Chapter 1728 - Ch: 404-411

Ch: 404-411

404. Is the God of Death Blackheart Here?

The Underworld Dimension spoke with Mephisto?

Goodfellas.

The Sorcerer Supreme was slightly shocked inwardly upon hearing Mephisto's words, but on the surface, her smile remained unchanged.

"Is that so?"

"Sorcerer Supreme..."

Mephisto looked at the Ancient One with some curiosity, speaking in a somewhat strange tone: "In the World of Endless Dimensions, a piece of news was circulating a while ago. It said that the great Sorcerer Supreme had also signed power contracts with the Elf Queen of the Elf Dimension and the Sea God of the Sea God Dimension. This... shouldn't be true, right? Or have you really signed contracts with many dimensions?"

Again, the biggest taboo in the dimensions is someone who eats from both sides.

To be precise, dimensions prefer candidates with a clean record, not the kind where you open their credit report and, Goodfellas, the report isn't just messy—it's over two hundred pages long, with many overdue payments.

No dimension likes a borrower like that.

So... faced with such an accusation, the Ancient One naturally and sternly denied it.

Anyway, there is no network between the Endless Dimensions. As long as she handled things properly and didn't let her debt problem explode, no one would know exactly how much debt she had incurred.

The Ancient One flatly denied Mephisto's accusation and let out a light chuckle, looking at Mephistoand saying with a smile: "I have the Vishanti to provide me with power. I do not lack power, Mephisto."

But you need more power to resist the summons of death for you, and every time you activate the Time Stone, the power required is likely quite substantial.

And... the Vishanti?

Hearing the Ancient One's words, Mephisto couldn't help but recall another rumor that had been circulating in the Endless Dimensions for a long time regarding the Ancient One and the Vishanti.

That is, the Vishanti had actually already refused to provide any source of power to this Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One, who had held the position for tens of thousands of years.

It was simple.

The Ancient One had occupied the position of Sorcerer Supreme for too long. Long enough that a new generation of dimensions, when looking at Earth, only knew the name of the Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One, and knew nothing of the Vishanti.

In their eyes, they probably thought the Vishanti was something to drink.

Furthermore, before the Ancient One, previous Sorcerer Supremes seemed to change every thousand years, yet the Ancient One had firmly held onto the position for so long without abdicating.

But... those were just rumors.

No one could prove whether this news was true or fabricated because the Sorcerer Supreme before him 'protected' the Vishanti so well that no person or Dimensional God could find any trace of them, let alone find the Vishanti without attracting the Sorcerer Supreme's attention.

Naturally, since the Vishanti couldn't be found, there was no way to verify the truth of the news.

"Lord of Hell..."

"Sorcerer Supreme."

The Ancient One looked at Mephisto with a smile: "What, you don't believe me? Do you need me to send you to see the Vishanti to verify it?"

"..."

Mephisto shuddered and instinctively shook his head.

Instantly.

Looking at the smiling Sorcerer Supreme in front of him, Mephisto only felt a chill throughout his body.

shit!

The rumors were true.

The Sorcerer Supreme really had taken loans from countless dimensions.

Even... the matter of the Sorcerer Supreme imprisoning the Vishanti because they refused to provide her with power was also true.

Heavens!

With his mind reeling, Mephisto looked at the Sorcerer Supreme, remained silent for a moment, and said: "Goodbye, Sorcerer Supreme. Within a hundred years, Earth is still mine."

Having said that.

Mephisto pretended to know nothing, maintaining a graceful appearance as he turned and exited the stage.

"Of course, that is the content of our contract!"

The Sorcerer Supreme also watched Mephisto as he turned to leave and vanished into a cloud of black mist, responding with a smile. After Mephisto left, her tone changed, and with a sigh, she turned as the space shattered like a mirror. Her voice was somewhat cold: "What a pity. It seems you know too much."

Poor Mephisto.

This Lord of Hell probably didn't know that on Earth, there is a saying.

Misfortune comes from the mouth.

Plus... you know too much.

Mephisto only knew that after he returned to the Hell Dimension, he felt that in that instant, his hands and feet were icy cold, as if his entire being had been targeted by some monstrous beast.

The next second.

This terrifying feeling vanished again, and then, the words the Sorcerer Supreme had spoken after he turned to leave echoed in his ears.

Of course, that is the content of our contract.

That is what we agreed upon.

Hearing the words in his ear, Mephisto let out a dry laugh.

You'd better keep it that way, otherwise, I can turn Earth into purgatory within ten seconds and directly pack up and take away all the souls on Earth.

Mephisto thought to himself, then looked toward the countless succubi nearby who were putting on a revelry. He then revealed a lecherous smile, cackling wickedly as he stripped off his clothes and headed toward those charming and seductive succubi.

As for the broken law he had just brought back?

Heh.

Mephisto reached out his right hand and, without even looking, tossed it directly toward the treasury of his palace. Then, he grabbed two screaming succubi and buried his face against their sexy, charming buttocks to take a deep breath.

So fragrant!

How could that broken law be as fragrant as a Succubus's butt crack?

Besides... Mephisto's laws were complete; he didn't need that leftover, accidental law that even had loopholes.

Let the music play on, let the dancing continue!

He had just been frightened up there. Only by returning to Hell, returning to the Hell where he sat upon everything and possessed complete dominance, could Mephisto relax.

Mephisto felt he needed to numb himself.

Besides... he sat upon the entire Hell Dimension and had struggled for so many years to finally become the Lord of Hell. What was wrong with enjoying himself a little?

Was it getting in anyone's way?

Whoosh!

Thud!

"Ah!"

With a scream, the broken law that Mephisto had tossed into the air traced a graceful parabola. Just as it was about to be accurately thrown into Mephisto's treasury, an obstacle suddenly appeared in front of it, causing the broken law to slam into the back of that person's head like a cannonball.

Instantly.

This person was directly knocked down, their face hitting the ground hard.

The next second.

"Who!"

"Who did this!"

The hideously ugly Blackheart jumped up from the ground, letting out an angry roar: "Who is playing tricks on the great Son of the Demon, Blackheart?"

The surroundings were silent.

Blackheart was very angry.

Just now, he had been quietly taking advantage of his father finally being away from the palace and running off to play with those street-walker succubi. He was thinking of sneaking into his father Mephisto's treasury to see if he could find a few good items to then go and seek revenge on that damned Zero. Blackheart was walking with trepidation when suddenly, with a thud, he was hit directly in the back of the head, and it even slammed him straight into the ground.

A mouth full of ash!

"Pah, pah, pah!"

Blackheart stuck out his tongue, spitting out the sulfur-tasting ash from his mouth. Then, glaring with eyes like a bull's, he angrily looked for whoever was playing tricks on him. Suddenly, his gaze froze: "Eh?"

Whoosh.

Blackheart pounced on the ground, using both hands to cover the broken law that had fallen. Although as Mephisto's son he didn't receive much affection, he still had Mephisto's blood flowing in him, and he had some discernment: "This is a fucking law!"

The next second.

Blackheart's bull-sized eyes darted around. Then, hearing his father's heavy breathing and the moans of countless succubi from far away, his body stiffened. With a whoosh, he grabbed the law and fled at light speed.

Thud!

A moment later.

Blackheart found a corner with no one around. He looked around warily like someone who had just committed a theft, then carefully opened his palm and, without a second thought, swallowed the broken law in one gulp.

This was a law related to death.

The broken law entered Blackheart's mouth, instantly giving him a wonderful sensation of being smooth on the palate and going straight down the throat.

Blackheart felt as if his entire being was about to be sublimated.

Immediately after.

Instantly, the law of accidental death contained within this wisp of broken law was absorbed by Blackheart.

But... as Mephisto had said, this wisp of a broken death law was not complete and had loopholes. True death should be the kind where if it wants you to die, you cannot possibly live.

And this one?

It had a huge loophole. When this law lashed out, living beings would receive a signal. Once these beings dodged the punishment, the law would backfire on itself.

But.

Blackheart could no longer care about these things; he only cared about one point.

One sentence.

Although he was Mephisto's son, in the Hell Dimension, he was nothing more than a creature of the Hell Dimension.

But with this, he would be different.

"Souls!"

"Law."

"I'm going to make it big."

Blackheart looked up, his heart pounding. With this law, even if it was just a fragment and couldn't even compare to ten percent of the death law mastered by Mephisto, having it meant he could collect souls for his own use. From a certain perspective, he now possessed the ability to replace him.

And!

The ability for revenge!

Zero!

Just you wait!!!

Four hundred and five, Titan Kingpin?

Thump!

Locke landed, his figure shifting. He put on a pair of ordinary glasses, changed into his witch form, and then walked out of an alley in the Hell's Kitchen area, stopping with a thoughtful gaze downwards.

Sixth sense triggered!

Locke's eyes slightly closed, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards.

"Mephisto?"

