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

The Second Boss remained silent, his gaze fixated on the three dice in his hand. 


Sensing his reticence, Elysianne directed the staff, “You may all leave now. I did not call for you, so kindly refrain from returning!” 


It was evident that Elysianne understood the gravity of the situation; the Second Boss had not come for pleasant discourse. She did not wish to lose face in front of her employees. 


Once the staff exited, Elysianne probed, “Brother, do you have something to discuss?” 


The Second Boss finally turned to face her, his expression darkening, a hint of malice flickering across his pale visage. “Brother? Do you still presume to call me that?” 


At his words, I couldn't help but furrow my brow. His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like nails on a chalkboard. 


Immediately, Elysianne’s expression tightened, her discontent palpable. “If you feel unworthy, I need not address you as such!” 


Chapter 189: Overestimation