Association—I cannot teach gambling techniques.”
“You misunderstand.” The doctor said. It was just looking for an excuse to eat—it didn’t need to make a moral case.
“Even if it’s not gambling, you can’t expect to solve everything by eating. Always looking for shortcuts misleads yourself and others. Life is long for monsters; learn every day.”
“…This human isn’t quite normal.”
The doctor fell silent, its hunger receding.
Jiang Jitang didn’t rush the punishment. Even monsters must have some sense of shame, right? Besides, his ultimate goal was to maintain long-term livestream heat. Whether the monster complied or not, it would generate heat either way—he couldn’t lose.
“What kind of BGM?”
The doctor admitted defeat graciously. Jiang Jitang didn’t want to prank it with an inappropriate BGM.
“Shiver.”
Jiang Jitang’s voice triggered eerie music.
A BGM that could exorcise people at midnight—like a deserted mountain village shrouded in white mist, shadowy black locust branches looming, vaguely dangling something sinister.
“Not bad.” The doctor listened once, smiled faintly with a touch of blood at the corner of its mouth, and stepped down satisfied.
Jiang Jitang exhaled quietly. He could sense the doctor was a powerful monster. Though unafraid, it was better to avoid conflict.
Strangely, even after losing, the doctor seemed in a good mood.
This was a pursuit game—giving monsters entrance BGM should alert players, risking failure. So why was it happy?
As the doctor disappeared, a humanoid formed in impatience—long-haired, in white robes, red lips, black eyes with no whites.
It sat across from Jiang Jitang.
“Blackjack again?” Jiang Jitang asked.
The woman nodded slightly, silent.
Heat continued rising. This one was also well-known among monsters.
Jiang Jitang collected all the cards and politely pushed the deck to her. “Shuffle?”
She didn’t even glance at it. Her eye sockets became black holes, with two pitch-black eyes floating above Jiang Jitang’s hands, staring intensely.
Obviously, she wouldn’t shuffle—she wanted to watch Jiang Jitang do it, to catch him and then eat him.
“…Fine.”
Even if he failed, he’d only lose a jar of mulberry jam and a bag of blood. Jiang Jitang’s mind was calm as he shuffled and cut the deck openly.
Her eyes constantly tried to catch any small motion, but all in vain.
As a certified member of the Jin City Anti-Gambling Association, Jiang Jitang’s sleight of hand had master certification. Only frame-by-frame analysis could catch traces.
Monsters are monsters for their unusual attacks and cannibalistic tendencies—not necessarily superior intelligence or knowledge.
If they were that smart, they’d have conquered planets already.
So humans can be deceived—monsters even more so.
Sure enough, the white-robed woman failed cleanly. Her cards exploded, and the air around her froze.
“Come on, what music do you like?”
Jiang Jitang picked a classic horror BGM, commonly used in crime shows.
Perhaps upset at losing, she emitted black smoke, showing dissatisfaction.
Jiang Jitang watched as she rubbed her eyes, glaring through the empty sockets as if she wanted to chew him bone by bone.
“Don’t be so quick to anger. This one? Flammable and explosive?”
A new BGM played—mocking and angry, unlike the previous spooky one.
The white-robed woman listened blankly for two minutes, pressed her eyes back into place, and left satisfied.
Seventeen minutes had passed since the start, with heat holding around 2.7 million. Jiang Jitang looked at the next newcomer—a human-like elder.
Though aged, its cheeks and forehead were full and rosy like a baby, with snowy hair and a kind face, exuding a celestial aura.
Humans’ aesthetic sense was being mastered by monsters.
Jiang Jitang prepared seriously. The elder quickly lost the bet, took its BGM, and left calmly.
Next came a three-meter shadowy monster, a half-human half-cat smelling faintly of fish, a puppet, and a mermaid corpse with gray-white tail skin oozing blue-purple pus…
All lost cleanly; Jiang Jitang had no conflicts.
At this point, he sensed something subtle.
When a humanoid in bear hide appeared, showing white teeth, losing the bet immediately and looking at Jiang Jitang expectantly, he realized—he wanted to impress monsters with sleight-of-hand, but they treated him as a mobile jukebox.
…Annoying.
Still, he had to choose BGM for the bear-man.
“Thriller.” (by Micheal Jackson)
The explosive vocals and lyrics gave goosebumps, but the bear-man was pleased, giving Jiang Jitang a “you’re good” glance before leaving.
“…Thanks.”
Next was a wet little boy, barefoot, eyes cloudy and dull. He sat across Jiang Jitang, and without waiting: “Brother, can you pick a song for me?”
Jiang Jitang: “…No pretense? Won’t play cards? Respect the sleight-of-hand I spent three years learning?”
“Sure, what do you want?” Jiang Jitang smiled professionally—for heat, points, and public service.
“Cute. I’m lively.” The boy said expressionlessly.
Wake up—you have zero liveliness.
“Try this: A Little Sparrow Falls Into Water.”
A cute, light music played. In the looped “falling into water” sound, the boy’s lips twitched; water droplets surged from him, pooling into a terrifying energy puddle.
“Got it, Little White Boat.”
No humor in this kid. Jiang Jitang quickly changed the song.
This time the boy was satisfied: “Thanks, brother,” taking his BGM and leaving.
Fifty-six minutes had passed since the start; heat rose steadily to 3.2 million.
Jiang Jitang put away the cards and steak, pulled out paper and pen from his backpack, writing: “Customized BGM for you, honest and satisfying for all ages. Tried and approved.”
“No 998, no 888. Today only, free for all! Still envy others’ entrance BGM? No more—today’s gift is home-delivered. Once-in-a-lifetime chance, free! Limited song library, register quickly.”
Silence.
Silence dominated backstage.
The nine surviving players’ faces sank into shadows, wounds throbbing in the quiet. They had treated serious injuries and looked up at the allowed rest time—it was increasing at an incomprehensible rate.
Livestream heat rose alongside it.
The previously hostile voices no longer shouted, “X’s heat dropping, location shared,” but excitedly yelled:
“Heat rising! Heat reaches two million! Heat continues to rise, surpassing three million! Our variety show finally exceeds three million heat, becoming one of the most popular games in the monster world! Ahahahaha!”
How did he do it?
Did he rip open the livestream?
