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

Seeing the thin man immobile, he reached out, attempting to glimpse the thin man’s hidden card. Just then, with a sharp “slap,” the thin man pressed down hard onto his card. 


Mad Kun was utterly confused. The thin man glared at me, exclaiming in indignation, “Well, you’re truly despicable. I lost this hand! But don’t get too comfortable; we’ll meet again on New Year’s Eve!” 


As he spoke, the thin man folded his cards and tossed them into the pile. I smirked lightly. 


He called me despicable, and I was uncertain whether that label fit. Regardless, he dared to insult me with his sleight of hand in my presence, so I chose to retaliate in a more vulgar manner. 


The thin man’s hidden card was, without a doubt, also the Ace of Spades. The Ace of Spades I revealed was not from our current deck; that was a card I had secretly stashed away while pretending to head to the restroom. Upon my return, I awaited the opportune moment. 


Chapter 273: The Threat