"Whoosh!"

A commotion erupted from both stands.

This strange boy in military uniform had been sitting at the gambling table for two rounds without falling, but this time his good luck finally ran out, and he drew the first shot.

In this inhumane game of Russian roulette, the person who fires first is always under the most pressure.

Because of the one-in-five chance, if the person who fires the first shot is shot and falls, the opponent will not only win $20,000, but will also automatically advance to the next round.

If you are still alive after three rounds, you can take the generous bonus and leave.

This is the cruelty and allure of Russian roulette.

"Mr. Lin, this young man's good luck has run out. Are you planning to bet on him to lose or win this round?"

Kun Sheng looked at the boy's thin figure and sighed.

"Of course I'll bet on him to win."

Lin Dong glanced at the revolver in the boy's hand and said confidently:

"He's very lucky."

Without saying anything more, he lowered his head and pressed the button on the betting machine to bet on the left side to win.

When entering the bet amount, he hesitated for a moment, but finally pressed a 5 followed by six zeros.

Finally, press the confirmation button, and with a "beep!", the bet is complete.

"You actually voted for him to win? How much did you vote for this round?"

Kun Sheng glanced at the boy sitting like a wooden statue at the gambling table and asked worriedly.

Lin Dong stretched out one palm, spreading out five fingers.

"500,000? Are you crazy?"

Kun Sheng was so frightened that he jumped up from the sofa.

"No, it's 5 million."

"......"

Kun Sheng put one hand to his forehead, slumped back onto the sofa, and nearly fainted.

At this time last year, the boy was just 13 years old.

The moment he picked up the gun, his fate was already sealed.