570

It was another dark and windy night.

After meticulous planning, Frank, known as The Punisher, decided tonight was the night he would infiltrate the Building and confront kingpin, the underworld king of New York City, who resided there.

Located in the heart of New York City, the night was still bustling with activity.

Frank dressed inconspicuously, blending into the bustling cityscape as he made his way to one of the top 20 tallest buildings in the United States, the King's Building.

Like many other skyscrapers, the Building housed various commercial spaces such as supermarkets, cinemas, and offices across most of its floors, bustling with pedestrians.

However, these commercial areas were not his objective. Frank's target lay above the 70th floor, in Kingpin's private domain, strictly off-limits to outsiders.

With his backpack, Frank entered the elevator, pressing the button for the sixty-ninth floor and waited in silence.

Even with the elevator ascending directly, it took nearly a minute to reach its destination, with occasional pauses along the way.

As the elevator climbed, Frank found himself lost in thought, staring at a photograph he carried close to his heart—a family portrait showing his wife and children, their smiles frozen in time.

Gazing at their faces, Frank's grip tightened on the photo. His jaw clenched, unable to quiet his racing thoughts.

*Ding.*

The elevator announced their arrival at the sixty-ninth floor, interrupting his reverie.

Frank took a deep breath, stowed away the photo, and stepped out into the hallway, clutching a blueprint in his hand.

This blueprint detailed the structure of the Building, a vital piece of information that gave him the confidence to attempt his infiltration of the seventieth floor.

Consulting the blueprint, Frank quickly located an unassuming utility room.

Although locked, this posed little challenge to an elite special forces operative like Frank, accustomed to overcoming such obstacles during covert operations.

Entering the utility room, Frank spotted a ventilation shaft overhead.

Carefully maneuvering through the cramped ducts, Frank encountered several obstacles along the way, navigating twists and turns that showered him with dust, making progress slow and laborious.

Yet, this was the only viable route to breach the seventieth floor.

After what seemed like an eternity, Frank rounded a corner and approached another vent. After a brief inspection, he carefully opened it, gaining access to the seventieth floor.

Now on high alert, he anticipated encountering Kingpin's bodyguards or even kingpin himself at any moment.

Silently brandishing his dagger, Frank cautiously moved through Kingpin's mansion. Drawing on years of military infiltration experience, he steadily closed in on his target.

Intuition guided him towards a pair of black-clad bodyguards stationed near a corner, certain that beyond them lay Kingpin's

It was a critical moment, testing his skills to the utmost.

Peering around the corner with a mirror, Frank took a few deep breaths, readying himself for the imminent confrontation.

With a dagger gripped firmly in each hand, Frank swiftly hurled both weapons. Simultaneously, he reached for the pistol holstered at his waist.

Caught off guard and fatigued from late-night duty, the bodyguards were defenseless against the sudden attack.

*Shhhh-*

Both daggers found their marks, piercing the guards' throats with lethal precision!

Aside from the thud of their bodies hitting the floor, silence reigned.

Exhaling deeply, Frank wiped sweat from his brow, relieved that his initial assault had gone unnoticed.

Moving forward cautiously, Frank quietly pushed open the door.

Despite the darkness, he discerned the expansive space beyond—the bedroom. The faint outline of a bed hinted at Kingpin's presence, likely asleep at this hour.

Frank tightened his grip on the dagger, silently closing the distance to the bed.

Just as he prepared to strike the figure lying there, a massive shadow over 2.5 meters tall lunged forward with surprising speed, delivering a blow that sent Frank reeling.

*Boom!*

Frank attempted to block, but the force of the blow overwhelmed him. He spat blood, staggered back, his arm numb from the impact.

Before he could react, the figure closed in, powerful arms seizing Frank by the throat!

What was this creature?

Frank knew instinctively his assailant was no ordinary human.

Indeed, as lights flickered on, Frank saw before him a towering robot, its mechanical eyes devoid of emotion fixed upon him.

A robot!

This revelation stunned Frank. He had anticipated confronting mutant bodyguards, not a mechanical sentinel.

"Ah, it seems this Latverian robot is quite formidable," a deep, drowsy voice remarked.

Turning towards the source, Frank discovered it was none other than Kingpin's himself.

Standing over two meters tall and weighing over 200 kilograms, Kingpin possessed an imposing physique—a bald head and corpulent frame reminiscent of a sumo wrestler.

With deliberate steps, Kingpin adjusted his formal attire and cane, approaching Frank at a leisurely pace.

"You're Frank , the so-called Punisher," Kingpin addressed him condescendingly. "You've slain many of my men and infiltrated my inner sanctum. You truly live up to your reputation as an elite forged in the empire's crucible."

The Punisher, held fast by the robot, had no means of resistance.

Meeting Kingpin's smug gaze head-on, Frank steeled himself. Gritting his teeth, he readied to detonate the grenade concealed on his person, prepared to meet death head-on.

But before he could act, Kingpin snatched the grenade from his grasp.

Observing the nearly detonated device, Jin Bing's irritation was palpable. "You wish to perish alongside me? You lack the merit!"

Spitting blood, the Punisher remained silent, a lion resigned to his fate.

Kingpin sneered, "Impressive, Punisher. It appears you fancy yourself quite formidable!"