Durandal's little display was enough to make the boss of the black market hardware store shrink back in sheer terror.
He realized then that if he hadn't been so quick to read the room, he would have ended up just like that table—left without so much as a corpse to bury.
As for Durandal claiming she wasn't here for the money?
Well, after she finished grilling him about the locations of the bosses in other sectors and left with a bulging bag of cash, the boss decided that wasn't extortion at all. It was a "tribute" he had insisted she take. How could such a formidable lady be interested in mere money?
After leaving the hardware store, Durandal headed toward the nearest gambling den.
This time, she didn't barge straight into the back office like she had at the hardware store.
The previous boss had warned her that, generally speaking, the ringleaders of these dens lived outside the city limits. As for exactly where, he wasn't quite sure.
They only ever showed up from the outskirts with a squad of elites when someone caused a scene that the regular bouncers couldn't handle.
So, Durandal decided to simply force their hand. She was going to tear the place down.
Walking into the gambling den, Durandal dumped the "tribute" she'd just collected from the hardware store onto the floor and looked at the staff. "Convert all of this into chips for me."
Inspired by the hardware store boss, Durandal figured that if you're going to shear the sheep, you might as well get all the wool.
While she didn't particularly enjoy gambling, it was the most efficient way to smoke out the boss and, incidentally, seize the illegal gains of the establishment.
And so, on that unremarkable summer night, the legendary "God of Gamblers" of Sundown Alley was born.
By the time the chips in front of Durandal were piled mountain-high and the dealer's face had turned a ghostly shade of pale, the boss finally made his fashionably late entrance.
On his way over, the boss had already heard the report from his flunky.
A master had arrived. They had deployed their most seasoned dealer, and even with the most time-tested cheating techniques, they couldn't stop the stranger's winning streak.
It left him no choice but to take the table himself.
The boss didn't try to intimidate her upon arrival; he simply shoved the dealer aside. Confident in his own sleight of hand, he rolled up his sleeves and looked at Durandal. "Miss, I'll play against you."
"Fine."
It made no difference to Durandal—she was going to win regardless.
After all, the Honkai is omnipotent. A little gambling was hardly a challenge. With the power of Honkai energy assisting her, even a real God of Gamblers would have been forced to drink his own tears.
Sure enough, an hour later, Durandal had won every chip in the house. The boss, eyes bloodshot from the crushing defeat, wanted to keep going, but he realized he had run out of chips.
Looking over at Durandal, the pile was so massive that it couldn't even fit on the table anymore; it was spilling out onto the floor.
The boss's face darkened. He snapped out of his gambling trance instantly. He decided it was time to play dirty.
"Miss, I don't suppose you've heard the saying 'know when to stop'?"
He shot a cold, sharp glance at the bouncers already standing behind Durandal.
Durandal let out a mocking laugh. "I only know how to press my advantage!"
With that, she stood up.
She didn't reach for her weapon. The gambling den was cramped and packed with people—staff and customers alike—leaving no room to swing a lance. But Durandal wasn't helpless without one.
At the very least, she had mastered the martial arts techniques that Fu Hua had refined over thousands of years.
In a blur of motion, Durandal spun, tilted her head to dodge a fist flying toward her face, and then clamped her right hand over the attacker's wrist. With a sharp twist and a squeeze, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the room.
"My hand! My hand!"
The bouncer pulled back, his mind reeling from the agony. Through blurred vision, he could see his hand twisted into a grotesque shape; calling it a "shattered bone" would be an understatement.
The fight didn't end with the loss of one man. Durandal unleashed a flurry of strikes, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud-thud as she dropped every bouncer in the room.
Only then did the boss realize the battle was lost.
Trembling, he pulled a stack of checks from his coat, scribbled a figure with his pen, signed it, and handed it to her with shaking hands. "This... this is the total value of all the chips in the den. We don't have this much cash on hand, so I can only offer you a check."
The boss looked genuinely worried that the check would offend her.
But Durandal wasn't some two-bit thug who only took cash.
To a "model citizen" like her—someone with a clean record and excellent ties to various local governments—a check was far more convenient than lugging around a bag of physical money.
Durandal pocketed the check and, just like at the hardware store, explained her purpose to the stunned boss.
The boss: "?"
That's it?
She caused this much chaos and cleaned out his entire treasury for something like that?
He dared not be angry, nor did he dare speak. He put on a forced smile and personally escorted Durandal to the entrance of a nearby brothel.
As she left, he cast a sympathetic look at the pimp who had come out to greet them.
The pimp had seen the gambling boss arriving with a beautiful blonde and thought she was here to start trouble. He never expected the boss to just drop her off and leave without a word.
Is he restocking my inventory? he wondered. But we haven't even talked about the price!
The pimp never imagined the "trouble" was the blonde herself until he stepped inside, took one kick to the groin, and collapsed in agony. It was too late for regrets.
Durandal thoughtfully used Abyss Flower to numb the pimp's pain, then ordered him to round up every male employee in the place who wasn't a client.
She then proceeded, with tireless dedication, to perform a "physical castration" on every one of them before finally stating her business.
The pimp: "?"
Just for this? He had lost his manhood forever? And so had every man in his establishment?
He decided he might as well retire. Maybe he'd head to Shenzhou and become a eunuch in the Emperor's palace.
Wait, there's no Emperor in Shenzhou anymore?
...Never mind, then.
After visiting three locations, Durandal stood outside the final stop of the night—a bar—with a $100 million check in her pocket.
Before she even stepped through the door, she could already sense a murderous intent radiating from within.
--+--
T/N: If you want advance chapters, you can find it at [email protected]/AspenTL