The Witcher: The Journey to Transcendence from Marvel...

Chapter 163 The Man-Eating Building

"What's going on? There's no sound at all?"

The bounty hunters and assassins surrounding the building looked at each other, filled with doubt.

They stared intently at the seemingly ordinary yet mysterious building, trying to glean some clue from its silent exterior.

Many others, however, expressed deep apprehension, realizing that things were far more complicated than they had imagined.

More than 100 people stormed into the building, but not a single drop of water was splashed.

That building was like a giant black hole, silently swallowing up everyone who entered.

A great reward will surely attract brave men; the underworld is never short of desperate criminals who would rather die than risk their lives for money.

Soon, more than 100 people gathered again and bravely rushed into the building, but the result was the same as before: silence and no sound came out.

Seeing this, fear began to creep into the hearts of some people, and they gave up and quietly left the dangerous place.

Although they were all outlaws, they didn't want to die for nothing.

In the end, only a few dozen people remained from the once bustling crowd.

These people are not ordinary people; they possess some special abilities to varying degrees.

He is very confident in his abilities.

At this moment, a burly, bald man with broad shoulders and a thick waist appeared in everyone's sight.

He was wearing an expensive suit, the crisp fabric and exquisite tailoring of which clearly demonstrated his status and position, and he was accompanied by a group of henchmen.

He was Kingpin, the underground emperor of New York.

He certainly wasn't there for the bounty; he ran a vast business empire, and wealth was no longer his goal.

Of course, he had to show up at such a "grand event" in New York's underworld to demonstrate his status and influence.

"Hoo~~" Kingpin exhaled a cloud of smoke, the white smoke slowly drifting in the air, as elusive as the thoughts in his mind.

"Still haven't found out who posted the bounty?"

His voice was deep and powerful, carrying an unquestionable authority.

"No," came the reply from a man with a bullseye tattooed on his forehead.

He was Kingpin's assassin, and his nickname was Bullseye.

His eyes were cold and sharp, like a blade ready to be drawn at any moment.

Kingpin narrowed his eyes.

[In New York, there are only a few organizations that I can't find any information about at all; I can't investigate any further.]

He pondered to himself, knowing full well that there might be something more sinister behind this bounty.

Seeing the eager Bullseye, Kingpin advised, "Give up. The target isn't an ordinary person."

"How will you know if you don't try?" Bullseye's tone was full of confidence and stubbornness.

He is a top-tier assassin with absolute confidence in his abilities.

After saying that, he walked into the building without hesitation.

As the others watched Bullseye walk into the building, they gradually became restless.

Those who were highly confident in their own abilities had their competitive spirit and greed ignited instantly, and they followed without hesitation.

However, as soon as they stepped into the building, it felt as if they had been hit hard on the head with a heavy hammer, and a strong pain instantly struck them.

They suffered a psychological attack; an invisible force crashed against their brains like a tidal wave.

Those who couldn't hold on quickly lost consciousness, collapsed to the ground, and became one of the many corpses.

The remaining people exchanged horrified glances, quickly realizing they had been subjected to a psychological attack.

In their understanding, mental attacks are among the most difficult superpowers to deal with.

This type of attack is launched without any warning, making it impossible to defend against and very difficult to effectively defend against.

A wave of despair washed over them, but their survival instinct kept them calm.

"Charge! Engage him in close combat!" someone shouted.

They believed that only close combat could prevent them from continuing to suffer psychological attacks.

A group of people gritted their teeth and rushed to the second floor, but when they arrived, they saw a shocking scene.

Bullseye knelt on the ground, crawling forward with difficulty.

His face was contorted with pain, and sweat dripped down his face.

"??" Everyone was filled with doubt.

They soon felt as if something heavy was pressing down on them, so heavy that they couldn't lift their backs.

Her legs were trembling so badly that she couldn't support her body at all.

"There's something wrong with gravity here," someone said with difficulty.

Their hearts were filled with fear, not knowing who their target was or how they could possess such terrifying abilities.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

"Go back! Go back to the first floor!" someone shouted in a panic.

However, it was too late; gravity began to double.

Everyone was pinned to the ground and unable to move.

Their breathing became increasingly difficult, and every muscle and every bone groaned in pain.

They struggled desperately, but to no avail.

In the end, they lost their lives in despair.

"These people are of poor quality; they didn't even make it past the second level."

Wes sat on the fifth floor, his expression revealing obvious disappointment and boredom.

He glanced down at the book in his hand, seemingly losing interest in continuing to read, and gently closed the book.

Wes slowly stood up, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

As Weiss walked down from the fifth floor, he couldn't help but feel a little regretful.

His carefully laid traps and trials on the fourth and third floors now seem to have been completely wasted; he never expected these people to be so easily defeated.

Upon reaching the second floor, one is greeted by a mass of mangled corpses.

Those contorted postures clearly show that these people had experienced an extremely painful struggle before they died.

They may have felt despair and helplessness in the final moments of their lives, but it was all too late.

Wes's gaze lingered briefly on the corpses, without a trace of pity, only a sigh for their weakness.

Upon arriving on the first floor, I found it completely silent.

The dead had no wounds on their bodies; they passed away peacefully without experiencing much suffering.

Perhaps at the moment of their death, they were not even aware of what was happening.

As Weiss stepped out of the building, everyone's eyes were instantly drawn to him, as if by a magnet.

He looked around, and whoever his gaze fell upon would nervously swallow hard.

The tension was like that of prey being watched by a wild beast, filled with fear and unease.

Even Kingpin, the mob boss, was no exception; a barely perceptible hint of tension flashed across his usually composed face.

This is a biological instinct; it is the fear of beings that can take one's life at will.

At this moment, Wes was undoubtedly the one who instilled fear in everyone.

(End of this chapter)