Chapter 42: The Agreement

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"You're doing all this just for a title?" Old Antonio asked in disbelief.

"How could that be?" Link responded, sounding a bit agitated. "It was your son who provoked me first. I need to make sure people understand that I'm not someone to be trifled with."

"What if it happens again?"

"To put it simply, you're just the chicken being slaughtered to warn the monkeys. Do you get it now?"

"You..." Old Antonio could hardly believe how easily his son's fate was sealed. "Fine, I agree. Tomorrow night, in Las Vegas, at the same casino. I'll be waiting for you."

"Good. You can bring as many men as you like, including your so-called High Table. There will be fewer people around, so we can indulge in some real carnage and see who's left standing," Link replied, clearly pleased with the arrangement.

After hanging up the phone, Link turned to Winston and said, "Now, you can call the High Table and gather your men. Tomorrow in Las Vegas, there'll be both a gamble and a battle."

With that, Link got up and walked out without sparing another glance at Winston or Charon.

Winston frowned and looked at Charon. "Get some people to clean this up. We'll be open for business in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Charon replied before heading off to arrange the cleanup. Meanwhile, Winston took out his phone and made several calls.

Many members of the High Table were woken up by the sudden calls, stunned as they listened to Winston recount the story. A Chinese man had stormed the Continental in New York, killing a group of assassins, Santo's bodyguards, and Santo himself—all with just throwing knives.

Moreover, this man had declared war on the entire High Table. A gamble and a battle, he said. What should they do next?

While Santo had broken the rules, and his death was of little concern to the High Table, Link had also violated the first and most important rule of the Continental: no killing on hotel grounds.

He had openly announced his intent and followed through. If they didn't respond, the Continental would lose its influence and power to intimidate.

The High Table had no choice. They had to fight.

Immediately, they began to mobilize their forces. Link's abilities seemed bizarre—was he really that deadly with just throwing knives? They needed to gather as much information on him as possible.

While there wasn't much on record, they found that Link had previously worked as a police officer in New York. In his first shootout, he had killed more than twenty people, each shot perfectly aimed at the head. No wonder he had spoken with such regret; he clearly knew how to use guns.

Given this, the High Table would need to assemble an elite force, and they couldn't afford to send too few men. At the same time, they couldn't make a move inside the casino.

Las Vegas had its own power structure, one even stronger than the High Table in some respects. Each hotel was backed by a group of shareholders too powerful to antagonize.

They would have to wait until after the gambling session, and then act when Link left the casino. The rules of Las Vegas were as ironclad as those of the Continental.

---

The next morning, Link called Jessica, informing her that he had a big poker game coming up. He told her to stay at Tracey's place and avoid going out.

Link wasn't too concerned about Jessica's safety. If the High Table dared to use her against him, they'd only be provoking his wrath.

With his super hearing fully engaged, he could monitor nearly the entire world.

This time, he wouldn't rely on throwing knives. With the number of enemies expected, he'd need more than that, especially since they couldn't fight within Las Vegas itself—he wouldn't want to upset the city's various factions.

The timing was perfect. After the gambling session, he would drive out into the desert, where he could deal with all the assassins.

---

In Las Vegas, Link arrived at the same casino hotel, carrying a large duffel bag. This time, he had used a special ID to expedite his arrival.

Word had spread quickly in the underworld. No one underestimated Link anymore—he had proven himself a killing machine.

Of course, the gambling session was still the main focus. Link was escorted to the most luxurious suite, where he could rest before the big night. Even his meals were brought directly to him.

At 8 p.m., the gambling session began. A large crowd had gathered, including all twelve members of the High Table, each curious about the man named Link.

Seated in the VIP room, Link selected a cigar and poured himself a glass of bourbon before taking a seat. Across from him, Old Antonio looked pale and anxious.

Link smiled. "How many people did you bring?"

"We'll settle this all at once. I don't like dragging things out. This is your last chance. If I win, the High Table will compensate me."

"If not, I'll start a massacre."

The twelve High Table members frowned in unison, clearly angered. A young, sharply-dressed white man stood up and said, "I'm Gramont, the High Table's chief executive. We've prepared 300 elite fighters for you, Mr. Link."

"Does that satisfy you?"

Link glanced at him. "Not quite. Is that all you've got?"

"It's 8 p.m. now. After the gambling session, you have until midnight to gather as many men as you can. At midnight, I'll leave the hotel in an off-road vehicle and head into the desert. Since I'm a professional gambler, I rely on Las Vegas for my livelihood. I wouldn't want to burn any bridges here."

"Ten kilometers out of town, we'll fight. The victor walks out of the desert."

Gramont frowned. Was Link hiding an ambush? But he had already stationed men to watch the area, and there had been no sign of armed reinforcements.

"Agreed," Gramont said. "We'll comply."

"Good. If I walk out alive, will the High Table agree to compensate me and end this conflict?" Link asked, then added, "And what about the compensation?"

"You seem to think you've already won," Gramont challenged. "Are you planning to ambush us in the desert?"

"No, just me. The weapons are right here." Link opened his duffel bag, revealing a selection of firearms. "When the time comes, you'll handle the bodies, and the outcome will be clear."

"I need to confer with others," Gramont said, clearly out of his depth.

"Go ahead. Let's begin," Link said, turning to Old Antonio.

Old Antonio sighed. "I know you're formidable, but I also know your weakness."

"All-in on every hand. We're betting on luck now."

Link blinked, then laughed. "Well, that's going to be a long and boring game. Not much fun in that, is there?"

"It's my only shot," Old Antonio replied. He had taken the advice of Wilson Fisk, who had benefitted greatly from the information. Fisk had revealed that Link had fabricated a weakness during his first big game.

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