Locke thought of his current version of the White Bone Demon and couldn't help but chuckle, "Does that fool not get tired of chanting about him three times a day?"

Ever since that beating he received from Locke in the Endless Dimensions, almost every day, morning, noon, and night, like a rooster crowing, Mephisto would precisely trigger Locke's sixth sense with his resentment.

Locke had even considered blocking Mephisto.

But... considering the fragments of the Hell Dimension that dropped from Mephisto, Locke thought about it and decided against it. Besides, Mephisto, being so punctual morning, noon, and night, could also serve as an alarm.

However.

Why was this guy so free tonight, even adding an extra meal for himself?

Locke thought to himself, shaking his head.

Suddenly, he felt a tiny bit of envy.

Look.

Even Mephisto could add an extra meal for himself at night, while he, in the middle of the night, wasn't sleeping and ran all the way here.

It's all your fault!

Locke's gaze shifted upwards. In the distance was the mansion that Kingpin had built at great expense.

"Damn it."

On his way over, Locke had thought and thought, but couldn't understand why Kingpin would do such a thing. However, since he did it, he would have to pay the price: "Let it be destroyed."

One sentence.

Anyway, he didn't mingle in the lower-class society of Hell's Kitchen. Whether Kingpin was there or not didn't concern him much, and he wasn't interested in lowering his status to come to Hell's Kitchen to grind quests.

One sentence.

Worth hundreds of millions.

No.

Any respectable person with a net worth of a million or so wouldn't even think of coming to Hell's Kitchen, let alone mingling there after getting rich.

So.

He who sows the wind reaps the whirlwind.

May he die early and be reborn early.

Locke shook his head, sentencing Kingpin to death.

In the distance!

Inside Kingpin's mansion, built at great expense.

"What?"

Inside the mansion, Kingpin, still in a suit and tie, exuding a powerful sense of oppression, with his strongman-like bald head, listened to his subordinate's report: "Damn it, where's Bullseye?"

Kingpin listened to his subordinate's report about what had happened at Captain George Stacy's apartment not long ago, and then instantly flew into a rage.

Damn it.

The mission he gave Bullseye was clear and precise!

It was simply to pay a visit, say hello, and express a certain kind of goodwill.

But what did Bullseye do?

Officer dead?

House demolished?

Shit!

You're a professional assassin, not a husky among wolves!

A minor police officer dying was nothing to Kingpin; at most, he'd find an illegal immigrant, give them some money, or not even need money, and they'd willingly confess.

But the latter?

Saying hello turned into demolishing a house?

Heh.

Actually, for Kingpin, this kind of thing wasn't a huge deal, but he certainly couldn't say it was small.

This was very bad.

For him, too.

Was this the order he gave Bullseye?

Although Bullseye was just doing a job for money, and if something went wrong, he had a hundred ways to push the blame away completely, this habit was very bad. What if other subordinates followed suit in the future? What if his words were exaggerated by his subordinates every time? Where would his authority be then?

Kingpin's face was grim.

"Where is he? Where's Bullseye? Get him over here, damn it."

"He hasn't returned yet."

"What?"

The subordinate looked at Kingpin's expressionless, muscular face, which seemed to want to squeeze two heads to relieve stress, and couldn't help but swallow, saying, "Bullseye's phone is unreachable, and it seems he's seriously injured."

"Hmm?"

"The NYPD informant said..."

Kingpin's face was dark as he coldly said to his stammering subordinate, "Said what?"

The subordinate swallowed, thought for a moment, then pulled out his phone from his pocket and handed it to Kingpin, indicating, 'You'd better see for yourself.'

After Kingpin took the phone, the subordinate retreated several steps.

Kingpin glanced at his subordinate's movements, snorted coldly, and turned his attention to the surveillance footage on the phone, which was also copied from the monitoring center.

This surveillance was from a camera across the street from Gwen's road.

It just so happened.

It was directly facing Gwen's kitchen.

Play.

Instantly, a figure was seen crashing into the kitchen with a loud bang. Following a series of clanging sounds, Bullseye, Lester, appeared in the frame, struggling to flip over, like someone fleeing for their life. He broke the glass himself, then fell out of the fifth-floor kitchen window without hesitation, disappearing into the alley's blind spot in the surveillance footage.

"Hiss!"

Kingpin watched Bullseye Lester's face hit the outdoor air conditioning unit in the footage, and he couldn't help but gasp. It looked very painful. Then he noticed the figure in the black and white battle suit, clearly a woman by her physical features, appearing in the surveillance: "Who is this?"

The subordinate shook his head honestly: "I don't know."

Kingpin suddenly looked up.

The subordinate shivered: "Our people were just about to go over when Captain George Stacy had already led his team back."

"So..."

Kingpin squeezed his right hand slightly, and with a crunch, his subordinate's phone was slowly crushed. He slowly rose, like a beast unleashed: "You have no information at all?"

The subordinate swallowed.

"Boss..."

"Ah!"

The subordinate hadn't finished speaking.

Kingpin had already lifted the subordinate by the crown of his head, like an elephant lifting a small chick: "So, you brought me nothing and woke me up?"

The subordinate, whose head was being squeezed, bled from all seven orifices: "Spare... spare..."

Just then.

"Perhaps I can tell you."

"Who?"

Kingpin was slightly stunned, looking up at Locke, who walked in from outside with a smile and sunglasses, frowning: "Who are you?"

"Pfft!"

"Thump!"

The subordinate fell to the ground, with no relief, because his head had been crushed.

Kingpin pulled out a handkerchief from his suit pocket, wiped his right hand, which was stained with warm blood, and looked up, staring at Locke expressionlessly: "Where are my people?"

Locke was very honest: "Dead."

Not only were all the people guarding the mansion outside dead, but to be precise, except for Kingpin, there were no other living people in this mansion.

Locke was often a very gentle and easygoing person.

But... once Locke was angered, in his eyes, everyone was equal.

Since they lived in Kingpin's mansion, they were Kingpin's people. Since they enjoyed good fortune with Kingpin, then when the house was raided, they should also be raided with Kingpin.

As for Bullseye, Lester?

Heh heh.

Locke had just taken the time to place an order at the Continental Hotel. He estimated that by tomorrow at the latest, the information on Bullseye Lester's entire clan would be sent to his email.

At that time.

Kill those who should be killed. In Locke's eyes, when an avalanche occurs, every snowflake strives to reach the end of the world.

Kingpin heard Locke's words.

He smiled.

"Do you know how many people have tried to kill me this year?"

"I don't know."

Locke had never paid attention to Hell's Kitchen before. If he were to mingle in Hell's Kitchen, given his level and status, he would be lowering himself. He was seeing Kingpin for the first time today.

"Thirty-fifth."

"Oh."

"Do you know what their ultimate fate was?"

"I don't know."

Locke shook his head: "And I'm not interested. You can go now."

Talking too much is the villain's prerogative.

Not his.

After Locke finished speaking, he opened his right hand.

The next second.

"Roar!"

Kingpin suddenly burst out like a wild bear, appearing directly in front of Locke, his right fist, like a small mountain, whistling as it smashed towards Locke's face.

"Hmm?"

Locke stood still, sidestepped, then instantly bent down, sliding his feet backward, and regaining his balance. He looked at Kingpin thoughtfully: "Interesting."

Kingpin was immune to magic.

Good heavens.

This was the first time.

Locke raised an eyebrow, looking at Kingpin, who once again moved with a speed that completely mismatched his size, and once again dodged Kingpin's attack: "What exactly are you?"

It wasn't some magical construct resisting.

The reason was simple.

Any magical construct, under his infinite energy, would directly shatter, because no magical construct could withstand his infinite energy. Even an Infinity Stone, as long as he poured infinite energy into it fast enough, could be burst by his infinite energy.

Kingpin... was immune to his magic through his own being, directly immune to his abilities at the fundamental level.

"Interesting!"

"The interesting part is yet to come."

Kingpin let out a hiss, and in a single breath, his bulk seemed to grow even larger, now appearing to be a full two and a half meters tall: "A magician, no wonder you dare to come for my life, but I am a Titan!"

"Boom!"

"Thump!"

Locke's figure vanished from where he stood, reappearing behind Kingpin, his eyebrow raised: "Titan, really?"

The Titan race... weren't they extinct?

No, wait.

There was still one orphan of the Titan race, that purple sweet potato, the comb-headed Thanos.

However, unlike the Orphan of Zhao, Thanos, this Titan orphan, didn't become an orphan because of outsiders, but by his own strength. He made himself an orphan.

Because... the reason the Titan race became extinct was Thanos.

It was Thanos, in his youth, who personally wiped out the Titan race, making himself a Titan orphan...

406. Superman vs. Titan

However... Thanos isn't the focus.

After all, that one-eyed Odin is still staying in Asgard, and on Earth, the loan expert Sorcerer Supremeholds the Time Stone with a resounding reputation; even if Thanos had a hundred times more courage, he wouldn't dare come over.

