The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

Chapter 272: Chapter 221: Magic Vision Device Signal Hijacking Incident (2)

"No regrets. I know the rules. If I lose, I’ll just treat it like opening a bottle of fine wine and spilling it on the floor," Old Mike replied.

The owner shrugged and took the Silver Coins.

’Every hot-headed gambler says the same thing,’ he thought. ’After they lose, you get all kinds: some smash the place up, some play dumb, some wail about having parents and children to feed, and some charge at you, ready to fight to the death.’

Not a single normal one among them.

Still, he took the money.

He wouldn’t lose out either way.

The cut he took from the bets alone earned him more than the bar business.

The bouncers in the tavern weren’t hired for nothing. If Old Mike really lost his mind and attacked someone, he would just become another test subject to sell to the Wild Mages.

It was an open secret, this underground business.

Many discoveries in Magic were born from inhumane experiments. The Mages of the Mage Guild couldn’t perform such experiments openly, but they couldn’t bear to part with the potential findings.

Thus, the various nations all turned a blind eye to the underground experiments of Wild Mages. Many Wild Mages were even secretly funded by Mages from the Guild.

After placing his bet, Old Mike returned to his seat.

The show was just starting.

Once money got involved, his reasons for watching the show were no longer pure.

He had no interest in how well each contestant sang. He just wanted to know who would make it through.

With every person who passed, his phone felt one step closer.

From that perspective, perhaps it was its own kind of purity.

Old Mike had never been this nervous watching a variety show.

The contestants sang on the screen, but it was his palms that were sweating.

The first contestant was a Beastman singer. Old Mike never thought those brutes, the Beastmen who only ever think about picking fights, would be interested in singing.

’If you could even call what he did "singing,"’ he thought.

This Beastman was clearly a fan of the Underground Orphans Band. His style was very rock-and-roll, and he had all the typical flaws of a lead singer from a low-level rock band.

No technique, all feeling.

No vocal prowess, just raw howling.

His performance was edited down to less than a minute, and the post-performance segment was just as brief. Xiaode praised his songwriting, but his singing was nothing to write home about.

They hoped he would practice his vocals and return next season.

It became clear once the live auditions started that many contestants’ demos had been recorded one line at a time, with the best takes spliced together. The singers themselves lacked the ability to perform a song from start to finish.

If anything, it had greatly boosted business for the Mages in the city who specialized in audio tuning and editing.

A bad start. Old Mike slammed his fist on the table. If he was going to win his bet for over ten contestants, every single one counted.

The second contestant was an Elf singer.

’To my ears, that performance was perfect. Flawless. She has to get through.’

But reality had other plans.

The Elf singer was met with the same result: four chairs with their backs turned.

Lady Roline bluntly pointed out various problems.

"It’s rigged! This is all because of the racial grudge between the Zor and the Elves!"

Old Mike yelled, disgruntled.

He was more worked up than the contestant herself—a classic gambler’s trait.

"Please keep it down!" the owner reminded him again.

Old Mike sat back down, grumbling resentfully.

He raised his mug, but a mouthful of ale went straight into his beard.

’My mind’s a mess.’

As far as he was concerned, the phone was already slipping out of his grasp.

However, just as he was sulking, head down, unwilling to look at the Magic Vision Device...

WHAM!

He heard the sound effect of a judge’s chair turning.

’Oh, that sound had never been so sweet.’

Even more surprisingly, the next several contestants were chosen by the judges in quick succession.

One after another, they went on stage and passed.

One, two, three...

An hour and a half later, eight contestants had already passed.

Each episode was over two hours long, focusing on quantity to keep the audience satisfied.

’I knew it,’ he thought. ’For whatever reason, the first episode was a fluke. This pass rate is what’s normal.’

Now it was the turn of those who’d bet on fewer than eight to hang their heads.

Old Mike couldn’t help but start humming.

There were still five contestants left. If just three of them passed, he’d have over twenty Silver Coins in his pocket.

He’d never earned so much money in one go.

’Life is beautiful.’

