Rick and Morty: My Grandfather is Rick?

Having followed them for several hours, the two calculated the distance between themselves and the fighting gym and decided to abandon their plan to walk back.

We need to take a taxi! We absolutely must! And before we go back, we need to grab a bite to eat!

Not wanting to return to space C167 to eat pizza, the grandfather and grandson decided to try the local cuisine. They casually waved to the air and hailed a taxi, asking the driver to take them to the best restaurant in town.

The car took the two to a rooftop restaurant in a building that was over a thousand meters tall.

With Rick's face, which has left a deep impression on the entire universe, this so-called high-end members-only restaurant did not prevent the two from entering at all.

This is to prove that their customers are not limited to this city, but also include high-end customers from other universes who have spent money with them.

Led by a waiter whose body and head were as thin as an A4 sheet of paper.

Morty and his grandfather arrived at the best spot in the restaurant.

As soon as they sat down, a man with a mantis-like face, who looked like a manager and was dressed in a black suit, walked over with a three-headed woman with long, fiery red hair, wearing a slit cheongsam and stiletto heels.

"Are you Rick Sanchez? Or just Rick Sanchez?"

The words sounded a bit strange, and the name was repeated twice. Outsiders might not understand them, but for Morty and his grandfather, the real meaning was...

If you're just an ordinary Rick, we'll treat you to good food and drinks, and there'll be no need for any conflict.

But if you're a strong enough Rick, then we have something we'd like to ask you for help with.

Morty, who was no stranger to this kind of thing, didn't respond. Instead, he looked at his grandfather, knowing that if he wanted to take on this task, he couldn't dissuade him.

Because most of the time, Grandpa, like most Ricks, is in a state of boredom where he thinks, "This isn't exciting at all, so I'll just kill some time."

"No need to beat around the bush. If you want to know if I can solve your problem, why not just tell me directly? If you prefer to keep things secret, then don't bother me."

When it came to serious matters, my grandfather, usually quite casual, adopted a "talk it out or get lost" attitude. He said, "I don't owe you anything, and I'm not obligated to do anything for you."

This arrogant attitude made the red-haired woman's face darken. She already knew that Rick and his gang were the kind of people who looked down on everyone, but she didn't expect their attitude to be so unpleasant on their first encounter!

"Alright! Then I'll get straight to the point. Our company's business has run into a bit of trouble recently. There's this guy named Jerry who keeps winning money at our casino. I think you two should be able to handle him, right?"

"what?"

"Jerry wins money? God of Gamblers Jerry??"

Chapter 379 100% Win Rate?

Although not all Jerrys in every universe are necessarily losers, there is a legendary gambling god named Jerry who wins big money in an intergalactic casino.

This certainly piqued the interest of Morty and his grandfather.

You're so awesome, does your Rick know?

Grandpa, who originally thought it was just a boring matter, didn't even want to eat anymore. He said directly, "Give me a whole bottle of good wine, and let's go meet that gambling god Jerry."

"You two don't need to worry. He comes to our company's casino every day for up to five hours... to make money. It's not like we can't afford to lose that money."

"But as you all know, gambling, without cheating, is essentially a matter of probability."

"Anyone has a chance to win consecutively, but no one can go on a winning streak without losing."

"But he hasn't lost a single game since he arrived here seven days ago, so our requirements aren't high. We just need you to find out if he's cheating."

After hearing these words, but seemingly not taking them to heart at all, Grandpa took a bottle of old wine from the waiter, opened it, took a big gulp, and then waved his right hand, indicating that we should go to the casino first!

We'll discuss other matters after we've made more specific observations.

So the group arrived at the restaurant entrance, boarded a luxurious convertible spaceship, and leisurely headed towards another part of the city.

When we arrived at the top floor of a building that was nearly two thousand meters tall.

Ignoring the warnings from the vehicle's AI, Morty, standing on the edge of the spaceship, leaned half his body out of the car and looked into the building.

With a 100-kilometer unobstructed view, he could almost move at a glance and "walk" directly into the building, seeing the massive casino that occupied a height of 500 meters.

After confirming that there was no danger, or rather, no ambush, Morty gave Grandpa a reassuring look.

So after the spaceship landed, the two of them walked casually toward the elevator, their unguarded demeanor making everyone think they were bold and unrestrained people.

In reality, both of them are incredibly perceptive; even a needle would have to admit defeat in their presence...

Enter the elevator and go down 500 meters.

The moment the elevator doors opened, Morty saw a level of decoration that was a thousand times more luxurious than any casino he had ever seen in his life combined—a place where people had so much money they didn't know what to do with it.

The golden chandeliers are merely decorative elements here; there's one every ten meters.

The carpet laid on the ground is suitable for almost any tonnage and special alien race. That is, whether you weigh fifty tons or are a giant octopus that has come ashore, this uniformly laid special carpet will not only not be damaged by being stepped on, but can also ignore the slime of some creatures, or even corrosion.

The raw materials for this carpet are all natural products of nature.

In layman's terms... it means hunting certain living creatures and using their fur to make this carpet.

So when Morty stepped onto the carpet, the VIP receptionist beside him was explaining to him in detail how exquisite the materials used in this luxurious place were.

A strange feeling arose in his heart.

