The heavy doors of the Stone Gambling Hall swung open with a loud echo, startling those nearest the entrance.
A man walked in.
He wasn't dressed in silk robes or flashy brands. No entourage trailed behind him. No badge of wealth or power adorned his body. Yet his presence drew eyes.
He stood at 5 feet 10 inches, lean but firm, like tempered steel. His features were sharp sword-like brows, deep-set eyes, and a clean jawline that hinted at quiet strength. His black hair was slicked back, revealing a face weathered by life but untouched by defeat.
Mo Fan.
A name no one cared to remember.
An orphan, a nobody, living on the edge of poverty. He worked an exhausting office job, barely scraping by. No background. No talent. Just a man with a dream
To get rich, marry the girl of his dreams, and live a peaceful life.
That dream laughable, in the eyes of this world.
But dreams were the only luxury Mo Fan could afford. And so, when savings allowed, he came here to the place where lives were made and broken in moments:
The Stone Gambling Hall.
Here, fortunes hid inside unassuming stones. With a single cut
A worthless rock could become a priceless jade.
Or not.
Mo Fan knew disappointment all too well. He had walked in with hope and walked out empty-handed more times than he could count.
But today was different.
Today, he had saved enough to buy ten stones. Ten chances at changing his fate.
The hall was alive with noise.
WHOOSH!
THUD!
CLANG!
The air reeked of smoke, greed, and frustration. Loud laughter echoed from private booths where young masters tossed money like trash. The common folk huddled around the display tables, eyes wide with longing, their fingers trembling with desperate prayers.
Mo Fan ignored it all.
He moved to his usual corner, where older, cheaper stones were displayed. His eyes scanned them calm, methodical, not like a man guessing, but like a man listening to something deeper.
One by one, he picked out ten.
He didn't know how to read energy veins. He wasn't a spiritualist or a stone appraiser. But there was a quiet intensity in his gaze like he was reaching out with something beyond sight.
Click.
Clack.
He stacked the chosen rocks on the table.
The cutting worker a thick-jawed man with sleeves rolled up and scars on his fingers glanced at him, eyes half-lidded with boredom.
"You again?"
Mo Fan nodded and slid over the payment.
Bang!
The weight of his hard-earned money hit the table. It wasn't much in the eyes of others, but for Mo Fan it was everything.
The worker snorted. "Ten? You feeling lucky today?"
Mo Fan said nothing.
The worker shrugged and fired up the stone-cutting blade.
ZZZZZzzzzz…
WHIIRRRR!
Around them, murmurs began.
"Wait... is that guy again?"
"The broken one?"
"Didn't he lose all his savings last time?"
"Ten rocks?! Is he out of his mind?"
Some laughed. Some pitied. Some watched with morbid curiosity.
Mo Fan stood still.
His fists clenched behind his back. His heart pounded. But his face showed no fear.
This was his moment. This was his gamble.
His everything was on the line.
Snickers spread through the small crowd. But Mo Fan didn't flinch.
Mo Fan stood in silence.
CRACK!
The first rock split open under the buzzing blade.
Dust spilled out. Nothing more.
Just a worthless stone.
His expression tensed, but he didn't flinch.
Next.
WHIRRR…
SNAP!
Second rock. Useless.
Third.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Stone after stone broke apart, dreams shattering with each one.
The sixth empty.
The seventh dry and dead.
The eighth dust.
The ninth cold silence.
His heart ached. His chest tightened like a vice. This can't be happening.
He had saved for months. Lived frugally. Starved through weeks of plain rice and cold noodles for this one chance.
His lips were dry. Fists clenched. A single drop of sweat slid down his pale cheek.
The crowd began whispering, laughing.
"Another idiot down."
"Ten rocks and not a damn thing. Ouch."
"He should've known better."
"Feel bad for him... but also, what a fool."
Some shook their heads with mild pity. Others sneered outright, already turning away.
But Mo Fan didn't move. He didn't speak.
His eyes were fixed on the last stone.
His final chance.
Ten stones. One hope left.
He inhaled deeply, the air heavy and bitter, then gave a small nod.
"Open it," he said quietly.
The worker paused. Even he could feel the weight in those words. He reached for the final rock, hands slower now, more respectful.
The blade came down.
WHIRRRR
CRACK!
Then
Ding...!
A strange light flickered from the cracks.
Not green. Not red.
Gold.
The worker froze mid-motion.
Gasps rippled through the room.
"What the hell?!"
"Is that... light?"
Golden radiance seeped from the shattered edges of the stone pure, warm, almost divine. It wasn't just a shine it pulsed, like a heartbeat.
BOOM!
A pressure swept the hall, subtle yet chilling like something ancient had awakened.
Mo Fan's breath caught.
His eyes widened.
His heart roared in his chest like thunder.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
The worker slowly, carefully, sliced away the last of the rock.
The crowd surged forward.
Every breath in the hall vanished as the object inside was revealed.
There, resting in the stone's core untouched by time or dust was a small golden half-pagoda.
No more than five centimeters tall. No more than three wide.
Perfectly shaped. Intricately carved.
Not a single flaw.
It didn't look forged. It didn't look crafted.
It looked... destined.
"What in the heavens is that...?"
"A pagoda? Inside a stone?"
"I've seen jade, rare minerals... even rare ores... but this? Never."
The cutting worker's hands trembled as he picked it up.
He held it like it might vanish at any moment. With reverence, he passed it to Mo Fan.
"I... I've never seen anything like this before," he muttered, voice cracking.
The instant Mo Fan's fingers touched it
DING!
A ripple of invisible energy burst out, silent to the ear but loud to the soul. Something shifted in the world.
Mo Fan felt it.
Like the heavens had just looked down. Like fate itself had stirred.
Warmth surged into his palm faint, but alive.
The mocking voices were gone. The sneers had turned to awe.
No one dared laugh now.
Mo Fan stood still, the golden half-pagoda cradled in his palm.
He didn't know what it was.
Didn't know what it meant.
But deep inside he knew one thing for certain:
This moment would change his life forever.
------
To Be Continued...!!