’From now on, this is my lucky day.’

The money wasn’t in his hand yet, but as far as he was concerned, it was a done deal.

"We’ll be right back after the commercial break."

The host’s voice came from the Magic Vision Device.

"BOOO—"

The tavern patrons erupted in a chorus of groans.

They all knew better. There was no such thing as "right back." It was always at least ten minutes.

They used to find the commercials interesting.

Now, they could recite the most common ones by heart.

"Why does the Zog Group even need to advertise anymore? Who doesn’t know about them now?" someone complained.

"That just shows you’re clueless. You don’t even know that?"

"Oh yeah? If you know so much, then spit it out."

"Uh... you think I’d just tell you a secret that easily?"

"Pfft!"

Unlike the others, who found ways to pass the time during the commercial break, Old Mike remained glued to the screen.

He didn’t want to miss a single second of his win.

He was getting impatient.

However, as Old Mike was bouncing his leg and watching the ads, the screen of the Magic Vision Device began to flicker before dissolving into static.

"Owner, the Magic Vision Device is on the fritz!"

Old Mike yelled frantically.

"Not again?" the owner sighed, looking at the screen full of static. "I thought they fixed this. They said after the last signal improvement, this wouldn’t happen anymore."

"Can you fix it? You can fix it before the commercials are over, right?" Old Mike asked anxiously.

He was already prepared to bolt out of the tavern and find another Magic Vision Device if the owner said he couldn’t fix it.

"You know I don’t work on these things. I just run a tavern. Whether or not it gets fixed is pure luck..."

The owner grumbled as he resorted to the traditional method: reaching out and giving the Magic Vision Device a good, hard whack.

"Hit it harder!" Old Mike urged.

"What if I hit it too hard and break it? Are you going to buy me a new one?"

the owner snapped.

"Wait, the screen’s coming back!"

Old Mike shouted, pointing at the Magic Vision Device.

Just as he said, the static on the screen vanished, replaced by a completely black picture.

"What kind of ad is this?"

Before he could finish his sentence, a blood-red sigil appeared out of the black, tracing a pattern on the screen.

First, it drew a circle, then a crooked cross leaning to the left.

It gave off a faint, evil feeling.

’I don’t get it,’ Old Mike thought. ’What kind of ad has such a creepy style?’

’Is this supposed to attract customers or scare them away?’

Once the pattern was complete, a chanting sound emerged from the speakers. But it wasn’t like the scriptures recited by a Church Priest; it sounded more like a deranged patient repeating a terrifying prophecy.

"God is the root of all sin. Only Mammon can bring salvation."

"God is the root of all sin. Only Mammon..."

The phrase repeated over and over.

’I’ve never heard of any sect that prays like this. It sounds more like an incantation for Casting.’ he thought.

’Wait a minute... an incantation for Casting.’

Old Mike stared intently at the screen, feeling an inexplicable anger surge within him.

’Why do I have to gamble just to afford a phone? I work so hard every single day.’

’I start work before dawn and don’t get off until late at night.’

’I never take a day off, yet I can barely support my family.’

’I’m nothing but a slave without shackles.’

’Who’s responsible for all this?’

’It’s the rich. Every last one of them. They’re all sinners... every single one...’

While no one was paying attention, Old Mike’s eyes gradually took on a red hue, and he began to mumble along with the strange prayer coming from the Magic Vision Device.

The people around him noticed something was wrong, but they didn’t know what was happening.

Gradually, more and more people fell into the same state.

And at this moment, in Old Mike’s eyes, the tavern owner had become an incarnation of sin.

In his vision, the tavern owner gradually sprouted Demon horns, and his skin turned a dark red.

’Just as I thought. These people are all evil Demons in disguise.’

’I have to expose them.’

Old Mike charged furiously toward the tavern owner.

"Bouncers! Bouncers!" the owner yelled frantically.

But no one responded.

The owner looked toward where his bouncer should have been. The man was standing there, stock-still, his eyes the same shade of red.

「At the same time, similar incidents were occurring in many places across the Continent.」