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

Old Wu was beside himself with rage. He sprang to his feet, his ire palpable. He jabbed a finger at the middle-aged beggar, his voice laced with contempt: 


"Your mendicancy has evolved into blatant extortion! Let me be clear: you will either compensate me for the die, or you will pay five dollars. Choose wisely!" 


His words ignited a conflagration. The three remaining beggars instantly rose, their gazes menacing, poised for immediate action. Old Wu, despite his mastery of card-throwing and dice manipulation, found himself at a disadvantage in the cramped confines of the carriage junction. His skills were severely hampered by the limited space. 


"Will you compensate me, or not?" The middle-aged beggar demanded, his eyes burning with malevolence. 


Old Wu, his stubbornness unwavering, uttered two words: "I won't." 


Chapter 117: The Controlled Dice