Owen's ancestors had only been in the limelight in Clinton many years ago, when they had successfully turned this place into New York's version of hell.
Now, Kingpin had begun to unify the underworld forces in New York, and his business had extended from drug trafficking to smuggling, selling stolen goods, special services, bars, nightclubs, and high-end hotels.
What was even more frightening was that this guy had also extended his tentacles to big cities all over the country. He worked together to increase his market share and manipulate the market price to obtain greater profits.
They weren't crazy, and didn't want to go against such a big shot who was already a hegemon.
Owen, on the other hand, was too crazy to notice the sudden silence from his subordinates. He was still talking about how he was going to take back the glory of the family.
On the side, his subordinates couldn't help but exchange glances, as if they knew what the other party was thinking.
Perhaps in a few days, they would be able to think about taking over Owen's position as the boss?
A dead man couldn't be their boss.
While Boss Owen was full of ambition and his subordinates were waiting for their boss to die, someone knocked on the door of the room.
The thick iron door let out three crisp clangs before it stopped.
The two criminals guarding the door raised their guns warily. This wasn't a signal from the guards outside.
After a brief pause, there were three more knocks on the door.
It was still unhurried and at a moderate pace, like a polite person going to a stranger's house to ask for directions.
Owen waved his hand, signaling for the guards in the hall to take out their guns and be on guard, ready to fire at any moment.
Seeing that his subordinates were ready, he gestured to the criminal at the door to open the small window and see who it was.
One of the criminals leaned forward, only to see the guard outside standing solemnly behind a man in a hat and a black windbreaker, his gun aimed at the man.
Only the lower half of the man in black's face was visible. Under the shadow of the brim of the hat, he could only see the corners of his mouth and mustache curling up, as if he was smiling happily.
The bandit was stunned and asked, "Fermi, who is he?"
Fermi, the criminal outside the door, said with a straight face, "Dirk, he said he's a big client and wants to talk to the boss in person."
Dirk asked, "Why did you let him knock on the door?"
Fermi kept a straight face. "He said it was more polite this way."
Dirk frowned. "Have you searched him?"
Fermi raised his empty hand and showed a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills. "Only this. He said it was a deposit."
Dirk turned his head and looked at his boss, Owen. "Someone said he wanted to buy something. Fermi searched him, and there was only a stack of cash."
Of course, Dirk couldn't see it from the small window, but Fermi's forehead was already covered in a fine layer of sweat.
Behind him was Selina, who had activated her optical camouflage. She was holding onto his clothes with one hand, and the muzzle of the tranquilizer gun in the other hand was pressed against his back.
Owen vaguely heard the conversation at the door. After a moment of hesitation, he waved at the armed criminals on guard.
The criminals spread out slightly and lowered their guns, but they didn't put them away.
Dirk opened the iron door, took a step back, and pointed his gun at the man in black.
The man in black wasn't flustered at all. He walked through the iron door unhurriedly and nodded at Dirk. "Thank you."
Dirk immediately frowned. He actually spoke with an authentic London accent! Was this guy here to get himself killed?
As he thought that, the man in black had already walked past him and stopped not far away from the women who were distributing the goods. He seemed to be sizing them up.
Owen was instantly displeased. "Who are you? What are you doing here? "
The man in black didn't answer him. Instead, he said, "The night gave me black eyes. I didn't use them to search for light, but to look down at you little rats in the sewers. Life is truly too difficult. "
It was still that authentic London accent, and when he spoke, there was a poetic cadence to it.
Owen: "… Very good. When I dig out your eyes, they'll turn black, and the rest of your life will be even more difficult."
Owen, who had been clearly excited recently, was finding it harder and harder to control his emotions. He had no time to waste on this guy.
Also, this guy had actually dared to come to their nest in the middle of the night and speak with a London accent. Whether or not he was crazy, he had to die.
That was because Owen and these people were all Irish.
Everyone in Clinton knew that they were an Irish gang.
A cruel smile appeared on Owen's face. He waved his hand and signaled for his men to break the guy's hands.
He didn't want to use a gun because he didn't want to let this damn Englishman off easy. Owen was going to slowly torture him to death.
The two criminals grabbed two crowbars and approached with oppressive footsteps. They swung the crowbars in their hands at the man in black.
Luke saw Selina slip in through the door silently, which meant that the beating could begin. "Violence can also be used for good."
As he spoke, he crossed his arms and pulled out two thirty-centimeter-long knives from his waist under his cloak.
A blurry shadow flashed through the air, and the two criminals who had lunged at him felt their hands go cold as the crowbars flew out uncontrollably.
In the next moment, they screamed as two thin red lines appeared on their wrists. A moment later, blood seeped out of the red lines.
"Shoot him! Kill him!" As an experienced gang leader who had been in Clinton for many years, Owen reacted quickly and shouted. Pa! Pa!
Pa! Pa! Pa!
A series of gunshots rang out.
But the man in black, who had been surrounded in the middle of the field, moved ten meters away and waved the knives in his hands again.
Another gunman dropped his hands and screamed.
"In the face of bad guys, we have to use extreme methods …"
A magnetic and gentle baritone voice, like that of a BBC documentary, echoed in the factory. Even the deafening gunshots couldn't drown it out.
The black knives sliced through another criminal's hands, even though the man retreated repeatedly and tried to hide behind his companion.
In the end, Luke swept past him and waved his hand. The criminal's companion also dropped his hands and screamed.
"We need to be fearless and stand up for them …"
As he spoke, two knives flew out of his hands, and two criminals who had been firing with rifles were pierced through their right shoulders. They threw their guns and screamed.
"Do your best to eradicate evil and uphold justice …" Luke tapped his feet lightly, and like a ghost, he turned left and right in the air. This time, he crossed his hands and reached for his waist, and two more knives appeared in his hands.
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