Chapter 39: Kingpin? He’s just a Piggybank

Chapter 39: Kingpin? He’s just a Piggybank

The man was dressed simply and modestly.

Just a common black jacket and pants, topped with a baseball cap, and a rugged face with a neatly trimmed beard around his chin and upper lip.

His body was lean and muscular, and his fierce demeanor made him appear unapproachable.

Especially those eyes, filled with aggression.

Ordinarily, most people would be intimidated or dislike such aggressive eyes, but Bi Xiao, being scrutinized by them, showed no signs of impatience or anger.

Instead, he was very calm.Nnêw n0vel chapters are published at novelhall.com

However, beneath this calm often lurked a terrible storm.

Just like Bi Xiao now.

His eyes met those of the man, his black pupils as deep as an abyss, seemingly ready to devour souls at any moment.

This man, under Bi Xiao's gaze, felt a surge of fear within.

His eyes wandered uncontrollably, no longer meeting Bi Xiao's.

Finally, the man suppressed the fear rising instinctively within him and forced himself to meet Bi Xiao's gaze again.

"Very impressive eyes. Go back and tell Kingpin, if my identity is revealed, I will burn his so-called empire to the ground, and then, death will be a luxury for you."

Bi Xiao set a subtle mental suggestion in this man’s mind with his powerful psychic abilities. As he finished speaking, he turned and walked towards his apartment.

As for the man, he stared intensely at Bi Xiao's departing figure.

Normally defiant, if anyone else had spoken those words to him, he would have responded with brutal violence. But now, he lacked even the courage to act.

Those tranquil pupils haunted his mind, making him feel as though his body was no longer under his control.

"Damn it..."

Bullseye drove to the Hell's Kitchen building of Kingpin, ignored the security and staff, and took the elevator to Kingpin’s office.

He knocked on the door, and Kingpin’s voice came from inside.

“Come in.”

Pushing open the door, he saw the spacious and luxurious office, Kingpin standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows in a white suit, talking to a man in his thirties wearing glasses.

Bullseye knew this man’s identity, James Wesley.

Also Kingpin's most trusted and capable assistant.

After James Wesley and Kingpin finished their work summary, he stood aside.

“I failed,” Bullseye approached Kingpin and said solemnly.

“Ha, that’s an interesting piece of news. Did you kill him?”

Kingpin, holding a cigar and leaning on a cane, asked with interest.

“No, I...”

Bullseye wanted to say more, but then his eyes suddenly changed, a tremendous psychic power inexplicably burst forth, and in Kingpin's view, the world in front of him suddenly twisted into darkness and chaos.

Kingpin, as the most ruthless mob boss, had a far stronger mindset and will than ordinary people. He didn't panic or fear, but stood frowning.

At that moment, in the dark world, a pair of huge eyes appeared, cold and merciless, as if a deity was looking down on mortals.

“Butcher?”

Feeling the presence of these eyes, Kingpin immediately sensed it and looked up, saying solemnly.

“We can talk.”

Kingpin tried to communicate, but a huge voice like a bell boomed in his ears.

“You should hope I forget you, Kingpin.”