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

“Her? A skilled gambler? Brother, you must be too deep into the blues. Do you see every player as a gambling expert?” Wulfgar muttered quietly. 


His expression conveyed his disbelief. I shot him a glance but remained silent. 


With someone like Wulfgar, often overconfident from his worldly experiences, he felt he had seen it all. Although not in the gambling scene, he knew enough seasoned players to think he could recognize one. He judged matters based solely on his instinctual understanding. Any divergence from that perception led him to view the other party’s words as erroneous. 


Such individuals are both headstrong and obstinate. Until they experience a blade themselves, they refuse to believe it is forged from steel. 


I couldn’t be bothered to explain; I merely said, “You can play as you wish while I exchange my chips…” 


I had no intention of playing further. As for Wulfgar, it was raining and mothers were marrying off daughters—he could do as he pleased. 


Chapter 87: Stubbornness