The moment Liam parked in front of the casino house, the bright lights washed over the glossy black exterior of the Range Rover.

Macau's version of evening was almost indistinguishable from midnight. It's like a living organism of neon, noise, luxury and human greed.

Liam stepped out of the car, locked it with a soft beep, and slipped the key into his pocket.

Two guards saw him approaching and exchanged a quick glance, as recognition flashed in their eyes immediately. They stepped aside and pushed the door open for him with extra respect, almost too quickly. It was like they had rehearsed it.

Liam smiled and thanked them casually before walking inside.

The casino house's interior was unsurprisingly alive.

Even though the sky had barely darkened, the casino floor was already packed. People filled every corner: some laughing, some cursing under their breath, some whispering intently over cards, and some staring at their slowly dying stacks of chips.

Maybe the whole is already filled with people is because today's a weekend.

The warm lights from above cast everything in a golden glow. The carpet absorbed his footsteps, but the sound of loud clatter of dice and the rhythmic spin of roulette wheels could be heard from almost every corner.

Liam walked forward looking relaxed and confident. But before he made it ten steps into the floor, the pit boss spotted him.

The man's expression flickered for only a split second, showing a mix of forced warmth and hidden irritation before he put on his best smile. Beside him, a female attendant hurried over with equal enthusiasm.

"Welcome back, sir," the pit boss said with a bow that was just slightly too low.

"Good evening, sir," the woman echoed pleasantly.

Liam returned the greeting politely, though a small crease formed between his brows.

They're being… extra today, he thought.

Their tone was calmer yesterday. Polite, professional. But today, it's rigid smiles and excessive courtesy.

Ah, Liam realized after a moment, it's because of the money I took from them yesterday.

Of course.

From the casino's perspective, Liam was a young gambler with a bit too much luck, which is bad for them—and a bit too much confidence, which is good for them. Winning nearly ninety million from a single session made him the kind of player casinos love to see return.

Not because they admired him. But because they wanted everything he won, plus more, dripping out of his pockets by the end of the night. And they are very sure that they will get everything, to the very last drop.

The pit boss and attendant were already convinced he was arrogant, naive, and overconfident. It was common. People who won big always returned believing they had "momentum" or "talent."

Liam knew what they were thinking, but smiled inwardly. He couldn't care less. What does he have to worry about when he has Lucy with him and his undeniable skills too.

In other words, their plan had already failed before it began.

With the sweetest smile he had, the pit boss asked, "Sir, how much would you like to start with tonight?"

Liam tilted his head slightly, thinking for one second, then replied:

"One million dollars."

The pit boss's smile widened—though he hid it well. "Very good, sir. Chips will be brought immediately."

He signaled the attendant, who hurried off.

Then the pit boss continued, "And what game would you like for tonight?"

Liam looked around the vast casino floor. Yesterday, he had played against the house. Today… he wanted something different. Something more interesting. Something that involved reading people instead of cards.

He turned back to the pit boss.

"Texas Hold'em," he said.

The pit boss nodded immediately. "This way, sir."

He personally led Liam between rows of blackjack tables, past roulette wheels, and deeper into the poker section. The seats were nearly all full. Each table was surrounded by players, who all looked rich, confident, or pretending to be.

Poker was always more serious than other games. You could feel it in the air. Men and women leaning forward slightly and assessing one another with their sharp gaze.

There's no clattering dice or spinning wheels. Only the soft shuffles of cards and the tension between players.

The pit boss stopped beside a table with one open seat.

Liam's eyes swept over the faces. The youngest player there was at least in his late thirties. One wore a suit that screamed old money. Another looked like a businessman masking stress with a smile. A third was a middle-aged woman with elegant jewelry and the expression of someone who didn't lose often.

They all paused when they saw Liam approaching. Their eyes widened slightly in curiosity.

"Mind if I join?" Liam asked with an easy smile.

The players exchanged quick glances. His face was young—much younger than anyone else at the table. But youth in a casino was often the symbol of either stupidity or exorbitant confidence. And both were profitable.

So they smiled and nodded, welcoming him.

Liam thanked them and took the open seat. His posture relaxed, his eyes scanning the table with interest. He had no need for intimidation or theatrics. His calmness was enough.

In one glance, he gleaned everything: their tells, their temperaments, their social standing, the way they valued money. Their backgrounds reflected in the smallest gestures.

The attendant returned at that moment, placing neatly stacked chips worth one million in front of him. Liam nodded in thanks.

The players straightened. The dealer prepared the deck.

Just as the table was about to start, the woman beside Liam leaned closer slightly.

"I'm surprised you returned so soon… and also not surprised," she said with a small smile.

Liam blinked at her lightly, in confusion.

She chuckled at his reaction.

"I saw you yesterday. It was hard not to notice with how much noise you made with your winnings," she said.

Liam tilted his head, genuinely amused. "I had no idea anyone was watching me."

"Oh, trust me," she said, "you weren't the only one watching yourself."

Liam laughed softly. "Then I must have attracted a lot of attention."

"You did," she said with a grin.

He gave her a polite nod. "Forgive my manners—I didn't introduce myself earlier." He extended a hand. "I'm Ethan." — the name of his fake identity.

She accepted his handshake gracefully. "Angela. A pleasure."

The dealer looked around. "Everyone ready?"

Chips clicked, the layers leaned forward and their smiles sharpened as the game began.

The dealer shuffled with smooth, practiced motions, then tapped the felt.

"Blinds, please."

Chips slid into the pot. Liam sat still, hands relaxed, eyes half-lidded. Angela glanced at him with curiosity, as if trying to guess what kind of player he was—or what kind of threat.

The first hand was dealt.

Liam lifted his cards with a single finger.

Ace of hearts. King of spades.

A few players perked up when they saw his expression didn't change at all. Angela raised the small blind. The suited businessman to Liam's right folded instantly. The man in the expensive suit called.

Liam simply matched the bet.

The flop came down:

King ♦ — 7 ♣ — Ace ♣

Conversations died instantly. Someone exhaled sharply. It was a strong board… and an even stronger one for Liam.

Angela's eyes narrowed slightly and she tapped the table. "Check."

The man in the suit bet aggressively, pushing out a stack that covered half the pot. Liam didn't bother hiding the faint smile at the corner of his lips, as he simply called.

The turn hit and it was another Ace.

The table tensed immediately.

Angela froze for half a second. She felt that they might had invited a Tiger into their midst.

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