Reborn To Ruin Her Rivals - Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Across the table, Theodore's face had gone pale as he slumped back in his chair, totally drained.
He thought he was one of the best gamblers in Haishi. But somehow, Lucas had turned a sure win around.
Theodore's third card was the spade 4, paired with two kings, completely losing.
Lucas flicked his hair, stood up, and slowly buttoned his suit jacket.
Then, he sighed at Theodore, who was at an utter loss.
"Too bad, can't agree to your request, Mr. Hobbs. Thanks for the 300 million bucks." With that, he paid no heed to Theodore's ashen face and walked back to the stands.
"Congrats to Mr. Walter on round one!" Sierra shouted as Lucas left.
The crowd finally snapped out of their shock and started clapping for the awesome show they'd just seen.
The first round ended with Lucas winning all the way. Given Lucas's level, beating Theodore was a piece of cake.
Before she time-traveled, Arielle even competed with Lucas, who was using the same move, but he didn't win that time.
Her purpose today was to meet that person, but despite her anxiety, there was nothing she could do about it.
There were still 28 players left. Luckily, each round didn't take too long.
As Arielle lost in her thoughts, she heard Sierra announce that round two was starting.
The numbers on the large screen kept scrolling. As Sierra concluded the three-second countdown, the numbers on the screen came to a halt.
"Congrats to our VIP guest, number 6, Mr. Jack Blackwell, entering round two," Sierra announced.
Spotlights hit number 6—a middle-aged man stepped onto the stage with steady steps.
Jack Blackwell was a Haskium expatriate residing overseas, reportedly engaged in the antique business.
"Mr. Blackwell, please pick someone from these 26 codes to bet against," Desmond said while looking at the remaining codes on screen.
Jack shot a quick glance at the screen and said, "Number 11."
The crowd buzzed again as spotlights shone on number 11—a lively old man around 60 with full black hair.
Jack's choice wasn't surprising to everyone present at all.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our esteemed guest number 11, Mr. Dylan Cordova," Sierra went on.
Dylan stood up, adjusting his suit buttons. He wore a faint smile, giving off an artist's refined vibe.
As the two approached the gambling table, Jack greeted Dylan with a friendly handshake, both men's eyes gleaming with determination to win.
They sat facing each other.
Sierra's voice sounded again at that moment. "Please choose your game, gentlemen, cards or dice."
Before Sierra finished, both men spoke simultaneously. "Cards."
It seemed they weren't facing off for the first time.
Jack spoke first. "Mr. Cordova, I want your the Terrain."
The Terrain was one of a kind, worth a whopping 1 billion.
Dylan wasn't surprised—for someone so into antiques, collecting famous paintings was his passion too.
"Hmm, what's your bet?" he asked.
"1 billion dollars," Jack replied.
The crowd gasped, exclaiming inwardly, 'If Jack won, he'd take the painting. If he lost, he'd pay Mr. Cordova 1 billion dollars. Talk about rich!'
After Jack finished, Dylan made his demand. "My bet's also 1 billion dollars, for 20% of Mr. Blackwell's foreign company shares."
Dylan's request gave Jack a slight pause.
'20% shares, that's bold,' Jack said inwardly.
His company is primarily involved in antique trade, dealing with items of considerable value.
But he believed he'd win today. Thus, he wasn't too bothered by Dylan's demand. "Deal."
So, the two parties reached a pleasant agreement.
Soon, a waiter brought a deck of cards to the table.
Shuffling and cutting done, the atmosphere was tense yet full of anticipation.
The game began. And the waiter shuffled calmly.
Neither man at the table paid attention to the shuffling; their eyes were locked on each other.
An invisible battle unfolded between them.
Dealing started.
Both were fully focused, not wanting to miss any cards.
The order, the size of the cards had the audience on edge.
Sometimes, a key card could turn the tide.
Other times, a single mistake could leave someone on the back foot.
It was all down to luck.
As the game went on, both players' expressions mirrored the ups and downs.
Tension, relaxation, excitement—it all flickered across their faces.
When Jack saw the first card was the Ace of Hearts, his furrowed brow eased a bit.
The second card was the King of Hearts. Jack tensed up—if the last card was the Queen of Hearts, he'd have this game in the bag.
Meanwhile, Dylan looked calm across the table, showing no emotion.
His first two cards were the Ace and King of Spades.
So, it was neck and neck, with only the final card determining the winner.
The tension ramped up as the third card hit the table.
Jack glanced at it—the Queen of Clubs.
He felt a pang of disappointment, so close yet so far.
But he wasn't admitting defeat yet.
Dylan didn't hesitate, flipping all three cards—the third one was the Queen of Spades, a straight flush.
Everyone, including Jack, was stunned.
Two seconds later, Sierra and Desmond finally found their voices. "Congratulations to Mr. Cordova on winning the second round!"
Cheers and applause filled the stage.
The crowd was hyped.
"Still got it, huh? Mr. Cordova's been calm from start to finish. That faint smile makes him seem so approachable," someone commented.
Arielle thought the same.
If one didn't know Dylan, they'd be fooled by his friendly vibe. The truth was he was ruthless, a real cutthroat.
Soon, round three kicked off.
Arielle prayed for her number to come up soon. The later it got, the more unpredictable it became. She couldn't afford to wait.
The rolling numbers kept looping. There were only 26 numbers left.
The countdown on the big screen stopped after reaching zero.
"Congrats to number 20, who'll play round three. Let's welcome number 20!" Sierra said.
As soon as she finished, the spotlight focused on Arielle's seat.
Under everyone's expectant gaze, Arielle slowly walked to the center of the stage, calm and composed.
Seeing a young girl, everyone felt uneasy—she was a new face.
Though she made it to the third round, people started worrying.
After all, girls rarely came to such places. And Cloud Nine was brutal—they didn't go easy on those who broke deals.
Some shot nervous glances at the stage.
Arielle had already taken her seat at the gambling table.
Though young, she vibed confidence, like a queen, unfazed.
"So it's a pretty lady." Sierra looked curiously at the stunning girl.
As the host of Cloud Nine, she knew all the rich kids. But this one was unfamiliar.
She wondered if it was some new favorite of a powerful family. But after pondering for a while, she couldn't think of anyone who fit the description.