Chapter 172: Who Placed That Bet?

With a wave of Cassian’s hand, a privacy screen rose around the Clearjade Pool, shutting out the rest of the deck.

Much later, he settled back, thoroughly relaxed.

"Now this is living. I’m the strongest Lord in Tidecrown, and I’ve been spending every day hunting monsters and preparing resources."

He had never enjoyed working himself to exhaustion. The Realm’s succession of competitions had left him little choice. With the Agriculture Ranking already in hand, he could finally take a short holiday.

The Clearjade Pool eased his mental fatigue, and Life Water from his existing supply restored his body. He spent the next three days at sea, enjoying the two women’s company.

Meanwhile, work continued at home.

With so much of the Domain’s workforce assigned to resource production, its next expansion came quickly. Cassian paid the required resources and costs, and the Domain advanced from Rank IX to Rank X, reaching five hundred and fifty thousand square meters.

It now stretched more than seven hundred meters across. Walls nearly ten meters high enclosed rows of buildings and clean, orderly streets.

His Domain was beginning to look like a city.

Three days later, shortly before noon, Mira opened a video conference.

"The competition is brutal this time," she sighed. "I just hope we make the top ten."

"We should," Darian said confidently. "That’s what my latest reports suggest."

"Good." Elara nodded. "That won’t give every Region more Fortune, but five points in every attribute for every Lord in the Marches is still worthwhile. At least everyone’s work will count for something."

Then she smiled at Cassian.

"Betting is about to close. Are you going to throw ten million Aether on Riftward at the last second?"

Cassian shook his head at once.

"Ten million? Have I lost my mind?"

Even after half the Crown Lords had left, Tidecrown Province still held nearly twenty million Lords. If just one percent scattered a few Aether across every Marches, hoping for an upset, Riftward could easily attract several hundred thousand.

What use would a mere ten-million stake be against that?

He checked the time.

11:48.

Two minutes left.

"They’re at it again," Nessa said angrily. "The Black Banner Lords. Kelshore is the worst. You should see what he’s saying."

"Then stop looking," Elara told her. "You’ll only upset yourself."

"Exactly," Lyra said. "I haven’t opened the Province Channel in ten days."

Nessa hung her head. "I know. I just can’t help it."

Tobias offered what comfort he could.

"Think of those Black Banner Lords who used to threaten the boss. There’s grass growing over their graves now. I remind myself of that whenever I get annoyed. It helps."

The others joined in, trading jokes, but there was a strained edge to the laughter.

Who wanted to sit there and take insults if they could answer back? They simply believed their Marches had been outclassed. With every Crown contender apparently beaten, arguing in the Province Channel would only invite more ridicule.

The channel had become Black Banner territory. Every now and then, a Beacon League or Sunspire Lord would chime in to agree.

"Sunspire has finally picked a side," Cassian said. "Theirs."

He shook his head.

"An alliance is fragile when you don’t have the strength to hold it together."

——

In Bharan Marches, Arun Varma stood beside a bald Lord. Several hundred Epic Enlightened troops waited behind them.

The bald man pressed his palms together.

"Commander, haven’t we grown a little too close to the Black Banner lately? The Crown is our ally."

"Master Amar, if the Crown had a chance of taking Tidecrown Province, we could certainly gain more by supporting them," Varma replied calmly. "But look around you. They have no way back."

He turned to his companion.

"If they truly regard us as friends, they should meet our betrayal with tolerance and understanding. Otherwise, they’re simply being unreasonable. Wouldn’t you agree?"

Amar considered this, then nodded.

"Blessings. Your grasp of the teachings is profound, Commander. I find your reasoning difficult to dispute."

"You flatter me." Varma smiled. "Besides, Bharan may yet take first place in this Ranking. If we do, I’m sure the Black Banner will offer terms we find satisfactory."

——

"Damn the Black Banner. And damn the Jade Court!"

In Westmere, Corin Alder glared at the Province Channel, where the Black Banner Lords were already speaking as though they had won.

"If nearly half our Crown Lords hadn’t moved away, would we have to put up with this?"

He turned to the young Lord beside him, a man two meters tall with an exceptionally ugly face.

"Dain, what would happen if they talked like that back in the Fourth Realm?"

Dain Torren came from House Torren, a family of Lords devoted to personal combat. He was Westmere’s strongest fighter. Rumor put his Aptitude at B and credited him with a mysterious bloodline that let him grow stronger by eating.

Even Seraphine had admitted that without Seven-Star Release, she might not be his match. During the first Marches Ranking, he alone had earned kill points in the tens of millions.

Dain looked blank for a moment.

"Our ancestors would beat the shit out of them."

Corin burst out laughing.

"Then let’s level up as fast as we can. Within ten years, we’ll launch a Heavenbreaking War and ascend to the Sixth Realm."

Dain frowned. "Didn’t you say we’d build a force here in the Seventh? Fight the Black Banner and restore the Crown’s—"

"Stop. That was before." Corin cut him off. "Who knew the Jade Court would turn out like this? It’s bad enough that they won’t support the Lords in the war zone. Now they’re dragging us down themselves. I’m done."

Dain suddenly looked away.

"Corin, the betting pool just locked."

"So? Did someone actually bet on Westmere?"

"A few did. Not much." Dain’s face filled with regret. "But some fool put a hundred million on Riftward. Do you know how much spiritual meat I could buy with that?"

Corin froze.

He had heard a story about a certain Commander in Riftward Marches—a man who liked to bet on himself in the final seconds.

——

"A hundred million!"

Lyra’s cry rang through the conference.

"What fool placed that bet? Did his hand shake and hit the wrong button?"

She had joined Riftward too late to see Cassian tear through those earlier betting pools. The people who had been with him from the start, Darian included, were already staring at his image with wide eyes.

Nessa’s face crumpled.

"I... I..."

Before she could finish, Darian, Elara, Tobias, and Rowan spoke together.

"Nessa missed another hundred million!"

"Why are you stealing my line?" she complained.

Then she looked at Cassian, hope written all over her face.

"Was it really you?"

Cassian looked far less amused.

"Who was it that said my hand was shaking?"