Chapter 62: Aren't you the king of the underworld? Let me see how well you can fight

The setting sun dipped low, and the sky gradually darkened.

Wilson loved standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows of Fisk Tower at sunset, admiring the moment Hell's Kitchen transitioned from dusk into night.

Because only once the sun had set would Hell's Kitchen reveal its true self.

Filthy, chaotic, murderous... a kingdom belonging to the king of the underworld. It would not obey any laws or rules; it would only submit to him, Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin!

Wilson was accustomed to lighting a Cohiba cigar, pairing it with a glass of whiskey, and then sitting in that soft chair to silently admire his kingdom.

However, this time, the situation seemed somewhat different.

Wilson looked out at Hell's Kitchen as it gradually sank into the night. Under the reflection of the setting sun's afterglow, it appeared somewhat desolate and bleak. Even seeing the sparse figures on the streets, he suddenly sensed a trace of chill.

"No, this is bad, BOSS!"

Just then, a subordinate rushed in, crashing through the door, his face full of terror.

Ordinarily, if anyone dared to disturb him at this time, they would inevitably be rewarded with a bullet.

But perhaps it was that trace of chill from earlier that gave Wilson an ominous premonition. He turned around, his eyes fierce and tyrannical, staring at the subordinate who had burst through the door: "What happened?"

"J-just now... Hell's Kitchen has been completely blockaded!"

The subordinate trembled, wiping away the cold sweat pouring down, and said in terror: "The people below say they saw many military armored vehicles, and even... even tanks!"

Armored vehicles? Tanks?

The moment Wilson heard this news, he even suspected if his subordinate was on drugs.

"Are you sure you didn't see wrong?" It wasn't that he didn't believe it; it was just too inconceivable. The military had nothing to do with them; why would they go to the trouble of blockading Hell's Kitchen?

It couldn't be that the army was short on funds and planned to come to Hell's Kitchen to rob some, could it?

That wasn't realistic either; even if they emptied the entirety of Hell's Kitchen, it might not be enough for those pampered soldiers to consume for two days.

"BOSS, I swear I absolutely didn't see wrong!" The subordinate's face had turned somewhat pale from fright, and he raised his hand tremblingly to swear: "Several hundred armored vehicles have surrounded our Hell's Kitchen tightly; not even a fly can fly out!"

"Tell everyone to come back; you must not provoke the military!"

Wilson realized the severity of the situation and immediately turned to pick up the phone on his desk.

The military was coming aggressively; he needed to know some inside information at the very least.

After dialing a number, Wilson weighed his tone, trying to appear as gentle as possible: "Councilman Charles? This is Wilson Fisk..."

"Wilson? What Wilson? I don't know you; stop making random calls!"

Who would have thought that the congressman on the other end of the line would directly deny it and hang up the phone.

"???"

An ominous premonition surged in Wilson's heart.

He hurriedly dialed a second number, but the result was much the same; this time, no one even answered.

The third, the fourth... until the tenth call, either no one answered, or they directly denied knowing him.

Bang!

Wilson smashed the phone with a punch, dark veins throbbing, his entire face turning purple from rage.

"I paid so much money, and in the end, they're all trash! Trash!" The angry roar echoed throughout the large office. Wilson's fists, like iron bowls, shattered the two-meter-long jujube wood table; one could see just how terrifying his strength was!

"N-no, this is bad, BOSS!"

Just as Wilson was at the peak of his anger, the subordinate who had gone out earlier returned. This time, he had a mournful face, as if he had lost a loved one.

"What is it? Speak!"

Wilson growled irritably, glaring at the subordinate.

"The, the army has all moved in and is heading towards Fisk Tower!"

"The target... is it me?!"

Wilson's pupils shrank suddenly, then turned ferocious: "Damn it, what on earth happened? Why would the military come looking for me!"

He didn't understand how the military had bypassed Congress to openly blockade Hell's Kitchen.

Had the brains of that group of damn councilmen on Capitol Hill all been thrown away?

But the current situation did not allow Wilson to think too much.

"BOSS, should we just fight them to the death?"

The subordinate suddenly had a flash of inspiration and made a suggestion to Wilson.

Fight to the death?

Wilson was almost amused by him.

Fight the military to the death? What did he take him for?

He was the king of the underworld, not Superman; what did he have to fight professionals with?

Even if you brought a superhero, ask him if he could withstand a shot from a main battle tank's cannon.

Moreover, the military was clearly prepared; armored vehicles and tanks had all arrived. Who knew if fighter jets were already prepared to take off? What did you have to compare with them?

"Get lost!"

Wilson couldn't be bothered to deal with him and slapped the idiot away.

Just as he was about to leave through a secret passage, his keen intuition, cultivated over many years, suddenly issued a strong danger warning!

Almost instinctively, Wilson's massive body curled into a ball and rolled into the corner of the room like a dung beetle.

BOOM!!!

In the next second, the specially thickened office wall was suddenly smashed open, creating a huge hole.

Amidst the diffusing smoke and dust, a huge black shadow burst into the office: "Wilson Fisk, get out here quickly!!"

At first, Wilson was furious, and in his rage, he was about to rush out to teach this bastard a lesson.

To tell him with iron fists who the true king of the underworld in Hell's Kitchen was.

However, just as he poked his head out, once he saw clearly the black shadow that had burst into the office, Wilson directly dismissed the unrealistic thought he had just had.

It was a humanoid mecha about two meters tall, but unlike the streamlined bodies in science fiction novels of the past, this mecha's size was too large!

And the quantity and variety of mounted weapons reached a level of insanity!

A six-barreled Vulcan cannon was mounted under the left arm, a grenade launcher was mounted under the right arm, a micro-cannon was carried on each shoulder, and there was even an exaggeratedly styled firearm at the waist.

"Motherf..."

Wilson's eyelids twitched as he watched, thinking to himself, was it really necessary for the military to use this thing to deal with him?

You couldn't even call it using a cannon to kill a mosquito; it should be using an atomic bomb to blow up a mosquito!

"My friend, is there some misunderstanding between us?!"

Just by taking one look, Wilson knew that this thing was absolutely not something a human could fight, so he decisively chose to beg for mercy.

"Misunderstanding? There is no misunderstanding!"

Tony had nowhere to vent his full-blown rage and directly raised his left arm, the Vulcan cannon ready to fire.

The sound of the mechanical rotation was like the bell tolled by the Grim Reaper!

Wilson cursed wildly in his heart. What kind of heaven-defying, earth-shattering thing had he done to make the military go to such great lengths to deal with him?

"Hey, hey, hey, are you there?"

Suddenly, Alvin's voice sounded inside the armor, interrupting Tony's murderous intent.

"Did you find Pepper?!"

Tony was somewhat pleasantly surprised, to the point that he ignored the Kingpin.

"No, but soon." Alvin said unhurriedly and slowly: "I'm just reminding you, remember to leave the Kingpin's life for me; absolutely do not kill him."

Glancing at the Kingpin who was sneaking away, Tony gritted his teeth in anger: "Fine, I'll leave him for you; hurry up!"

Having said that, the Vulcan cannon mounted on the left arm swept across lightly, directly cutting off the Kingpin's intention to flee.

But thinking about it over and over, Tony couldn't swallow this anger no matter what. He glared fiercely at the Kingpin and simply threw away the equipment mounted on his arms, clenching his fists together, making a dull clanking sound: "Come on, aren't you the king of the underworld? I heard you're very good at fighting; let me see how well you can fight!" ===== CHAPTER 63 =====