The Liberator, the False Man, the god whom he figured was apart of this elusive circle of anti-gods. Since the incident at the Endless Bar, since that fateful poker match, Dasha had long deduced the Liberator and his role in this world. It was far too obvious to him. Perhaps Daughter thought him ignorant.
Dasha was acting of his own accord, without the aid of the Whispers. He did not need them; they were but a small part of his spiderwebs. A series of grand plans to gather influence and sieze control of the White Abyss.
This grand plan spanned a week. A plan that would tip the scales of the Underground. A plan that would set down the moving pieces and turn them into grinding gears of Dasha Pang's grand machine.
Wang Lun was deep into thought. Within the bottle had been an parchment outlining the grand plan. Dasha did not speak. He simply awaited his judgment.
