Chapter 3

The old Cyrus would have bowed to Benedict's threats, begging for mercy. The current Cyrus, however, wasn't bothered by these lowlifes. He just wanted a chance to earn some money urgently for Zoey. "Mr. Wright, I have nothing else to lose. Do you really think I'm scared of death?" challenged Cyrus. Rachel, who knew Cyrus well, observed him, sensing a change in him today. Pouring him a cup of tea, she warned, "You won't get a second chance here if you don't keep your word and lack sincerity. Innerzen Medical Center won't welcome you, and Mr. Wright and Mr. Wood might really take your life." "If I win, will you also guarantee that?" Cyrus smiled. "Of course, success or failure depends on each person's abilities. I like my men to be capable," replied Rachel. Facing Benedict, Cyrus proposed, "This time, let's bet one million dollars." Benedict burst into laughter, slapping the debt acknowledgement note on the table, "You don't even have a hundred thousand dollars. Why should I gamble with you? Repay this ten thousand dollars first." "Is betting one of my hands enough?" Cyrus remarked. "Who cares about your fucking hand? It's useless, especially coming from trash like you," Mr. Wright fired back. Rachel became intrigued again after seeing Cyrus stand his ground. When a loser suddenly grows a backbone, it can only mean one thing. They've given up and started to act out recklessly, willingly using their life as collateral for a risky gamble. Rachel thought that Cyrus was acting this way because she had given him a taste of gratification yesterday. He probably thought that with this, he could have another shot with her if he successfully pulled it off. What Rachel didn't know was how valuable the hand of a grand medical saint could be. Cyrus dared to bet his hand because, in terms of medical skills, he could easily defeat these scums with his eyes closed. Rachel got up and left the room. In less than two minutes, she returned with a small packet of medicine and pushed it towards Cyrus, saying, "Mr. Wright has set his sights on your wife. If you win, the one million dollars is yours. If you lose, feed this medicine to Zoey tonight. Your daughter can stay over at my place. What do you say?" Benedict's eyes gleamed with excitement. He quickly acquiesced, "No issues on my end. This is your final chance to turn things around, wastrel." Initially, Benedict thought one million was too much, but after thinking about Zoey's exceptional beauty, he couldn't help but be tempted. He had a look of satisfaction on his face as if he already predicted his win in this gamble. Everyone assumed that Cyrus would agree, given his past as a wastrel. He had debts and was always thinking about turning things around like a loser. Although his proficiency in medical skills was basic at best, he still arrogantly considered himself a medical genius. In the eyes of a gambler, a wife meant nothing. Money was more important. Cyrus wore an unhappy expression, but to lure his target, he had to suppress his anger temporarily. He replied firmly, "No." Even though he couldn't be considered a faithful husband to Zoey at the moment, he couldn't stoop to such actions. Even with a guaranteed victory, he, as a grand medical saint, wouldn't resort to such base behavior. Everyone was surprised. Cyrus's answer was truly unexpected. Benedict, seeing the chance to be with Zoey slipping away, felt irritated and angrily said, "You'll forever be a useless person. If you don't repay the money today, I'll break your legs." Rachel was also angry, but she quickly returned to her usual charming self. She leaned close to Cyrus, persuading him, "She won't let you touch her anyway. Sooner or later, she'll belong to someone else. Why not use her as a bargaining chip? You won't get another chance to earn a hundred thousand dollars in your lifetime." Cyrus sneered, "Just a mere hundred thousand dollars. As long as I'm alive, no one can lay a finger on my wife." Hearing what he said, Rachel and Benedict burst into laughter. Benedict said, "Right now you're not even able to protect yourself. How do you expect to protect your wife? For all you know, someone might have already had their way with her." Cyrus knew that attracting someone to engage in a game without any starting capital was quite a challenge. His reputation left him with no credibility to speak of. He had promised to bring back some money, and Zoey's situation was becoming dire; this place seemed like the fastest way to make some cash. In reality, he wasn't short of funds. His master's account had at least a few billion dollars, usually only used for helping the less fortunate and rarely spent. Cyrus also knew the password to the bank card, and since most of the money in the account was earned by him, his master usually didn't question his spending. The problem now was that his current identity didn't allow him to withdraw a single cent. Not to mention that if he made a wrong move, he wouldn't be able to stay hidden from his enemies. Looking at Rachel, he asked, "What if I bet my cornea and kidney?" "You can only use your wife as a wager." Cyrus shook his head, replying, "In that case, forget it. We'll play next time." He got up to leave, but before reaching the door, Rachel called out, "Wait!" She found it strange that this man suddenly started being protective of his wife, and was even willing to stake his life as a bet. Was Zoey more important to Cyrus than his own life? In Rachel's heart, jealousy began to burn. Zoey, that high-and-mighty woman, should always be crushed under her foot, never to rise again. The amount of money was insignificant. Cyrus wouldn't be able to win against Benedict anyway. This was her territory. So, this was inevitably a game she wouldn't lose. It would be even better to let him accumulate more debt. "My dear Cyrus, this is no joking matter. If you lose, you'll have to sign a donation agreement," Rachel reminded him. "Of course, I'll sign immediately if I lose," Cyrus replied with a smile. Seeing his fearlessness made Rachel even more uneasy. "A fixed price, five hundred thousand dollars. Not a penny more," Rachel responded. Cyrus thought this woman was indeed ruthless, bargaining even in this situation. In contrast to Zoey's kindness, Rachel was a completely different story. He really couldn't understand the old Cyrus, who was so fascinated with this woman, leading to his family's ruin. In any case, since it was a gift of money, Cyrus straightforwardly agreed, "Okay, five hundred thousand dollars it is. Am I playing against you?" "I'm not interested in such a small amount. Let Mr. Wright accompany you. In any case, even if you die, your beautiful wife will still end up with him," Rachel said with a laugh. Benedict, seizing the chance, promptly declared, "Fine, you're just a waste of resources being alive. I'll grant you a one-way ticket. Are we playing the pulse-checking game today?" He also had some reputation as a traditional medicine practitioner, fully confident that he could defeat Cyrus. "Sure, let's play the pulse-checking game," Cyrus agreed. Pulse-checking was the fastest and most beginner-friendly method. It was also the most unpredictable method. Typically, the players would act as doctors from the Innerzen Medical Center and pick a patient for consultation. After both players took the pulse, they would share the diagnostic information they had gathered. The one with more accurate information would be the winner. Any mistake, even a single word, would count as a loss. Soon, Rachel had the nurses at the clinic share photos of 28 patients for the two of them to choose from. As a front, to prevent cheating, both parties had to agree. Benedict put on a generous smile and said, "You choose." Cyrus casually glanced at the patients and pointed to a young woman, stating, "She has swollen feet. She is most likely pregnant. The usual rules apply. We'll distinguish whether the baby is male or female first. If we both get the sex right, then we'll see who has more accurate details in their diagnosis." Benedict looked at the basic information of the young pregnant woman and felt a bit conflicted. This woman was only three months into her pregnancy, and the baby had just formed, so the baby's pulse would be very faint. It was challenging to determine gender through pulse alone, so the difficulty was exceptionally high. But if he had no confidence, a pathetic loser like Cyrus was even less likely to win this gamble.