Both start in hell: but their talents are multiplied a hundredfold.

The man in the floral shirt suddenly took a big step back, his lower back hitting the edge of the coffee table, causing teacups and cigar cutters to clatter and fall to the floor.

The bald, burly man plopped down on the ground, leaning against the wall, his face contorted with twitching muscles, his eyes bulging as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.

No one knows how Shen Jue appeared more than 300 meters in the air.

The building's security system is capable of intercepting an entire special forces unit.

From the lobby to the top floor, there are seven electronic access control systems, hundreds of armed guards, two independently powered elevators, and a private elevator that requires both iris and voiceprint verification.

Shen Jue, like a ghost condensed directly from the night wind, silently affixed himself to the top of the throne of the Kingpin Mafia empire.

"That's him!" The bald, burly man pointed out the window, his fingers trembling wildly as if he had a stroke.

Shen Jue waved into the window, his gesture friendly and natural, and then he knocked on the glass, this time with a little more force.

"This glass is quite thick," Shen Jue said with a smile.

"I'm guessing it's bulletproof. Thirty millimeters? Forty millimeters?"

He smiled, switched the Bible to his left hand, and placed his right palm on the glass as if caressing a lover.

"But it's okay, it's a bit windy outside."

"Children, please forgive me for coming uninvited."

As soon as he finished speaking, Shen Jue slightly curled his five fingers, and the surrounding air suddenly hummed.

The bulletproof glass on the floor-to-ceiling window, strong enough to withstand direct fire from an anti-materiel rifle, emitted a low sound. Then, centered on Shen Jue's palm, cracks spread outwards in all directions like silver-white lightning.

"Crack!"

With a crisp sound, the glass did not shatter, but was pushed inward intact, like a piece of ice shard being slapped away by a giant, and crashed heavily onto the office floor.

The night wind then rushed in, swirling up the documents and banknotes on the table, which danced wildly in the air like a white snowflake.

Shen Jue floated in slowly, her feet landing on the ground scattered with shards of glass, making a very soft "crunch".

He dusted off non-existent dust from his shoulders and held the Bible back to his chest.

"Good evening, Mr. Kingpin," Shen Jue said with a smile.

He took a step forward.

At that very instant, Bullseye moved.

Instead of reaching for the slender throwing knife at his waist, he tumbled to the right as if propelled by a spring, his movements so fast they almost left afterimages.

The moment he knocked over the single sofa, his left hand reached into the hidden compartment at the bottom of the sofa and pulled out a jet-black anti-materiel sniper rifle.

The gun was enormous, almost like a piece of black iron bone pulled from hell. Several layers of heat-insulating cloth were wrapped around the barrel, and the butt was folded up and flung aside with one hand by Bullseye.

He knelt on one knee, the gun resting steadily on the overturned sofa back. The entire movement took no more than 1.5 seconds, and his movements were fluid and graceful.

The gun barrel was raised, pointing directly at Shen Jue's forehead.

"Step back." Bullseye's voice was as cold as if it had been carved from beneath the ice.

Shen Jue stopped in her tracks.

He tilted his head, his gaze sliding from the muzzle of the gun to the index finger on the trigger, then back to the gun, and finally landing on that angular, bald head.

Then his smile deepened, revealing a row of neat white teeth.

"Wow," Shen Jue exclaimed.

"Child, this is not the way to treat a guest."

"Anti-materiel sniper rifle? Using it at this distance, aren't you afraid of deafening yourself?"

"My ears are used to it," Bullseye said, unmoved. "But your brain isn't."

Shen Jue neither moved forward nor backward, but simply moved the Bible in her hand from her chest to her side, as if afraid that it would be dirty if a gun was pointed at it.

Behind him, through the floor-to-ceiling window that had been completely stripped away, the night wind was constantly blowing in, making the documents on the table rustle loudly.

The ground was littered with shards of glass, like a dark white ice field reflecting the city lights.

