Strongest Among the Heavens
Chapter 380: The Shadow

Chapter 380: The Shadow

Dasha Pang sat alone, jacket on his chair and the white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the sharp lines of his forearms. Before him lay a sprawling map of the Underground, the network of streets and alleys drawn with a pencil. His mask was put to the side. His fingers traced the outlines of the different neighborhoods.

The Sukhothai was a maze of commerce, crime, and opportunity. Five kilometers long with warriors at every turn, it was no surprise that most areas were untouched by the explosions and attacks. By now, the Underground called it the Black Wolves Disaster.

Where was he now? Not the factory. No, five days had passed and while the smoke bomb factory was greatly fortified, it also presented too big of a target. Too many witnesses, too many workers.

Dasha was a shadow and he meant to keep it that way until he gained further power.

In five days, he took over additional locations. He silently sponsored and supported restaurants, antiques, stalls, and minor manufacturers.

What Dasha chose as his current hideout was a small Italian restaurant situated in a dark multi-level building with shops and staircases sprawled across multiple levels. Stalls and garages were crammed together like sardines. It was loud and on a floor somewhere in the center. Quite frankly, it was impossible to discern how many floors there were because of the sheer disorganization.

Even now, he could hear the footsteps clambering above.

Within the heart of the Black Wolves Disaster’s radius point, the Sukhothai was dominated by no factions. Because it was so close to the Dark Tower, it was too chaotic and too messy. Taxes and protection were pointless when death and spectators and warriors ran amok.

Yet this was where Dasha managed to consolidate much of his power. Little seedlings, little people who were in fact important and knowledgeable. That was who he targeted. That was who he scouted out in advance.

The wolves spread out like ants with the Dark Tower acting as the colony. There was only a certain distance, a certain radius that they reached before the ants were crushed.

Yes, laying outside the calculated radius point was where the powerful factions sank their teeth. Some lucky wolves managed to survive the radius long enough to do some harm; harm that Dasha immediately offered to fix. Harm that Dasha stopped. Harm that earned him thanks and worship and a place here at the line between his soon-to-be area and enemy territory.

Directly behind Dasha’s current location - this Italian restaurant and the messy complex building - was the Maryana neighborhood. Behind the Maryana was the Darya neighborhood and behind that the Mira neighborhood.

Three neighborhoods. Three points of control.

This was what Dasha wanted. This was what he desired.

How would he take it? By capturing the king. The one at the top of the food chain.

At the top of the food chain of the three neighborhoods was a man known only as Old Rocco, a local crime lord who controlled most of the protection rackets. His influence was palpable and most of the shopkeepers here paid him some form of tax, if not in coin, then in loyalty.

However, Old Rocco’s grasp was slipping. Dasha had seen it in the hesitation of the shopkeepers, the way they glanced over their shoulders before speaking openly. Old Rocco was not the Eternal Emperor of Japan. Maintaining power for that long and getting away with taxes could only go on for so long. And after Black Wolves Disaster, the feeling amplified. There was no true loyalty in the Underground, only fear, and fear could be manipulated.

"So it was you."

Dasha didn’t turn to face him. He knew who it was before the man even spoke.

"It appears even an elite member of the Pure Water Sect cannot catch you. I am impressed, Xavier."

His long coat brushed the floor as he moved, and his top hat had gotten longer. The brim was wide and dipped low, obscuring his features.

"How did you manage it?" Xavier asked. "Wang Lun is not a man easily manipulated, and yet here you are, sitting in his web as though you spun it yourself. What are you really doing here, Dasha? And more importantly, what will you tell Daughter?"

Dasha studied the map before finally responding. "What will I tell Daughter?" he repeated. "That there is power here, ready to be seized. Simple as that."

Dasha stabbed a finger to their current location, then zipped a little to the right. "La Bocca Vecchia, three spaces next to us, is located as a meeting place for those in his three neighborhoods. Old Rocco controls most of the protection rackets but his primary form of profit are his gambling houses and that smoke bomb factory."

