Chapter Thirty-Four: The Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell!

After listening carefully for a while, Li Zhao took out a small piece of broken silver and placed it on thirteen.

The dealer then lifted the dice cup. “Revealing! Four, five, six—fifteen points. Big.”

He lost the first round, missing by two points.

…

In the second round, Li Zhao again took out a small piece of silver and bet on nine.

“Revealing! Two, two, six—ten points. Small.”

He lost again, this time by just one point!

Having lost two rounds in a row, Li Zhao did not lose heart. After listening intently, he brought out a silver ingot weighing over three taels and placed it on eight.

“No more bets, revealing: two, two, four—eight points. Small. Congratulations, young master.”

He won the third round, earning eight times his wager. The dealer pushed over twenty-four taels of silver and offered congratulations, while the surrounding gamblers cast envious glances—this young man was truly lucky.

In the Guanzhong region, twenty-four taels of silver was no small sum; enough to buy two sturdy oxen or three lively young maids.

After that, Li Zhao’s luck was astonishing, as if the god of gambling had possessed him:

Thirteen—hit, eightfold payout.

Nine—hit, sixfold payout.

Four—hit again, twelvefold payout.

…

In less than half an hour, Li Zhao had won over five hundred taels in silver, including silver, copper coins, gold ingots, and jewelry, all piled up before him!

“Haha! Luck is on my side today. I’m unstoppable! Come, dealer, roll the dice again!”

He picked out the more valuable gold and silver, slipped them into a purse he had prepared beforehand, tucked it into his robe, and patted it with satisfaction. He shouted and placed more bets, the picture of arrogance.

Among the gamblers were plenty of thugs, local bullies, and unsavory types. Seeing Li Zhao win so much, their jealousy was nearly maddening, and more than a few started eyeing his winnings.

This young master was not very old, with only one servant at his side—like a helpless lamb.

Once he left, they would quietly follow, wait for a deserted spot, then strike him from behind, knocking him out and seizing his purse crammed with gold and silver—a windfall! Such things happened often in gambling dens; injuries and deaths were common, and the authorities rarely intervened. Even if they did, the culprits were never caught, and the matter faded away.

“Master, let’s leave quickly!” Sensing the hostile stares around them, White Bun’s face turned pale with fear. He tugged at Li Zhao’s sleeve, urging him to leave this place of trouble—no amount of silver was worth their lives!

“What’s the rush? Let’s play a while longer. Can’t you see my luck is peaking? Today I must win a fortune!” Li Zhao, seemingly intoxicated by his success, kept shouting and betting, ignoring all advice.

After a few more wins, the gamblers began to follow his lead, placing their bets where he did, hoping to ride his luck.

Such trend-following was taboo in gambling dens, almost certain to offend the house and invite retaliation.

Sure enough, a red-faced, middle-aged man emerged from the back of the den—of medium build, with eyes like lightning, thick, powerful arms, and long, dexterous fingers calloused from years of use.

“Old Eight, you’re tired. Take a break.”

“Yes, Fourth Brother.”

“Gentlemen, play on! I, Liu the Fourth, will host. Place your bets—fortune will decide the outcome!”

The red-faced man replaced the previous dealer, expertly shaking the dice cup while watching Li Zhao intently.

Li Zhao realized the house had brought in an expert. This unremarkable-looking man must possess real skill—probably able to control the dice and even switch numbers undetected. If he kept playing, he would surely lose.

Indeed, over the next few rounds, Li Zhao’s judgments failed, and all his scattered silver was lost.

No matter; his purse still held plenty of gold and silver. He reached into his robe, but his face changed dramatically: “Where’s my purse? I could have sworn it was here—damn it, who stole my purse?”

It wasn’t in his breast.

Not at his waist.

He took off his robe and shook it out, inside and out, but the purse full of treasure had vanished. Furious, Li Zhao stomped and raged, but it was useless.

Around him, the gamblers looked on with malicious glee. “That’s what you get for winning—now look at you, your fortunes gone as quickly as they came… serves you right!”

They were also puzzled—who had managed to steal the purse so deftly, unnoticed by all?

