Chapter 184: A bob haircut for a high-level curse! It’s a bob haircut!

"How about it, which number do you like?" The man sitting in the audience with his legs crossed was drawing on the ticket and taking the time to ask the players around him for their opinions.

The players who were led to the racecourse didn't actually pay much attention to the horses and riders, and casually pointed at the horse with a white spot on its forehead.

No. 8.

He lowered his eyes and saw that the number that was checked was number 12 that he had carefully selected.

No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't see anything special about the unknown No. 8.

Other viewers probably have similar ideas, and the odds are quite impressive.

The man smacked his lips and placed a bet on the horse racing novice without hesitation.

As expected, as soon as the race started, all the horses started from the gate at the same time.

Number 8 made a mistake at the start.

Number 8 is at a disadvantage.

No. 8 fell behind to the last place.

Number 8 won.

"Huh?" The man's sitting posture changed from his original indifference to sitting up straight.

See him turn his head and look at the player coming here: vO.o

"A kid with such good luck that people would envy him..." He muttered vaguely, and seemed to accept the fact that the player had bet on the dark horse well.

Player makes a "Yeah" gesture: Hey!

The player's luck is neither good nor bad.

This time it’s a big win for the five-minute autosave!

The player noticed from the corner of his eye that the man casually crumpled up the paper ticket in his hand and threw it away.

It is rare to have such bad luck that the other party is bound to lose the bet.

——A man with terrible luck in gambling.

Players simply define each other.

There are two horse racing events every week, and all the players who follow have never seen the other party win once, but they keep giving money to the racetrack.

It's no different than throwing money into the water...

I didn't care about the money I lost, as if I was accustomed to my terrible luck in gambling and accepted my bad luck.

It gives people the impression that being a gigolo is a quick way to make money.

"Ha, I keep losing money, how can I not feel anything?"

He seemed to hear a funny question and rubbed the player's head unkindly.

He stared at the player's face with a slightly curious look, as if trying to find out what was special about it. "Good luck, want to play something else?"

Seeing the player shaking his head, he lost interest and stopped talking about it.

"...Sometimes I feel very depressed, but I always think in my heart that luck is conserved. Even if I lose money betting on horses, maybe I will get lucky one day." The man stroked his chin and continued the topic he had not finished before. Without much thought, he spoke directly.

It feels like just the self-consolation of a gambler with extremely bad luck.

"Maybe, I am the one abandoned by fate." He said indifferently.

The player pondered: "Will the Lucky Amulet be useful?"

He made a strange "ha" sound, hinting, "Are you trying to get rid of me with cheap stuff again?"

Ugh! I still remember the player using the can pull tab to hold the ring!

"Then let's go."

The player didn't understand what he meant, but he acted calmly as if it was a matter of course: "I never refuse charity from women."

As if a man who had thrown away both his self-respect and his sense of shame said nonchalantly, "The amulet from who knows how long ago was also in such bad shape."

"No matter what, as long as it doesn't cost me anything, I'll take it all."

What's also very attractive is that he is not ashamed of being a gigolo but proud of it.

He even took the receipt to the staff for verification. While the player was waiting, he noticed someone looking at him.

That cold gaze showed no intention of concealing its intentions, as if it wanted to dissect the player thoroughly, staring at the player with an almost offensive degree.

The player turned towards the source of the gaze he felt and met a pair of eyes that contained no emotion.

It was clearly spying on others, and when discovered by the players, its eyes, as clear as glass, didn't even tremble, like a dead object.

A young man whose gender was indistinguishable stood there. No one knew when he appeared. He was wearing traditional clothes that were out of season. The sides of his neatly cut white hair had a symmetrical blood-stained color.

The other party neither approaches nor looks away.

It felt strange to be stared at with such intense attention.

When the player stepped back, his clothes rubbed against a man like a wall behind him. He turned around and looked at the player questioningly.

"That person over there..."

With a quick glance, he gave a clear answer: "Ah, it's a curse master."

"He's the kind of curse master who has killed many people." He bluntly stated the man's danger based on the aura he faintly exuded from his body and the smell of blood he could still sense from a distance.

"Curious?" He asked casually, his eyes and eyebrows also revealing a nonchalant expression.

"You can contact them if you want. ...Tsk, I wonder how much this curse master's head is worth in the black market."

The player guessed a little from the tone, probably meaning that the other party would protect her.

The player gestured a tiny distance and explained why he was concerned: "Huh? A little bit. I've been looking over here since a while ago."

More accurately, it can be pinpointed to a single player.

"Don't like it?" The man's face had no extra expression, and his hand reached behind his waist.

Players remember walking behind him and seeing sharp, angular bulges forming in his tights.

The answer to what is on the back waist is obvious!

The player was stunned by the other party's ruthless behavior of being able to take out curse tools at any time if they disagreed with him. The person who did the above behavior was completely unaware of it and kept urging the player with a low voice of "Hmm?"

Does the previously mentioned attempt to please the financial sponsor who supports him also include this kind of thing?

Based on his recent understanding of men, the player asked, "Is there any extra charge?"

As if reminded, he pressed his tongue against his cheek, his voice and expression becoming strange: "Tsk, the main gold master we finally found was killed by the curse master..."

Shadows were cast under the listlessly drooping eyelids on that expressionless face. He smacked his lips, feeling the bitter taste of loss.

"...How many heads can he give me as compensation?"

After pondering the idea for a while, I weighed the pros and cons of both sides in my mind and made a judgment easily without thinking.

He suddenly smiled, and his eyes flashed with ferocity under the black hair standing upright on his forehead.

"This is a free extra service, and you won't be charged for it."