This World Is Too Crazy

"Don't worry about me. Kill him!"

Elektra's voice rang out. She grabbed Stick, disregarding her own life as she shouted at him in a low voice.

"No. If we delay any longer, you'll die!"

That was what Stick said. Then, without giving her any room to argue, he helped Elektra up and quickly began to retreat.

Kingpin remained kneeling before Wesley's headless corpse, his whole body twitching uncontrollably from overwhelming grief and rage.

"Ah!"

Only after a long while did Kingpin throw back his head and roar.

Kingpin was, in truth, a ruthless and heartless man. Even if every one of his subordinates died, he would not care in the slightest. But Wesley was an exception.

In Kingpin's heart, Wesley was the only person he could call a friend.

Yet his only friend had been killed right before his eyes.

"Wesley, whoever the murderer is, I swear I will use her head to honor your memory!"

Kingpin spoke to Wesley's corpse in a voice that was almost an oath.

Elektra had kept her face covered from beginning to end, so investigating her would be quite difficult. They could only identify the target through other traits.

Kingpin began to think instinctively.

A moment later, Kingpin's gaze turned sharp, killing intent bursting forth.

Xin, was it you?

Kingpin's suspicion was not without reason.

Although he, Madame Gao, Xin, Leland, and the Big Bear Brothers currently divided Hell's Kitchen five ways and jointly governed the city, he still possessed the greatest power among them.

The police, the judiciary, political circles, and more—Kingpin had infiltrated every system in Hell's Kitchen. Calling him Hell's Kitchen's underground emperor would not be an exaggeration.

Kingpin knew every major and minor force in Hell's Kitchen like the back of his hand.

Masked, fighting with cold weapons—this style belonged to no force in Hell's Kitchen except Xin's Yakuza Gang!

Only that man had a group of ninjas like this under his command.

Furthermore, Kingpin's identity had always been a mystery in Hell's Kitchen. Very few people truly knew who he was.

Even fewer knew his identity and still dared to make a move against him!

And Xin?

He fit every condition perfectly.

Who else could Kingpin suspect if not Xin?

"Child, hold on!"

While Kingpin's mind ran wild, Stick had already dragged Elektra to a concealed, safe location.

He gave Elektra some simple emergency treatment and bandaging, then brought her to a safehouse as quickly as he could.

It was originally Matt Murdock's apartment.

The lease on the apartment had not expired, but Matt Murdock was already gone, so the room had been left vacant.

During his time in Hell's Kitchen, Stick had been staying in Matt Murdock's apartment.

"Stick!"

A Chaste disciple who had received notice early on immediately came forward to greet him.

"Quick, carry her inside."

Stick instructed the disciple. Together, they carried Elektra onto a bed that had been cleared out beforehand.

The disciple had already prepared the tools. He swiftly cut open Elektra's clothes and began examining her wounds.

"It's fine. The bullet is lodged in the flesh and hasn't damaged any organs or major blood vessels. We just need to remove it," the Chaste disciple immediately told Stick and Elektra.

Both of them let out long sighs of relief upon hearing that.

Such a wound was not fatal to Elektra at all. They had simply been overly alarmed.

Still, it was understandable. Elektra had been shot at close range, and under those circumstances...

Wait!

How could the bullet be lodged in her flesh?

A close-range shot could not possibly have so little penetrating power.

Had it hit a bone?

But judging from the Chaste disciple's tone, that clearly was not the case. Hitting bone would have been the most troublesome possibility, since bone fragments could not be cleaned out without going to a hospital.

Stick felt that something was off.

And the new Iron Fist was even more suspicious, leaving Stick completely baffled.

Why would K'un-Lun's new Iron Fist abandon his mission and instead come to a place like Hell's Kitchen to become the head of an underground force?

Could all of this merely be a cover?

Considering that those people from the Hand had also secretly infiltrated Hell's Kitchen, that seemed to explain it.

But Iron Fist's methods were clearly different from K'un-Lun's, which Stick could not quite understand.

Still, all that was secondary. Stick was not from K'un-Lun, and his knowledge of it was limited.

The most important thing was that the other man could make his fists glow!

Since Iron Fist had appeared, Stick had even more confidence in dealing with the Hand.

As for his pitiful disciple Matt Murdock?

Stick could only silently mourn for him in his heart.

Who told him he had been killed by Iron Fist?

Between fighting the Hand and avenging his disciple, Stick would undoubtedly choose the former.

Stick had even begun considering how to adjust his plans in the future.

Elektra's condition was quite optimistic. The Chaste disciple did not even need to use a scalpel, merely using tweezers to remove the bullet from Elektra's body.

He then swiftly disinfected the wound and stitched it up.

Everything went smoothly.

After Elektra was put on an IV and slept deeply for over three hours, her complexion had already improved considerably.

"How do you feel?"

Stick sat on the sofa, slowly wiping the longsword in his hand. His movements never paused as he casually asked the question.

"Won't die."

Elektra got out of bed, walked over, and sat before Stick, her face filled with exhaustion.

Thinking about everything that had happened today made her feel stifled. She had failed at the last moment!

Especially since she had actually been ambushed by such a weakling. It was simply unimaginable.

No!

Something was definitely wrong!

After carefully replaying it in her mind, Elektra became increasingly certain of one thing: Wesley definitely had not been holding a gun at the time!

There was no way she could have been mistaken about that.

When she stabbed him through the heart, his gun had already fallen to the floor.

Then what was that bullet that had hit her?

Where had the bullet come from?

It was as though the bullet had shot out of his hand from thin air. That was simply absurd.

No!

Just as Elektra was about to laugh at her own absurd thought, she involuntarily recalled Kingpin's glowing fist.

If one person's fist could turn into a red-hot iron bar, why could another person not have bullets shoot out of his hand?

This world was too crazy!

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