And the Kingpin before him?

Goodfellas.

Someone gave him enough courage to actually dare to provoke Locke.

Not bad.

"Titan?"

Within Locke's eyes, the light of the M78 Nebula Dimension, which had been listed via a shell, shone unpredictably. Watching the big guy Kingpin undergo his transformation, the corners of Locke's mouth curled up slightly: "You do indeed have a bit of Titan blood in you."

However, to call oneself a Titan with just a tiny bit of bloodline that has been diluted for at least several hundred generations is a bit of an overstatement.

At most... Locke tilted his head and thought seriously for a moment, then shook his head: "Sorry, I can't find the right adjective for a moment, but what do you think of the term 'mongrel'?"

Kingpin's eyes narrowed slightly.

He moved.

An earthquake.

He swung his fist.

"Die!"

"Boom!"

After Kingpin saw his heavy fist descending from above like Mount Tai Pressing Down, and that sandbag-sized fist striking Locke, a brilliant smile appeared on the big guy's face.

But, in the next second.

"Hmm?"

Kingpin felt the feedback from his sandbag-sized fist and was slightly stunned: "What?"

In his sight.

With one hand in his pocket, Locke blocked the sandbag-sized fist with his other hand. Then, with a smile, he slowly pushed it aside, tilted his head, and looked at Kingpin, whose expression was quite wonderful: "Is it very unbelievable?"

Kingpin's eyes narrowed further!

The next second.

"Boom!"

"Thud!"

Locke retracted his hand, took off his sunglasses, stretched his neck, and looked at Kingpin, who had been sent flying backward and had crushed the stone table on the lawn to pieces: "Titan, it seems you aren't much more than this."

Goodfellas.

Fortunately, I kept some points for a rainy day.

Locke thought to himself.

Name: "Locke Broughton!"]

achievement points: "300,000"]

potential points: "300,000"]

Current: "Locke Broughton"]

Switchable: Assassin Peerless, Witch Locke, Cain of the Blood Clan, Dimension Zero!]

Domain: "Land of Light Dimension Domain"]

Level: Level 1!]

Faction: "Salem Witches"]

Member: "Carrie!"]

Member: "Cordelia Goode!"]

Status Description: "Converted from the Supreme Talent Extraordinary Golden Quality/Level 3 and the faction Land of Light. It possesses all the characteristics of the Supreme Talent, providing infinite energy while serving as your base camp!"]

Supreme Talent: "Iron Body!"]

Quality: "Gold!"]

Level: "Level 2!"]

Status Description: "Congratulations on leveling up. Your body will once again receive a significant boost. Perhaps you can try upgrading to Level 5 and see if you can resist a nuclear bomb with your physical body!"]

"..."

Since magic and such had no effect on Kingpin, and bullets probably couldn't pierce him either, there was no other way; Locke had to take the field himself.

"I need to settle this quickly."

Locke looked up into the distance, listening to the flashing and wailing of police sirens that had started from the entrance of George's Apartment: "Once George gets here, it'll be hard to explain."

Just now.

A minute ago, the commotion at Kingpin's Manor was noticed by the NYPD. Then, George, who was at home, gave a few instructions to Locke's Clone, left a dozen Police Officers at the house, and hurriedly set out toward this location with Beckett and the others.

If they happened to come over and run into him face-to-face.

The fun would be massive.

"Ah!"

Over there, Kingpin, who had fallen on his backside and plowed a small crater into the Earth, roared as he stood up. Like a charging rhino, he lunged toward Locke.

"This is impossible."

"Boom!"

Locke watched as Kingpin, refusing to believe his eyes, swung his fist at him again. With the corners of his mouth turned up, Locke threw a direct right punch: "This is very possible!"

Boom!

The two fists collided.

Locke's feet moved slightly, taking a step back.

But... Kingpin was once again sent flying like a cannonball, whistling through the air like a meteor, and crashed straight into the Side Hall of the manor.

On the wall, a human-shaped hole from the impact was clearly visible.

"Refreshing."

Locke retracted his fist and thought to himself. No wonder many assassins liked this fist-to-flesh style of fighting.

This style was indeed thrilling.

However, the margin for error was too low.

Locke still firmly believed that an inch longer meant an inch stronger.

Therefore, even after Locke obtained the golden legend Iron Body, he never thought about using this ability, only treating the Iron Body as a means to protect himself and as a backup safety measure.

After all, with magic that could kill from a distance, was a hundred percent guaranteed to kill the target, and wouldn't get one's clothes dirty, one's brain would have to be short-circuited to use a warrior's methods which involved close combat, a low margin for error, and getting one's clothes dirty.

Although Locke developed comprehensively, he still preferred ranged combat.

Locke looked down at the dust on his chest, smiled, and flicked it off.

With a boom.

Kingpin walked out again with a grim face, covered in dust. Looking at Locke, who was a full two heads shorter than him, he said in a deep voice, "Who exactly are you?"

At this moment, Kingpin felt the need to return to a rational dialogue.

After all, he had initially thought Locke was merely a magician with no physical strength and couldn't speak to him from a position of power.

And now?

Locke had proven that he could.

So... Kingpin said in a deep voice, "You came to my door to kill me; you should at least give me a reason."

Locke shook his head: "No, you haven't offended me."

He paused.

Locke changed his tone and looked at Kingpin: "But, you sent people to kill my girlfriend. That is more serious than offending me."

If someone offended him, he would usually leave them a way out.

That was a rule he had set for himself.

But... since this guy wanted to assassinate Gwen, then sorry, even your Ten Generations will be gone. However, Kingpin didn't actually have Ten Generations; after all, Kingpin was also an orphan. Locke had already dealt with everyone in the manor who was still breathing; only the main culprit before him remained.

"Alright."

Locke thought for a moment, took off his coat, and rolled up his sleeves: "Too much nonsense has been said. I'll tell you the rest slowly after you're dead."

After the M78 Nebula Dimension appeared, the souls of the people he killed wouldn't have to go to Hell; they would go straight into the M78 Nebula Dimension. After all, if he personally harvested the souls and then gave them to Mephisto, wouldn't that be doing voluntary labor for Mephisto?

In the past, he had no choice, so souls could only go to Mephisto. After all, Locke wasn't a Dimensional God before, so how could he harvest souls?

Kingpin's expression changed instantly.

The next second.

The Message whistled.

Just as Kingpin was about to speak, he saw Locke disappear from his spot and reappear directly in front of him. He hurriedly crossed his arms in a block. With a thunderous boom, he took the full force of Locke's punch. His feet were pushed back across the ground like an Earth-plowing machine, carving out two deep trenches.

"Wait..."

"Too late!"

Locke's figure disappeared from the spot again and appeared behind Kingpin, landing a punch directly on Kingpin's back. Watching Kingpin stumble forward, Locke appeared in front of him once more. With a simple and unadorned move, he delivered a whip kick to Kingpin's face: "If you have anything to say, say it after you're dead!"

He had said enough nonsense today; any more and he would become a villain.

"Boom!"

"Ah!"

Kingpin was like a giant boulder, his head smashing directly into the wall. His head didn't shatter, but the solid wall was smashed right through. He then stood up with a distorted face. With a thud, the muscles in his right arm exploded with power as he blocked another of Locke's whip kicks. A trace of Golden Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth: "You are very strong, but it's not enough!"

"Bang!"

Locke backed away and raised an eyebrow: "Powering up?"

Kingpin grew another size larger.

But... even more Golden Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

"Tsk tsk."

Locke sensed Kingpin's life force at this moment, which was like intense oil that had been set ablaze, and smiled: "A pity. What use is it?"

After burning his life force, he was still going to die.

So what if he was a Titan?

To put it simply, a Titan was also an ordinary life form.

Even Thanos was at an ordinary life level; it was just that Thanos was kept by a powerful woman. After all, in the West, having a powerful backing is very important.

Kingpin grinned, looking down from above at Locke, who was barely a third of his height: "But, I will take you with me."

As he spoke.

After going berserk and burning his limited Titan blood, Kingpin, who had briefly transformed into a true Titan, roared. His fists, like two great mountains, came crashing down with a thunderous roar toward Locke, who stood before him without dodging.

"Die!!!"

"Rumble!"

"Boom!"

In an instant, after Kingpin's fists struck Locke, they continued their downward momentum with a whistle and slammed into the manor's lawn.

Instantly.

The Earth shook!

With Kingpin's Manor as the center, everything within a three-kilometer radius shook in sync.

It was like a magnitude four earthquake.

The police cars that were whistling toward the scene all slammed on their brakes!

shit.

An earthquake?

In New York?

How is this possible??

"Did it work?"

Kingpin's face showed joy as he looked at the huge crater beneath his fists.

But... Kingpin's expression suddenly changed.

"What..."

