Brothel Manager : Unexpected Encounter with A Hidden Family Heirloom

Note: Thank you @Anthony_0756 for the 5 Golden Tickets.@@novelbin@@

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Amidst the shroud of the pitch-dark night, in the heart of the training grounds, Das's movements were a mesmerising display of controlled fury. Armed with the royal sabre, its edges honed to a razor's precision, he attacked a human-sized rock statue that stood like a silent sentinel. Stay connected through My Virtual Library Empire

The sabre's golden hilt seemed to dance in Das's practiced grip as he unleashed a series of strikes upon the unyielding rock. Each motion was a testament to his mastery, the blade's path precise and purposeful. The air sang with the sound of steel slicing through the night, a harmonious symphony of determination and technique.

As the sabre met the rock statue's surface, sparks of energy seemed to fly, the collision a testament to the power coursing through Das's veins. With each strike, the statue's surface chipped away, fragments of stone scattering like stardust in the darkness.

Sweat glistened on Das's forehead, mingling with the exertion that etched lines of concentration on his features. But he pressed on, his focus unwavering, his strikes as relentless as a storm. He moved with a grace that belied the weight of his weapon, each movement a calculated dance of skill and intent.

Time seemed to lose its meaning as the battle between man and stone continued. Das's breath synchronised with the rhythm of his strikes, his heart pounding in tandem with the sabre's song. His movements held an almost meditative quality, as if he and the weapon were extensions of the same purpose.

With every impact, the statue yielded, its form gradually eroding like ancient memories worn away by the passage of time. The pebbles that fell from the statue's body mingled with the dirt, a testimony to Das's unyielding assault.

Half an hour passed—an eternity in the realm of determination and sweat-soaked perseverance. And finally, as Das's relentless strikes stopped, the statue succumbed. The last vestiges of the stone crumbled, and it stood no more, reduced to a scatter of pebbles on the ground.

Breathing heavily, Das lowered the sabre, its blade gleaming like a beacon in the night. He surveyed the scene, the remains of his battle with the rock statue. There was a sense of triumph in his gaze, a reflection of the dedication and discipline that had fuelled his every strike.

In the moonlit aftermath, Das's silhouette stood tall, the training grounds were silent once more, the only evidence of the fierce struggle a trail of pebbles and a warrior's resolve that remained etched into the night.

Das carefully sheathed the black alluring sabre, its beauty and power held within the confines of its cursed form. Whispers had circulated among the people, tales of the sabre's ominous legacy, but Das paid little heed to superstition. Instead, he settled into a meditative posture, his eyes closed, as he focused his attention inward.

In a state of deep contemplation, he sought to detect any changes that might have arisen from the Silvester family serum he had consumed in the palace treasury. Time seemed to stretch as he patiently observed, his senses attuned to the subtle shifts that might reveal themselves. Ten minutes passed, the stillness of the night unbroken by any overt transformations.

Frowning slightly, Das rose from his meditative stance and began to execute a series of motions. His body moved with fluid precision, each action a part of his disciplined routine, each designed to reveal any alterations in his strength or senses. He sought signs of the serum's effects, a heightened awareness, an enhanced agility—anything that might signal a change.

Yet, as he moved, he felt no surge of unfamiliar energy, no heightened perception that wasn't present before. The world around him remained unchanged, and his own body felt as it always had. With a sigh, Das reluctantly accepted the results of his observation. The serum's effects, if there were any, were not immediately apparent.

Das sheathed the royal sabre once more, its weight a reassuring presence at his side. With each step he took, his thoughts were a whirlwind of contemplation.

As he walked toward the palace, the night seemed to wrap around him, an enigmatic shroud that held secrets and possibilities. The journey ahead was as much a reflection of his past as it was a stepping stone toward the future he was shaping, one step at a time.

In the dimly lit corridors of the palace, Das's steps were deliberate, his mind preoccupied with his thoughts. However, his journey was abruptly interrupted as a figure lunged at him, pinning him against the cold stone wall.

Though he recognised the person without needing to see their face, Das remained still, allowing them to press against him. It was Latha, the deputy leader of the girl gang.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he regarded her, his eyes alight with a playful glint. "Why are you always jumping like a monkey?" he quipped, his tone light despite the situation.

Latha's hold on him didn't waver, but her expression softened, revealing a mixture of irritation and fondness. "Hey, I'm your lover now," she retorted, her tone teasing as she met his gaze. "You should treat me with affection. Why are you cursing me? I've been waiting for you since a long time. Do you have any idea how hurtful my knees are?"

Das chuckled, his amusement evident as he looked at her. He placed the royal sabre on the ground beside them. "Oh, really?" he questioned, his tone both intrigued and entertained. "Why are you waiting for me, then?"

"Why are you training so hard when you already enough wealth? Yesterday, when I heard your screams, I felt a pain in my heart. I am the first one who came to see you. But that old fellow tied you to a pole and stopped us from nearing you. You should stop training like this." Latha said with a puppy face.

"Hey kiddo, where did you learn these sweet talking's. Are you watching those love dramas instead of training?" Das asked with a questioning look while laying hands around her waist and dragged her closer to him.

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Your's lovingly,

PeterPan :-)