Their Tombstone

Although, according to the information Elektra had revealed, The Hand had spent centuries building its influence in secret, with territory spanning the globe, tentacles reaching deep into both political and business circles, and a tangled, deeply rooted structure that made it a true behemoth.

Everyone present, however, whether through personal power, extraordinary intelligence, or the vast resources under their control, had long since surpassed the bounds of ordinary people.

This dark force was certainly formidable, but it was still far from enough to make them shrink back.

At that moment, everyone was fully focused on processing and consolidating the wealth of information they had just obtained, rapidly calculating and weighing possibilities in their minds as they tried to find the optimal path to destroy The Hand at the lowest cost and with the greatest efficiency.

After a long while, the silence was broken by a deep voice. It was Kingpin.

This formidable man had fought his way up from the very bottom of New York, stepping over the bones of countless opponents to claim the throne of New York's underground emperor. He had seen every kind of conspiracy and exhausted every possible strategy.

His massive body leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped atop the brand-new desk.

"It seems," Kingpin said slowly, his voice rich and powerful, "that trying to uproot a malignant growth that has been entrenched for centuries in such a short time is indeed somewhat unrealistic."

He frankly acknowledged how troublesome the enemy was, yet there was not the slightest trace of discouragement in his tone. Instead, it carried a cold interest that seemed to say, Good. That means I can take my time playing with them.

"But that's fine. In this world, there has never been an opponent Kingpin couldn't kill!"

His tiger-like eyes swept across everyone