150 The Only Legacy - The Bastard

Kang Sheng sat behind a desk, his eyes listless, yet frighteningly cold. His gaze was fixed on the video playing before him, a bizarre, depraved expression carved on his face. He leaned back in his chair as the picture progressed, his fingers playing idly with the loose ends of his hair. He had had them tied in a ponytail, but strands of it still fell on his shoulders and face.

He was disappointed.

The screen showed the image of a boy running around in a barren playground, then it cut to another visual of him reading at a library. Sheng's eyes turned colder as he looked at the bastard, his aura demeaning and dark. The man's lips curled, and he let out a mirthless laughter. The scar on his face gave him a dangerous look, one that had to it the edge of someone insane.

He stood up.

Sheng's brown suit fit him perfectly, showing off his broad chest and narrow hips. He was proud of his body, his beauty and his brain. The man knew of his own demonic presence, and it gratified him that others would piss their pants and drop to their knees just because of his existence.

The world breathed for him.

Because of him.

And it would stop and burn if he wanted it too.

Kang Sheng looked at the file spread out on the table before him. It was a photograph album, and it had pictures of the members of the Kang family. The page had been turned to the photo of a thin faced man with deep hazel eyes. His mouth was unsmiling but had a sly trace to it. His face was pale, and he seemed malnourished, but his features were good looking, albeit of slightly wild appearance.

Sheng's laugh turned darker when he looked at Kang Sung's face.

That assh*le… his third son… the only useless, foot licking scoundrel in the family.

Sheng looked up at the screen, the video still focussing on the boy reading a book. He could see the resemblance between his son and that bastard boy. And every time he saw it, coal black outrage coursed through his blood and made him want to kill.

Kang Sheng slowly turned the pages of the album, his eyes searching, the evil smile still plastered on his face. He stopped when he saw the picture of the girl, that Sung himself had put into the album when he had been alive.

Sheng never understood his son's choice.

The girl was ugly.

F***ing ugly.

It was good that the bastard had inherited Sung's features. His mother was no good. He, however, was a beautiful boy. Sheng liked that.

And he would have enjoyed killing him too, had his other two grandsons not died.

His successors were useless.

Sheng sometimes wanted to kill them all.

That piece of garbage.

He knew now Kang Sung's woman was involved in it all.

It thrilled him �� how this woman kept on giving him trouble and barely escaping his reach. He let her play around too. He'd be too bored if she just died. Not to mention, he would never forget the night he had watched her play the game of chance – Russian roulette. It was a lethal game, a player placed a single round in a revolver, spun the cylinder, and placed the muzzle against his or her head. Then, he pulled the trigger.

Six years ago, Kang Sheng had seen this woman put the gun to her head and pull the trigger thrice.

And she hadn't lost.

That was the only aspect of her that explained Sung's involvement with trash like her.

Sheng closed his eyes and breathed. He shut the picture book and took a round around the table. Leaning against the edge, he eyed the boy, and his eyes glistened again.

Without moving his eyes from the screen before, he took out a cigarette and lighted it. Then taking in a puff, he put the lighter to the album. Slowly, the pictures caught fire.

The book burned.

Sheng put his chin on the desk, only inches away from the blackened book, and whistled at the red flames. The heat made his scar twitch, but he enjoyed the beautiful ruin.

Kang Sung. His woman. His own two sons. His two dead grandsons.

Kang Sheng could forgive and kill it all.

He didn't care about their existence, but he couldn't acknowledge it that they had betrayed him. They were his flesh and blood. His creation.

The only one to destroy them should have been him.

But, that was it. He could destroy them all in the blink of an eye.

Kang Sheng stood up again, his sea blue, dark eyes boring evilly into the screen. The video switched to the boy walking out of Raven International School now. The camera showed a close up of his face.

Sheng crushed the cigarette between his fingers with leisure.

He couldn't kill the bastard. Because he didn't have heirs anymore.

But it stung him, poisoned his insides when he looked at the boy's face.

The bastard's eyes, most of all.

Out of all the members of the Kang family, no one had ever inherited the same eyes as Kang Sheng. The sea deep, cutting blue.

The boy had. That bastard had.

And it was a legacy of a kind – those were the eyes of the founder of the Kang Group of Industries, and decades later, only Kang Sheng was born with those same eyes. Now, it had been passed on to that filth.

Sheng had had the boy's charts read too.

He wasn't pleased.

The boy had to be brought. Or killed.

Kang Sheng was yet to decide which.