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

Chen Chengbei’s accomplice immediately understood the unspoken command. 


“I fold,” he announced, yet his three cards remained conspicuously on the table, not discarded into the discard pile. I understood; he awaited Chen Chengbei's card reveal, poised to facilitate a surreptitious card exchange. This manoeuvre, blatantly illegal in Three Card Poker, went unnoticed by my deliberate feigned obliviousness. 


My turn arrived. I again eschewed the temptation to check my hand. Slamming two more tens of thousands onto the table, I declared, “I raise, two tens of thousands!” 


My opponent glanced at their hand. He conceded. 


Only Chen Chengbei remained. My reckless, unpredictable style unnerved him. He hesitated, then slowly examined his three cards, a calculated performance. He’d already assessed his hand; this meticulous scrutiny served as a coded message to his discarded accomplice, subtly revealing his desired replacement cards. 


Chapter 150: A Clash of Wills