Our ancestors, or rather, those ancestors on the path of evolution, did they ever imagine that one day their descendants, after filling their bellies, would create so many useless things?

Even after entering the interstellar age, they still made carpets from the fur of other animals.

Or rather, what is the meaning of our existence in this world, for those of us who are not at the forefront of evolution?

Do you know the difference between a genius who achieves something and an ordinary person?

"The food the former eats is to maintain normal brain function and allow him to continue thinking about problems in his area of ​​focus."

"The food the latter eats is only to make himself fat so that, under the stimulation of hormones, he will become horny towards a living member of the opposite sex. He will then spend time and money to lose weight, and after he wins over the woman, he will spend time and money to fatten himself up again."

"Throughout his life, he sought no achievement; only eating and fucking were his constant companions."

Recalling a certain remark his grandfather had once made, Morty put that thought aside and focused his attention back on the casino in front of him.

Passing by one metal table after another, crowded with people and desires.

Arriving at a single piece of white jade gate eight meters high, two white paper figures equipped with neural sensing devices slowly pushed open the gate, worth billions, to both sides with their hands that could hardly harm the white jade.

A sunken, European-style 'grand theater' appeared before Morty and his grandfather.

The seats, arranged in neat rows of eighteen, were filled with people. Each row was lower than the last, while the VIP seats built out from the walls on the left and right sides offered a better view.

On the stage, two people, one human and one beast, bleeding profusely, are engaged in a life-or-death duel.

The unarmed, silver-skinned humanoid was already at a disadvantage against the eight-limbed beast. Wearing only a pair of blood-stained shorts, his left hand was being tightly bitten by the beast, who was trying to tear off his arm by swinging his neck.

But he was clearly also skilled in combat, and following the direction the beast swung, he kept moving his feet while his right hand kept poking at the beast's eyes.

Beneath this bloody scene were customers applauding and cheering.

Those who bet on humans to win, and those who bet on wild animals to win, all downed glass after glass of alcohol or stimulants, and then, under the stimulation of their central nervous system, kept their eyes glued to the scene on stage, and kept increasing their bets.

Grandpa, who seemed quite used to this kind of scene, said to the three-headed woman who came with them, "This doesn't seem to be a card game, nor a machine-controlled number game, but the oldest kind of deathmatch. You mean Jerry has been winning all along in this situation?"

“Yes!” The three-headed woman answered her grandfather’s question with a single word.

Upon receiving this reply, Grandpa's expression turned somewhat strange. He had initially thought that the gambling god Jerry was cheating or something, manipulating the card games, or hacking into the machines to rewrite the data from the backend.

But... this deadly battle before us...

But he kept winning.

You have to understand that any intelligent being placed in this small arena will fight to the death to survive, no matter what you do outside.

So Jerry keeps betting on people to win?

In response to the grandfather's question, the three-headed woman invited the two to the control room and used a holographic projector to pull up all the surveillance footage of how Jerry had won over the past few days.

Grandpa glanced at the data compiled by the AI: Jerry bet on Human Win 100 times and won 100 times; he bet on Beast Win 20 times and Beast Win 20 times as well.

Basically, whatever you bet on, you win.

These near-perfect stats left even Grandpa in disbelief. "This is beyond lucky! A 100% win rate! If this actually happened..."

"Why would you want to hit him?" Morty's lips twitched.

"Emmmm..." Grandpa pondered for a moment, then reached out and took Morty's hand, leaving the three-headed woman with a light, casual remark without giving any reason.

"Um, I forgot I left the gas on, I'll be going now!"

Chapter 380 Capture Probability

"Hey, for you to say something like 'the gas wasn't turned off,' this Jerry must be an incredibly formidable opponent, right?"

Are you sure it's really okay for us to go like this?

"Don't you want to exchange a few blows with that Jerry?"

"Grandpa! Stop! It's just Jerry. Look at you, you're such a coward, you're practically a coward to the heavens!"

On the way out of the control room, Morty kept trying to provoke his grandfather, hoping he would stay and have a go at Jerry.

But Grandpa, ignoring everything, showed no sign of stopping.

He didn't want to offer any explanation, but simply kept his mouth shut and silently dragged Morty outside. This resolute attitude made a certain little guy who wanted to watch the drama unfold notice something strange.

This unusual attitude subtly reveals a special meaning, as if he has encountered a natural enemy who can restrain him.

It seemed as if there was no other option but to avoid war.

This was something that Morty, who had always believed that his grandfather was invincible, found very perplexing, and at the same time, he felt a sense of dread.

What kind of Jerry is so feared that even his grandfather is afraid of him?

If he is famous, then as far as I know, this universe has absolutely nothing to do with those particularly strong characters like Sammy, Beth, and Jerry.

This is a universe that is almost unknown.

Could it be that Jerry from a relatively unknown universe could make Grandpa avoid a fight simply because of the opponent's 100% win rate?

This... is another opponent with a mystical level of skill?

But this isn't some fantasy novel where emperors, saints, and gods roam the land later on, and the endless universe holds infinite possibilities.

But how could they possibly encounter this low probability event every time?

They're always calling themselves big shots, who can handle that?

Although Morty wasn't intentionally shifting the blame to his grandfather, this time he stayed less than ten meters away from him the entire time, and his ability to cause trouble was suppressed.