Kingpin remained seated in his chair, without even changing his posture.

His hands remained clasped on the table, the wind outside the window ruffled his collar and cuffs, but it couldn't move a single muscle in his face.

Kingpin's expression was calm to the point of cruelty, as if he had long anticipated this uninvited meeting, or as if he had been waiting for such a reckless guest every day.

"You don't seem surprised." Shen Jue looked past the gun aimed at him and at Kingpin, his tone as if he were chatting with a friend.

"I originally thought you would twitch your eyebrows or something."

Kingpin slowly raised his eyes, his gaze steady.

"I've seen a lot of mutants," he said.

"Most of them thought they would walk out of the building alive."

"Did they succeed?" Shen Jue asked.

"They're all dead," Kingpin replied.

The man in the floral shirt and the bald, muscular man standing in the corner were completely frozen in place.

"The local gangsters are really rude," Shen Jue sighed softly.

"The way you came up was also very impolite." Kingpin slowly stood up.

He stood up, his hands hanging at his sides, his white suit bulging from the muscles in his shoulders and back.

The light from outside the window shone from behind him, casting his shadow on Shen Jue, like a moving black mountain.

"So you flew up to my roof and knocked on my window just for a few stray cats and dogs," Kingpin said.

"They're not stray cats or dogs." Shen Jue raised her eyes, her smile unchanged.

"Those were two very cute little guys. Perhaps when their necks were snapped, they never imagined they would be used as a tool to threaten the kind priest."

He gently opened the Bible in his hand, flipping through a few pages as if casually. The night breeze made the pages tremble slightly, the sound as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

"Mr. Kingpin, your men are very creative. Releasing dead cats and dogs is indeed the lowest-cost form of intimidation. It's just that they chose the wrong target."

"Are you really a priest?" Kingpin asked, shifting his gaze from the Bible to Shen Jue's eyes.

"Absolutely genuine," Shen Jue said. "I'm from the Mormon Church, so I tell a bit more jokes than the average priest."

"Then you can pray for yourself, Father Shen Jue," Kingpin said.

His voice was devoid of any superfluous emotion; it was an absolute judgment built entirely on power, force, and the countless lives lost in the past.

"Because I don't like negotiating with a gun between us," Kingpin said.

Shen Jue chuckled softly, closed the Bible, tucked it under his arm, straightened his collar, and took another step forward.

"Bang!"

A shot rang out.

Shen Jue's figure suddenly blurred for a moment, and the air where he stood distorted for a moment as if it had been scorched by high temperature.

He then appeared to the left of the bullseye, less than an arm's length away.

Bullseye's pupils suddenly contracted. Almost without thinking, the anti-materiel sniper rifle swung horizontally like an iron bar struck by a tremendous force, and at the same time, he retreated rapidly backward.

But Shen Jue didn't chase after him. He just stood where Bullseye had been kneeling, with a long, thin object in his hand.

That was a bullet.

A 20mm armor-piercing bullet that should have passed right through the middle of his head.

He opened his palm, and the bullet was still slightly smoking in his hand.

Shen Jue looked down, then looked up and smiled at Bullseye.

"What a naughty child," Shen Jue said softly.

Bullseye's expression changed for the first time.

Kingpin didn't move; he remained standing in the same spot, even putting his hands behind his back.

"Interesting," Kingpin said in a low voice.

Bullseye had already refocused the gun on Shen Jue, but this time, his finger didn't pull the trigger. Instead, he slowly adjusted his breathing, as if waiting for a better opportunity.

Shen Jue didn't say anything more, but gently placed the warm bullet back on the ground.

Then he turned to look at Kingpin, his gaze piercing through the gun barrels and the night, as if trying to see into the deepest part of this dark empire.

"Mr. Kingpin, I have a grand plan. Would you be interested in hearing about it?" Shen Jue said to Kingpin with the expression of a priest looking at a lost sheep.