Kingpin is certainly a man who knows how to read the room and adapt to the times.

Along the coast of Hong Kong, fully armed soldiers surrounded a vast expanse of the sea. Thanks to the rapid deployment capabilities of China's armed forces, troops had already arrived here even before Jade could explain the situation to Guan Zhen. However, following her explanation, the perimeter of the encirclement had drawn in just a bit tighter.

"Hey, hey, right over there, did you get it on camera?"

Hidden in the bushes, a shifty-eyed fellow nudged his accomplice. The price Kingpin was offering this time was simply too high; otherwise, they would never have taken such a massive risk to get this close.

If they were caught, they would likely be dealt with summarily for spying on military intelligence. Coupled with their already shady backgrounds—having taken the enemy's blood money so many times—they might accidentally transform from walking half-a-millions into a government payout.

"Got it, but it's so blurry, is this going to work?"

The accomplice glanced at the video on the camera screen and asked doubtfully.

"It's fine, just send it right over. Kingpin has money, and he pays promptly. As long as you don't try to fool him with completely irrelevant information, you'll be safe. In this line of work, you have to know your clients. You're still a bit young, so just watch and learn."

The speaker was just about to retreat when he suddenly felt his body sink. Looking down, he saw his ankles pressed flat against the ground, yet strangely, there was no pain at all.

Within a few seconds of contemplation, the lower half of the speaker's body felt as though every bone had been extracted, and the flesh had been tossed into a meat grinder for an hour. It turned directly into a soft, pulpy mush.

He collapsed face down with a splat, just in time to watch the final remains of his partner dissolve into a puddle of foul liquid right before his eyes. Before he even had time to feel terror, he lost consciousness entirely.

After both men died, a thoroughly crimson figure covered in scales stepped onto the two pools of liquefied remains. The sludge surged upward along its legs, and wherever it passed, the shattered scales were instantly restored to brand-new condition, while the blunt claws on its hands grew much sharper.

"Useless humans, not even fit to be scraps."

Mephisto spoke coldly. Don't misunderstand—the two men under his feet were not the humans he referred to as scraps; the term "humans" instead designated Obadiah Stane, who had perished amidst the alternation of extreme temperatures and oxygen deprivation.

Stane had died far too quickly, forcing Mephisto to deploy his backup plan prematurely. Hidden within the intricate patterns of the Hell Contract Book was a splinter of his own consciousness, designed precisely to manifest when needed and usurp a host's body.

Clack, clack. Mephisto swiftly transformed his form back into that of a human. He was determined to find out what those suspected remnants of Hell's laws scattered outside actually were; he would never allow anyone to secretly use the power of Hell.

The Ancient One excluded, of course, since Mephisto simply couldn't beat that old hag.

Meanwhile, inside the Golden Tooth Building in New York City.

Kingpin stared at the videos and information fed back to him from various channels, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest.

"Someone come in!"

"Boss! What are your orders?"

Kingpin slowly stood up. "I recall one of your subordinates used to look after the turf in Chinatown, a fellow named... Valmont, or something. What is he doing now?"

"Boss, he should be in the smuggling business by now." The minor boss still had some impression of Valmont; the quarterly kickbacks weren't massive, but they were consistent.

"Mhm. Have him smuggle an item to Hong Kong. Express delivery, needs to arrive by tomorrow. The crate must not be opened before it reaches its destination. Also, you understand what I'm trying to say, don't you?" Kingpin lowered his head to look at the minor boss, causing beads of sweat to pour rapidly down the man's forehead.

"Understood, perfectly understood!" The minor boss nodded repeatedly. It was just a matter of confidentiality. He had no idea what the boss was planning to smuggle, but whatever, Valmont would be taking the blame for the smuggling operation anyway, so it had nothing to do with him.

"Good. Pick up the item in half an hour."

As soon as Kingpin finished speaking, the minor boss nimble-footedly scampered out of the room.

"Bullseye, how long does it take to get from here to Hong Kong?" Kingpin suddenly asked a minute later.

At that moment, Bullseye stepped out from a concealed corner nearby. "By plane, about sixteen hours."

"Call the police twenty hours from now. After calling the police, make him commit suicide." Kingpin said as he walked toward the inner chamber.

Bullseye adjusted the firearm in his hands. As an assassin, having to do the job of a police informant—wasn't that cutting into someone else's trade?

Never mind, no use thinking about it too much. Better first pin down the minor boss's whereabouts; making someone commit suicide was a job he was thoroughly familiar with.

Inside the dark room, Kingpin stood before the statue of Shendu, neither of them speaking for a long time.

"Shendu, your talisman has been traced. It's in Hong Kong, and the specific location seems to be a place called Uncle's Antique Shop. Of course, whether it's still there now, I cannot say."

"Additionally, that minion of Mephisto you mentioned also seems to have appeared in Hong Kong. Not long ago, he was severely beaten up by a little girl. The girl can fly, shoot rays from her eyes, and breathe fire from her mouth."

"Furthermore, in half an hour, I'll have someone deliver you to Hong Kong, and twenty hours later, I will directly call the police."

Kingpin laid out the plan openly and honestly, without the slightest intention of hiding anything or playing dumb.

We are all foxes with a thousand years of experience; there is no need to pretend here.

"Kingpin, I suddenly appreciate you even more," Shendu said, word by word.

Kingpin's ability to accurately assess the situation truly lived up to the title of underground overlord. Moreover, from the beginning until now, Kingpin had never signed any contract with him, displaying more than enough caution.

"Just do as you say," Shendu continued. "If you ever plan on changing jobs in the future, you can come find me."

"No need, I don't like working for others." With that, Kingpin turned and left the room.

After Kingpin departed, Shadowkhan soldiers emerged one after another from the shadows, unhooking Shendu from the wall and packing him directly into a crate.

Throughout the entire process, Shendu felt both furious and thrilled. He was furious because his own power had been usurped by someone else—flight, laser rays, fire-breathing! Those were all his powers!

He was thrilled because he was finally getting closer to his talismans, taking another step forward toward breaking free!

Half an hour later, the massive crate passed through the hands of the minor boss and landed in the possession of Valmont, who then boarded a plane bound for Hong Kong alongside it.

Twenty hours later, after paying the customs duties for the artwork, Valmont successfully entered Hong Kong and hauled the large crate to a hotel he had booked.

"I'm exhausted..." Valmont panted, sitting down on the bed and pulling out his phone to ask his boss precisely where the item was supposed to be delivered.

However, after calling several times in a row, every attempt resulted in a state of unanswered silence.

"Don't bother calling, he's already dead."

Shendu's voice echoed from inside the crate. Immediately afterward, Shadowkhan soldiers surrounded Valmont and smoothly drew the room's curtains shut.

Looking at the sudden multitude of bizarre figures appearing around him, Valmont obediently let go of his phone and raised both hands.