World Pavilion.
Ranked fourth among the gambling houses of Northern Li, it is also the largest in scale, surpassed only by the Thousand Gold Platform in Heaven Revelation City, the Beauty Manor in Three Visits City, and the Carefree City in Green State’s Hundred Cities. While the other three gambling houses primarily cater to nobles, merchants, and the wealthy, the World Pavilion stands apart—its patrons are mostly martial artists.
Because behind the World Pavilion stands the renowned martial city of the jianghu—Unparalleled City.
"Young master, you wish to enter Peerless City?" A short, stout man in a money-patterned robe waved a palm-leaf fan as he hurried forward, sweat dripping from him like rain.
Behind him walked a tall, slender man wearing a white mask, a paper umbrella strapped to his back and a longsword at his waist. Glancing at the noisy gambling tables around them, he replied calmly, "Yes. But to enter Peerless City’s territory, one must possess a Peerless Token."
"Indeed. Beyond here, there’s only one road for ten miles, with over a dozen checkpoints—all requiring your Peerless Token for passage." The stout man wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "But obtaining a Peerless Token is no easy feat."
"A friend told me there’s a way to get one here?" the masked man asked.
The stout man stopped, tucking away his handkerchief with a smug smile. "Naturally."
The masked man nodded. "Name your price, proprietor."
As if flipping a switch, the man’s smile vanished, replaced by a shadowy tone. "This is the World Pavilion. Here, things cannot be bought—only..."
"Hmm?" The masked man tilted his head slightly.
"...gambled for." The stout man’s eyes flicked toward the longsword at the masked man’s waist. "Wager something valuable on your person. Win, and the Peerless Token is yours. Lose, and your possession stays here."
"Gamble?" The masked man glanced at the surrounding tables. "Like them?"
"Them?" The stout man scoffed. "Their stakes are too small—mere silver coins. If you want a Peerless Token, this isn’t the place for it. Follow me."
Leading the masked man deeper inside, the stout man pushed open a pitch-black door, revealing an elegant tearoom. At its center stood an antique long table, clearly priceless, adorned with an incense burner. Seated before it was a stunning woman in a purple robe, her figure graceful and alluring.
The stout man shut the door behind them. "This... is the game suited for you, young master."
The masked man produced a silver note from his sleeve. "I’m not skilled in gambling. But since I’ve come to the World Pavilion, I’ll abide by its rules. Here’s a thousand taels. Will that suffice?"
"As I said earlier, you must wager something valuable on your person—and this silver note clearly isn’t it." The stout man raised a finger, pointing at the masked man’s sword. "We want that."
"You want my sword?" The masked man’s voice turned icy. In a flash of cold steel, his blade was at the stout man’s forehead.
"How dare you draw your sword in the World Pavilion!" The purple-robed woman unsheathed her saber, poised to strike.
"Stop!" The stout man pinched the sword’s tip between two fingers. "Friend, it seems you no longer desire the Peerless Token."The masked man took out a blue-glowing pearl from his robe and sheathed his long sword. "Since the proprietor demands something precious for the wager, I wonder if this Dragon's Tear Pearl qualifies as valuable?"
"Dragon's Tear Pearl?" The short, stout man stared at the pearl, greed flickering in his eyes. He licked his lips. "They say this pearl is imbued with immense spiritual energy. If one carries it day and night while cultivating internal energy, their body will undergo wondrous changes within half a year..."
The masked man tucked the pearl away. "The proprietor has a keen eye. This is indeed a Dragon's Tear Pearl, though the rumors are slightly exaggerated. In truth, this pearl is extremely cold. If an ordinary person carries it, they risk being consumed by its chill. But for martial artists, wearing it means their internal energy will unconsciously resist the cold daily. Over time, their cultivation will naturally improve significantly."
"I see. A fine treasure, worthy of a wager." The stout man nodded. "Though I prefer your sword, it's only natural that a swordsman cannot part with his blade. But if you lose this Dragon's Tear Pearl to us and wish to continue, I'm afraid you'll have no choice but to stake that sword of yours next."
"How do you wish to wager?" the masked man asked.
The woman in purple spoke again, her earlier murderous aura replaced with a coquettish charm. "The rules of the World Pavilion are simple—the honored guest decides the terms. We offer wagers on games or creatures. Which do you choose?"
The masked man sounded puzzled. "Games—you mean those at the entrance?"
"Indeed. Pai Gow, mahjong, dice, or betting on odds—those are our specialties. Cockfights, dogfights, cricket fights, horse races, pigeon races, dog races—take your pick." The woman in purple smiled sweetly. "If the guest feels a single round is too hasty, we can also play best of three."
"Cricket fights? Do you have spider fights?" the masked man asked.
The woman in purple froze, exchanging a glance with the stout man before smiling gently. "The guest tests the limits of our World Pavilion with his very first request. Cricket fights, cockfights, dogfights—those are common everywhere. But spider fights? That’s a pastime only known to those from the western mountains. Yet our World Pavilion embraces all under heaven, so naturally..."
"Anything you desire!" the stout man laughed.
The woman in purple clapped her hands. "Then, as the guest requests, bring out the creatures."
No sooner had she spoken than the door behind her opened. Two bare-chested burly men placed two small wooden boxes on the table, each containing a black spider. These spiders were several times larger than ordinary ones, nearly the size of a palm.
"Eight-eyed wolf spiders," the masked man remarked calmly.
"Oh? The guest is quite knowledgeable." The woman in purple lightly brushed her fingers over the two boxes. "So, which one will you bet on?"
"Must I choose between these two?" the masked man asked.
The woman in purple blinked. "Hmm? Does the guest have another option?"
The masked man retrieved a small box from his robe—barely large enough to hold a pill—and placed it on the table. "I have a spider of my own. I’ll pit it against both of yours. If it wins, I take the prize. How does that sound?"The stout man stepped forward and looked curiously at the box in the masked man's hand. "The eight-eyed wolf spider isn't an ordinary spider. That box in your hand doesn't even look half the size of one, yet you want to take on two at once? You must be quite confident."
The masked man shrugged. "Let's give it a try then."
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