Kingpin's voice suddenly faltered. He watched his own hands; they were beyond his control. Despite the veins bulging on his arms, no matter what he did, they remained unmoved and were steadily being lifted. He saw the figure appearing beneath those arms: "How is it possible???"

Locke's hands were like pillars propping up the heavens as he grabbed Kingpin's wrists, lifting them off the ground step by step, raising them steadily high.

His expression... was somewhat speechless...

Chapter 407: Kingpin Dies!

"Ah!"

"Aaaaah!"

Kingpin, his upper body bare and his aura erupting, roared as the veins on his body bulged. He exerted all his strength, trying to suppress Locke, who was slowly emerging from the crater he had just been smashed into, as if he were flying out.

But... the suppression was for naught.

Locke pushed against Kingpin's hands with his own, slowly rising out of the crater with a somewhat strange expression.

He had been careless.

No.

It should be said that he had made a slight mistake. Locke hadn't expected the soil beneath his feet to withstand so little pressure. He had suffered from his lack of experience in melee combat.

Locke thought to himself.

However... it didn't matter.

He would know better in the future. Locke wasn't an all-rounder from the start; he had made mistakes during his first assassination mission too. As long as he could learn from his errors, it was fine.

"This..."

Kingpin's eyes widened as he watched Locke leave the ground, lifting his arms and slowly ascending until he was level with him. "How is this possible?"

Locke let out a disdainful laugh. "Are you very strong?"

No matter how strong he was...

He couldn't be stronger than Locke's Iron Body, which had just been upgraded to Level 3.

According to Locke's estimation, a Level 3 Iron Body should be comparable to a conventional Superman.

A pity.

What I want is the complete form of Superman—the Iron Body that can fire lasers, use X-ray vision, and freeze things with a breath—not this knock-off version.

Locke thought to himself.

The next second!

With a loud 'bang'!

A scream rang out.

Kingpin's eyes bulged as he looked at his right hand, which had been forced into a twisted reverse position. He immediately raised his right foot and kicked toward Locke. "Go to hell!"

Locke raised an eyebrow and kicked out as well.

Boom!

Locke flickered away. Instantly, the golden blood spraying from Kingpin's mouth landed on the lawn, shimmering and sparkling under the moonlight.

"Wee-woo! Wee-woo!"

Locke glanced back at the countless police cars that were fast approaching, then turned to look at Kingpin. "Die!"

Kingpin's pupils constricted violently.

As soon as Locke finished speaking, he appeared directly in front of Kingpin and slammed both hands hard against the sides of Kingpin's head.

Boom!

The earth rumbled like muffled thunder.

Thud!

Kingpin's head shook violently, as if countless fluids were sloshing inside. With a thud, his knees buckled, and he crashed onto the lawn, kneeling.

Locke landed.

He turned around.

The light in Kingpin's eyes seemed to struggle for a moment, and then, in an extremely short time, his expression gradually faded away.

The next second.

Boom!

After his power-up, Kingpin, who had grown to a height of 3.5 meters, made intimate contact with the lawn. With a loud crash, his entire body slammed heavily onto the grass, causing another tremor like a magnitude-one earthquake.

"Heh."

Seeing this, Locke bent down and picked up the suit jacket he had neatly folded and placed on the lawn earlier. He rolled down his sleeves, put the jacket back on, and looked back at the fallen Kingpin. "I hadn't even used my full strength, and you already fell."

Whoosh.

Kingpin's soul suddenly emerged, then abruptly dodged Locke's grasp. With a whistle, it tore through the dimensional space and vanished.

Locke was slightly stunned.

The next second.

"death?"

Locke closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. "Fine, you're the boss. If you want it, take it."

In short, the entire Titan race was the grazing ground of death. After all Titans died, their souls belonged to death itself. Although the Titan blood in Kingpin's body was thin, he was undoubtedly a Titan.

Naturally, after Kingpin died, the primary owner of his soul was death itself.

However... if Locke really wanted it, he actually could have taken it; after all, he was the one who harvested Kingpin's soul.

But there was no need.

He was, after all, operating under a borrowed identity. At the moment, he was just a very weak Dimensional God. If he caught the attention of a Primordial God like death, what if she tried to recruit him or something?

He wasn't interested in being a plaything for her.

Locke snapped back to reality, his gaze falling on Kingpin's still-warm corpse, which lay there like a small giant, and the corners of his mouth curled up.

Ding!

Mission Complete: "I'm Angry!"

Mission Rewards: "50,000 Achievement Points", "50,000 Potential Points", "1x 60% Off Treasure Refresh Voucher"

Status Refresh!

Name: "Locke Broughton!"

Achievement Points: "50,000"

Potential Points: "50,000"

...Supreme Talent: "Iron Body!"

Quality: "Gold!"

Level: "Level 3!"

Status Description: "Congratulations on your upgrade! Your physical body will once again be significantly enhanced. You can finally fly with your physical body. Perhaps you can try upgrading to Level 5 to see if you can withstand a nuclear bomb with your bare skin!"

"..."

Locke's form shifted as he looked at the sky. "I spent nearly 400,000 to get a conventional Supermanbody, plus 50,000 points. Is this a profit or a loss?"

Whatever.

Money can't buy peace of mind!

Locke raised an eyebrow, preparing to leave.

"Stop!"

"Don't move!"

"Put your hands up!"

Behind him, sirens wailed as police cars burst through the gates of Kingpin's estate. Then, with a series of thuds, numerous Police Officers jumped out of their cars, aiming their pistols at Locke, who stood on the lawn with his back to them.

George Stacy, holding his own pistol, let out a loud shout.

The next second.

"Huh?"

"Where is he?"

shit, where'd he go?"

"He was just there!"

"Did you see him?"

"Did we see a ghost?"

There was no longer any sign of a person on the lawn. Aside from the corpse lying there, which didn't look quite human, it was empty, just like the night air.

George and Beckett, who was beside him, couldn't help but exchange a glance.

Just then.

The massive corpse on the lawn seemed to shrink rapidly. With a whoosh, it returned to a humanly acceptable height of two meters.

A few brave Police Officers looked at each other, then fanned out, running toward the lawn and the interior of the manor.

"shit!"

One of the Police Officers, after working with others to flip the corpse over, couldn't help but curse. He shouted toward George and Beckett, who had also temporarily holstered their weapons: "Officer."

George and Beckett walked over. When their eyes fell upon the corpse on the lawn, they were both stunned.

Kingpin!

At this moment, Kingpin, who had returned to his normal physique, was bleeding from all seven facial orifices. His eyes were wide with rage, and his death could only be described as miserable.

Moreover... when a Police Officer tried to move Kingpin, the sound of sloshing liquid was very clear.

"Huh?"

The Police Officer was slightly taken aback. After realizing the sloshing sound was coming from inside Kingpin's head, he couldn't help but look up at George: "Officer?"

George frowned. "Take it back."

The Police Officer nodded.

Half an hour later.

George and Beckett stood at the entrance of the main manor building. In front of them, the lawn was brightly lit.

The two of them had solemn expressions.

And for good reason!

Everyone was dead.

Even the few Tibetan Mastiffs in the backyard, said to be imported from China, had been strangled.

Not to mention the other people scattered throughout the manor.

In the truest sense, not a single soul was left alive.

George felt a strange sense of satisfaction at this outcome. After all, the DNA results from the blood and the fingerprint matches had already been rushed through.

They belonged to Bullseye Lester.

And George had seen Bullseye Lester during the day. Since Lester had been right next to Kingpin at the time, it practically proved one thing: his suspicions were correct.

A good death!

He deserved it!

George thought to himself. Thinking about how this damn Kingpin had sent people to harass his daughter, even trying to kill her, he felt a surge of relief as he looked at Kingpin being put into a body bag.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

Beside him, Beckett frowned.

But... the next second.

George's expression became solemn.

It was good that Kingpin was dead.

True.

But... with Kingpin gone... New York City was going to fall into chaos.

George took a deep breath. He could already see New York City in total turmoil once the Sun rose.

Admittedly.

Kingpin had protected himself very well; there was no direct evidence pointing to him for any criminal information. But there was another important reason why Kingpin had remained unscathed.

New York City never cared how powerful the dark side was, as long as the dark side followed the basic rules.

And while Kingpin was alive, he had never broken those rules.

So... now?

With Kingpin dead, let alone New York, the gangs along the entire East Coast would likely be in a complete frenzy.

Just then.

Cree Devoe also stepped out of a police car. Seeing George's solemn face, she frowned and walked up to him, whispering, "What happened?"

She had wanted to take down Kingpin too.

But definitely not now, and definitely not in this manner.

The strategy she and George had formulated was to slice the salami—to first take down the peripheral gangs centered around Kingpin one by one, and finally take down Kingpin himself in one fell swoop. That way, the unrest would be minimized.

"Did you kill him?"

"..."

George looked around to make sure no one was near. He was slightly surprised by Cree Devoe's quiet words. He glanced at Beckett, whose face showed a look of suspicion, and was momentarily stunned. "Am I that kind of person?"

