It wasn't just Zhang Jingshan who was livid.

Even Li Changfeng, usually the epitome of calm, found this hard to stomach.

7+ goals!

The entire match needed over seven goals to win.

Did they think they were idiots?

"Feng Liang, you're the young master of Fangyuan Group, after all, yet you come up with a wager like this? You've really opened my eyes today!" Zhao Jiwei sneered, shaking his head.

Before Feng Liang could respond, Ye Chen spoke up.

"Fine, we'll take Feng Shao's terms. Betting on 7+ it is! Feng Shao, you're picking fewer than seven goals, right? Great, then we're going for over seven. Seven's a draw."

His words stunned everyone.

Not just Xu Wenhui and Qiu Yingzhe.

Even Zhang Jingshan, Li Changfeng, and Zhao Jiwei were dumbfounded.

Even Feng Liang himself froze.

Had Ye Chen never watched soccer before?

Or did he think it was basketball?

"Ye, you..." Zhao Jiwei started to speak anxiously.

But Feng Liang cut him off. "You sure you want to bet?"

"It's just a pole-dancing performance, right? Compared to a Lamborghini and a mansion, this bet is worth it," Ye Chen said confidently.

"No, it's a strip pole-dance," Feng Liang sneered.

"Doesn't make much difference," Ye Chen replied nonchalantly.

"Haha, good! Very good!"

Feng Liang burst into laughter. Then, with a smirk, he turned to Zhang Jingshan and Zhao Jiwei.

"I couldn't care less if Ye Chen strips for a pole-dance—it's just an eyesore to me. What I care about is you two. So, Zhang Shao, Zhao Zong, what about you?"

Zhang Jingshan's expression grew serious as he glanced at Ye Chen.

If they lost, he'd never be able to hold his head high in Jiangzhou again. It wasn't just about losing face personally—even his family's reputation would be in tatters.

He couldn't understand it.

With Ye Chen's current wealth, did he really need to risk it all for a Lamborghini and a mansion?

If he wanted them, couldn't he just buy them with ease?

But when their eyes met, Ye Chen nodded firmly. "Trust me, I've got a feeling we'll win."

Hearing those words, Zhang Jingshan's pupils dilated.

Because every time Ye Chen used the phrase "I've got a feeling," he was always right.

"Alright, let's bet!"

Withdrawing his gaze, Zhang Jingshan turned to Feng Liang, his resolve unwavering.

"If you two are going to pole-dance, I can't just sit on the sidelines and watch. I'm in," Li Changfeng said with a bitter smile.

"And you, Zhao Zong?" Feng Liang asked, a gleam of delight flashing in his eyes.

Zhao Jiwei hesitated, his expression conflicted.

But when he met Ye Chen's calm and resolute gaze, he clenched his teeth. "I'm in!"

The moment the words left his mouth, Zhao Jiwei realized something.

What the hell was I thinking?

Do I really need the money that badly?

Even if he got both the Lamborghini and the mansion, they were just second-hand junk to him. The cost of losing, though? Performing a strip pole-dance?

And the odds of a 7+ goal match? That was one in a few hundred, at best.

He must have lost his mind.

In that moment, Zhao Jiwei didn't think Feng Liang was crazy—he thought he himself was crazy.

"Haha! Such guts, such nerve! Now we just wait for the match to start. But... before it kicks off, I'll give you one last chance to back out. All you need to do is bow to me and shout three times, 'Feng Shao, I'm a coward!' Then this bet will be off. Remember, the offer's only valid before the match begins," Feng Liang said gleefully, his expression twisted with glee.

He hadn't expected such an unexpected boon.

Barça vs. Bayern, UEFA Champions League semifinals—7+ goals?

Impossible. Not even God could make that happen!

"Don't worry, Feng Shao. We're not cowards," Ye Chen replied indifferently.

"Haha! I hope you won't regret it!"

With that, Feng Liang turned and strutted off into the neon-lit chaos, where deafening music awaited him.

"Why are we doing this? Are we seriously that desperate for a car and a house?"

As soon as Feng Liang left, Zhao Jiwei couldn't hide his unease and voiced his doubts.

Zhang Jingshan and Li Changfeng hadn't been too concerned at first, but Zhao Jiwei's words stopped them in their tracks.

He was right. Why were they doing this?

Had they just fallen into Feng Liang's trap?

At worst, Feng Liang would lose a car and a house. If they lost, not only would they be humiliated, but their families' reputations would also be dragged through the mud.

So why did this bet suddenly seem "worth it" in Ye Chen's eyes?

"Zhao Zong, we're not doing this for anything in particular. I just want to see Feng Liang lose his cool," Ye Chen said lightly.

Zhao Jiwei's expression darkened.

That's your reason for betting?

Risking a strip pole-dance for that?

"Zhao Zong, don't panic. My instincts are usually spot-on. Besides, look at his brows and forehead. Tonight's going to be unlucky for him—there's even bloodshed in his future. If nothing unexpected happens, we won't lose," Ye Chen said with a smile.

"Wait, you can read faces too?" Zhao Jiwei was dumbfounded.

"My grandfather trusts him completely!" Zhang Jingshan blurted out.

The moment Ye Chen mentioned the word "forehead," Zhang Jingshan's breathing quickened.

To him, Ye Chen's intuition and face-reading skills were more convincing than any logic or science.

And Zhang Jingshan's mention of his grandfather left Zhao Jiwei, Xu Wenhui, and Qiu Yingzhe momentarily stunned.

Zhang Jingshan's grandfather?

That powerhouse actually trusts this guy implicitly?

What started as Zhao Jiwei's networking party had been completely derailed by Feng Liang's antics.

Under the weight of this absurd bet, Zhao Jiwei no longer had the energy to think about connections.

After all, if he really had to perform a strip pole-dance, he'd be too ashamed to show his face in Jiangzhou, let alone network.

As the stakes of the bet spread, most people thought Zhang Jingshan and Zhao Jiwei had gone mad.

Wave after wave of guests tried to talk them out of the ridiculous wager, but Zhang Jingshan turned them all away.

Back out? Bow to Feng Liang and admit cowardice?

That kind of humiliation was no less degrading than the pole-dance.

And Zhang Jingshan's blind faith in Ye Chen's intuition and face-reading skills kept him firmly on board.

No matter how impossible or absurd the situation seemed, as long as Ye Chen said he had a feeling, Zhang Jingshan would follow him without hesitation.

Amid a mix of concern, mockery, and anticipation for Zhang Jingshan and Zhao Jiwei's potential pole-dance humiliation, the party atmosphere shifted.

As Feng Liang took over the spotlight, the deafening music stopped.

A massive wall-mounted screen flickered on, displaying a live broadcast.

The Barça vs. Bayern Champions League match.

A game about to shock the world with its brutal scoreline.

Was about to begin.