The Hand's Sinister Plan

Kingpin's deafening roar reverberated through the spacious office, as though even the air were trembling from it.

Simply standing before him, one could feel that terrifying pressure, almost solid enough to take form, mingled with bloodshed and power. It was enough to make anyone weak-willed go limp in the knees and tremble with fear.

The current Kingpin was utterly different from the husband who had been anxious over his wife's condition, even carrying a hint of plea in his demeanor. This was the true ruler of New York's vast underground empire, a king who could decide life and death with a single word.

At the same time, several knocks sounded from beyond the office's heavy door. A voice thick with anxiety and concern came through the door. "Boss? Are you all right? Do you need help in there?"

Facing the door, Kingpin roared in a low voice that still carried lingering anger, though he had forcibly suppressed it. "I'm fine! Go do your jobs!"

The office fell silent again, leaving only Kingpin's heavy breathing.

His gaze shifted away from the door and slowly swept across the four young people before him. Lin Hai looked calm, his eyes thoughtful, as though that outburst had merely been ordinary background noise; Gwen still wore a polite smile; Peter had a touch of curious amusement in his eyes, but his stance was relaxed and fearless; Harry, as always, remained steady, his gaze sharp and composed.

Not the slightest trace of the panic or fear he had expected could be found on those four young faces.

The rage in Kingpin's chest still burned, but the sight nevertheless left him somewhat surprised, along with an indescribable sense of reflection.

One massive hand unconsciously rubbed the knuckles of the other as he spoke with complicated emotions in