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 once-sombre expressions of Old Wu and his companions transformed into exuberant delight. 


With a wide smile, Old Wu stepped forward, giving me a hearty pat on the shoulder as he jovially proclaimed, “You little rascal, I knew you wouldn’t let me down…” 


I offered a faint smile and remained silent, though a lingering sense of confusion occupied my thoughts. Just moments prior, Old Wu's anxiety had mirrored that of Su Mei’s. Despite our mentor-student bond, given Old Wu’s carefree disposition, such palpable worry seemed unwarranted. 


The Six-Fingered Phantom sat motionless, pale as a ghost. Beside him, the second boss wore a mask of fury. 


Uncle Zhong, who had been observing with a detached demeanour, slowly rose and announced, “The game has concluded; let us abide by the agreed-upon stakes…” 


Our stakes were twofold: to preserve Elysianne’s two establishments, and the matter of fingers as chips—this was the more critical aspect. 


Chapter 234: The Ascent is Easy, but the Descent is Difficult