Chapter 67

In just one week, Bardi completely took control of the territory once ruled by the Brotherhood.

He gathered all the members, executed the two leading rebels, and then restructured the organization. Balancing brutality with benevolence, he implemented a carrot-and-stick approach: those who obeyed would benefit, while those who resisted would be killed without hesitation. Under his rule, the gang members earned more than before, and their lives, though dangerous, became marginally more stable.

Life in the suicide slums was harsh, and not many people were truly willing to fight back. The environment was so bleak that death often went unnoticed, a body floating in a filthy puddle was just another statistic. Here, safety was nonexistent, and everyone lived in constant fear.

But under Bardi's rule, things began to change. His iron-fisted governance brought a semblance of order, and for the first time in years, the neighborhood had a faint sense of stability. In front of everyone, Bardi set new rules that transformed the slums:

The gang's exploitative cut of prostitution profits was reduced from 70% to 50%, allowing the women to keep more of their earnings and improve their lives.

The inhumane practices of organ trafficking and child kidnappings were abolished entirely.

Protection fees, which had previously been extorted several times a day, were capped at a fixed amount, payable only once per month.

He even established strict rules for the gang members themselves, restricting their behavior.

For the Brotherhood, these rules were unthinkable. To them, they were oppressive and far too harsh.

"This isn't a gang anymore."

"It's completely unrealistic."

"We've always done things this way."

"How can this even work?"

The complaints were endless. Gang members were used to taking whatever they wanted, extorting protection fees multiple times a day, looting stores, and helping themselves to anything they desired without paying. To them, these new rules felt like a mockery of what it meant to be part of a gang.

"This isn't even the underworld anymore," one muttered. "Are we supposed to be choir boys now?"

Their dissatisfaction reached a boiling point, but it was short-lived.

"I like having rules under me," Bardi said coldly, "because I'm the only one allowed to be unscrupulous."

He made his stance clear with swift, brutal action. Those who dared to complain were crushed on the spot, their blood splattering across his pristine white coat like a grim reminder of his authority.

No one dared to voice their opposition after that.

And yet, Bardi did improve their conditions. The gang members quickly realized that as long as they followed the rules, they earned more money and lived safer lives than before. Compared to the chaos they had previously endured, the new system was undeniably better.

Mike watched all of this. For the first time, he understood the depth of Bardi's ambitions. The rules Bardi was setting weren't just for a gang, they were the foundations of a nation.

Under Bardi's rule, the downtrodden and desperate gained something they had never had before: security.

Where Bardi ruled, the people were allowed to live in peace.

Where Bardi ruled, they had food and clothing.

Where Bardi ruled, they had a place to belong.

He turned the powerless into sheep, binding them to him.

But even as he controlled them, they would look to him with gratitude, thanking him for giving them what little they had.

Bardi didn't just want to rule, he wanted to stand above everyone else, high on a throne, dominating life and death itself. Those who submitted would survive, and those who defied him would meet swift and brutal ends.

In this world, Bardi didn't just want to be a tyrant—he wanted to be the tyrant. The only one qualified to live without limits.

Mike felt his blood boil as he watched his leader in action. He had once thought Bardi's ambition to conquer and unify the world was laughable, a pipe dream. But now, standing in the presence of this ruthless and cunning man, Mike felt his doubts dissolve. Beneath Bardi's white trench coat was a man cruel enough, smart enough, and capable enough to make those ambitions a reality.

For the first time, Mike felt an overwhelming desire to follow this man. He wanted to stand beside him as he stepped on this world and ruled over it. He wanted to be part of Bardi's vision, to help him dominate everything.

"For Barmulodi!"

Inside the former Brotherhood nightclub, every surviving gang member had been summoned. The once-chaotic venue had been cleaned and reorganized, resembling a reception hall.

The atmosphere was tense, almost suffocating. Fear gripped everyone present. Bardi's unpredictable, ruthless nature kept them constantly on edge, as he killed without hesitation, challenging their courage at every turn.

The Brotherhood was no more.

Their gang had been renamed Barmulodi, a name taken directly from Bardi himself.

"For Barmulodi!"

Mike raised his glass, his voice booming with conviction. His fiery tone carried an almost religious fervor, as though he were shouting out a creed rather than a toast.

Leon, standing beside him, watched Mike's solemn expression. Hesitating for a moment, Leon clumsily mimicked the motion, raising his fist and shouting with all his might.

"For Barmulodi!"

Leon spoke, his voice not loud, but in the quiet, tense atmosphere of over a hundred people, it cut through the silence, soft yet unmistakably clear.

His heart raced. He had never stood before so many people, never been in the spotlight like this. It felt surreal. For a moment, it reminded him of the moment he cut off that head, the way it forced him to break through his limits, to do something he never thought he could.

Now, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, something stirred within him.

Heat.

A fire ignited in his chest, spreading through his veins like wildfire. His heart pounded, and his entire body felt electric. His hair stood on end, goosebumps rippled over his skin, and his blood seemed to boil with excitement.

To be seen. To be noticed. To have the eyes of so many fixed on him.

This feeling… This feeling was intoxicating.

He loved it.

"For Barmulodi!"

This time, he roared the words, his face flushed with passion and intensity.

Leon punched his fist into the air once again, his entire body trembling as if it couldn't contain the surge of energy inside him. His eyes burned like twin flames, his excitement reaching its peak.

Leon's fervor was infectious, spreading like a spark to his companions. They had already heard of Leon's role in the events of the past two days, how he had followed Bardi into the Brotherhood's headquarters, witnessed the deaths of the three brothers, and seen the neighborhood fall under new rule.

And now, they felt it, this was their chance to create their own legend.

"For Barmulodi!"

Leon's friends raised their fists in unison, punching the air as their voices rang out. Their faces turned red from shouting, their youthful passion ignited like a roaring flame.

They weren't content to remain unseen, unremarkable.

This was their moment.

The old order was gone. It was time to create a new world.

The young men shouted as if their voices could shatter the walls of the suicide ghetto, as if they could break free from the poverty and hopelessness that had bound them for so long.

"For Barmulodi!"

The fervor was contagious.

The heat was contagious.

The madness was contagious.

The faith was contagious.

Even the original Brotherhood members couldn't resist its pull. At first, they looked at one another hesitantly. But slowly, one by one, fists began to rise.

"For Barmulodi!"

The voices grew louder, more powerful. Like a tide, the chant spread until nearly every voice joined in. It was as if the room had been consumed by a virus, an unrelenting wave of belief and fervor that united them all.

"For Barmulodi!"

The sound grew into a deafening roar. It gathered around Bardi like a physical force, a storm of devotion and madness that surrounded him.

The fiery energy of the crowd burned hotter and hotter. Their eyes locked on Bardi, filled with awe and reverence. Their bodies trembled with adrenaline, their voices hoarse from shouting, but they didn't stop.

Bardi stood at the center of it all, his figure absorbing the sound waves and the frenzied energy.

"Hahahahaha…"

Bardi suddenly laughed. His grin widened into a wild, unrestrained smile, and a faint red light flickered in his eyes as he looked out at the crowd.

The feeling was exhilarating.

The entire world seemed to revolve around him, roaring his name, submitting to his will.

He straightened his body, standing even taller. His laughter abruptly stopped, his face turning serious as he raised his right fist.

And then he punched the air.

The force of his motion seemed to ripple through the room, stirring the air as if he had physically shifted the space around him.

The crowd erupted again, their fervor reaching its climax. They raised their fists as one, their blood boiling, their bodies shaking with raw emotion.

"For Barmulodi!"

***

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