Cree Devoe shook her head. "No."

"Thank you."

"But we're talking about Gwen here."

"...What?"

Cree Devoe looked at George. "Kingpin almost had Gwen killed. You must have been about to explode with rage. We know you well. If you had someone do it, it's fine; you can say so. Beckett and I will keep your secret."

Beckett recalled the smile on George's face just now and seemed to confirm something. "Was it really you?"

George was at a loss for words. "Are you crazy?"

Cree Devoe shrugged. "If it wasn't you, then who else could it be? Kingpin sends someone to kill Gwen, and immediately after, Kingpin's entire household is executed. Who else could it be but you? It couldn't possibly be Locke."

George: "..."

408. Locke, the Model Son-in-Law

"Locke?"

"Yeah."

George glanced at Cree Devoe and couldn't help chuckling. "Him? That little frame? Standing in front of Kingpin, he'd probably be slapped to death with one palm."

Cree Devoe opened her mouth.

She'd wanted to say that, moments ago, when they'd followed George inside, the killing intent rolling off Locke had been far denser than George's. For an instant the FBI-hardened Cree had felt she was looking at a super-killer whose blood-soaked hands could populate a small nation.

But… hearing George's remark, she thought it over and nodded.

"Fair point. So you're the one who killed him."

"I—"

George stared at her dead-serious nod, started to defend himself, then a sudden roar of voices burst in from outside.

He looked out.

Hells Kitchen… seemed to be waking up.

Yet… Gwen still hadn't woken.

"Achoo!"

"Achoo!"

Locke came down the rooftop stairs, sneezing twice and rubbing his nose.

Goodfellas.

I didn't even run into George; how did the conversation still land on me?

That was what he was thinking.

Helen, just back from Long Island, noticed the sneezes. "You okay?"

Locke waved it off, watching her shut the door carefully. "How's Gwen?"

Helen glanced at the Police Officer crouched in the corridor, gathering evidence as quietly as possible, and shook her head, worried. "Still out—probably traumatized."

Locke nodded. "Good thing you, little George and Andy weren't home."

Otherwise… he figured he'd already be taking a trip to hell, maybe even bargaining a shard of it away with Mephisto.

Helen had always treated him well.

George—Locke would at most swing by hell, tip Mephisto off, arrange a couple of surplus succubi for George, then wait till after he and Gwen married, or till the finale, before fishing George back out.

Helen couldn't be left there; she was too gentle, had always treated him like her own son—she wouldn't cope in hell.

Luckily, none of that had happened.

Helen managed a thin smile, grateful yet regretful. "Next time George's out at night, you come here."

Too frightening.

She'd gotten the news on Long Island and raced back at a hundred-fifty, crying the whole way; only the NYPD knowing the family plates had kept her from being tailed straight to headquarters.

Locke nodded. "Got it."

He didn't mention he'd been planning to come anyway.

No need.

What's done is done.

Besides… if he'd been here, Gwen probably wouldn't have become Spider-Gwen, and he still wasn't sure whether that turn was good or bad.

"Ma'am."

"Hayes."

A Detective came upstairs—Bobby Hayes, Twenty-First Precinct, NYPD.

Helen stifled a sob, arms folded. "What is it, Hayes?"

"Scene's processed. I'll run tests back at the lab—anything turns up, I'll call Captain Stacy right away."

"No, tell me."

"Er…"

"He nearly killed my daughter. I want to know if that bastard's dead. If not, I'll happily finish the job."

"…All right."

Bobby ignored the murder in her tone. "Every Officer in the city's hunting him. We bag him, you'll be the first to know."

Helen drew a long breath. "Thanks, Hayes."

"Anytime."

Bobby smiled. "I'll leave five Officers on watch."

Helen murmured thanks.

He nodded to her, then to Locke, and headed down the battered stairs.

Locke ignored Helen's wish as well.

After all… he'd already carried it out.

Everyone who should—and shouldn't—have died was dead; his mood had slid back to its usual mild civility.

William Blowers was innocent?

Same old rule.

Locke counted ten generations.

Blame the man's lousy luck.

Thinking that, he glanced at the ruined stairs and raised an eyebrow. "Helen, why not stay at Starlight Tower for now?"

The house looked like it had hosted both a tornado and an artillery barrage; livable, barely—for Georgealone.

Perfect. It also lets me keep an eye on the renovation crew's progress.

Helen shook her head. "Let Gwen go."

"Hmm?"

"During this period, I'll stay in Long Island with little George and the others."

"There are plenty of Rooms at home."

Helen smiled and kept refusing. "If I go, what do you think will happen to the stash in your liquor cabinet?"

Locke smiled. "George isn't part of my invitation. He can commute every day—perfect for supervising the construction."

Like hell.

Let George move in? Then what about the several crates of thunder bourbon he'd bought over New Year?

Helen's lips curved. "Your Starlight Tower might not be that safe, but with you around, Gwen is pretty secure. At the very least, the last few uninvited guests ended up leaving without any real harm."

Locke opened his mouth.

Then… said nothing.

Fine.

He couldn't find a rebuttal; Helen was stating facts. Since arriving in New York, several groups had broken into his apartment.

Starting with the Assassin Alliance and Brotherhood, then S.H.I.E.L.D., the KGB, and after that—MI6?

Goodfellas.

Locke felt a little dazed. Counting himself as more or less CIA, if Mossad sent someone too, he'd have collected all four aces of the espionage World.

CIA.

MI6.

KGB.

Mossad.

"Tsk."

Locke shook his head. After Helen said she was going downstairs for breakfast, he looked at the trashed living-Room. "Guess Mossad still has a chance to drop by and help me finish the set—three down, one to go."

He hadn't slept all night.

Locke was wide awake.

When Helen got back with breakfast, he noticed her exhaustion; after they ate he told her to rest. Then he opened the bedroom door and went in.

Gwen was still under the quilt, sleeping peacefully.

Locke walked over, touched her forehead—warm, but nothing else unusual.

And… the ascension would be complete soon.

Feeling the life-quality that had already jumped a full grade, Locke smiled to himself and glanced at the bay window.

The Sun was up.

Outside,

sirens drifted from far away—somewhere in Hells Kitchen by the sound of it. It seemed half of Manhattan's force was racing that way.

Perfectly normal.

Locke had expected this the moment he chopped Kingpin.

With Kingpin dead, to put it nicely the emperor of crime had fallen; to put it bluntly, the dragons were left without a head and every gang was stirring.

After all, while Kingpin lived he'd unified the entire East Coast underworld. His word was law, and though he held a monopoly, New York's underground order was rock-solid.

Now?

Kingpin was gone—of course the dragons would fight for the throne.

Still,

Locke had known and done it anyway. First, Kingpin had to die. Second, when the chaos came it had nothing to do with him.

He wouldn't lower himself to mix with those small-time thugs.

And from a certain point of view…

George owed him thanks.

How so?

Locke knew George would be promoted next month to oversee three precincts, one of which was Hells Kitchen.

George wanted Kingpin taken down mainly because a showdown was inevitable, and Cree Devoe also needed the catch for her own promotion.

But unlike Cree, who partly saw it as career leverage, George genuinely wanted to run Hells Kitchenproperly.

So… Locke simply chopped Kingpin for him. Think of it as George loading up a hard game: he kills the first mini-boss, draws the final boss's aggro, and Locke jumps in and one-shots the big bad, handing George the win.

From there, things were easy for George.

He might not handle the final boss Kingpin, but the lesser bosses—the Hells Kitchen Head-Cutters, the Albanian gang, the Italian Mafia branches—were well within his reach.

Put it this way: if each gang counts as a merit, George could farm the now-boss-less Hells Kitchen and rack up enough achievements to cap his career.

I'm definitely the most… no,

I'm the most dutiful son-in-law in the entire Universe,

bar none.

Just then…

A soft moan!

409. You and Locke should live together.

Half an hour later.

Helen, who had just fallen asleep and hadn't been asleep for long, heard Gwen wake up and immediately ran into the room.

"Here."

"Thank you, Mom."

Gwen looked up at Helen, who was handing her hot cocoa, and thanked her. Then, she thought of something: "Didn't our kitchen turn into a ruin?"

She was the one who smashed it.

She had been too angry earlier, and by the time she reacted, the kitchen was already in ruins.

Locke said from the side, "Helen bought it when she went to buy breakfast earlier."

Helen's eyes lit up as she looked at Gwen: "That's right, Gwen, how are you feeling? Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something?"

Gwen shook her head: "I'm fine, Mom."

She felt truly wonderful.

It should be said that in the past seventeen years, she had never felt as good as she did now.

The world she saw seemed clearer.

The sounds she heard were also more distinct.

She felt as if her entire being had sublimated.

The next second.

Gwen seemed to remember something, and her mood sank: "Mom, Jell-O is dead."

"Dead?"

