Is This Fucking Marvel?

"Kid, have you lost your mind?" Seeing Bai Jing point the gun at his own head, the gangsters were all dumbfounded.

If you want to be the boss, you point the gun at us to threaten us—what's with pointing it at yourself?

"What, if we don't agree, are you gonna shoot yourself?" one guy said, and the others burst out laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, little brat, don't tell me your bullets can curve!"

Another round of roaring laughter.

The air was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

"What a pathetic way to be a boss—dying like this, and not a single person grieving?" Bai Jing glanced at Bront's corpse lying nearby, then looked at the laughing crowd.

He raised his hand and pulled the trigger!

The revolver had six bullets total.

In the alley, that N-word used up three, and Bai Jing used two to take out Bront and Carland.

This was the last one!

Bang!

Gunpowder erupted, the bullet left the chamber!

An orange-yellow bullet, carrying the impact force of 300 meters per second, shot straight toward Bai Jing's temple!

At that moment, Bai Jing raised his left hand, swiftly reached toward his right temple, and then pinched sharply!

An orange-yellow bullet was now clamped between his index and middle fingers!

In the hall, the laughter seemed to hit a pause button, stopping all at once.

Bai Jing loosened his fingers, and the bullet clattered onto the gray-black marble floor, striking fear into everyone's hearts.

Every single bodyguard stared in shock at the bullet on the ground, their faces full of doubt and disbelief!

That was a bullet—even if just from a revolver—how could anyone catch it?

"In martial arts, speed is the only thing that matters," Bai Jing said calmly, looking at the crowd. "From now on, I'm in charge of the Gray Squirrel Gang. Who's for it, and who's against?"

The bodyguards exchanged glances, none daring to speak.

"I'm for it!" Ryan quickly raised his hand. "Our Gray Squirrel Gang should have welcomed a smarter boss long ago!"

"Ah, right, right!" one bodyguard immediately lowered his gun. "From now on, you're our boss!"

"Yeah, yeah..." the other bodyguards nodded hastily, quietly tucking their guns back into their suits.

Catching a bullet with his bare hand—who'd ever seen that?

Of course, it could be fake, some special effect, but no one dared to gamble on that possibility. What if it wasn't?

They were bodyguards, not suicide soldiers.

"Good!" Bai Jing nodded. "Clean up the bodies, call the main leaders for a meeting, and tell me everything—what's the Gray Squirrel Gang's current situation, what's our main business?"

"Yes, sir!" The bodyguards nodded and turned to leave. Two came over to carefully drag away the Quinn Brothers' corpses.

Bai Jing sat back on the sofa, casually wiped off the dust and mites, then turned on the TV.

SpongeBob had already ended, and now a paternity test show was playing. The host shouted, "This kid isn't yours!"

Then the woman covered her face and ran off, leaving the man cheering on stage.

"Boss, here are the Gray Squirrel Gang's files!" A pair of round, fair spheres forming a valley suddenly appeared before Bai Jing. He looked up and saw a girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, about 1.7 meters tall, with an incredible figure.

"Denny Roberts!" The girl set down the files in her arms and extended a hand. "Secretary of the Gray Squirrel Gang!"

"Ah, oh..." Bai Jing reached out and gave a light shake. "You can go now."

"Uh." Denny's face darkened. I deliberately wore sexy clothes, sprayed perfume to cover my body odor, and put on powder to hide my pores—are you blind, ignoring my charm?

But she only dared to think it, since Bront's body had just been carried out.

"Tch!" Bai Jing rolled his eyes. Euro-American women have worse skin than me—how could I be interested?

Isn't an Asian girl better?

My wife is Gakki!

He looked down at the files, but after just two pages, he sensed someone else coming.

Ryan dragged over a dark-skinned man with deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, messy beard, but still quite dignified overall, wearing gold-rimmed glasses—an Indian guy.

"Boss, this is our Gray Squirrel Gang's accountant, Alba Khan!" Ryan said.

"Hello, boss!" Alba Khan spoke excellent English, with barely any curry accent. "My name is Alba Khan, I graduated from Princeton University's math department, and I'm 38 years old!"

"Huh? Isn't Princeton's math department the best in the world? How'd you end up like this?" Bai Jing was shocked.

Princeton University was the go-to place for all those scholarly types showing off, especially the math department—if not number one, close to it.

That kind of holy ground was something Bai Jing, from a second-tier college in his past life, never dared to dream of!

Graduates from there, even if they didn't go into math research, were usually hired by Wall Street at high salaries. How did you end up as a gang accountant?

Alba Khan gave an awkward smile.

"He used to work on Wall Street too, but then he hooked up with the boss's daughter..." Ryan said from the side.

"That's no big deal!" Bai Jing replied. "You could just marry her!"

After all, a math grad from Princeton University was hardly a downgrade as a son-in-law.

"That boss had four daughters!" Ryan gestured. "The youngest was only fourteen!"

Uh.

Bai Jing was speechless. "You didn't go after all of them, did you..."

"Good-looking guys, that's just how it is!" Alba Khan sighed. "Boss, you're as handsome as I am, so you must run into this kind of trouble all the time too, right?"

"I, uh, yeah!" Bai Jing nodded awkwardly. "That's right, it's like that. Women just keep clinging on, can't shake 'em off. I'm at work, damn it, and they still show up at the office..."

If it weren't for the 300,000 bride price and the 1.5 million house he couldn't afford, Bai Jing probably would've been married by now.

So the bottom line was simple: Alba Khan had not only slept with that executive's four daughters but also had no scruples about his usual affairs, and ended up blacklisted on Wall Street. The executive even put a bounty on his head.

Not that anyone actually tried to assassinate him, though.

Luckily, Hell's Kitchen didn't care about that. There were plenty of prostitutes around here, most of them chasing dreams on Broadway, and their quality was surprisingly high.

You might even run into a streetwalker on the corner who could belt out a rendition of Nessun Dorma.

"Alright, that's not important anyway!" Bai Jing waved a hand. "First, tell me—how much money does the Gray Squirrel Gang have right now?"

"The Quinn Brothers have about two hundred thousand US dollars stored through me. Whether they have private accounts, I don't know," Alba Khan answered honestly.

"Huh? That little? Did you embezzle some?" Bai Jing was shocked.

"No way!" Alba Khan quickly shook his head. "I'm an accountant with professional ethics. I'd never do something like steal an employer's assets."

"But hasn't the Gray Squirrel Gang been around for five or six years? How come there's so little money?" Bai Jing turned to look at Ryan. The intro he'd just read seemed to mention this.

"Six years. We started in 2002," Ryan replied.

"But eighty percent of the gang's profits have to be handed over to Kingpin. The remaining twenty percent has to support all these people. There's just no way to save up money!" Alba Khan said honestly.

"Huh?" Bai Jing froze. "Who did you just say?"

"Kingpin. The underworld king of New York," Alba Khan answered. "But Boss, you don't need to worry about him. Just report to him, keep handing over the profits as usual, and he won't cause us any trouble."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Bai Jing rubbed his temples and asked, "Then do you know Tony Stark?"

"That playboy? I'd like to know him, but he doesn't know me," Alba Khan said.

Bai Jing was silent for a long time, then asked, "Osborn?"

"Osborn Group, the fourth largest military contractor in the country?" Alba Khan countered.

Bai Jing was silent for another long moment, then blurted out, "Damn it!"

I thought I was the only one with superpowers, and now you're telling me this is Marvel?

I was all set to buy the lithography machine and get the hell out!