OFR – Chapter 295 The Final Game

This is the last game of cards.

This is the last game of cards.
This was the final round of the poker game.

After seven uninterrupted hours of fierce competition, the top tycoons gathered at the Zijin Pavilion had already committed all their available liquid capital.

Among them, only Dongfang Jing exited early—she left after losing 4.5 billion, managing to keep her losses within a controllable range.

After all, women often hold certain privileges in many situations.

Even among the highest tiers of elite power struggles, this remains true.

Such a brutal and frenzied poker game was never meant for someone like Dongfang Jing—a stunning beauty.

So, when she exited, not even Young Master Nalan Yun expressed any dissatisfaction.

But the rest were different.

The total funds invested in this game by the remaining players had reached a staggering 130 billion RMB!

How terrifying is that kind of money?

Many may not fully grasp what 130 billion RMB (approx. over $20 billion USD) actually means.

Here’s a simple comparison:

If this enormous sum were wielded by a financial shark and injected into the market within a short period, it wouldn’t just shake up a fourth- or fifth-tier city—even the financial system of a first-tier city like Nanjing would face violent tremors.

Back in 1997, during the legendary currency defense battle in Hong Kong, which made global headlines, China and Hong Kong’s combined total investment was barely over $20 billion USD.

That war of finance almost drained Hong Kong’s foreign reserves and heavily impacted China’s reserves too.

Now, the amount sitting on this poker table equals the funds used in that historic financial war.

Yes, due to inflation, today’s $20 billion is not equivalent to 1997’s $20 billion.

But $20 billion is still $20 billion!

Even now, that’s an amount beyond the reach of most ordinary people—and even many wealthy magnates can only dream of it.

Such a terrifying amount of liquid capital could destabilize the financial structure of any city in China.

On the global stage, if controlled by international financial giants, this sum could cause upheaval in numerous small nations.

So yes, calling this level of liquid assets “terrifying” is no exaggeration.

To be able to directly mobilize over $20 billion in cash—apart from reclusive mega-conglomerates or families, or companies ranked in the top 10 by global market cap, very few in the world could do this publicly.

And yet here, this astronomical sum was merely poker chips—the most direct form of competition on the table!

At this point, the two most dazzling and nerve-wracking figures on the Zijin Pavilion—two young men—faced each other.

Because now, in this game that had the entire Nanjing elite glued to their seats, only these two were left.

All the others had been defeated and forced out.

Each had a towering stack of chips in front of them.

One of them was none other than Rong Qingwen, the man who aimed to overturn the entire commercial structure of Nanjing.

He had nearly gone bankrupt during the first couple of hours of the match.

But luck, while elusive, wasn’t completely absent—and the probability calculations he’d prided himself on since youth weren’t useless after all.

In a stunning comeback during the last few rounds, he reversed his fortunes, amassing over 60 billion in chips in just three to four hours.

Now, he was the only one left who could match Mu Bai in this final battle.

Rong Qingwen was never one to accept defeat. From a minor, unremarkable playboy of the Rong family, he had clawed his way to immense power.

But now, facing this even younger boy named “Leng” (“Cold”), he felt—for the first time—a faint sense of powerlessness.

He realized that Leng was even more relentless than him, even more arrogant, and his aura of dominance surpassed his own.

This was the young man known throughout Nanjing’s elite circles:

“Young Master Leng, undefeated!”

Only now did Rong Qingwen truly understand the weight of that phrase.

For the first time, he felt fear toward someone younger than himself.

He’d never imagined that he—who had always been the target chased by his peers—would one day feel intimidated by someone younger in a mere city like Nanjing.

It felt absurd, and yet he couldn’t deny how real the feeling was.

And he trusted his instincts.

He also understood that now, with all community cards on the table, the outcome had already been decided.

He had lost.

Yes, without even seeing the hole cards, Rong Qingwen knew he had lost.

But he refused to accept it!

In this game, he had always held the advantage, only to be repeatedly crushed by the arrogance of this beautiful-faced boy across from him.

On top of that, in the very first hand, he and this boy had gone all-in.

So how could he accept defeat like this?

How could he admit defeat so easily?

Rong Qingwen sat in silence for a few moments, then for some reason, chuckled softly.

This young man—hailed as one of the most brilliant youth leaders in the North—laughed during the climax of a game that could decide the future business structure of Nanjing.

Many spectators looked on in shock and confusion.

All eyes turned toward him.

And then, instead of flipping his cards, Rong Qingwen showed a rare warm smile and said softly to Mu Bai:

“There are rumors that Brother Leng possesses unmatched ambition. Now that I’ve seen you today, I realize those words weren’t empty praise.”

This stunned everyone—including Mu Bai, who frowned slightly, unsure of what Rong Qingwen was planning.

In the hours they’d spent at the table, he had already figured out that Rong Qingwen was proud, unyielding, and never complimented others lightly—especially not his rivals.

He didn’t believe Rong’s praise was genuine.

Sure enough, over the next few seconds, Rong Qingwen’s smile faded. His tone turned cold and proud:

“Brother Leng, your spirit today has shaken all of Nanjing’s elite. But I must ask—have the Rong family and you ever had any unpleasant dealings in the past?”

Mu Bai lightly furrowed his brow and replied calmly:

“None. The name Rong is thunderous, but I’ve only heard of it. We’ve never had contact. Why? Is Young Master Rong planning to enlighten me?”

The moment his words landed, barely a second passed, when Rong Qingwen suddenly rose from his seat, eyes sharp and icy, and shouted with unrestrained emotion:

“If the Rong family and Brother Leng have never crossed paths, then why obstruct us like this? Let me ask you—if I lose today, do you believe there will be a place left in this vast world where you can still stand?”

“Let me ask you—if I lose today, do you believe there will be a place left in this vast world where you can still stand?”

That brash, arrogant declaration echoed through the entire Zijin Pavilion!

Everyone froze when they heard it.

They knew—Young Master Rong had lost control.

Such threatening words should never come from the mouth of the Rong family’s direct heir.

But no one could deny this:

Not a single soul in the room dared ignore such an outrageous, overbearing, and emotional threat.

Because the Rong family—wealthy enough to rival nations since the founding of New China—once truly angered, could bring about consequences so dire that even all of Nanjing’s elite combined would tremble before them.