Sudden Attack

Under the cover of the deep night, Sean quietly climbed back into his apartment through the window. He took off the hooded sweatshirt concealing his appearance, removed his body armor and tactical dagger, then lay on the bed lost in thought. Tonight, he had paid a visit to James Wesley, Kingpin's personal assistant and one of the Black Emperor's most trusted confidants.

He had deliberately crafted an image of someone mysterious and unpredictable so Wesley would be unable to discern his origins, leaving him with an unfathomable impression. Smart people usually thought more than ordinary people, and that was exactly what Sean wanted. He intended to use that sense of mystery to erode the intimidation and awe Kingpin inspired.

Sean had no interest in becoming New York's Black Emperor. He only wanted to use Kingpin's wealth to take the first step toward his grand ambitions. Rule Hell's Kitchen? That was something to consider later. To make a smart man betray his boss, he first had to stir the desires buried deep within him.

Ambition was an instinct everyone was born with. Most people merely dressed it up as some seemingly glorious ideal or unwavering conviction.

Wesley was a capable, intelligent man. People like him were rarely satisfied with what they had, because they believed they deserved more—a higher position, greater wealth, stronger power... Human desire was endless, like a bottomless abyss that could never be filled.

Could some nobody who had appeared out of nowhere really make Wesley suddenly turn against his boss, the notorious Black Emperor, just by spouting a few delusional, mad remarks?

Not even the strongest protagonist's halo could accomplish that. All Sean needed to do was plant a seed of ambition in Wesley's heart. If Kingpin truly fell, then who should inherit the vast fortune left behind by the Black Emperor?

Sean had never believed there was absolute loyalty between people. As long as the price was high enough, anyone could betray you. The only question was whether you could afford to pay it.

Kingpin disguised himself as a philanthropist and social elite, often funding young people from Hell's Kitchen and helping them complete their education. Those who received his kindness would often join companies under Kingpin's name and become members of New York's largest criminal organization.

Wesley was one such person, except he had been the most successful of them all. A young law student from a prestigious university had transformed into the legal adviser of a gang boss, eventually becoming Kingpin's personal assistant and managing all kinds of business in Hell's Kitchen for him. It had to be said that such a life was quite legendary.

Perhaps, in Kingpin's eyes, he had already given Wesley enough. But Wesley might not see it that way. Who did not want to climb higher and sit in a loftier position?

"That lawyer who likes going out at night should thank me. After all, I'm about to solve a huge problem for him." Sean rested both hands behind his head and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Sometimes, he felt unfamiliar when he looked in the mirror. Ever since arriving in this world, he had gained power beyond ordinary comprehension, growing stronger little by little. He could kill gang members who threatened him without changing expression. To achieve his goals, he could use certain unsavory methods when necessary—for example, spreading news about Osborn Industries and the Green Goblin, or using Dr. Connors to perfect the Decay Rate Evolution Algorithm.

Sean could not say whether those changes were good or bad. In any case, he had chosen this path, so he had to walk it without hesitation. Any stumbling block in his way would be ruthlessly crushed beneath his feet—or kicked aside.

Gradually, determination returned to the young man's eyes. This was not a world where normal people, or good people, could survive. When villains destroyed the world, when aliens invaded, no one would spare you just because your morals were better than everyone else's.

"The world was never beautiful. It was dangerous and cruel." Sean muttered to himself before falling into a deep sleep.

The next day.

As night fell.

A huge, burly figure stood before the floor-to-ceiling window. He had a smooth, gleaming bald head and wore a tailored suit. His face always bore a sincere smile, and there was nothing especially terrifying or imposing about him. It was hard to imagine that this kindly-looking bald fat man was actually Kingpin, a name feared throughout the criminal underworld.

