A deathly, chilling silence enveloped this claustrophobic bar.

Behind the faint white haze of smoke and the dim lighting, everyone stared blankly at the man behind the counter with an expression that screamed, **"Am I freaking dreaming?"**

What had he just said?

Dogs?

He wants us to be his dogs?

Who the hell does he think we are?

We’re the crime bosses that rule over the Lower City District, and he’s just some nobody who crawled out of the gutter. What right does he have?

**Crack.**

In the oppressive silence, someone angrily crushed the glass in their hand, so enraged they could’ve pulled out their blade and killed this insolent upstart on the spot.

And yet, after a long, suffocating pause, not a single person dared even spit in his direction.

—Schurz was still glaring at them, his eyes wide open in unyielding death.

No one knew what this lunatic might do if someone dared voice opposition again.

In the dark alleys of the Lower City District, unhinged madmen who acted with reckless abandon were the people most feared — especially when such a madman was terrifyingly powerful.

Even now, none of them had seen how this man had severed Schurz’s head. They hadn’t even seen his weapon!

"Why is everyone so quiet? I’m not some man-eating beast, you know," the man who called himself Bruce said lightly.

Despite having just killed a major crime lord in cold blood, there wasn’t a single drop of blood on him. With an air of leisure, he reached behind the bar, pulled out the finest bottle of liquor, and poured himself a glass.

He swirled the wine, gazing through its crystalline liquid at the contorted faces before him, the corners of his lips quirking upward in a genial smile. He looked for all the world like a warm-hearted host entertaining honored guests.

"Come now, don’t hold back. Speak your minds. If anyone has questions, I’m all ears. Time is short, but I promise I’ll try to answer them to the best of my ability."

"You want to take control of the entire Lower City District?"

From the shadows, someone finally couldn’t resist the urge to ask.

In a place like this, asking about someone’s real identity or backstory was meaningless fuss. The question went straight to the heart of the matter.

"You want to be the Dark Emperor?"

"Heh. Dark Emperor. What a melodramatic title," Moen chuckled.

"But sure, if that’s the way you see it, then so be it."

"And why should we let you?"

"Hmm... Killing Schurz wasn’t enough?"

"Not even close."

"Well then… what if I include all of you as well?"

A sneering grin crept across Moen’s face as his tone turned light, as if he were discussing something as trivial as squashing a few insignificant ants.

"And with your lives added to the tally… would that be enough?"

"Are you… threatening us?"

Someone spoke, their voice trembling — whether from terror or rage, it was hard to say.

"How you interpret it… is up to you. You can take it as a threat, or as a demonstration of power," Moen replied nonchalantly.

Outside, the bodyguards brought by these crime bosses had already surrounded the bar, sealing off every possible exit. A faint chanting sound rippled through the air — the mages they had hired at great expense were standing by, ready to attack at any moment.

Even with the elite assassins from Rat King’s group, there was no way one man could fend off all of them.

All it would take was for any one person in the bar to give the order, and this man would be instantly reduced to nothing more than a bloody pulp under the combined assault of blades and spells.

Yet, completely unfazed, Moen simply shrugged. As if those bloodthirsty thugs outside didn’t exist, he poured himself another drink and took a slow, unhurried sip.

"You know," he said, "I think this is actually a simple question of choice. Since you’re all just a pack of dogs in need of a master, why can't that master be me?"

Yes.

If there must be a master…

Why not me?

With those calmly spoken words, Moen voiced the infuriating truth that left everyone seething with rage.

"Enough!"

Suddenly, a formidable-looking old woman sitting in a shadowy corner slammed her hand on the table and rose to her feet, roaring:

"Humiliating us over and over again — do you really think we’ll put up with this nonsense forever?"

"Humiliate?"

Moen turned a curious gaze toward the woman, looking almost puzzled.

"When did I humiliate you?"

"You’ve been calling us—"

"Calling you dogs? Oh no, no, no. That’s not humiliation. That’s just me speaking the truth," Moen interrupted.

His eyes swept across the room, mocking the grim-faced crowd as he sneered:

"Look at yourselves, gentlemen. Pathetic, anxious, unable to sleep without a master holding your leashes… if you’re not dogs, then what are you?

Frankly, I think even strays scavenging for scraps in garbage heaps have more backbone than all of you."

Before his words even finished echoing, Moen could feel waves of murderous intent simmering to life from the people standing before him.

Yet, in the end, no one dared to reach for their weapon or give the command to unleash their men outside.

Simply because Schurz had died before their very eyes.

Perhaps these people had once been the most ruthless, ferocious beasts in the Lower City District. But after so many years at the top, after willingly putting collars on their necks to stabilize their dominion, they had long since lost their spine.

They feared death more than anyone else — just like Lorenzo before them.

How pathetic.

"With your logic, I can think of a better solution," the old woman said.

"Hm?"

Moen narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze to her.

Who is she…?

Recalling the intel given to him by Ann, Moen quickly placed her identity.

The Mediator.

In her youth, she’d been the mistress of a powerful noble, thereby cultivating extensive connections. After descending into the Lower City District, her refusal to align with any particular faction earned her a unique neutral status, allowing her to mediate countless disputes.

For this reason, she was nicknamed "The Mediator" and wielded considerable influence across the district.

"I know unease lingers in your hearts. If that’s the case," the old woman said, straightening her posture and rapping her cane against the floor, "then why don’t we seize this opportunity to unite?"

Her cold gaze swept over the crowd, pausing briefly on Moen with a glimmer of disdain in her eyes.

"If we band together, unify the entire Lower City District, then no storm will be able to topple us! Even this man — this stranger of unknown origin — is nothing more than a paper tiger! I refuse to believe that with so many of us, we cannot defeat him!"

"And who will lead us? Who will rule the Lower City District?"

"No one will rule the Lower City District! There will be no Dark Emperor!"

Her voice rose with confidence:

"We can model it after the aristocratic councils — establish a fair governing assembly where all faction leaders have a seat at the table. Decisions will be made through discussion and voting!

By doing so, we will become the greatest force not just in the Lower City District, but in all of Belland! Even those self-important nobles will no longer be able to meddle in our affairs. We’ll step out from their shadow and make the Lower City District truly ours!"