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

Ophelia hadn’t changed—still rocking a baseball cap, jeans, and that effortless blend of youth and lethal grace. 


Only difference? Today she wore flat leather boots, polished to a mirror shine. 


Beige trench coat left unbuttoned, soft pink blouse underneath. 


Twin ponytails bounced with every step, framing those black-crystal eyes that sparkled with mischief. 


Hands tucked in her pockets, she tilted her head at Red Hair, all innocence and lethal promise. 


Seeing two women, Red Hair’s bravado surged. 


He raised his machete, snarling, "Get lost, bitches!" 


A split second later, Red Hair’s scream tore through the night, high-pitched and raw. 


He staggered back, clutching his hand, fingers bent at unnatural angles. 


"Hospital! Someone get me to the hospital—my fingers, my *fingers*—" 


Chapter 465: Long Time No See