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

The term "Swallow Returns to the Nest" predominantly pertains to methods employed by seasoned gamblers to arrange card sequences meticulously. 


I deliberately mentioned nine o’clock, using a plus-three reference as a covert signal to Lord Alaric. In executing the cut, he was to remove the twelfth card, disregarding the rest. 


Lord Alaric understood the cue and swiftly cut. This particular technique, "Swallow Returns to the Nest," had been taught to him extensively over time, and he had since perfected it into an art form. 


As the three cards were dealt, it was once again the gentleman in the Zhongshan suit who initiated the betting. This time, he boldly declared, “I’ll bet five thousand! I didn’t win the last round; I intend to reclaim what’s mine. No need to glance at my cards—my wager is five thousand!” 


The man with the prominent nose swiftly matched him, tossing five thousand onto the table. 


Chapter 363: Cheating