Missionary Work

"Do you all know? A group of strangely behaving people has shown up in our territory."

Murphy stared at the people around him, a look of suspicion on his face.

He was fifty this year, and in the underworld, that age was already considered quite advanced.

In Hell's Kitchen, besides the biggest overlord, Kingpin, the only other dominant gangsters present were these few people.

His gang had developed quite well. As a special economic organization, his gang operated several casinos and a loan shark company.

Within the casinos Murphy owned, naturally, there was entertainment.

As long as you had money, after getting tired of gambling, you could book a private room for entertainment. For a bit of money, you could have a bunny girl keep you company. If the mood struck, they would enthusiastically provide drugs to make the customers happy.

The so-called golden spirit was long gone. After the Mafia fell apart, later gangsters had long since cast aside their predecessors' caution and did whatever made money.

His loan shark company had professional staff in every casino to provide funds for gamblers who didn't have cash on hand.

As for whether these gamblers could repay the money, that was never a problem. As long as the person didn't run, there was always a way to make them pay.

Relying on these few businesses and their meticulous service, Murphy was thriving in Hell's Kitchen, living a comfortable and prosperous life.

Although his gang's scale couldn't compare to Kingpin's, he was still a prominent figure in Hell's Kitchen.

Recently, things had gotten even more interesting: The Punisher had, for some reason, suddenly disappeared.

This delighted them. Nowadays, in the underworld, there were two most important things.

First, don't upset Kingpin, or the overlord of Hell's Kitchen would show you what cruelty was.

Second, you absolutely had to be wary of The Punisher, or one careless mistake could send your whole family to hell.

As for Daredevil Matt? He was just a clown in a tight-fitting suit. Even if he was defeated by him, it would only mean a few days' vacation in jail.

After getting out in a few days, he could still go back to making his gang bigger and stronger.

Although it had some impact on business, it wasn't a big problem.

Murphy was old and only wanted to rely on the money earned from his current businesses to retire. He had no interest in further expansion.

However, recently, a group of strange people had actually come to Hell's Kitchen to spread their religion.

This was a huge joke. In America, who didn't know this place by reputation?

Coming here to proselytize? It was hard to say they didn't have ulterior motives. It might even be a conspiracy by one of the people present.

As soon as Murphy finished speaking, the previously noisy conference room fell silent, leaving only the occasional roar of traffic from outside and the sounds of street punks playing in the distance. The gangsters present exchanged glances, their eyes filled with both confusion and vigilance.

"Murphy, are you sure they're here to preach?" Carlos, a burly man with a face full of coarse flesh sitting opposite Murphy, broke the silence.

"Hell's Kitchen, this is a breeding ground for sin. Don't they know the rules here?"

"Absolutely certain, Carlos."

Murphy nodded, a hint of unease in his eyes.

"They wear strange clothes, wear peculiar crowns on their heads, and go door-to-door spreading their doctrine. I heard they even tried to enter some places that were unwilling to cooperate, but they weren't kicked out. Instead, they actually succeeded in preaching there. Afterward, the managers of those places were even extremely respectful to the missionaries. I don't know what kind of sorcery they used."

"Hmph, it seems they're tired of living."

A tall, thin gangster named Jack sneered, "Hell's Kitchen doesn't need gods; we only need money and power. If these missionaries dare to interfere with our business, we'll let them taste our methods."

"That may be true, but we can't let our guard down," said an older gang leader, Aiden, slowly.

"After being in this business for a long time, you learn that there are often hidden secrets behind things. The appearance of these missionaries might just be the beginning. We need to find out their true purpose."

"I agree with Aiden's view," Murphy nodded.

"Furthermore, although The Punisher has temporarily disappeared, his threat still exists. We can't let outsiders take advantage of us while we're fighting amongst ourselves. We should unite and deal with these uninvited guests first, then discuss other matters."

As the gangsters nodded in agreement, a loud bang suddenly echoed through the room, and the door was kicked open.

A group of people quickly entered; they were the missionaries Murphy had spoken of.

Kaecilius strode into the conference room with a group of missionaries dressed in strange attire and wearing crowns.

"It sounds like you were discussing us."

Kaecilius's voice was deep and powerful. He stood in the center of the conference room, surveying everyone present.

"Who are you people? And what is your purpose here?"

The gangsters immediately drew their guns and aimed them at Kaecilius. If he made any sudden moves, they would pull the trigger and turn him into SpongeBob SquarePants.

"Who we are is not important. What's important is that we ask for a little of your time. I want to tell you about our Heavenly Lord and Savior Father."

Kaecilius had a kind face, and coupled with his somewhat strange but undeniably religious attire, he truly looked like a clergyman.

In fact, although Kaecilius was here to preach, he didn't actually believe in their Lord. He simply saw Him as a sucker.

The reason he came to preach was merely His mission.

After all, this Lord had generously not charged any interest, only presenting this small request. Since that was the case, it wouldn't be right for them to freeload.

Otherwise, if they truly angered Him and He stopped providing loans, where else would they find a suzerain with such favorable terms?

"You? Preaching in this land of sin? That's a pipe dream!"

Jack was the first to lose his temper. He stood up, pointing at Kaecilius, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Hell's Kitchen doesn't need your pity or sermons. Here, only money and power matter!"

However, Kaecilius did not get angry. His expression remained amiable.

"Mr. Jack, I understand your stance and your anger, but please allow me to clarify one point. As long as one believes in the Great Father, everyone can find a path back to light and salvation. You don't even need to die; you can reach the Great Father's kingdom while still alive."

"Hmph, nice words," Jack scoffed, but he didn't loosen his grip on his gun.

"Do you think a few pretty words can change the rules of Hell's Kitchen? Don't dream on!"

Kaecilius gently shook his head, a hint of pity on his face. "Since you are unwilling to listen to us explain the teachings of the Great Father, then I happen to know a little bit about magic as well."