Another powerful figure in Hell's Kitchen was dead.
John was in no hurry to leave. He walked over to Corey's body.
The patterned snake was barely breathing.
Corey clearly hadn't been an ordinary man. In his desperate final struggle, he had taken the snake down with him.
"His muscles are beyond normal human limits," John said, narrowing his eyes and poking the rigid muscles with a finger. "It seems to be connected to anger."
He noticed Corey's tattoo.
The red snake tattoo gradually turned blue-green again as death set in.
Holding his left hand just above the skin, John closed his eyes.
He sensed something different about Corey's body.
It was as though he had been modified, making him much stronger.
John stood and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Drawing his wand, he tapped the tabletop.
An invisible ripple spread outward.
This was a spell he had created himself.
The Extrasensory Spell.
Like radar, it could generate an image of everything nearby in his mind.
It was a little like Matt's ability.
Among the information returned by the Extrasensory Spell, John located a metal shelf in the room.
It held various objects used as decorations.
He reached behind a book and pressed something.
A section of the wall opened.
Ferdinand finally snapped out of his daze and hurried after him.
Behind the wall was a small room.
The money piled on a table inside held Ferdinand's gaze captive.
John went straight to a safe inside.
"There must be something really valuable in there. Too bad we don't have the code," Ferdinand said regretfully.
John raised his wand and gently tapped the safe.
"Alohomora."
The dial on the locked safe began turning on its own.
The mechanism clicked into motion.
Ten seconds later, the safe door sprang open.
Ferdinand's jaw dropped. Though he was already accustomed to John's unusual methods, this sight still left him speechless.
The open safe contained plenty of things, including cash and assorted valuables.
Tossing things carelessly onto the floor, John examined a vial stored in a box inside.
"Evolution Serum?"
He stared at the blue serum and spotted a tiny line of writing on it.
"Hell's Kitchen really does have a lot lurking beneath the surface."
He slipped it into his pocket and searched the safe a little longer.
He found and opened a hidden compartment containing a badge.
It bore a skull and serpentine tentacles.
It had been concealed even more carefully than the serum. Apparently, Corey had considered it more important.
The badge turned between his fingers and vanished before Ferdinand could see it.
"You want it?" John glanced at Ferdinand, who was practically drooling over the money.
"I..." Ferdinand looked at the money, then at John. In the end, he chose to act as though money meant nothing to him. "Whatever you say, boss."
"From the moment you said that, you started to look like a proper chauffeur, Ferdinand."
After offering that praise, John walked straight out.
The safe held more than valuables. There were also documents.
Those were the foundations of Corey's foothold in Hell's Kitchen.
However successful he had become, Corey still had to pay enough "protection money" to certain officials in Hell's Kitchen.
What John had taken was enough to make those "protectors" afraid.
"Boss, what should we do with this stuff?"
Ferdinand was still standing there foolishly with a bag full of contraband worth several million dollars.
"Leave it here."
John was utterly unconcerned. "After all, we came here to help Matt, the lawyer."
Ferdinand knew Matt was Daredevil. At those words, he immediately dropped the bag.
He had no desire to attract the famous Daredevil's attention.
Daredevil might not kill, but Ferdinand couldn't withstand even one beating from him.
John took only three things: the vial of serum, the badge, and the documents.
He left everything else untouched.
Just as Ferdinand was about to leave, John stopped him.
"Your brother came in first." John pointed to the money in the safe with a soft chuckle. "That's the two hundred thousand he earned."
He shrugged. "I doubt anyone else is going to pay him his prize money now."
Consider it a small reward for Ferdinand's loyalty.
Ferdinand froze for a moment, then was overcome with joy.
He rushed over and grabbed bundle after bundle from the pile of cash.
Though he wanted to take it all, he was beginning to understand John's rules.
Obedience.
That was what he needed to offer as a chauffeur.
After taking the twentieth bundle, he hesitated, wondering whether to take more.
In the end, he gritted his teeth and turned to leave.
He was beginning to leave his old life as a thug behind.
He chose a future over money.
Holding firmly to this powerful patron would be the wisest choice Ferdinand could make for his future.
The two left the room. No one had discovered Corey's death yet.
They were still searching for Matt.
It was a race against time.
Matt had also picked up the pace, finding the imprisoned children beneath the Death Race preparation room.
Pulling his mask back on, Daredevil faced the fierce onslaught. He told the children to hide and handled the attackers alone.
But he was already injured, and dealing with these men was difficult.
After finally fighting his way through, he ran straight into Roman, who was leaving with a beautiful woman in his arms.
Unsure who the other man was, Matt attacked without hesitation.
He flicked a helmet off the floor and hurled it at Roman. The impact stunned Roman for a moment before he swiftly fought back.
Roman had never received formal combat training, but he had spent years on the streets and possessed a solid physique.
His fists swung with powerful force.
Matt dodged every blow, but the movements pulled at his wounds and slowed him down.
Two punches from Roman left him unsteady on his feet, and blood seeped from his wounds.
"Let's see who's your daddy," Roman boasted.
Hearing the faint crackle of electricity, Matt abruptly spun and landed a roundhouse kick on the approaching woman.
The stun baton had originally been intended for Roman, but the woman from the Viper Gang had discovered that their merchandise was missing.
Roman had no idea what was happening. Seeing Matt kick Sophia unconscious, he charged in, wrapped his arms around Matt's waist, and slammed him into a cabinet.
Matt struck him with an elbow, sending pain through Roman's back as though it were about to snap.
