Chapter 7: A Gamble? I Bet on Myself!

At the entrance to the Cave of Ten Thousand Insects, a crowd had already gathered.

Word of yesterday’s events had spread throughout the Giant Spirit Sect. The news that a so-called good-for-nothing, unable to advance for ten years, was actually the disciple of the sect’s third elder had caused an uproar. Yet what shocked people even more was that this inner disciple had been sentenced to spend seven days in the Cave of Ten Thousand Insects—a place that, in the hearts of all, was a forbidden zone. Few survived after entering. Not to mention sending an inner disciple, even core disciples were rarely punished with time in that place. As for someone like Xiao Yang, a personal disciple, it was unprecedented in a thousand years—truly rare.

A cough sounded.

All eyes turned to see a man weighing at least four hundred pounds standing nearby. Many recognized him at once: Zhao Yucai, a core disciple known for organizing wagers and enticing others to bet with him. He never missed such an opportunity.

Zhao Yucai grinned, patting his enormous belly. “Ahem! The rules are the same as always. I set the bets, you place your wagers.” He held up a paper listing the odds. There were only three options:

First: Survive two hours, odds 1:0.1
Second: Survive six hours, odds 1:5
Third: Survive twelve hours, odds 1:10

“Last time, the poor fellow lasted no longer than a single incense stick. I hope this one puts up more of a fight. I’ll bet on two hours.”

“He is a personal disciple, after all. I think he’ll manage six hours.”

In no time, people began placing their bets. Zhao Yucai’s round face blossomed with joy as he watched the crowd. He had investigated Xiao Yang the previous night, and his conclusion was clear—Xiao Yang was a hopeless case, incomparable even to previous unfortunates sent into the cave. Zhao was willing to wager that surviving even a single hour would be a miracle for someone like him.

“A rare chance, gentlemen! A personal disciple in the Cave of Ten Thousand Insects—why not place a bet?” he called out, drawing even more attention.

“What’s going on over there?” At that moment, a young man arrived, carrying a large rooster under his arm, his attention caught by the commotion. Pushing his way into the crowd, he nearly lost his temper when he saw what was happening.

“Unbelievable! They’re betting on my survival.” The newcomer was none other than Xiao Yang himself. He had scarcely arrived when he found himself the subject of a gamble. Glancing at the odds, he felt a strong urge to strangle the fat man before him. The implication was clear—they didn’t expect him to last a day.

The maximum wager was for surviving a single day, yet he was to spend seven in the cave. But a small smile soon appeared on Xiao Yang’s lips. This was a golden opportunity to make some money. If played well, getting rich was no longer a dream!

“Hey! Fatty!” he called out. Receiving no response, he shouted twice more. “Fatty, I’m talking to you!”

Zhao Yucai looked startled and pointed at himself. “Yes, you, fatty,” Xiao Yang replied, rolling his eyes. Some people were fat and refused to admit it.

Zhao Yucai fumed inwardly. As a core disciple, he was rarely addressed so rudely, especially in public. Yet his professionalism quickly reasserted itself, and he put on a calm smile. “Does this junior brother have a question?”

Xiao Yang pointed at the paper in Zhao’s hand. “You’re missing something.”

That gave Zhao Yucai pause. After a moment, he asked with a smile, “What am I missing, brother?” He was genuinely curious.

“You’re missing a bet for walking out alive.”

Silence fell over the crowd. Many glanced at Xiao Yang as if he were a simpleton, barely refraining from writing it on their faces.

“Oh! I see now.” Quick to seize a profit, Zhao Yucai took out a brush and added a fourth line:

Fourth: Walk out alive, odds 1:1000

He smiled. “Junior brother, how is that?”

Xiao Yang nodded, satisfied by the one-to-one-thousand payout. “Very good.”

“How much would you like to wager?” Zhao Yucai asked eagerly, already calculating that no matter the amount, he would take it all—this was easy money.

“I have no cash, but how much is this jade pendant worth?” Xiao Yang produced a jade pendant, a gift from Zhou Jingpeng upon his arrival at the sect.

Zhao Yucai examined it closely, then shook his head. “At most, eight hundred silver taels, but since I like you, let’s call it a thousand.”

As he said this, he pinched his thigh to keep from laughing. It was practically a gift, and if he met more fools like this one, his business would thrive.

Others looked on with pity at Xiao Yang.

A young woman whispered, “Such a pity. He’s good-looking, but clearly a fool.”

Zhao Yucai, eager to close the deal before anything could change, asked, “If you have no objections, I’ll draft the note for you.” He picked up his brush.

“Go ahead,” Xiao Yang replied calmly.

Zhao Yucai wrote out the note as quickly as possible, signing his name with a flourish. Suddenly realizing he didn’t know Xiao Yang’s name, he looked up and asked, “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Xiao Yang.”

“Oh…” He continued writing, then stopped abruptly. “Xiao Yang?!” The name sounded familiar—wasn’t this the very man at the center of all the commotion? He looked up sharply.

“So, it’s Senior Brother Xiao. You…” He hesitated, gesturing at the betting slip.

“I just want to try my luck. Fill it out as usual,” Xiao Yang said nonchalantly.

“Very well!” Zhao Yucai couldn’t shake his unease, but greed prevailed—turning down easy money would be foolish. He finished the slip and handed it over carefully. “Here you are, Senior Brother Xiao.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Yang replied.

Once he left, the crowd finally reacted.

“I’ve heard he’s not right in the head, and now I see it’s true.”

“Hah! Facing death, and he still finds time to gamble.”

A sudden sense of foreboding struck Zhao Yucai. A wild thought flashed through his mind: What if this fellow actually survives the full seven days? He dismissed it at once—no one could live that long in a place like that.

“Gentlemen, another round! A personal disciple entering the Cave of Ten Thousand Insects—a once-in-a-century event! Place your bets while you can!” he shouted, turning back to his business.

Not far away, Xiao Yang watched Zhao Yucai with undisguised amusement. “Fat fool, betting on my survival? This time, I’ll make you weep!”

A thousand taels, multiplied a thousand times—that was a million silver taels. Enough to make even this fat man cry for a while.

At that moment, an elder approached—the Grand Elder of the Giant Spirit Sect, Gongsun Miao.