Facing the pincer attack from Kingpin and Bullseye, every muscle in Sean's body tensed. His enhanced, powerful physique surged with inhuman strength. Time seemed to slow at that instant as he strode forward, fearlessly meeting the heavy cane swinging down at him and the sizzling white arcs of electricity.
Like an arrow loosed from its bow, he slammed into the Black Emperor's mountain-like body.
Crack!
A clear sound of breaking rang through the wrecked room. The aggressive Kingpin's eyes widened in stunned disbelief as his massive body flew through the air like a mammoth struck head-on, then crashed heavily onto the floor with a deafening boom.
The blazing white current fired from the cane lashed across Sean's body like a long whip, crackling violently, yet it did not make him convulse or collapse in paralysis.
The tiny currents were completely devoured by the hungry cells within Sean's body, like water being absorbed by a sponge. His powerful body, transformed by the mysterious potion, could absorb and use even the energy of starlight. What was a high-voltage current that merely threatened ordinary people?
"Are these little toys all you can use?" Sean turned to Bullseye, a coldly gleaming throwing knife pinched between his fingers.
Bullseye, Kingpin's trusted subordinate, stood frozen for a moment, unable to speak. He stared blankly at the Black Emperor lying on the ground, his fate unknown, as a chill suddenly rose in his heart, like the shadow of death looming over his head.
"Your boss isn't dead yet, but he soon will be." Sean smiled faintly. "Are you ready to accompany him, Mr. Bullseye?"
Before Bullseye could answer, a swift flash of cold light streaked through the air. The cruel killer, whose hands had been stained with countless lives, stared with dull eyes as an indescribable coldness flooded his heart. He slowly fell, a sharp throwing knife embedded in the target mark on his forehead.
After dealing with the cold-blooded killer Bullseye, Sean strolled over to Kingpin and looked down at the ruler of New York's underworld. The Black Emperor's chest had caved in as though he had been struck head-on by a train. His breastbone was completely shattered, blood foam involuntarily spraying from his mouth and nose. His breathing had become rapid and weak. It was clear that before long, the terrifying crime lord who had struck fear into New York's underworld would reach the end of his life.
"Mr. Wilson Fisk, please accept this one-way ticket from hell." Sean looked at the struggling Black Emperor with cold indifference in his eyes.
Kingpin desperately reached out and grabbed Sean's pant leg, his eyes filled with unwillingness. He had never imagined that he and Bullseye would suffer defeat at the hands of such a young boy. Those vicious thugs and ruthless killers, the criminals who murdered without blinking, had all once knelt at his feet and humbly offered up their loyalty and dignity.
He had climbed from being a minor gang leader in Hell's Kitchen to the throne of a crime boss through daring, ruthless fighting. In the end, he became the ruler of New York's underworld. How many life-and-death crises had he endured along the way? The Irish entrenched in Hell's Kitchen, the fierce and powerful Russians, the influential Japanese Hand—all of them had fallen in his path.
Relying on Hell's Kitchen's illegal businesses, Kingpin amassed enormous financial capital and built a massive criminal empire. Then he reinvented himself as a successful real estate businessman, entered high society, and even chatted and laughed with the mayor and police chief as equals. Who could have imagined that this bald, fat man, who appeared sincere and warm, was actually a notorious gang boss?
But now, all of it had become an illusion. As he felt his life slipping away bit by bit, the Black Emperor's vision gradually blurred and his eyes lost focus. This young boy was like a terrifying demon who had suddenly appeared, ending all his dreams and grand ambitions with one hand.
"Ugh... ugh..."
Seeing that Kingpin still wanted to say something, Sean remained calm. Personally ending a living life was no longer something difficult for him to accept. This world was not beautiful. Like Hell's Kitchen, filled with chaos and crime, it was cold and cruel.
"We don't know each other, and you never offended me. But I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson Fisk. I need to stand higher. To achieve that goal, someone must be sacrificed." Sean casually kicked away the Black Emperor's hand gripping his pant leg. "Just as you had to kick aside the stumbling blocks before you in order to rise from a petty hoodlum to a gang boss, I imagine you never cared about those innocent souls you stuffed into sacks and threw into the Hudson River."
Kingpin's breathing grew weaker and weaker. Listening to the young boy's words, he instead felt relieved. He had always considered himself a hunter, yet he had never expected that one day he would become someone else's prey.
As his life neared its end, memories long buried in the depths of his heart became vivid once more. His hot-tempered father beating his mother in the kitchen. His young self trembling as he raised the hammer in his hand. Blood filling his vision, and the demon in his heart awakening from that day on... He dropped out of school and joined a gang, selling marijuana pills through the streets and alleys, taking part in gang shootouts... He personally beat to death a minor boss who opposed him, then smoothly became a gang leader...
The memories flashed before his eyes like slides, frame by frame, before finally stopping on the beautiful back of a slender woman. Her name was Vanessa. She ran a well-regarded gallery and was graceful and generous. Kingpin, who had always been indifferent to love, had rarely felt his heart stir.
What a pity...
Kingpin's eyes held a lingering attachment to the world as he struggled to exhale his final breath.
Boundless darkness swallowed 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 windows. Sean gazed out at the bustling nightscape, a barely perceptible smile curling at the corner of his lips.
"You have three minutes left to leave." The little girl's voice came through the communicator.
Sean glanced at the cold corpses on the floor, then made a phone call.
In the wealthy district of Hell's Kitchen, inside a duplex apartment.
James Wesley was restless. He held his phone in his hand, conflicted emotions churning in his eyes. As Kingpin's deeply trusted personal assistant, he held an extraordinary position and authority in Hell's Kitchen.
The rational and levelheaded Wesley knew that everyone's respect and fear toward him came from the terrifying Black Emperor. He was merely the executor and spokesman of Kingpin's personal will.
Should I tell Mr. Fisk?
Wesley turned his phone over in his hand. How was he supposed to explain it to his boss? That a madman had broken into his home last night and loudly declared that he would kill Hell's Kitchen's Black Emperor?!
With a soft sigh, Wesley set down his phone. He did not know what he was expecting. Could the words of a madman truly be believed?
Mr. Fisk had spent years proving his unshakable position in Hell's Kitchen with his terrifying reputation. Even when the Japanese Hand had dispatched several elite ninjas last time, they had still suffered losses and returned empty-handed.
What gave that man of unknown origin the right to claim that he could kill the Black Emperor and his capable bodyguard, Bullseye?!
Wesley gave a self-mocking smile. Had ambition truly blinded him? He had actually believed the ravings of a madman.
Bzzzz!
The phone on the table suddenly vibrated. Wesley instinctively snatched it up, only to find an unfamiliar number. After hesitating, he answered, 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, waves crashing through his heart. His body trembled faintly. Deep inside, he seemed to be vaguely hoping to hear a certain piece of news—a hope and desire he normally would not even dare to imagine.
"Tomorrow, you will become Hell's Kitchen's new emperor. Are you ready, Mr. Wesley?"
The voice spoke casually, as though it were stating some trivial matter.
P.S. Esteemed readers, while you're letting the story build up, don't forget to vote...
Though the sapling is small, it still needs frequent watering (~￣▽￣)~
Before you continue