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

Brenden's two cards lay before me: one face up, revealing a 7, while the other remained concealed. 


With a glower, he asked coldly, "Will you draw another card?" 


I had 13 points. Normally, the prudent choice would be to draw a card, especially considering Brenden's visible 7, which suggested he might easily reach 17. However, I shook my head and responded nonchalantly, "No more cards." 


Brenden appeared momentarily taken aback, his brows knitting tightly together. Though he was no master of gambling strategies, his experience was undeniable. He realized that the sequence he'd just shuffled and stacked had been utterly disrupted by my hand. Yet he found himself powerless in the face of this predicament. 


Revealing his hidden card, he uncovered a heart of 8—15 points. By the rules, he was compelled to draw again. 


Chapter 156: Provocation