OFR – Chapter 293 How Arrogant (Part 3)

When Mu Bai tossed his bank card into the hands of the manager of Zijin Hut Pavilion, the latter instinctively caught it, his entire body briefly frozen in shock.

Yes—ever since the beginning, when Young Master Nalan gifted Cold Young Master fifty billion in chips, he already sensed that this boy might very well be someone who could dominate the entire Zijin Banquet.

But he never imagined that the boy’s arrogance would reach such staggering heights!

The overwhelming dominance he exuded left even the seasoned manager shaken to the core.

Three hundred billion!

With years of experience managing massive financial operations, the manager knew all too well what this number meant.

And precisely because he understood it, his shock far surpassed that of everyone else present.

Three hundred billion in liquid funds.

This is the kind of massive sum that could only be scraped together by draining the reserves of a corporate behemoth valued at over 800 billion.

Even for someone like Rong Qingwen, or Young Master Nalan—youths backed by financial empires and powerful family dynasties—it would still be extremely difficult to come up with 300 billion on the spot.

In fact, just yesterday, the manager had heard how even Young Master Nalan had to sell off 50% of the shares in his three most valuable mines to liquidate 200 billion in preparation for this high-stakes match.

From this, it was evident: even someone of Nalan’s stature was gritting his teeth to barely stay in this game, putting up a bold front while struggling behind the scenes.

The idea of Nalan first losing fifty billion, and then throwing another three hundred billion on the table—was nearly impossible.

Even assuming he had the courage, it would be difficult to gather such funds in time without turning to his family for assistance.

But what about Cold Young Master?

The most unbelievable part, to the manager, was this:

He didn’t sense the slightest bit of strain from the boy. Not a hint of reluctance, not a single flicker of pain at the mention of 300 billion.

It was as if… 300 billion was nothing more than a number to him.

Just a meaningless number that couldn’t even stir an emotional response on that calm, handsome face.

This idea made the tall, poised figure standing in the pavilion seem even grander in the manager’s eyes—mysterious, untouchable, even awe-inspiring.

Who exactly is this boy?

What kind of terrifying background must he have, for his aura and pressure to have grown so overwhelmingly dominant?

Even someone like Nalan or Rong Qingwen could no longer compare to him.

The manager stood there dazed for a long while. When he finally came to his senses, he found he couldn’t even look directly at the boy anymore. He instinctively lowered his head and respectfully said, “Yes, yes, Young Master Cold. I’ll go prepare it for you right away.”

Three hundred billion in chips—this wasn’t a small transaction, even for the manager overseeing Southern China’s largest Bitcoin exchange.

His reserve only barely exceeded a trillion, and within such a short time, he had already disbursed 600 billion.

As he turned to leave, a strange thought suddenly surfaced in his mind:

Could this single Zijin Banquet game truly drain all the Bitcoin currently available for circulation in the entire South?

Just imagining it made his nearly fifty-year-old heart pound wildly in his chest.

He could hardly comprehend what kind of historic spectacle it would be, if over a trillion in chips were placed on a single gambling table.

Not long after, the chips were indeed delivered.

At the same time, the first round of the match had come to its end—all cards were revealed.

Although the hands looked ordinary, the result came as a surprise.

Rong Qingwen… hadn’t won.

It was a draw.

His hand was three-of-a-kind with a pair—a full house—already quite strong given the board.

But what stunned everyone was that Cold Young Master—who hadn’t even looked at his hole cards—also had a full house.

A draw.

An unexpected outcome.

But even though it ended in a tie, everyone understood:

Rong Qingwen had lost—and lost completely.

In a game where the prelude alone had already created storms of momentum, no one expected Rong Qingwen, the one who initiated it all, to fall behind in the very first round.

And in terms of presence and aura, he lost utterly and unmistakably.

“Hehe… Young Master Cold really has good luck,” Rong Qingwen stared at the revealed hands for a long time before forcing out a smile to offer a congratulation.

This heir of the Rong family already knew he’d lost the upper hand.

But he still clung on—desperate not to lose too miserably in terms of presence.

Deep inside, he still held onto hope of a comeback.

Yes—this game had only just begun. A man proud all his life, who had never accepted defeat, how could he simply give up now?

While he wrestled with his stubborn pride, the manager came back onto the stage, leading a few trusted aides. They respectfully delivered the 300 billion in chips to Cold Young Master.

That entire stack of precisely arranged chips worth 300 billion RMB—how many people stared on with admiration and awe?

And now, 350 billion in chips lay across the table, their massive presence spreading an almost physical pressure through the air.

As for Rong Qingwen, in contrast, he now looked like a lone boat adrift in a storm—his aura fragile and helpless.

Everyone noticed it.

Even the likes of Yu Youxiong and Li Shaofeng—who stood with him at the peak of Nanjing’s elite—noticed it.

They could feel that the heir of the Rong family, the chosen face of their generation, had been so thoroughly crushed that his aura was about to collapse entirely.

Without the Rong family behind him, he might not have lasted even this long under the pressure of facing this single boy.

Because just this one Cold alone had already forced him to retreat step by step—retreat to this point.

Even Yu Youxiong and Li Shaofeng—people with unmatched wealth, vision, and power—were beginning to re-evaluate this young boy standing across the table.

Cold.

A name belonging to someone not even twenty years old, yet so dominant that even they had to glance sideways—and even tremble slightly in his presence.

And now, in front of him, the neatly arranged mountain of chips taking up half the table only further emphasized his unstoppable, blinding edge.

They finally understood—why Nanjing’s entire upper class respected this boy so deeply.

Because this boy, in many ways, already represented invincibility.

That phrase—“Cold Young Master is invincible”—might not have been just talk after all.