Helen was stunned, then, after remembering who Jell-O was, she blinked, ready to offer comfort, but for a moment didn't know how. She could only pat Gwen's shoulder.

After all... she completely disagreed with Gwen keeping a spider as a pet, no matter how cute it was, but George and Locke were indifferent to the matter. Although she really wanted to say something, she didn't in the end.

If it had been a Napoleon short-legged cat that she also liked, Helen might have known how to comfort her, but a spider... Helen wasn't the type to be overly sentimental, so she could only pat Gwen's shoulder.

Just then.

"Gwen!"

"Gwen!"

George's voice suddenly rang out from outside the door. Immediately after, just as Locke was seriously suspecting that George would deliver the final blow to the stairs, George appeared at the doorway. He then looked at his daughter sitting on the bed, drinking hot cocoa, and instantly became excited: "Gwen, you're alright?"

As he spoke.

George pushed Locke aside and gave Gwen a hug full of paternal love.

Locke, who had been moved to the side, was silent for a moment. Then, he looked at Gwen, who was embraced by George and looking his way, and showed a slight smile.

Forget it.

It's a day of great joy; bloodstains wouldn't be good.

After George immediately released Gwen, he looked her up and down, and asked with concern: "Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? Do you want to go to the hospital? I'll have the hospital send a car over right now."

Gwen looked at George, who was already preparing to take out his phone, and quickly pressed his hand with hers.

"Crunch!"

"Huh?"

"..."

Helen's mouth was wide open.

George looked down, a little dazed.

Locke, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow.

Gwen?

Gwen looked at the phone, which had been directly crushed after she snatched it, and was silent for a moment. She forced a sheepish smile, released her right hand, and let the phone fragments fall: "Dad, why is your phone so fragile?"

George's brow twitched.

Fragile?

This was the phone he had managed to replace after saving a month's worth of his secret stash, plus a police department subsidy.

George, disbelieving, grabbed the remaining parts of the phone.

He squeezed.

A crisp sound.

So brittle!

"Fuck, that guy actually gave him a defective product."

George thought to himself, wiped his nose, and brushed the fragments on the bed directly onto the floor. Anyway, this house needed to be redecorated: "It's good that you're okay, you scared your dad to death, you know? By the way, do you remember anything about what happened last night?"

Gwen opened her mouth.

The next second.

Gwen was silent for a moment, then shook her head at George with an apologetic expression: "Sorry, Dad."

George smiled: "You don't need to be sorry. I will definitely find that damned guy."

And then... I'll slice him into a thousand pieces and dismember him!

Damn it.

George had originally intended to deal with Kingpin that way, but Kingpin was already dead, and he was even suspected by Beckett and Clea DeVore of being the mastermind.

This made George feel a bit stifled.

However, the reason Clea DeVore gave, for a while, George couldn't find a place to refute it.

After all, it was too much of a coincidence.

First, Kingpin came to pay his respects.

Then, Kingpin immediately died.

Then, George recalled the news that had just come from the precinct, saying that a vehicle had been found at Greenwood Cemetery, along with the not-so-clean incinerator, and the damaged van at the cemetery entrance.

George vaguely felt that Bullseye Lester was probably also in grave danger.

And then... this made George a little dazed.

Could it really have been me?

But, why don't I remember?

George thought to himself, then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Locke, who had moved a small stool and sat down. In his mind, he remembered the fleeting glimpse of a figure that had appeared and then vanished without a trace when he had just arrived at Kingpin's mansion and got out of the car.

He shook his head.

George let out a soft laugh.

First, rule out a wrong answer. It couldn't be this guy. Although they both wore similar suits, their temperaments were different, and George trusted his intuition quite a bit.

Locke, feeling George's sidelong glance, returned a questioning look.

His eyes were clear, full of confusion.

George smiled, then came back to his senses and looked at Gwen: "It's good that you're okay, you scared your dad to death, you know?"

Gwen gave George a gentle hug: "Sorry, Dad, for making you worry."

Helen said from the side: "Alright, Gwen, I've packed your clothes for you. You and Locke should go home first."

"Go home?"

"Where to?"

Gwen and George were both stunned.

Helen pointed outside the room, at the messy corridor: "I've already scheduled a designer. Just in time, with the New York Police Department fully reimbursing the renovation costs this time, I want to design the house well. During this time, George, Little George, and I will live in Long Island. You can stay at Locke's place."

"No!"

Gwen had just opened her mouth when George was already furious: "Long Island isn't without rooms. No."

Helen looked at George, her tone flat: "Gwen has school."

George was displeased: "Don't Little George and the others need to go?"

Helen chuckled: "My only hope for Little George is that he can successfully graduate from elementary school without being held back. That's all. With his academic level, there's not much difference between not being late and being half an hour late."

As she spoke.

Helen smiled and looked at George: "I'm not discussing this with you. I've already discussed it with Locke. This is to inform you. This matter is settled. You can object, but your objection will be noted. Don't make me angry, Mr. George Stacy, I haven't even held you accountable yet."

George frowned: "My..."

Helen smiled: "Why would someone come to kill Gwen?"

George opened his mouth.

His momentum... instantly vanished.

Alright.

George opened his mouth, looked at Helen, who was smiling with a hidden dagger, was silent for a moment, then looked at Locke, who had an innocent expression on his face, and took a deep breath. This damned wild boar never gives up on its little schemes to steal the cabbage I've been raising for so many years.

This time, this damned wild boar finally seized the opportunity and succeeded.

Although George had more or less acquiesced last year and had already promoted Andy, who was just one year old, from a backup to his little darling, he still harbored a glimmer of hope.

Now?

George looked at Gwen: "Gwen, where do you say we go?"

Gwen was slightly stunned.

George's hopeful expression made Locke roll his eyes internally.

Why bother?

You are a senior police superintendent of the New York Police Department, a person of high status and authority, and a prominent figure in New York City. Is this behavior appropriate?

Locke felt a bit speechless internally.

Gwen, on the other hand, opened her mouth, a little dumbfounded: "Dad, I just woke up... But I'll go to Long Island every weekend to see you, Mom, and Andy."

George closed his eyes in pain.

He lost.

Completely lost.

He had originally held onto the illusion that it was just this wild boar's frantic rooting that made him think his own cabbage had grown legs. But the facts told him that this was not an illusion, but reality.

His family's big cabbage had truly grown legs, directly striding off, jumping onto the wild boar's back, and preparing to leave his vegetable garden.

Seeing this, Locke said from the side: "That's right, George, Gwen and I can go to Long Island every weekend. Coincidentally, Gwen and I also bought a villa in Long Island."

George instantly snapped back to reality, and with a whoosh, looked at Locke.

Gwen's eyes lit up as she looked at Helen: "That's right, Mom, you and Dad can temporarily stay in that villa. Locke and I bought it as an investment anyway."

Helen frowned: "Wait, when did you buy it?"

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief internally. Seeing that George and Helen were no longer pressing about last night's events, she was happy to talk about how she and Locke had opened a joint account and bought a Long Island villa as an investment.

Finally.

Gwen smiled brightly: "I'm also planning to go to New Jersey with Locke this week to see if there are any good places we can buy."

"Buy... for what?"

"To build a manor."

Gwen looked up at Locke and said with a smile: "To build a manor that belongs to Locke and me."

George took a deep breath.

He got up.

And walked directly outside.

Helen was also a little dazed. She looked at George, who was leaving, and came back to her senses: "Where are you going?"

"To work on a case!"

George waved his hand without looking back. He was afraid that if he stayed any longer, he would not be able to resist drawing his gun.

Moreover... he really should go back.

After all, the entire Hell's Kitchen was in chaos right now, just as he had expected. After the sun rose and the news of Kingpin's death spread, the entire Hell's Kitchen had completely fallen into disarray.

In fact... if the special forces hadn't arrived in time, and if there hadn't been too many police officers at Kingpin's mansion at the time, if there had only been a dozen officers, they probably would have been completely unable to return.

Helen looked at George, who was walking away without looking back, and shook her head. She looked at Gwen on the bed and said, "It's good that you're awake. Your breakfast is downstairs. I'm going back to my room to catch up on some sleep."

Gwen nodded obediently: "Okay, Mom!"

410. Concerned Classmates

Starlight Tower!

Twenty-eighth floor.

*Click!*

Locke unlocked the door with his fingerprint, opened it, and let Gwen, who was following behind him, walk in.

Gwen walked in, looked at the large floor-to-ceiling window through which Central Park was visible, then at the small swimming pool outside the window, and surveyed the layout of the spacious living Room. "Still the same as ever."

Locke closed the door behind him and smiled. "You were just here the day before yesterday, weren't you?"

Gwen turned around and glanced at Locke.

"It's different."

"How is it different?"

Gwen smiled and said, "It's just different."

When she came over the day before yesterday, she came as his girlfriend, and she rarely stayed overnight.

