Strongest Among the Heavens
Chapter 502: Wealth

Chapter 502: Wealth

"Oh god...!"

"Omar...? O-Omar...?"

Who were the voices? Who wept?

Who cared?

Eyes were wide. The stench of fear was thick and impossible to wave away. Hands gripping the edges of chairs. The smell of blood filled the air. Scarlet tainted the floor.

This was not the first blood was spilled here nor would it be the last. But there were rules. There was mercy to children. Children...children were not supposed to be here. Generally. Some bent the rules for their dealings or to drink wine. Even the definition of a child was skewed here.

But there was no denying Omar was a young child. No debate that he was not a man. No question that he did not deserve to die.

Not like this. Not with his blood splattered on his father’s face. Not with his father unable to help or react or do anything.

Elias was shell-shocked. Even the men—seasoned criminals, men who had killed before—looked shaken.

The Professor did not move. He did not speak for a long, long moment until he placed his gloved hands on the table. His voice was eerily soft. "Anybody who defies me will face the consequences."

Myth possessed a deeper tone of voice for his singing. A husky, almost erotic tone to hypnotize the rich.

The Professor was creepy. The Professor was a snake and a god. The Professor gave off the idea of knowing knowledge surpassing humanity.

Still, no one spoke.

Old Rocco’s face had lost some of its color. For the first time, a sliver of uncertainty crept into his expression. To him, Dasha stole the children while they were out. To him, he managed to find his weakness, the orphans that he did his best to hide from his enemies. To him, the Professor was aware of everything.

He looked at the remnants of the boy who had once been Omar. Then at the Professor. Then at the men around the table. Old Rocco realized, in that moment, that he had no real choice.

The old king was making a deal with the devil.

And the devil had already won.

***

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

It was all coming together now. Secret bases at select locations. A deep, dark hand in the Sukhothai. Neighbourhoods and restaurants and stalls, all under his thumb. All under his name without anyone knowing. Giving money, taking information, and sieging resources for him.

Dasha Pang sat in his mind palace, his library of information where he stored everything and anything. In this mental world, he was able to pick and choose a book. He was able to jot down every piece of information about everybody he had encountered and learned from.

Xavier? A spy from the Second Heavenly War. Loyal and immoral though not without morals.

The Red Sorcerer? A powerful man who was far too sentimental for his own good and easily malleable when Dasha took on the mask of Myth.

Kuranosuke? Owner of the Widow’s Den and convinced by Dasha’s flexing of power, ideas, and distribution of Dream Meth.

Old Rocco? An old man with an immense amount of documented influence in the Underground. People knew him. People liked him.

Finally...Daughter. An Egyptian goddess and the leader of the Whispers, so to speak. She possessed a deep control of every Whisper, being able to speak through them. From the very beginning, she knew who Dasha Pang was and took him under her wing. She protected the Great Sin’s stench by planting Jack the Ripper’s mask. She gave him strength and the tools to accelerate his growth.

Dasha Pang would have taken over the Underground as he did now. Dasha Pang would have taken these same steps.

Call it coincidence. Call it luck. Dasha never approved or disapproved the terms. The world just was. He could not be who if he was not the Great Sin—if he did not catch Daughter’s attention. Everything was as it was supposed to be.

Dasha Pang sat with his eyes closed and his arms crossed. He was back at the Italian restaurant he used as his base, the Scribe Sea, owned by Savario and his own. Three spaces next to Old Rocco’s La Bocca Vecchia, it was the best location to act as a rendezvous point. To eat and to meet his chess pieces without needing to risk himself.

Ah, but for now, he would have to visit. To confirm his rule. To show them he was the Professor, a man of secrets, knowledge, and might. He was confident Kuranosuke would obey. He was a man of wealth, nothing more. But Old Rocco, if pushed, may send an assassin or hired mercenary. Dasha needed to keep tabs on him and regulate visiting hours for his children. Enough to threaten him, keep him in line, while also subtly convincing him that the Professor’s new rules were correct.

Already, he was arranging a plan for the children to be able to go from the Slums to here. Aya Nakamura and Dr. Elise Thornton were going to vital for this.

How much money did he have in his pockets now? Too much for his pockets to contain. The sacks of coins lay all around the secret basement room.

12 Pure Gold Coins.

500 Gold Coins.

1,501 Silver Coins.

1,668 Bronze Coins.

Equalling approximately two million points.

It was almost impressive—if not for the amount of points he would receive from the Heavenly Tower. Dasha expected this anyway. The Heavenly Games was like the lottery but on steroids, unpredictable and not feasible and damaging to the economy to some extent. Players were too powerful. They were a protected class as well as a hated class.

Dasha Pang did not go for that method because he found it too limiting. Too bright. He preferred the shadows. He preferred to be the sin that controlled all. When he was younger, he quite enjoyed these stories of the devil coercing men and women to act evil. They were amusing, genuinely.

In adulthood, those stories became his reality.

In death, those stories became reality once again.

Dasha Pang was truly the Great Sin.