Thinking this, he silently followed behind Ulysses Klaue and his group.
The underground exchange was a mix of all sorts of people. But with Peter's agility and elusive movements, ordinary people couldn't detect him at all.
Before long, he followed Ulysses into Kingpin Tower—naturally by climbing the building's wall using his nimble claws.
Upon entering the tower, Ulysses was led by several tall, muscular men to a conference room at the top floor.
Inside, a bald man in a white suit lounged on the sofa, a thick cigar dangling from his lips as he puffed out smoke. This man was massive—his bulging muscles almost tearing the suit. Even the burly guards outside looked like little chicks next to him. This man was none other than Kingpin, ruler of Hell's Kitchen.
"Boss, Ulysses is here," one subordinate said respectfully as he opened the door.
"Hmm, let him in," Kingpin grunted, tilting his head back as he exhaled a smoke ring. He placed the cigar in the ashtray in front of him.
Just then, the bearded Ulysses strolled in, laughing heartily.
"Boss King! Long time no see—still as imposing as ever!" Ulysses greeted him, spreading his arms as he walked forward.
Kingpin also smiled and opened his arms. The two men embraced lightly—a clear sign of their close relationship.
Very few people had the qualifications to receive such a greeting from Kingpin. Ulysses was one of them.
"Did you bring all the firearms I asked for?" Kingpin asked bluntly as they sat down.
As a renowned arms dealer, Ulysses's visit clearly involved business.
"Relax, I brought everything. The goods have already crossed the Soviet border and are en route to the Pretty Country," Ulysses said, lighting a cigar. "They should arrive in a few days. But Boss King, what are you planning to do with millions of dollars' worth of weapons this time? That much heat could catch the attention of those people up top. Once they catch wind of it, things could get messy."
Kingpin flicked ash from his cigar and responded flatly, "Too many people around me have died recently. I've got a bad feeling. So I'm buying firepower to calm my nerves. After all, all fear comes from insufficient firepower."
Ulysses didn't expect someone like Kingpin—the feared emperor of the underworld—to say something so cautious. He was genuinely surprised.
"Boss King, you must be joking! With your status, who could possibly pose a threat to you? You're just scaring yourself."
"I thought the same. But better safe than sorry," Kingpin replied. "The world is anything but peaceful these days. A little extra security never hurts."
"You've got a point there," Ulysses nodded. "Oh, by the way, I brought a small token for your collection."
With that, Ulysses signaled a subordinate to bring over a black box.
"What's this?" Kingpin asked, raising an eyebrow as the box was placed before him.
He opened it—and inside lay a sleek, black katana.
"A katana?" Kingpin frowned.
"Yes, but not just any katana," Ulysses grinned. "This one's forged from Carbon Nano Steel, a special alloy developed during the Soviet Cold War. It's absurdly tough and razor-sharp. But that's not all—it also suppresses self-healing factors. If someone with healing powers is wounded by it, their regeneration is inhibited and may necrotize. It's very effective against superpowered mutants."
Kingpin's interest was piqued. He picked up the katana and, with a swift strike, sliced the table in front of him clean in half.
"Very sharp indeed. I'll take it. Name your price."
"It's a gift," Ulysses replied with a wave. "Just a little token."
Kingpin sneered, "Ulysses, you never do anything for free. Do you think I'd believe you'd give away something this valuable? Tell me—what do you really want?"
"Haha! You still know me too well, Boss King. Since we're being honest, I'll get to the point. I heard you took over Dr. Curt Connors's research. From what I know, he was working on a special serum for enhancing the human body."
Kingpin's heart burned with frustration. He had just taken over Connors's project less than a month ago, and Connors was murdered last night. As the only scientist working on the Lizard Serum, his death halted all progress.
This development caused a major headache. It wasn't because Kingpin had any personal interest in human enhancement, but because the organization above him demanded it. Yes—even Kingpin, the mighty underworld emperor, wasn't truly free in the Pretty Country. There were powers above him, more terrifying than anyone dared to imagine.
Anyone with a shred of intelligence could guess it: a gangster couldn't operate so openly without protection from some higher force. After all, the FBI wasn't known for leniency. If they ever decided to act, they could obliterate any criminal organization overnight. The fact that they didn't meant that someone—some invisible hand—was balancing the scales behind the scenes.
Of course, the general public was clueless, but Ulysses, an experienced arms dealer, saw it clearly.
"Didn't you watch the news? Connors died last night," Kingpin said coolly, puffing smoke.
"What?!" Ulysses was stunned. His eyes widened.
"You're rubbing salt in the wound," Kingpin muttered. "His death caused a huge mess. I have no idea how to explain it to those above."
"You might as well give up on the Lizard Serum. There's none left in this world," Kingpin said with finality.
"I understand. Let's pretend I never brought it up. It's getting late; I should go," Ulysses said, rising. "The katana's yours."
"I'll pay for the katana and the balance on the firearms. You know I never accept freebies."
"Suit yourself. You're rich anyway, so if you insist—I'll take it!" Ulysses laughed loudly and swaggered out with his men.
Now only Kingpin and a few subordinates remained in the room.
"Take this katana to my collection room," Kingpin ordered, getting up.
"Yes, sir." One subordinate picked up the black box and left.
Meanwhile, Peter, who had been clinging to the wall outside the window, began to act. From the moment Ulysses entered the room, Peter had been eavesdropping from the outside.
What he heard shocked him.
He hadn't expected Ulysses's visit to involve tens of millions in firearms—and not for resale. That kind of firepower wasn't just for gang skirmishes. With that many weapons, Kingpin could arm a private army, capable of taking on the military.
And that's when it clicked.
Kingpin didn't just fear rivals. He feared the military. That meant whoever was above Kingpin—his so-called umbrella—might be connected to national defense or intelligence agencies.
Peter now understood: this wasn't a small-time gang war. These were high-stakes games involving powerful shadow organizations.
That made Kingpin's troubles even more entertaining to Peter. He had originally planned to make trouble for Kingpin. Now the situation was unfolding better than he could've imagined.
Still, his current focus was the Carbon Nano Steel katana.
As a transmigrator, Peter knew all about Carbon Nano Steel. In another Marvel universe, Deadpool used such a sword to kill Wolverine. It was the perfect weapon against those with healing abilities.
Since he was also working on building 2B Miss—who was a master of swordsmanship—getting this blade was a top priority.
Determined, he snuck into the building via the ventilation ducts and found Kingpin's collection room. The room was filled with valuable artifacts: calligraphy from the East, Western oil paintings, and rare antiques.
If Peter stole everything, he could become a millionaire overnight.
But he didn't expect the room to be so heavily booby-trapped. The moment he poked his head out of the duct, the alarm triggered.
Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the entire tower.
Hundreds of armed gang members mobilized instantly, scouring the building.
"Damn it! This sword's too long for the vents—I'll have to fight my way out," Peter muttered.
He couldn't retreat the way he came, so he clutched the katana and blasted open the collection room door with his superhuman strength.
He bolted down the hallway toward the windows—but was stunned to find thick, 10-centimeter steel plates had dropped down over every exit. Not even a grenade could get through.
"Holy crap!" Peter was floored. Who turns an entire building into a bunker?
Clearly, Kingpin feared more than just rival gangs.
But now wasn't the time to think. He dashed for the stairwell, only to find himself trapped—surrounded by heavily armed men from both ends of the corridor.
"Well, looks like I've got no choice but to fight," Peter sighed.
Gripping the Carbon Nano Steel katana tightly, he said with a grin:
"Perfect. Let's see what you can do."
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