The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 19

"Russian Roulette?"

Sabo looked at the silver revolver, with only one bullet loaded in the six chambers.

"You should know the rules of the game, right? You take a turn, then I take one... Actually, I think the probability with this thing has always been fifty-fifty, either live or die."

Lloyd muttered, the revolver placed in the middle of the table, facing the poker cards Sabo had laid out, as if facing an army alone.

"I actually don't need to play with you."

Sabo suddenly shook his head. This was his kingdom, and he held an absolute advantage. Lloyd was just a pawn, easily squashed.

"No, you need to."

That was another gun, with delicate patterns carved on the wooden body and silver designs, with a line of poetry inscribed within.

Eve almost stared blankly at the gun. She didn't believe there was enough space under her skirt to hide such a gun. So where did Lloyd get it from?

But Lloyd seemed to have no intention of explaining. Winchester, dear Winchester, pointed at Sabo. With Lloyd pulling the trigger, Sabo's head would burst into a bloody mess right before her eyes.

"Was this your original plan?"

"Yes, find you, put the gun to your head. But it's risky. You're the big shot of the Green Sharks. I'm not sure I'd get out alive. But you also don't want your long-running business to stop, right?"

Lloyd's eyes were icy.

"So don't waste our time, Sabo. If I win, you tell me everything. If you win, I'll leave."

Sabo's expression gradually cooled. Having a gun pointed at his head on his turf wasn't fun at all. But after a moment's pause, he showed a confident smile.

"No, the stakes aren't enough."

"What about adding these?" Lloyd leaned on the gambling table, exuding extraordinary confidence.

"Are you betting your life?"

The hands were very ordinary, black cuffs lining white shirts, with scars visible on the slightly exposed skin.

"The table is full of chips," he replied.

This time, Sabo finally took a serious look at the man in front of him. He was different from many people he had encountered. He was like a pearl in the sand, strange yet precious. Underneath that black coat was boiling blood.

Without many words, Sabo knew he had to enter the game. Otherwise, this man would definitely pull the trigger, without caring whether he could leave alive. He would do it.

"I hate people as stubborn as you."

Picking up the revolver, Sabo stared intently at the man before him, his finger already on the trigger. He was waiting for his reaction. But the eyes behind that brass mask remained calm, reminding Sabo of the northern seas, where the surface was always as calm as dead water, yet the bone-chilling coldness when touched was more frightening than any storm.

"I've played this many times. The essence of this game isn't luck, it's simply how much you fear death. If you're afraid, you lose."

Sabo said, pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. Cold sweat ran down his face, but he remained composed. Then he placed the revolver in the center of the table.

"I understand. This is a psychological battle. The winner is always those with firm wills and the fearless lunatics."

Lloyd took the revolver, almost without hesitation, and placed the gun against his own head.