The two separated. Roman was about to charge again when a bald man burst through a nearby doorway and sent him flying with a punch.
"Motherf-Ferdinand?" Roman's curse cut off abruptly. Bewildered, he asked, "Why'd you hit me?"
Ferdinand broke into a cold sweat. This little bastard had dared to fight Daredevil.
"Forget hitting you! I ought to flush you down the toilet!"
Ferdinand cursed furiously, leaving Roman feeling rather wronged.
Hearing the familiar voice, Matt released the stun baton he had picked up.
Clang.
Roman was still about to reason with his brother when the sound made him look over.
He fell silent.
Matt wasn't Tony Stark. He had no high-tech weapons.
His fighting style therefore emphasized crippling rather than killing.
Roman hadn't even noticed that the man had a stun baton concealed.
If he had charged in just now, one blow could have left him paralyzed for the rest of his life.
At that thought, sweat poured down Roman's back.
His brother had saved his life.
Satan's Mansion was in an uproar. Corey's death had finally been discovered.
Outside.
John stood with his arms folded, studying his father's battered car.
"The good news is, it still starts."
Though it looked terrible, its internal components were actually undamaged.
The glass was riddled with bullet impacts, but it hadn't shattered on the inside.
His father had modified the vehicle to give it the appearance of a business car, the heart of a supercar, and the defenses of a tank.
Upon learning that the car's owner had arrived, Roman shrank like a frightened quail.
After all, his brother had repeatedly impressed upon him how terrifying his boss was.
Afraid he might be encased in cement and sunk into the Atlantic Ocean, he behaved himself impeccably.
"Matt, please give me your professional opinion. How long would someone spend in prison for stealing property worth over a million?"
Having rescued the children and sent them out through the back, Matt returned in his suit. "More than ten years."
Roman shuddered. Surely he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life in prison?
John smiled at the answer. "The vehicle has extensive modifications, an alloy body, and damaged glass. Two hundred and fifty thousand."
Looking miserable, Roman took fifty thousand from his pocket. "I only have fifty thousand."
The prize money he had won in the Brooklyn race wasn't even enough to cover the repairs.
He had intended to collect his prize money from the Death Race, only to discover that the place had descended into chaos.
No one was going to spare a thought for the winner.
Naturally, he couldn't collect the money either.
John took the fifty thousand and smiled. "Excellent. Your repair bill is settled."
"Really?" Roman was overjoyed. His brother's boss was genuinely generous.
"No problem. Add your two-hundred-thousand-dollar prize, and it's exactly enough." John snapped his fingers.
Ferdinand had barely gotten his hands on the two hundred thousand. With an agonized expression, he lifted his shirt, revealing bundles of cash strapped around his waistband.
Heartbroken, he removed all the money from his waistband and put it in the car.
Roman gaped. This was probably the closest he had ever come to two hundred thousand dollars.
As that fortune vanished before his eyes, his world turned bleak.
"I could've opened an auto repair shop with that money."
"It's my money now." John rubbed salt in the wound and raised one finger. "Also, a reminder: cleaning the interior will cost ten thousand dollars."
Already miserable, Roman shut down completely.
He had entered two races, won both, and ended up ten thousand dollars in debt.
Fudge staggered out of Satan's Mansion and immediately braced himself against the car door to vomit.
"Oh my God, a giant snake ate someone in there. We need to leave before the reporters arrive."
He had never seen anything so horrifying in his life. Half the Viper Gang boss's neck had been bitten away.
The place was now in complete chaos. Those celebrities couldn't afford to be photographed at somewhere as violent and bloody as Satan's Mansion.
"Matt, when did you get out?" After finishing vomiting, Fudge noticed Matt and asked in confusion, "Where did you go just now?"
"Matt is handling a theft case for me."
John shrugged. "Now he owes me thirty thousand."
"Thirty thousand?!" Roman shrieked. "Wasn't it ten thousand just now?"
"These back seats are genuine leather." John pointed at the spot Fudge had vomited on.
"Then charge him!" Roman didn't even know Fudge. Why should he foot the bill?
"Because he's your attorney now." John smiled kindly. "Otherwise, you'll be going to prison."
Roman could only swallow the injustice.
Fudge had intended to place a bet for John, but unfortunately, he hadn't been able to find where to do it.
"It's fine. That's my fee for the job."
John stuffed the money Fudge had handed back into Fudge's pocket and gave it a pat. "I'll still need your help down the road, Fudge."
Fudge really wanted to refuse, but unfortunately, John had given him far too much.
"Oh, right." John was about to climb into his pickup and leave when he stopped and said to Matt, "I know a good tailor. Your clothes don't fit very well. Since you're blind, I figured you probably hadn't noticed."
Matt considered it for a moment, then said, "Thanks for the recommendation. I might have a suit made."
The door shut, and the pickup drove away.
Roman drove off to get his own car repaired, having paid thirty thousand out of pocket on top of everything else.
The two lawyers stayed behind, watching them leave.
"He's a real weirdo, and he's sick in the head." Fudge felt his pocket, its reassuring weight comforting him. "But he's rich."
"You have no idea. That guy actually made one person kill another."
As Fudge muttered on, he began to understand why Matt wanted nothing to do with John.
Matt's thoughts, however, had drifted elsewhere.
As they walked along one end of the street, a black SUV started up.
Sitting inside was none other than Madame Gao, who had left earlier.
Matt abruptly turned his head. He couldn't hear a heartbeat coming from that vehicle.
As the car drove farther away, a trace of gravity settled over Matt's face.
Hell's Kitchen was growing more and more complicated.
Before you continue