"Which you took over by force," Xavier said as both a question and a statement.

"I did. And I instructed the owner to lie to Old Rocco during his meetings. He won’t know."

"And what of the dead guards?"

"Excused as a casualty during the Black Wolves Incident."

The wolves weren’t that far, after all.

"I presume you gave that same excuse to the two owners you killed?"

A necessary sacrifice. Dasha preferred them alive but the Pure Water Sect and its members were not his personal servants. They did what they wanted and he could only accept it.

"Forging claw marks and explosions is easier than you think," Dasha replied. "From what the owner told me, there are fifteen main men that attend the meetings at La Bocca Becchia. Two are dissatisfied, three follow him begrudgingly, and the rest are loyal. His influence is waning. There’s dissatisfaction in the air. The taxes he collects are becoming burdensome, and smaller factions are beginning to rise, seeking their own claim. Maria’s Curiosities, Borriccio’s Elixirs, and Kiri’s Imports—they’re all ripe for disruption. They pay taxes, but they do so grudgingly. All it takes is a push."

Dasha’s fingers traced the line of another street. "Then there’s The Widow’s Den, an old gambling hall a few blocks down. It is an independent nexus of illicit deals led by someone named Kuranosuke. He dislikes Old Rocco but he is stretched thin. He’s trying to fend off and keep Old Rocco at bay. I plan to have a conversation with him—he is not loyal to anyone, just the highest bidder."

Xavier listened. "It will be power, perhaps," he said, "but temporary. Everything in the Underground is temporary. You might push Old Rocco aside, but someone with as much history as him will rise to take his place. The moment you seize control, the cracks begin to form, and soon the entire structure collapses. The Underground is unstable by its very nature, Dasha. You might control it for a time, but it will never truly be yours."

"That is how you see it. For you, it is an opportunity. A fun little game, you could say."

"A game? Are you certain you’re the only one seeing it? You’re walking into a world that you may not understand. A hundred years, ten years, the Underground has changed since then in many ways."

"And has remained the same in others," Dasha countered.

"Even Wang Lun, with his strength and discipline, cannot keep sending his people out for you. We of the Whispers, although supportive of your endeavors, will not be your bodyguards. That is what we asked of you, not the other way around."

"I have no intention of using the Whispers for protection or underestimating the Underground," Dasha replied. "I am simply playing my part in this game. The pieces are moving, and soon, the board will shift in our favor. Daughter will see that. You will see it too."

Xavier leaned on the door, hands in his pocket. "Make sure she does. Because if she doesn’t, even you might find yourself in a precarious position. The Underground has a way of swallowing those who think they can tame it."

"Then do what you do best: gather information," Dasha continued. "Find out everything you can about the Underground— find weaknesses, potential allies, and easy enemies. Start with the Widow’s Den. Since it is an independent, many come and go. Follow or stalk or simply listen. Do as you see fit."

Xavier bowed his head slightly. "As you wish, Dasha."

"I have an appointment with some men." From his inventory, Dasha pulled out a parchment and tossed it to Xavier. "Here."

Xavier examined the paper. "What is this? A map for what?"

"Safe rooms like this for the Whispers to take advantage of. It is largely contained in this area but do not be concerned; that will soon change."

Xavier was silent for a moment.

"I already know," Dasha said. "You insisted on me not coming here because you lost many of your people down here, correct?"

Xavier rolled up the map and put it into his jacket. "Indeed. I suppose not telling you was and is foolish. You see, shortly before your arrival, a certain incident occurred." A deep breath. "Three hundred of our Whispers died."

Three hundred?

The Black Wolf Disaster killed about the same number with triple that in injuries. But that was talked about with great fear and reverence. A public incident of terror. How was an incident with the same number of deaths not uttered once?

"You would think I would have heard of such an incident."

"Perhaps you did and you just didn’t know. They were not killed—no, they were eaten by the Sleeping Giant."