chapter 7

Wearing swimming trunks, his muscular physique attracted the attention of many beautiful and wealthy women. Several approached him to say hello, but Link turned them all down. He had no interest in the women here. Everyone knew what kind of people they were, and Link wasn't about to become anyone's sugar daddy.

Swimming was just an afterthought; he was here to enjoy the sunshine. The Las Vegas sun was incredible, filling him with energy. He relished the warmth on his skin, feeling revitalized. It wasn't until dinner time that he returned to his room for a shower. After indulging in a lavish meal, he headed straight to the casino.

His funds were steadily growing, but he didn't spend all his time in the casino. Every night, the hotel hosted grand song and dance performances. When his winnings reached one hundred thousand dollars, he took a break and went to watch a show. After all, he had half a month of vacation left—there was no rush.

Although he didn't win an extraordinary amount, the casino still took notice of him. Analysts observed his playing style and discovered that he was particularly keen on studying his opponents' expressions when playing blackjack. The casino decided to dig deeper. The shareholders wielded considerable influence, and it wasn't long before they uncovered his background.

A bachelor's degree in psychology—equivalent to an undergraduate university degree. He had then joined the New York Police Department, where he had excelled as a rookie officer. After becoming a full-fledged officer, he had already made a name for himself with an impressive case.

This man was dangerous.

He was in Las Vegas because the NYPD wanted to protect him. For now, the casino placed him under observation. There was no sign of cheating, but he was clearly using psychology to read his opponents—analyzing their facial expressions and habits to predict their cards.

Link was unaware of this scrutiny, and even if he knew, he wouldn't care. No one could ever uncover his true superpowers.

The performances were exhilarating, with the lineup frequently changing to keep things fresh. However, everything here carried the unmistakable scent of wealth. He spent his days lounging by the pool, basking in the sun, and his evenings winning money at the casino before catching a show. Occasionally, he attended some well-known stand-up comedy performances as well.

Meanwhile, the casino continued monitoring him. As far as they were concerned, he was just a vacationer with exceptional psychological insight.

Switching things up, Link started playing Texas Hold'em. Blackjack required too much luck, while poker was more about strategy. Over the past few days, he had been applying his knowledge of psychology—skills from the original owner of his body. Superman possessed a super brain but never truly used it to its full potential. Link, however, had no intention of wasting such an asset.

Psychology was an invaluable tool, offering insight into human nature and countless practical applications. Here, at the poker table, it gave him a distinct edge. X-ray vision remained his last resort.

As a result, he raked in an astonishing five million dollars. The casino finally made its move—not to ban him, but to invite him to a high-stakes private game. These games were often requested by or arranged for major clients.

Intrigued, Link accepted the invitation. The game was scheduled for 8:00 PM the next evening and would last four hours, ending at midnight.

The following evening, after another lavish dinner, Link was escorted to the VIP lounge at 7:30 PM. He was the first to arrive, but he didn't mind. It suited his status. Instead of idly waiting, he took an interest in the premium cigars and top-tier wines available in the room.

A nearby bunny girl provided details about the selection. The cigars were high-quality Cuban imports—not the most expensive, but still an investment by the hotel. The lounge stocked dozens of high-end wines.

Link meticulously asked about the proper way to heat and release the aroma of the tobacco before taking a slow puff. He let the smoke linger in his mouth before exhaling, avoiding inhalation. Though some people inhaled, they were rare. The chemicals had no effect on him anyway; he only sought the scent.

Experimenting with the pairings, he found that he particularly enjoyed a plum-flavored bourbon. It was a type of whiskey with a wide price range. He made a mental note of the brand, then grabbed a bottle and settled onto the sofa to enjoy it. It was complimentary, after all, and he couldn't get drunk. If even Captain America was immune to alcohol, then Link was certainly unaffected.

Time passed slowly, but he wasn't bored. At 7:50 PM, the door finally opened, and the other players arrived.

Leading the group was none other than Tony Stark, engaged in a heated debate with another man—Justin Hammer, the chairman of Hammer Industries.

Trailing behind them were two more individuals: a tall, broad-shouldered man with a cane and a shaved head, and an older woman with an imposing aura. Despite her age—at least in her fifties or sixties—she carried herself with remarkable confidence.

The group took their seats. The man and woman sat on one side, while Stark and Hammer sat on the other, leaving the middle seat open.

"Hey, where's the last player?" Stark asked impatiently. "You said you found an expert."

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Lin has been here for quite some time." The casino manager gestured toward Link. Only then did Stark notice him, reclining with a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a half-smoked cigar in the other.

The cigar burned slowly as he savored its aroma, puffing leisurely. A bunny girl quickly set an ashtray in front of him as he stood and approached the table.

"Mr. Tony Stark, Mr. Justin Hammer," Link acknowledged them before turning to the other two. "Though I don't know these two personally, I can tell from their demeanor that they're incredibly wealthy. Compared to them, I'm the poorest one here."

He glanced at the dealer. "Five million dollars is pocket change to them. This doesn't seem very fair."

The manager smiled. "Allow me to introduce everyone. This is Mr. Link. He turned three hundred dollars into five million in just a few days. He's a psychology expert."

He gestured toward the other two players. "And these are Mr. Wilson Fisk and Mrs. Alexandra Reid."

Link's eyes narrowed slightly. Wilson Fisk—the future Kingpin. And Alexandra Reid, one of the five leaders of the Hand. This woman was ancient, having lived for countless years. His psychological techniques might not work on her.

The manager continued, "This game will last for four hours. Each player starts with five million in chips. Are you all ready?"

Stark nodded, cracking his knuckles. "Let's begin. Since there's an expert at the table, I'd love to see what he's got."

Link remained silent. He knew the casino was setting him up, isolating him, but it also presented an opportunity. As he glanced around at his formidable opponents, he realized that tonight would be more than just a game of poker. It would be a battle of minds.

And he was ready.