Small tiger

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

Yet, when shuffling and cutting the deck were unfeasible, my only recourse for deception was to steal cards. 


Under the watchful eyes of numerous spies and countless cameras, not to mention the presence of a master such as The Six-Fingered Phantom, the act of stealthily swapping cards would be anything but simple. 


Aunt Qian emerged with a fresh deck of cards. As she prepared to shuffle, I abruptly interjected, 


“Aunt Qian, may I have a closer inspection of the cards? I suspect there might be something amiss.” 


Without uttering a word, Aunt Qian turned her gaze toward Uncle Zhong. 


After a moment of hesitation, he nodded in agreement. 


Receiving the deck from Aunt Qian, I casually drew several cards, feeling the weight of the professional-grade material in my hands. 


Subsequently, I returned the deck to Aunt Qian. 


Chapter 232: The Duel (Part Two)