We're Different

By the time Leon left the restaurant and headed home, he had completely lost the urge to buy a pot.

The reason was what Aisha had told him.

"Agree? Agree to what? Maintain world peace?!"

"I've long put the affairs of the M78 Nebula behind me. Merciful lady, please spare this humble Taoist!"

Aisha: ...

With three English sentences mixed with one Chinese sentence, anyone listening would need to hire several translators.

But that did not affect Aisha's understanding. In her experience, whenever Leon wore a smile, whatever he said was usually meaningless nonsense. Whenever he got serious, it was not.

It was bullshit—the poisonous kind.

Even the prettiest middle finger was still a middle finger.

Ignoring it, Leon dropped his flippant act and sat back down across from Aisha.

Now that was more like it!

Aisha nodded slightly, then Leon finally heard what she meant by whether he would agree.

Fisk Real Estate Company.

That was the answer.

Rumor had it that this company had gotten the projects for several nearby blocks and was negotiating demolition and relocation with every household. But the terms they offered did not seem very good, and their attitude and methods hardly resembled those of a legitimate company.

"How could they be legitimate? That'd be a miracle..."

Fisk. The moment Leon heard that name, it sounded familiar. He just could not remember why. Then Aisha mentioned the real estate company, its shady practices... plus the fact that he lived in Brooklyn...

Wasn't that Kingpin?

Speaking of him, Leon did have a bit of history with him.

As the second-generation leader of a thriving social organization, Wilson Fisk, known as Kingpin, was more than ten times better than his father.

Although old Fisk, a minor gang boss, had died miserably in the street, young Fisk, who had witnessed it all firsthand, was not like everyone else.

Someone else might have had their soul shaken to the core, resolved to study hard, leave that filthy, rotten place someday, and live a bright life under the sun.

But he did not think that way. He felt that his father's death had been entirely scientific and reasonable.

Because he had not been strong enough! Not ruthless enough!

And so, having gleaned a world-shaking truth from his father's death, young Fisk resolutely devoted himself to the tireless construction of thriving social organizations.

Detergent, guns, people—if it was illegal, he dealt in it!

At the same time, young Fisk drew inferences from one example to another and realized that one person's strength was limited. Actually, it was not. So while tirelessly training himself until he became one of the strongest fighters among humans, capable of punching through a wall, he began looking for other ways to grow stronger.

They were power, money, and accomplices.

Thus, Fisk began his long campaign to consolidate New York's underworld. Along the way, he joined forces with all sorts of powers, including The Hand, earned the title of Kingpin of the underworld, and made enemies of Punisher, Spider-Man, Daredevil, and even the X-Men during his expansion.

Yet he was still alive and well. That said a lot.

Leon's connection with him was not that they were old friends. They were enemies too.

More precisely, if you fought crime in the Big Apple, it was genuinely difficult not to offend Kingpin. Leon naturally did not pick his targets. Every night, he would use the Sky Dance Technique to fly into the sky, then find some unlucky fellow and help redeem his soul. Under those circumstances, offending New York's most thriving social organization was inevitable.

In all fanfiction, Kingpin was someone who served himself up to the protagonist. Compared to other supervillains, Kingpin, as an ordinary person, was just not much of a threat. So he frequently died as an early-game minion sent to provide experience.

But Leon did not see it that way!

Leon knew his own capabilities very well.

Although Marvel always claimed Kingpin was an ordinary person... Marvel physics, you could just listen and leave it at that.

By the system's calculations, Leon estimated that Kingpin's Strength had to be at least 22. His Agility would not match his size either. As for Endurance, Leon guessed it would not be low. After all, everyone knew big people had more health. Intelligence too. While he was not at Iron Man's level, hammering together the first generation of armor in a cave with Mjolnir, he was definitely above average. Leon remembered that this guy seemed fluent in several foreign languages. He was very clever, with a high IQ.

"With that kind of ability, why not go to college, improve yourself, and contribute to the country instead of running thriving social organizations, selling detergent, and firing blue-flamed rat-a-tat-tats out in society? What was he thinking?!"

Damn capitalism!

There was no need to think about it. In a head-on fight, Leon would definitely be the one serving himself up. Not to mention that Kingpin had an organization behind him; swarming an opponent was standard procedure.

Think of Bullseye. Think of Elektra. Think of The Hand's Five Fingers...

Heh heh, we're different.

Although he rented his place... even if it was demolished, it had nothing to do with him. Still, Leon accurately identified the heart of the issue.

"Right now, this guy really is the best target to fleece!"

Honestly, if he could not even handle Kingpin, an officially recognized ordinary person, how would he deal with those who flew, burrowed underground, used technology, mutated, came from Heaven, or crawled out of Hell later on?

Even from the perspective of eliminating evil, ordinary villains could not even compare to Kingpin!

Sitting cross-legged in midair, Leon pondered for a long time.

Let's do it, brothers! Oh... cough!

Kingpin had to be dealt with. But Leon's current strength did not allow him to carry out a decapitation strike. He might not even be able to beat Bullseye.

Fortunately...

"Heh heh, I may be untalented, but I use cheats!"

Over the past few days, Leon had already reached Level 2 and accumulated a huge pile of Purification Points for draws. The only problem was that the system level was too low. The prize pool was filled with garbage, and there were very few useful items. Even those were not strong enough to bring a qualitative change to his power.

Look at Iron Man's Mark armor. Without it, Stark was an ordinary man who would go down with one bullet.

Put it on him! Even Thanos would give you a kick!

"It'd be nice if I could draw something like that!"

He could only dream. Iron Man's armor did not look like white, green, or blue-grade equipment.

Then he had to upgrade the system!

The current prize pool was 90 percent white and 10 percent green. Wasn't that practically an insult?!

Upgrade!

He had to upgrade!

Only by drawing blue or even purple equipment and skills could he truly rise up!

Leon looked out the window at the sky. If he flew out at this time, anyone could spot him. Although the Sky Dance Technique could let him fly very high, it was awkward because Leon's physical condition could not keep up.

If he flew too high or too fast, he could not adapt to the lower temperature or thinner oxygen.

Don't ask how Leon knew. The answer was rigor, caution, and self-harm!

Late at night, a resident of a certain neighborhood swore to his wife that he had seen an alien flying through the sky. After smelling alcohol on him, his furious wife gave him a vicious beating.

Afterward, his wife felt somewhat regretful and asked what the alien had looked like. He said, "The alien wore a black coat, a magician's top hat, and an eye mask. He sat on an invisible chair, eating noodles while he flew."

"Really! The noodles even fell onto my face!"