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

In great distress, Edmund pointed an accusatory finger at Joyce. His hand trembled, rendering him momentarily speechless. 


Joyce, on the other hand, appeared utterly unfazed. With a playful grin, he glanced at the remaining vase on the table and remarked, “Gentlemen, it seems the world is now left with only one Guanyin vase. Shall we proceed to re-bid?” 


“You madman! You are truly insane!” Mike grumbled, yet through gritted teeth, he proclaimed, “I’ll offer five million! That is my absolute limit!” 


From two vases valued at 3.5 million, we had now escalated to a single vase at five million. Businesswise, Joyce had certainly succeeded. 


“Edmund, what say you?” he inquired. 


Suppressing his mounting anger, Edmund’s face darkened as he muttered, “I’ll match his offer: five million as well!” 


Chapter 331: Unforeseen Complications