New Emperor

Facing the pincer attack from Kingpin and Bullseye, Sean's muscles tensed. His modified, powerful body surged with inhuman strength. Time seemed to slow as he took a massive stride forward, fearlessly meeting the heavy cane swinging towards him, along with its crackling, blinding white electrical discharge.

He moved like an arrow loosed from a bow, slamming into the Black Emperor's mountain-like, robust physique.

Crack!

A clear shattering sound echoed through the wrecked room. Kingpin, eyes wide with disbelief and shock, was sent flying through the air like a mammothed elephant struck by a blow. With a thunderous crash, he landed heavily on the floor.

The blinding white electric current from the cane, like a whip, lashed against Sean, emitting crackling sounds. However, it didn't cause him to convulse or fall paralyzed.

The fine electrical currents were absorbed by Sean's hunger cells like water by a sponge. His powerful body, modified by a mysterious potion, could absorb and utilize energy even from starlight, let alone high-voltage currents that were dangerous to ordinary people!

"Is that all you've got?" Sean turned to Bullseye, holding the glinting throwing knife in his hand.

Bullseye, Kingpin's trusted subordinate, was momentarily stunned speechless. He stared blankly at the Black Emperor lying on the ground, his fate unknown. A chill suddenly ran through him, like the shadow of death cast upon his own head.

"Your boss isn't dead yet, but he will be soon," Sean said with a slight smile. "Are you going to join him, Mr. Bullseye?"

Before Bullseye could even answer, a swift cold light flashed through the air. The cruel killer, whose hands were stained with countless drops of blood, stared blankly, an indescribable chill washing over him. He slowly collapsed, a sharp throwing knife embedded in the target pattern on his forehead.

Having dealt with the cold-blooded killer Bullseye, Sean strolled over to Kingpin's side, looking down at the ruler of New York's underworld. The Black Emperor's chest had caved in, as if hit head-on by a train. His ribs were completely shattered, and blood foam spurted uncontrollably from his mouth and nose. His breathing grew rapid and weak. It was clear that before long, this terrifying figure who struck fear into the hearts of New York's underworld would reach the end of his life.

"Mr. Wilson Fisk, please sign for this one-way ticket from hell." Sean looked at the struggling Black Emperor with cold eyes.

Kingpin desperately reached out and grabbed Sean's pant leg, his eyes filled with unwillingness. He couldn't believe that he and Bullseye would be defeated by such a young boy. Those ruthless villains, those bloodthirsty thugs, had all knelt before him, humbly offering their loyalty and dignity.

From a small-time gang leader in Hell's Kitchen, he had climbed to the throne of a mob boss through daring, ferocity, and ruthlessness, eventually becoming the ruler of New York's underworld. He had faced countless life-or-death crises along the way. The Irishmen who dominated Hell's Kitchen, the fierce and powerful Russians, the influential Japanese Hand – all of them had fallen on his path forward.

Kingpin amassed vast capital through illegal businesses in Hell's Kitchen, building a powerful criminal empire. He then rebranded himself as a successful real estate developer, infiltrating high society, even engaging in friendly conversation with the mayor and the police chief as equals. Who would have thought that this outwardly sincere and enthusiastic bald, fat man was actually a terrifying mob boss?

But all of it had now turned into a fleeting dream. Feeling his life draining away, the Black Emperor's vision gradually blurred, his eyes losing focus. This young man was like a terrifying demon who had suddenly broken through, ending all his dreams and grand ambitions with his own hands.

"Hhngh..."

Seeing Kingpin still trying to say something, Sean remained calm. Ending a life firsthand was no longer something difficult for him to accept. This world was not a beautiful place, just like Hell's Kitchen, which was filled with chaos and sin – cold and cruel.

"We don't know each other, and you haven't offended me. But I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson Fisk, I need to reach a higher position. To achieve that goal, some people have to be sacrificed." Sean casually kicked away the Black Emperor who was gripping his pant leg. "It's like how you had to kick away the obstacles in front of you to go from a punk to a mob boss. I imagine you never cared about the innocent souls you stuffed into sacks and threw into the Hudson River."

Kingpin's breathing grew weaker. Listening to the young man's words, he felt a sense of release. He, who had always considered himself a hunter, now found himself prey in someone else's eyes.

At the brink of death, memories buried deep within his heart became vivid. His hot-tempered father beating his mother in the kitchen. His young self trembling as he raised the hammer in his hand. A large expanse of blood met his eyes, and the demon within him awakened... He dropped out of school and joined a gang, starting by selling marijuana pills on the streets and participating in gang wars... He personally beat to death a small-time leader who opposed him, and then smoothly became a mob boss...

Memory after memory flashed before his eyes like slides. Finally, it settled on a slender, beautiful figure – a woman named Vanessa, who ran a well-regarded art gallery. She was elegant and graceful. Kingpin, usually indifferent to emotions, felt a rare spark of affection.

What a shame...

Kingpin's eyes held a lingering attachment to the world as he let out his last breath. Boundless darkness consumed everything. The Black Emperor of Hell's Kitchen, the ruler of New York's underworld, was dead.

The biting night wind blew in through the shattered floor-to-ceiling window. Sean gazed at the bustling night view outside, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

"You have three minutes to leave," a little girl's voice came from the communicator.

Sean glanced at the cold corpse on the ground, then made a phone call.

In the affluent district of Hell's Kitchen, within a duplex apartment.

James Wesley was pacing restlessly. He held his phone, his eyes filled with conflicted emotions. As Kingpin's trusted personal assistant, he held an extraordinary position and power in Hell's Kitchen.

The rational and calm Wesley knew that everyone's respect and fear towards him stemmed from the terrifying Black Emperor. He was merely an executor and spokesperson for Kingpin's will.

"Should I tell Mr. Fisk or not?"

Wesley twirled his phone. How was he supposed to explain this to his boss? That some madman broke into his house last night and blabbed about wanting to kill the Black Emperor of Hell's Kitchen?!

With a soft sigh, Wesley put down his phone. He didn't know what he was hoping for. Was a madman's words worth believing?

Mr. Fisk had proven his unshakeable position in Hell's Kitchen through years of terrifying reputation. Even when the Japanese Hand dispatched multiple elite ninjas last time, they ultimately suffered heavy losses and retreated in failure.

Why would this person of unknown origin dare to claim he could kill the Black Emperor and his capable bodyguard, Bullseye?!

Wesley gave a self-deprecating laugh. Was he blinded by ambition? To actually believe the ravings of a madman.

Bzzzzzz!

The phone on the table suddenly vibrated. Wesley instinctively picked it up quickly, seeing an unfamiliar number. He hesitated before answering, and a familiar voice came from the other end.

"Hello, Mr. Wesley. You should still remember me, after all, we had a friendly conversation last night."

Wesley felt as if he had been struck by lightning, his heart churning with a tempestuous storm. His body trembled slightly, and a faint hope seemed to stir in the depths of his heart—a hope and longing he never dared to even think about.

"Tomorrow, you will become the new emperor of Hell's Kitchen. Are you ready, Mr. Wesley?"

The voice said it casually, as if stating a trivial matter.

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Even a small seedling needs frequent watering (～￣▽￣)～