Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

Everyone at the table was stunned by Monet's actions.

Even the veteran dealer, who had worked at the Blackwater Casino for over a decade and was used to all sorts of gamblers betting their lives with bloodshot eyes, was so shocked by this sudden all-in bet that his pupils shrank.

That doesn't make any sense! Even if you win, you won't earn much, but if you lose...

He swallowed hard, stammering as he asked Monet again, "Are you...are you sure you want to go all in? This...this..."

"What? Blackwater Casino doesn't allow people to bet everything?"

Monet raised an eyebrow, glanced sideways at the dealer, and spoke with undisguised impatience, instantly releasing the oppressive aura of someone who had long held a superior position.

"No, no... I was just being nosy. You can decide for yourself."

The croupier dared not ask another single question.

Immediately afterward, the dealer, steeling himself, turned to Monet's players to his left, his voice somewhat unnatural, "Would you all... still call?"

The remaining gamblers, seeing the mountain of money in the pot, decisively chose to fold and run away.

They waved their hands almost in unison, hurriedly throwing their cards back into the deck.

Whether they win more or lose more, at least they still have the capital to play slowly. Who would be foolish enough to bet their entire fortune on this strange-looking bet?

It's one thing to have a hothead who bets heavily on the very first hand, but there's also an even crazier Monet.

Aren't they just two complete lunatics?

Moreover, given Monet's nonchalant and confident demeanor, he must have a winning hand that can dominate the game. How could they possibly play along?

In the blink of an eye, the gambling table that originally had six people was reduced to only Monet, Nozer, and old Jim.

The dealer's gaze finally fell on old Jim, and he was about to ask him about his choice when Norze made the first move.

"Full pressure."

He held his four cards between his fingers, casually placed them on the table, then reached into his pocket and pushed all the remaining silver shields into the pot.

The heavy bag of silver shields struck the silver mountain at the bottom of the pool with a dull thud.

After doing all this, Norzer looked up at Old Jim across from him, leaned forward slightly, and curled a smile full of provocation at the corner of his mouth.

"Now it's your turn, old Jim. You have two choices: either bet everything you have left and gamble with us this round, or fold now and slink out of this room and get out of here."

"By the way, didn't you say you've been gambling at this casino much longer than me and are a regular customer? Let's see if Lady Luck favors you, the old gambler, or me, the complete novice."

"How about it? Want to make a bet with me?"

Old Jim stared intently at Norzer, his chest heaving violently, his teeth grinding together as if he were about to explode with rage at the provocation.

He had lived for forty or fifty years, spending half his life in casinos, and had never been so publicly humiliated by a callow youth.

Just then, a barely perceptible fluctuation of magical energy rippled through the private room.

The fluctuation was fleeting, so fast it was almost an illusion; even Noze, a mage, almost didn't notice it.

Noze suddenly looked up at Monet across from him, and his gaze met Monet's.

Monet blinked at him very quickly, then immediately resumed his drunken state.

Noze instantly understood.

From the moment he pulled out a chair and sat down at the gambling table, Monet knew Graham's intentions. This seemingly crazy all-in bet was not a spur-of-the-moment decision after drinking, but a premeditated collaboration between them.

He just didn't know what his purpose was yet. Surely it wasn't really for Old Jim's paltry sum? Would Graham even care about such a small amount of spare money?

Meanwhile, old Jim had completely fallen into a state of struggle and madness.

He stared intently at the glittering silver mountain in the center of the table, his eyes bloodshot, greed and fear tearing at his gaze.

If he bets and loses, he will truly lose everything. Not only will he lose all his savings, but he will also have to pay off all his valuables. He won't even be able to repay the money he embezzled from the guild or the high-interest loans he took out.

But if he doesn't follow, he will not only lose all the money he has invested, but he will also have to gamble against them with even less capital in the next round, making his chances of winning even lower.

They would lose face in front of this brat and never be able to hold their heads up again.

Not to mention that once he wins, the money in the pot will not only be enough for him to recoup his losses, but he can also squander it in style for several more years.

He was unwilling to give up, and even more reluctant to do so; it seemed that he should make the bet, both emotionally and logically.

The gambler's inherent sense of luck and madness were completely ignited at this moment.

"Damn it! I'll risk it!"

Finally, like a trapped beast driven to the brink by greed, old Jim let out a hysterical roar, sprang up from his chair, and slammed the last few copper coins he had in his pocket onto the table.

"Full pressure!"

His face was filled with a desperate, frenzied look, and greasy sweat dripped down his cheeks from his forehead.

Old Jim now resembles a wild beast cornered at the edge of a cliff, with no other way out but to fight like a trapped animal.

The flame of the kerosene lamp flickered gently, illuminating the mountain of silver shields piled on the table and revealing the expressions on everyone's faces.

An immense sense of oppression enveloped the entire private room, making even breathing feel exceptionally heavy.

Graham, however, remained leaning back on the sofa, slowly swirling the wine in a glass that had been brought to him from somewhere on the table.

Monet, however, remained nonchalant, holding the bottle and taking another swig of the remaining whiskey, as if this crazy gamble, risking his entire fortune, had nothing to do with him from beginning to end.

"Three...all three guests have bet all their cards, now...the cards are revealed!"

Just as the dealer had laboriously announced the opening of the game, a sudden change occurred on the table.

Old Jim suddenly sprang up from his chair again, reeking of alcohol and sweat, and lunged at the table like a madman. He snatched the four cards face down in front of Norze and slammed them onto the table.

The 2 of Hearts, 3 of Spades, 4 of Diamonds, and 5 of Clubs are four cards of different suits with random numbers, making them the least valuable all-colored cards in Primavero.

"Hahaha! All mixed colors! It's actually the worst kind of all mixed colors ever!"

Old Jim burst into maniacal laughter, laughing so hard he almost shoved tears from his eyes.

He pointed at Norze, spitting as he mocked, "Kid! You dare to go all in with that lousy hand? Trying to bluff, thinking I can't see through you? I'll make sure you don't get away with it!"

"You think I hesitated because I had a small hand and was scared? Wrong! That was all an act for newbies like you!"