"Bullseye, did you know? My father was an irritating drunk. Every day, he came home wasted and took his anger out on my mother and me. Once, I was bullied by a thug at school. After my father found out, he took me to find that bastard. He grabbed the person who had bullied me and told me to beat him hard. He said, 'Only when your fists are hard enough will others fear you and dare not bully you.' So I beat that thug badly. When the blood splashed onto my face, I understood that violence, like fine wine, was intoxicating."

"That was the only thing that drunkard father ever taught me." Kingpin rubbed the button on his cuff, the smile on his face gradually fading. The murderous aura of the underworld emperor suddenly burst forth. "Money and power can make people bow and surrender their dignity, but only fists can make others fear you from the bottom of their hearts!"

"So after I grew up, I joined a gang and resolved to become the man with the hardest fists."

"Boss, you rule all of New York's underworld. Who did not fear your prestige and power? Even those ungrateful Irish and the Russian Mafia obediently handed over their territory."

The flattering words came from a lean, capable man dressed in a black trench coat and tight leather pants. He was called "Bullseye," one of Kingpin's few trusted confidants, serving as both enforcer and bodyguard. A target was tattooed on his forehead, and his eyes radiated cruelty and malice.

Many gang leaders who refused to submit to Kingpin's rule had died at this man's hands. Bullseye had once been a notorious professional assassin before Kingpin hired him as his chief killer. He possessed an innate talent for throwing, capable of hurling any object in his hand at a target with unbelievable precision. Playing cards, toothpicks, darts... in his hands, all of them could become terrifying weapons of murder.

"Why didn't you deal with Daredevil last time?" Kingpin asked Bullseye. He knew that this subordinate of his rarely failed.

"A guy with a skull printed on his clothes saved him," Bullseye said viciously.

"Punisher... Hell's Kitchen was becoming more and more interesting."

Daredevil was a street-level hero who had emerged recently. Dressed in a strange costume resembling a red devil, he went around fighting criminals. Last month, he had ruined several of Kingpin's operations in a row. Kingpin did not care much about the financial losses, but the underworld emperor could not tolerate anyone daring to provoke him.

As for the Punisher, he was even more vicious than Daredevil. Any criminal caught by him would find it difficult to survive. He was skilled with all kinds of firearms and was likely either a mercenary or a retired special forces soldier who had undergone rigorous training. The New York Police Department had already listed him as its most dangerous target and was hunting him with all its strength.

"Bullseye, find out Daredevil's identity. I want to play with him slowly." A cruel smile appeared at the corner of Kingpin's mouth. It had been a long time since he had encountered someone so interesting.

Kingpin had seen many people who fancied themselves righteous. They thought they were heroes from comic books, capable of saving the world. In the end, they all knelt at his feet, crying and begging for mercy, completely abandoning the convictions they had once upheld.

Money could make people bend at the waist. Power could make them lower their heads. Violence, however, could fill those with money and power with fear.

Kingpin gazed proudly over Hell's Kitchen. This chaotic place, once a slum, now lay beneath his feet. Those casinos, nightclubs, hotels... all belonged to him. Those thugs, gang enforcers, drug dealers... all knelt at his feet. He was the hidden ruler behind this city, standing on equal footing with the powerful figures of New York.

Just as the underworld emperor was immersed in his achievements, a tiny flicker of fire swayed beyond the floor-to-ceiling window. Then it rapidly grew larger, streaking toward the luxury apartment where he stood.

"Boss, watch out!"

Bullseye was the first to sense that something was wrong and immediately shouted a warning.

Kingpin's eyes widened, every muscle in his body tightening. Despite his astonishing 450-pound frame, he was not slow in the slightest. He nimbly threw himself aside. The bulletproof floor-to-ceiling window exploded with a deafening crash, glass shards filling the air as the blast wave swept in every direction, tearing apart the expensive carpet, the oil paintings hanging on the walls, the dazzling high-end liquor cabinet... everything in the room. Scorching flames licked at the leather sofa and hardwood floor like the gaping maw of a beast.

A powerful rocket had opened the assault.

P.S. I caught a cold, so there's only one update today...

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