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

A cacophony of barking ensued from several Tibetan Mastiffs. 


Dex handed me a cigarette just as I lit it. 


I noticed that the second floor of the establishment was still illuminated, though the light was dim and flickered indistinctly, likely obscured by heavy curtains. 


“What’s on the second floor?” I inquired. 


Dex turned to peer up at the second floor and responded, “I honestly can’t say. Usually, no one is permitted up there. I suppose it’s where Brother Liang’s men keep watch…” 


Yet, it struck me as odd that all seven or eight rooms were alight. 


Are there really that many people overseeing this place? 


And at such a late hour, none of them are asleep? 


There are far too many inconsistencies in this establishment. 


I refuse to believe there aren’t any ghosts lurking about. 


Upon returning to Branwen’s quaint residence, 


Chapter 126: A Sudden Realization