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

Miriam’s eloquence was truly formidable; her stirring words ignited a restless anticipation within the group of applicants. 


It was as if, the moment the doors opened, a parade of radiant beauties and abundant wealth would cascade toward them effortlessly. 


A young man in his twenties, cheeks flushed with excitement, eagerly inquired of Miriam, 


“Miriam, what exactly is our salary? The advertisement mentioned no less than ten thousand dollars a month—is that fact or fiction?” 


“You boys have such meagre ambitions! Ten thousand dollars? In Huangping, that’s mere pocket change. Listen carefully—our company offers no base salary, nor do we provide food or lodging. But rest assured, your monthly earnings will never dip below ten thousand dollars...” 


She cast a glance at a male host seated nearby and queried, 


“Dave, tell them, how much did you make last month?” 


Dave, with a stiff neck and proud tone, responded, 


Chapter 370: The Trial Shift