C48 Arrange It a Bit

Westley wouldn't dream of clearing up such a charming misunderstanding.

With a faint smile, he said, "It was nothing. Don't give it another thought."

See that? That's the poise of a true master.

He affected a cool demeanor, and it earned him admiration.

"Your words are more enlightening than a decade of study," Rashawn said with a mix of awe and anxiety.

Martial artists tend to take things seriously. He believed Westley was a tremendous asset to him.

"Of course," Westley replied, his smile easy and unaffected.

"If I may be so bold, Mr. Jimenez, which school do you hail from?" Rashawn began to probe.

"I'm not affiliated with any school. It's just me," Westley replied.

Rashawn wisely didn't press further.

He understood that a master like Westley had his own quirks and wouldn't reveal his true identity unless absolutely necessary.

So, he kept the conversation light and sporadic with Westley.

Growing tired of the idle chatter, Westley steered the conversation toward his interest: "I've heard the Golden Palace has a special event tonight? The Cage Fighting Competition, is that correct?"

Rashawn hesitated.

"Is that what you're here for, Mr. Jimenez?" he asked, surprised.

"Exactly," Westley confirmed without hesitation.

"So that's why you were keen on the arm-wrestling—to get the platinum card for entry," Rashawn said, the realization dawning on him.

Westley's face turned a shade redder.

Damn it, is he insinuating I'm too poor?

If I had the cash, I'd just drop two million for the card and save myself the hassle of this conversation.

"So, Mr. Jimenez, are you looking to compete in the cage match?" Rashawn inquired, his brow furrowed.

If Westley was indeed entering the competition, it would be quite the spectacle.

Given what Rashawn knew of Westley's capabilities, he doubted any of the fighters would be a match for him.

"Such violent affairs don't suit a gentleman of my refinement. I'm simply looking to make some quick money," Westley said with a brazen grin.

This time, Rashawn didn't flinch.

He had grown accustomed to Westley's audacity.

"Mr. Jimenez, are you interested in placing a bet?" Rashawn asked.

"Yes, are there any other conditions I should be aware of?" Westley inquired.

"The minimum bet is 10,000 Yuan, with no other stipulations," Rashawn stated.

"And the maximum?" Westley inquired.

"The cap is set at one million Yuan. As the house, we need to keep our risks within a certain limit," Rashawn explained candidly.

Westley pondered briefly before nodding in agreement.

"If Mr. Jimenez is genuinely interested, I'll relay the information to the boss," Rashawn offered.

"Sounds good."

"Just one moment, please."

Without delay, Rashawn pushed through the door and made his way to the third floor, arriving at Charlotte's private quarters.

Charlotte was nestled on the couch, her cheeks flushed from the wine, her skin so delicate it seemed it could break at the slightest touch.

Resting her head on one hand, she closed her eyes to rejuvenate, her seductive pose reminiscent of a playful tease.

"Did you get the information?" Charlotte asked languidly.

"I have a general idea. The visitor is named Westley, a man of considerable skill," Rashawn responded, bowing slightly.

"How skilled? What's his level?" Charlotte questioned nonchalantly.

"If I'm not mistaken, he's at least at the Half-step Grandmaster level," Rashawn replied earnestly.

"Oh?" Charlotte's eyes flickered open.

A Half-step Grandmaster?

There were only a handful in Huai Yang City, each a renowned figure in their own right.

Such individuals command immense respect throughout Jiangbei.

And a Grandmaster? Across all of Hua Xia, they are few, each a titan capable of causing tremors with a mere stomp.

This young man, not even thirty, who is he exactly?

"Are you certain?" Charlotte propped herself up.

The emergence of a Half-step Grandmaster at the Golden Palace was not to be taken lightly.

"Positive," Rashawn affirmed.

"Then where does he hail from, and what faction is he associated with?" Charlotte pressed.

"That, I don't know. He's not one to reveal much," Rashawn admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

"And his reason for coming to the Golden Palace? Surely someone of his stature isn't here just for leisure and libations," Charlotte mused, her eyes narrowing.

Yao Hai hesitated briefly.

Then, with a flush creeping up his face, he said, "He snagged the platinum card just to get into tonight's Cage Combat Competition. He's here for a good time."

"Looking for a thrill?"

Charlotte was momentarily taken aback, then covered her mouth, giggling. "This guy's got some character."

Her laughter softened her features, her willowy eyebrows lifting in amusement. The playful glint in her eyes was almost predatory.

Yao Hai promptly averted his gaze, not daring to overstep.

"If he's here for enjoyment, we should extend every courtesy. We're here to do business, after all. We'll build bridges where we can and steer clear of trouble where we must," Charlotte said softly.

"Understood," Yao Hai replied curtly.

With that, he hurried off.

Charlotte toyed with the glass in her hand, musing aloud, "Westley? A Half-step Grandmaster? Lindzac City is getting more interesting by the minute."

Westley had been sipping tea steadily, and just when he could hold it no longer, Rashawn returned.

"Apologies, Mr. Jimenez, for the long wait," Rashawn said.

"It's fine," Westley replied, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand.

After all, a little waiting was trivial compared to his grand money-making scheme.

"The boss says you're a VIP, Mr. Jimenez. He instructed me to take good care of you."

Rashawn extended his hand, gesturing, "Please, follow me. I'll show you to the inner court."

Westley promptly stood up, saying, "Hold on, where's the restroom? I need to take a leak first."

Rashawn was momentarily speechless.

High and mighty, yet so unconventional.

Guided by Rashawn, Westley made his way into the inner sanctum of the Golden Palace.

The inner sanctum was the heart of the Golden Palace.

Upon entering, Westley couldn't help but sigh.

Humanity's quest for opulence knew no bounds, always striving for greater heights and grander displays.

The inner court's lavish decor made the outside world seem like child's play by comparison.

Stepping inside felt like entering a regal palace.

Directly ahead was a massive stage, its lighting and arrangement nothing short of meticulous.

Below, the standard seating had given way to individual luxury booths.

A line of dashing male waiters stood at attention like soldiers, exuding charm and vigor.

Rows of statuesque and sweet-faced female waitresses resembled beauty pageant contestants, both graceful and majestic.

As Westley passed by, both the male and female waiters bowed in unison, saying, "Esteemed guest, welcome to our establishment."

The display made one feel like true royalty.

Yet, Westley was taken aback.

Such opulent treatment was more than he felt he could comfortably indulge in.

"Um, am I supposed to tip?" Westley instinctively guarded his pocket.

At five yuan per tip, the total could easily exceed a hundred yuan.

He was not keen on that idea.

"No need," Rashawn reassured him with a shake of his head.

Westley breathed a sigh of relief.

He was glad tipping wasn't required; his wallet could rest easy!

"Mr. Jimenez, your seat is in the second row, third booth. Right this way," Rashawn gestured.

Just as they were about to proceed, a voice chuckled from behind, "Rashawn, Young Mr. Freeman has arrived! Shouldn't you be attending to him?"