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

As he spoke, the Six-Fingered Phantom suddenly stood up with a start. 


Raising a finger in my direction, he barked menacingly, “Don’t move! You must remain still!” 


With his furious shout, several members of the Zou family's security rushed to my side, their fierce gazes fixed upon me, as if ready to tear me apart the moment I made any move. 


“It’s too late; don’t think you can shift the blame. That card of yours is cleverly concealed in the sleeve of your right arm!” 


As the words of the Six-Fingered Phantom echoed in the room, an overwhelming sense of tension and oppression washed over me once more. Yet, surrender was not an option. 


Casting a cold glance at the Six-Fingered Phantom, I retorted, “Uncle, as a senior, you ought to accept defeat graciously. Yet here you are, hurling accusations!” 


Chapter 233: The Duel (Part Three)