Madame Gao's secret stronghold.
Madame Gao, Murakami, who had already died, and Xin stood face-to-face.
All three of them looked extremely grim.
The atmosphere was indescribably oppressive.
Two Fingers of The Hand had personally shown up, along with Murakami's disciple Xin and more than fifty ninjas. Such a "luxurious" lineup had actually suffered such a crushing defeat.
Not only had they failed to capture Iron Fist, but they had also lost nearly half their men. Even Murakami had been "killed."
For Murakami and Madame Gao, this was an utter humiliation.
Of course, that was not the most critical point. The most critical point was that this whole operation seemed to have been for nothing.
"Perhaps we were mistaken. Kingpin is not Iron Fist."
Madame Gao spoke, her brow wrinkled like a chrysanthemum blooming in late autumn as she addressed the other two.
"That's right. Kingpin is not Iron Fist!"
Murakami nodded and agreed in an exceedingly certain tone.
They had once belonged to K'un-Lun, so they knew Iron Fist very well.
The moment they exchanged blows with Kingpin this time, they had immediately confirmed it.
Although Kingpin's fists could glow like Iron Fist's, Kingpin was not Iron Fist.
"But that is no longer important. Kingpin and us are now locked in a fight to the death," Madame Gao said grimly.
Kingpin had once tried to kill Xin, and they had now launched a large-scale attempt on Kingpin's life, losing so many men in the process. There was no way to settle this peacefully now.
Even if Madame Gao did not care about those who had died, Kingpin would never let the matter rest.
"I'm sorry. It was my mistake! I provided false intelligence."
Xin lowered his head deeply at the side and admitted his fault to Murakami and Madame Gao.