Just as Liva was about to go downstairs to conduct an interrogation, Sky suddenly stopped her.
"Take a look at this!"
"This media company… it's under Fisk Enterprises?" Liva frowned in confusion.
Fisk Enterprises?
Wilson Grant Fisk — better known to the world by another name: Kingpin.
Many people knew the infamous name of the underworld emperor, Kingpin.But few realized that he was also the respectable head of a major corporation — Fisk Enterprises.
Of course, he wouldn't launder money directly through his main company.That "media company" was nothing more than a kennel for his dogs — a front to do his dirty work.
With two identities — one legitimate, one criminal — he could flourish in both worlds, enjoying the glamorous life of New York's elite while ruling its dark underbelly.
Liva's eyes grew cold. Her voice was sharp as steel.
"I don't care how many titles he hides behind.If he dares to threaten Dan, I'll make sure he disappears."
With that, her heels clicked hard against the floor as she strode toward the elevator, fury in her every step.
During the last attack, she had still been asleep, drunk and unaware.But judging from the aftermath, that battle had been nothing short of earth-shaking.
And now, barely half a day later, that bastard had sent people again!
Yet when she came down in the elevator, she was surprised to find that Xu Dan was already there.
The "reporter" lay on the ground in a pool of blood.
"He's… dead?" Liva asked, alarmed.
In a modern society ruled by law, killing someone — even an enemy with bad intentions — meant facing punishment.
But Xu Dan wouldn't do something so reckless in broad daylight.He shook his head.
"He tried to escape from security and ended up falling on his own. Not dead yet. Call the police and send him to the hospital."
The security chief nodded respectfully and went to carry out the order.
The Antarctica Games Company had become a well-known giant in New York.And in a capitalist city, the police knew perfectly well how to "handle" such matters.
The rest could be left to them.
As for interrogating that "reporter"? Completely unnecessary.They already knew everything they needed. It wasn't like they had to record a statement for court.
From the last incident's survivors — the men from the helicopter — they had learned clearly that Kingpin was the one behind it all.
That was terrorism, plain and simple.Fortunately, Goenitz had handled it with ease.
And this so-called "reporter"?From the surveillance footage, it was obvious — he'd come to dig up Xu Dan's secrets, to find another weakness to exploit.
It was a planned abduction.
"Dan, what do we do next?" Liva asked anxiously.
Kingpin's influence across the United States was immense — especially in New York, his main stronghold.A few crashed helicopters or dead men were nothing to him.They barely counted as incidents.
So more attacks would surely follow.
Xu Dan glanced down at the bloodstain on the floor and smiled faintly.
"Once I finish the latest update for Warcraft, I'll deal with it then."
What mattered more — Kingpin, or the game's player points?
Obviously, the points!
The current player activity curve for Warcraft was several times higher than The King of Fighters had ever been.
Back then, KOF was just a casual pastime — friends battling each other for a few hours before going out to eat.A fun hobby, cheaper than drinking.
But Warcraft was a whole different beast.
Its attraction to players was stronger than a magnetic field.
According to backend data, the first wave of players had an average playtime of six hours straight!
Six hours — half a day gone, completely absorbed in the game.
Addiction.
To most, it sounded like a bad word.But to a businessman? It was the most beautiful compliment imaginable.
And that was exactly what Xu Dan wanted.
Only when players were hopelessly addicted could his points skyrocket.
Moreover, he planned to expand the game's entire ecosystem.
In his previous life, many classic games weren't actually all that different from one another — certainly not as perfect as the ones he made now.But those game companies, once a single project succeeded, would quickly branch out and monetize,turning one successful title into hundreds or thousands of times its cost in profit.
Now, he intended to do the same —but this time, not just to make money… to earn points as well.
For example, if playing games could earn money, then families would stop opposing it.Gaming would become a profession.
Imagine a world where global game workers clocked in for eight hours a day —what a beautiful vision that would be.
Meanwhile, across the street from Antarctica Games Tower, in a small fast-food shop—
"Boss, looks like Spencer failed."
"I know."
Kingpin's subordinate glared angrily toward the ambulance parked outside.
"Useless idiot. Panicked like a fool — all that training wasted!"
He didn't care about Spencer's injuries. What mattered was that the mission had failed.
And Kingpin was not a man who tolerated failure.
The last operative had already failed.Now, this was the second.
If word reached Kingpin's ears… it wouldn't just be a scolding.That merciless man might personally kill him.
"Forget it," the thug spat. "Round up the rest of the brothers. We're hitting them tonight. I'll go myself. Damn it!"
Moments later, five black SUVs pulled up beside the diner.
At least five men per car — nearly thirty in total.
It was the size of a full-scale gang war.
Pedestrians nearby could sense the danger in the air and quickly left.Some even called the police.
But given who they were dealing with, the police didn't respond.
After all, it was just a row of SUVs on the street. New York had seen worse — biker gangs, car clubs, you name it.
Inside the diner, the men waited silently, eyes locked on the building across the street — Antarctica Games HQ.
Time dragged on until six o'clock, when the evening crowd began flooding the streets like a tidal wave.
The man's brow furrowed.So many people.If the company's boss slipped out among the crowd, what then?
"Damn it! What a stupid plan!"He slammed his cup of cola down on the table. His strength was enough to shatter it into shards, startling a passing waiter.
"Sir, that'll be eight dollars for the glass," the waiter said politely, smiling.
"…"
The room fell silent.
Normally, he'd have smashed the waiter's face into the floor —but not today. Not before the mission was done.
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)