Although Helen was comfortable with her staying at Locke's place, Gwen basically only stayed overnight once a week at most. Other times, she would essentially head back by ten o'clock.

But this time was different.

At the very least, for the next... five months, until the summer break, she would be living here.

"Hmm?"

Gwen's nose twitched slightly as she sensed Locke's scent in the Room, along with what seemed like a hint of Carrie's perfume. She turned around with a satisfied smile, then thought of a question and looked at Locke. "Locke, do you think this counts as the start of us living together?"

Locke, who had walked over to the bar to pour himself some bourbon, looked up and smiled upon hearing Gwen's words. "Helen's official version is 'temporary stay.'"

Gwen walked over, sat down, and rested her chin on her hand, looking at Locke. "From the moment we got here until now, you don't seem to have asked me what happened last night?"

Locke looked at Gwen curiously. "Didn't you already say so, just now?"

"You believe me?"

"Of course, I believe you, Gwen."

"..."

Gwen looked at Locke, who was smiling at her with clear eyes, not appearing to be lying, and she pursed her lips. "Actually, I lied."

Locke didn't say anything.

To be honest.

Ever since he found out about Gwen's transformation, he had been considering the possibility of such a scene occurring.

For example... if Gwen confessed to him, what about him?

What if Gwen confessed but he didn't, and then Gwen asked about it in the future? What would he do?

But.

Gwen said that, then made an apologetic expression and looked at Locke. "But, Locke, I promised jellythat I wouldn't tell anyone this secret. You won't blame me, will you?"

Locke raised an eyebrow. "jelly?"

Gwen pursed her lips and nodded. "Although it's hard for me to explain all this, jelly saved me. So, jellyneeds me to keep this secret, and I don't want to let jelly down."

*It's fine, I already know what your secret is.*

*It's just that you don't know yet that I already know your secret.*

Locke thought to himself as he smiled. "Of course not. I promise that if you don't say anything, I will never ask you."

He wasn't disappointed at all.

True disappointment would be if she feigned complete ignorance, but Gwen had already said there was indeed a secret, just one that was hard to talk about.

Saying you have no secret is a different concept from saying you can't talk about it.

Locke had his own, too.

And... quite a lot of them.

Gwen couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief upon hearing Locke say this.

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Locke."

Gwen gave a bright smile. "I promise, as soon as this secret can be told, you'll be the first person to know."

Locke smiled. "Me too."

Gwen nodded, patted her chest, turned around, and walked toward the sofa.

The next second.

Gwen braked.

"Wait..."

Gwen turned and looked at Locke behind the bar. "You just said 'me too'?"

Locke, who was drinking the bourbon in his glass to quench his thirst, raised an eyebrow.

Gwen sat back down on the barstool, looking at Locke with some suspicion. "Do you have secrets you haven't told me either?"

Locke blinked and looked at Gwen.

Just then.

*Ding-dong!*

Locke put down his glass, pointed at the door, and walked over. "Hello?"

"Mr. Broughton, there are a few of your classmates downstairs."

"Let them up."

"Understood."

Hearing the words coming from the intercom, Gwen temporarily set aside the keyword she had just caught. "Classmates?"

Locke opened the door, turned his head, and nodded. "Right, today is a school day. Neither you nor I went. Do you think Cindy and the others aren't curious?"

As he finished speaking.

With a *ding*, the high-speed elevator of Starlight Tower stopped at the twenty-eighth floor. Then, Kem, Cindy, Betty, Carrie, Wanda, Kahn, Pietro, as well as Mary Jane and Harry Osborn, walked out of the elevator.

"Oh, God!"

As Gwen's number one best friend, Kem was naturally the first to rush forward. With a face full of panic and relief, she hugged Gwen directly. "God, thank goodness! Oh my, Gwen, are you okay? shit, why didn't you call me right away? Oh my, are you okay now?"

Gwen saw that Kem was eager to practically strip her clothes off to check for scars, so she quickly reached out to stop her. "Oh my, Kem, stop it! I'm fine, but if you keep tickling me, something really will happen."

"I was just worried about you."

"I'm fine."

Gwen looked at Kem, whose aggrieved expression was perfectly executed, shook her head, and gave Kem a hug. "Really, thank you, Kem."

Only then did Kem break into a smile.

Cindy, who had always been trying to snatch the title of Gwen's number one best friend from Kem, looked at Kem with a look of speechlessness and disdain, then gave Gwen a hug. "Seriously, Kemdoesn't even show up as often as I do. Have you considered making me your number one best friend?"

Gwen smiled and hugged Cindy. "Cindy, you know how our relationship is."

But she didn't plan on replacing Kem.

After all... she had known Kem since elementary school, and when they were very young, they had promised to be each other's best friends for life.

Gwen took her promises very seriously, just as she valued her promise to jelly, especially after jelly had sacrificed himself to protect her.

She couldn't tell anyone jelly's true identity. If jelly's enemy saw it, it would be bad.

On the other side, Locke also gave Kahn a hug, then smiled at Pietro and shook his hand.

Setting aside the fact that Pietro was a speedster, he was actually quite a funny guy. Pietro had integrated into Midtown High School even faster than Wanda. He shook hands with Locke and said, "Sam wanted to come, but on Jessica's side..."

As he spoke.

Pietro made a 'you know' expression.

He had also successfully joined the Football Team, relying on persistence to get a substitute spot from Sam. However, because Pietro's motives for joining the team were not pure, Sam hadn't paid much attention before. But during the time Jessica was in trouble, it had to be said that Sam's opinion of Pietro had indeed changed a lot.

While Sam was distracted taking care of Jessica, Pietro had relied on his thick-skinned persistence to manage the daily training of the Football Team members, whose cohesion seemed to have dissipated without their leader.

Even the coach remarked that Pietro's training enthusiasm was exceptionally high and rare. He estimated that once Sam left, Pietro would likely take over Sam's position.

However, Sam knew very well why Pietro was so active.

It was simple.

The High School League Super Bowl was about to start.

And every Football Team practice was watched by the cheerleaders and many female students on the sidelines. If there were no cheerleaders or female students watching, Sam could guarantee that Pietroprobably wouldn't even be interested in sitting on the bench.

Still, during this time, Sam really couldn't put all his energy into the Football Team, so he was quite happy that Pietro could do this.

Locke naturally knew about this as well. He nodded, gave an 'mm,' and invited everyone to take a seat on the sofa.

To be honest.

He had owned this place in Starlight Tower for over two years, and today was the most people it had ever had inside.

Pietro looked at the bottle of thunder bourbon on the bar and the half-finished glass. "Locke, can you give me a glass... Ow!"

Before he could finish.

Pietro jumped up and glared at Wanda. "Sister!"

"Call me Big Sister!"

"..."

Wanda said expressionlessly, "You're only ten seconds older than me. You can't drink."

Locke's movement of pouring the wine paused slightly.

Not far away, Mary Jane carefully gave Harry, who was beside her, a look.

Harry understood and tried to fit in. "I... can I?"

Locke looked at Harry, whom he was meeting for the third time, smiled, and handed the drink in his hand to Harry, ignoring Pietro who was fuming but didn't dare speak up under his sister Wanda's intimidation. "Can you handle the taste?"

Harry took a sip. "I had it when I was in London. My family also has a few good bottles of bourbon. Maybe next time, we can drink together."

Locke and Kahn exchanged a glance. "Sure, the Osborn family's collection must be excellent."

As he spoke.

Locke raised his glass toward Harry. "Cheers, I look forward to your invitation."

A guest is a guest.

As the host, he hadn't barred Harry from the door but had tacitly allowed him in. Therefore, as the host, he had to take good care of the guest. This wasn't just the education he had received in this life, but what the old lady at the orphanage had taught them in his previous life.

Just as Locke wouldn't have a heated argument with George when visiting Gwen's house.

Besides.

Gwen was currently interning at Osborn Industries. If he offended Harry Osborn, what if Harry gave Gwen a hard time later?

Chop him up directly?

Not good.

Harry looked at the smiling Locke, and his somewhat stiff body relaxed. He clinked glasses with Locke and drained the drink in one go.

And then.

He started coughing repeatedly.

Harry's somewhat pale face instantly turned red.

Seeing this, Locke laughed, pulled out a tissue, and handed it to Harry. At the same time, he refilled the glass in front of Harry.

411. Mary Jane's Ambition for Her Husband

Actually, Harry Osborn and Mary Jane's reason for coming over this time was quite simple.

First, of course, they had heard about Gwen's situation and came to visit her together. After all, before Mary Jane moved to Harry Osborn's class, Gwen and she had been on very good terms.

As for the second reason...

There was no doubt about it.

It was to express gratitude for what happened in the cafeteria a few days ago. Midtown High Schoolwas not an ivory tower, but a small society, and in this small society, Locke, as the well-deserved President of the Student Council, undoubtedly held the top position.

In a word.

Even the aggressive students were nothing in front of Locke.

