During the years when I ascended to the pinnacle of gambling, I was enveloped in a world where luck intertwined seamlessly with strategy. The thrill of risk was my constant companion, and every hand dealt was an opportunity to weave a tale of fortune and fate.

In those vibrant nights, the casino lights flickered like stars, each glimmer promising untold possibilities. The air was thick with the scent of anticipation and the intoxicating perfume of ambition. My every decision was calculated, and executed with precision, as I danced with the tides of chance, confident in my ability to bend them to my will.

I became known not only for my remarkable skill but also for a certain charisma that drew others to me. Players regarded me with a mix of admiration and trepidation, for I was not merely a participant in the game—I was its master. The cards whispered secrets to me, and I understood the language of the dice as if they belonged to a realm where I reigned supreme.

Yet, amidst the glamour and glory, this intoxicating world concealed its shadows. The very allure that elevated me to greatness also harboured treachery and deception. I found myself ensnared in a web woven by those who coveted my prowess, eager to see me fall from grace.

In those years, I walked a fine line between triumph and disaster, relishing every victory while remaining ever-vigilant against the unseen perils that lurked in the shadows.

The Years I Was The Gambling God

The Centipede was losing his composure. 


His fist pounded the card table several times in frustration. Seemingly unsatisfied, he ripped the three worthless cards to shreds and tossed them aside, cursing: 


"What a pile of rubbish! Get me a new deck of cards!" 


In a swift response, an attendant from the mahjong hall brought forth a fresh deck. I withdrew fifteen hundred dollars and handed it over. 


Considering the fifteen hundred lost in the previous round, I left the remainder as a tip along with the funds for the cards. I also handed Dark nine thousand—after his successful venture with four thousand five, securing his stake and subsequent winnings. 


"I'll continue to face you!" The Centipede threw the cards in front of me with hostility. 


As I opened the deck, I calmly remarked, "Facing me is fine, but it seems your funds at the table are insufficient..." 


Chapter 21: The Character of Cards Mirrors the Character of Men