A few with a history of thievery, who had been closest to Li Zhao, instantly became prime suspects. Many decided to quietly follow these men and try a “thieves robbing thieves” ploy to get the purse for themselves.

As for the young master, stripped of all his money, there was no need to rob him anymore… or so most thought.

A few, however, found the whole affair suspicious and kept their eyes fixed on Li Zhao. Soon, they noticed the blue-fish pouch hanging from his belt.

According to Tang law, only officials of fifth rank or lower and idle members of the imperial clan could wear such a pouch.

This young master was clearly not an official, so he must be a member of the ruling family.

To rob an ordinary citizen was one thing; to rob a scion of the imperial clan was quite another. If word got out, the consequences would be dire.

Thinking thus, even those who harbored doubts gave up any thought of robbing him—no sum of money was worth risking one’s life.

“Master, let’s go!”

“Bah, what rotten luck! Let’s go.”

With no money left to bet, Li Zhao dejectedly left the gambling den with White Bun. They mounted their horses and galloped all the way back to the southern gate of Wuan County without incident.

They returned safely, though the money they had won was lost. Was it all for nothing?

Rest assured—Li Zhao had planned for this. He would not leave empty-handed!

…

After entering the city, Li Zhao and White Bun slipped into a quiet alley, where a figure hurried over—it was White Rat.

“Master, you’re finally back.”

“The goods?”

“All here, not a coin missing!”

White Rat produced a bulging purse filled with gold, silver, and jewels—the very same one Li Zhao had “lost.”

Li Zhao had known from the start that the gambling den was a dangerous, lawless place. Even if he won, it would be hard to leave safely with his winnings. So he devised a clever plan:

First, White Rat entered the den ahead of him, blending in as a regular and drawing no suspicion.

Second, Li Zhao entered, used his remarkable skills to win a fortune, and once he felt it was enough, secretly signaled White Rat to lift the purse from him and quietly slip out with it.

Third, Li Zhao feigned the loss of his purse and took the opportunity to reveal his blue-fish pouch, quelling any thoughts of robbery among the gamblers and ensuring his own safety.

Fourth, once out of danger, the two reunited in a county-side alley.

This plan was seamless, ingenious, and displayed Li Zhao’s superior intellect and masterful acting—worthy of an award.

Of course, White Rat’s contribution was indispensable; without his sleight of hand, the purse could never have been spirited away under so many watchful eyes.

Those who serve well deserve reward.

“Here’s your silver and your antidote.”

“Many thanks, young master!”

Li Zhao took out two silver ingots—one hundred taels in total—and a small black pill. This time, it wasn’t grime from his body, but soot scraped from the kitchen stove before leaving home.

Stove soot, also known as “herbal frost,” is a medicinal substance—spicy in taste, neutral in nature, it stops bleeding, reduces swelling, detoxifies, and quells fire… at any rate, it’s harmless.

White Rat quickly swallowed it, then exhaled in relief. Yet he did not take the silver.

“What, not enough?”

“I wouldn’t dare, young master. I don’t want the silver.”

“Oh? Then what do you want?”

“I wish to follow you, young master. To serve you loyally from this day forth—please accept me!”

Having wandered the jianghu for years, White Rat well understood: to rise in life, one must either be capable oneself or follow someone truly capable.

And to White Rat, Li Zhao was such a man—resourceful, strong in martial arts, and a master gambler.

A hero like this was bound to soar high. To serve by his side would guarantee a good life; what were a hundred taels of silver compared to that?

“If you wish to serve me, you must agree to three rules:

First, abandon your vices; no more thievery.

Second, do no evil nor harm the innocent.

Third, once you follow me, you must be loyal and never betray me.

Can you do this?”

After a brief consideration, Li Zhao nodded. He was alone and in need of loyal followers, and White Rat’s cleverness made him a useful addition.

Still, his background as a thief meant he would need some strict instruction.

“I can do it! I swear to heaven to be loyal to you, young master, never to betray you. If I break this oath, may I be struck dead by lightning, never to find peace in this life or the next!”

On the seventh day of the eighth month, in the twenty-eighth year of the Kaiyuan era, White Rat officially pledged his service to Li Zhao—a decision that would prove the most important of his life.

One decision can change a destiny!