If Locke wanted to use the student handbook to forcibly expel a student, he could do it. Even the Board of Directors wouldn't challenge his authority as President over an unremarkable, troublemaking student.

So... Mary Jane wanted to take this opportunity to let her boyfriend join Locke's inner circle. That way, aggressive students like Flashy wouldn't tease Harry anymore.

Locke was well aware of Mary Jane's thoughts, but he didn't say anything.

It was the same old saying.

When he made friends, he never looked at the other person's wealth or family background; he only cared about whether they clicked.

Harry Osborn actually fit that vibe quite well.

Although Locke had wanted to finish Harry off early when they first met, he eventually came to his senses. That was Little Spider's fault. If Little Spider hadn't been so disloyal and unrighteous as to give Harry a vial of blood, there wouldn't have been a Green Goblin.

Maybe... I should finish off Little Spider first.

Locke raised an eyebrow and raised his glass, taking another sip with Harry Osborn, whose face was flushed as if he couldn't handle his liquor. Then, a strange thought suddenly crossed his mind.

Regarding the cafeteria incident a few days ago, Flashy had also spoken to him afterward.

Flashy hadn't been looking for trouble for no reason. It was because Peter Parker had been running his mouth while they were practicing on the basketball court, so they intended to give Peter Parker a reality check.

Locke believed Flashy's words.

After all... he was Little Spider. Some strange people liked him and called him a chatterbox, but in the eyes of Locke, who believed that actions spoke louder than words, talking a lot was fine, but talking too much was, in a sense, just being a smart-ass.

However, Locke and Little Spider rarely crossed paths at school. Given Little Spider's level, trying to contact him directly was basically as difficult as a pauper trying to meet an emperor.

Forget it.

Locke shook his head. If he wanted to finish off Little Spider, it would be as easy as a slap. But right now, the kid hadn't provoked him. If he just finished him off like that, it would inevitably lead to unpleasant rumors.

For example, that Locke was too cruel and tyrannical.

God as my witness.

The words 'refined and easy-going' were practically tailor-made for Locke.

What?

Was it because he was afraid of plot deviation, or did he just not want to kill?

Heh.

Locke killed Kingpin whenever he wanted to.

Plot?

What was that... Locke had never thought about participating in any plot. He had only one goal: make money, buy the Sun God Bloodline and a comprehensive Superman bloodline, and then immigrate to the Universe, find a beautiful Planet, and live a quiet life.

Whether Little Spider lived or died was not decided by Locke.

It was decided by Little Spider himself.

Right now, Locke only cared about the upcoming grand show of farming points.

"Oh, right!"

Betty, who was sitting on the sofa chatting with Gwen, Cindy, Kem, and Carrie, happened to bring up the topic. She turned to look at Locke: "Locke, Madam Cort knew I was coming and asked me to ask you when you'll give her the team list for this year's Knowledge Competition."

Locke said, "It's the same as last year."

There was no need to add or remove members from a championship team.

Cindy looked at Locke and said, "It's an eight-person competition this year."

Locke looked at Cindy.

Cindy said, "This year, Holy Trinity has scouted several promising talents from all over the country, and other schools aren't bad either. Plus, Holy Trinity is the largest shareholder school of the Knowledge Competition, so they directly increased the member count to eight."

Locke blinked.

Cindy shrugged: "Obviously, they changed the rules."

Locke smiled.

If changing the rules worked, then what would be the point of having cheats?

But... increased to eight?

Locke, Gwen, Kahn, Cindy, and Matt—that still left three spots.

"How about Zhao?"

Gwen looked at Locke and said, "What do you think?"

Locke nodded: "Then what about the other two?"

"Jane and Daisy?"

Jane Foster and Daisy Louise were also members of the Brooklyn Knowledge Competition team last year. Afterward, Madam Cort had used her 'heavy shovel' to dig them over to her side.

"Daisy can't make it."

"Hmm?"

Cindy waved her hand and said, "I asked Daisy. She said she wants to focus on her studies, and in her words, she doesn't want to be a 'vase'."

Gwen shook her head.

Her emotional intelligence was lacking.

What did she mean by saying that participating in Midtown High School's Knowledge Competition was being a 'vase'?

Who was she insulting?

Didn't those words basically include her and Cindy in the insult?

"It's fine if she doesn't come,"

Gwen said as much, then looked at Locke: "Peter Parker? Madam Cort mentioned that Peter Parker's performance in specialized courses is also not..."

Before she could finish her sentence...

Locke raised his eyebrows and pointed at Harry Osborn: "It's you then."

Gwen stopped talking and blinked!

Harry Osborn was also stunned.

Not far away, Mary Jane seemed somewhat in disbelief.

Let Peter Parker come?

Heh.

I don't want to have a damn thing to do with that Little Spider. It's not that Locke insisted on standing in opposition to Little Spider, but staying as strangers was just fine. Standing in the same camp as Little Spider?

Hehe.

Locke seriously suspected that at some point, he would be sacrificed to fulfill Little Spider's reputation as New York City's Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.

Little Spider was never New York City's friendly neighbor.

Locke certainly didn't acknowledge it.

Harry Osborn snapped out of it, his face full of confusion.

"Me?"

"Yes."

Locke held his wine glass, looked at Harry, and nodded: "Yes, you. Why, are your grades very bad?"

Compared to the two-thirds of Top Students and academic geniuses in the room, or compared to Peter Parker, Harry Osborn's achievements certainly couldn't measure up.

But if compared with Kem or Pietro...

Let's put it this way.

Harry Osborn's academic performance could crush Kem's.

The most important point was...

As long as it wasn't Peter Parker, Locke felt it was perfectly OK.

Harry opened his mouth.

Seeing this, Gwen spoke up: "Then let it be Harry. This year, our only opponent is Trinity High School. With five people, we could win a clean sweep. With three more people, we'll just have three more trophies."

Locke smiled and looked at Harry: "Alright, it's settled then."

Harry was in a daze for a moment. Hearing Locke's words, he felt as if he were facing his father, Norman Osborn.

Norman Osborn was just like Locke.

Overbearing.

It seemed others didn't even have a chance to hold an opinion.

However... Harry could have held an opinion.

Locke had originally thought Harry would decline a couple of times, and he was prepared to just pull Kem in if it really didn't work out. It was just that if he did that, he felt he would be impeached.

People would say he was playing favorites when it came to fighting for Midtown High School's honor.

After all, Kem's grades were truly hard to justify to the public.

Simply put.

In the eyes of other high-achieving students, after seeing Kem's name on the list, they would likely say that the now-elevated Locke didn't even bother to put on an act anymore.

If that happened, it wouldn't be very good.

Locke was still counting on maxing out the one million points he could get this year and next. Besides, while Locke didn't mind whether he was President or not, being impeached and removed from office wouldn't look good after all.

However... the objection Locke anticipated did not come.

Harry thought about something and nodded: "Thank you."

Locke raised an eyebrow and smiled: "Don't be so nervous. Actually, it's just going through the motions."

Kahn said from the side: "Once you're on stage, answer what you can. For what you can't answer, there's Locke and Gwen. With two Top Student camps, what does Trinity High School have to play against them?"

Hearing Kahn's words, Cindy laughed: "You haven't forgotten, have you? This time, Holy Trinity has Reed Richards, that top-tier genius from California. I heard that this time Holy Trinity even gave the Captain position to Reed Richards."

Gwen nodded: "And Susan Storm and that Ben guy were also scouted by Holy Trinity."

Presumably, that was why Holy Trinity wanted to increase the team configuration this year.

The corners of Locke's mouth curled up: "In my dictionary, there is only winning!"

Even a tie would be an insult to Locke.

A while later...

When everyone had finished visiting Gwen and was preparing to leave and head back to school, Cindypulled a document from her backpack and handed it to Locke: "President Locke, sign this, please. Otherwise, Kahn and I won't be able to go to the Columbia Science Center tomorrow."

Originally, Cindy had planned to wait for Locke to come to school to get his signature.

But... Locke had taken the day off today.

So.

Cindy handed the document to Locke and then looked at Gwen, trying to push one more time: "Gwen, it's the weekend tomorrow. Let's go to the Columbia Science Center together to relax."

Gwen shook her head: "I'm not going. I have an appointment with Pepper tomorrow. But the day after tomorrow, we can go shopping at the mall together."

"Really? It's a deal then."

"Yeah."

Gwen nodded, a trace of helplessness flashing on her face: "I didn't want to go, but if I don't go shopping for clothes, I'm afraid I won't have anything to wear."

Cindy's expression turned dirty as she leaned in close to Gwen: "Gwen, being here, do you even have time to wear clothes?"

Gwen's eyes widened, and she looked at Cindy with some helplessness: "Cindy."

Locke, meanwhile, expressionlessly handed the document he had signed back to Cindy: "Alright, hurry up and go."

This girl... all day long, she just loves telling the truth..."