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

"I want to know, what exactly do you do?" the man with vitiligo steadied his emotions and asked me. 


"You've already guessed it. We're in the same line of work. The difference is, you came to Cloud to cheat, while I came to Cloud to catch cheaters!" I deliberately threw out a red herring. 


The man with vitiligo suddenly sneered and shouted, "I didn't cheat! What evidence do you have to say I cheated?" 


We four were taken aback. None of us expected that the man with vitiligo would suddenly change his tune at this moment. 


"That was you guys forcing me. Aren't you going to take me back to the casino? Come on, I'll go with you now!" he said, standing up and speaking boldly. 


I couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed. One move wrong! This man with vitiligo was also an old hand in the world of gambling. He originally thought that I had discovered his cheating technique. But when I asked him the second question, he immediately became alert. 


Chapter 437: The Yin-Yang Hand