From Fisk Tower, Kingpin held a cigar, looking down from his office window at everything happening in Hell's Kitchen.
"Hell's Kitchen is truly lively today," Kingpin exclaimed.
"Boss, do you need me to take care of them?" Bullseye, one of Kingpin's subordinates, asked.
Bullseye knew his boss was truly angry and immediately stepped forward to show his loyalty.
"No need. Send out a notice to the gangs in Hell's Kitchen: they are to take over all the High Table's properties within New York's sphere of influence. Whoever gets it, keeps it. The one with the most contributions will have two months of protection fees waived."
"And I remember this time it was the Marquis's people, right? His influence is in France, correct? Send word to all our affiliated forces in France: whoever takes out the Marquis gets fifteen million U.S. dollars."
"Finally, for all residents of Hell's Kitchen, as long as they bring in a head from the High Table or any High Table affiliated force, it's ten thousand per head," Kingpin ordered consecutively.
"Understood, boss," Kingpin's men received the command and immediately withdrew to spread the word.
"Don't they, the High Table, pride themselves on following rules? How come when they come to My Hell's Kitchen, they don't have to follow Hell's Kitchen's rules? Since they don't follow them, I'll let them see the price of not following rules," Kingpin said, looking out the window at the scene in Hell's Kitchen with his hands behind his back.
The next day, upon hearing the news, the people of Hell's Kitchen were in an uproar, rushing home to retrieve various weapons, getting into their cars, and driving out of Hell's Kitchen.
At a supermarket belonging to the High Table's New York faction, several tattooed strong men burst in, spraying the ceiling with machine guns, while others looted the money. Before leaving, they even burned down the entire supermarket.
A High Table assassin, having just walked out of a coffee shop, was mercilessly run over by a car.
Similar incidents were simultaneously playing out across the World.
...
France, Marquis's Residence
Gunfire roared.
The Marquis was frantically fleeing under the cover of several bodyguards.
"Fuck, fuck, how many waves has this been? Are these mercenaries crazy today, coming one after another?" the Marquis fumed.
"My Lord Marquis, you are very valuable right now. Please do not move. You currently have a fifteen million U.S. dollar bounty on your head in the black market. This price is enough to make all the mercenaries and assassins in the World go wild. More assassins are probably still on their way," one of the Marquis's subordinates said.
"Damn it, damn it. How dare they? I am one of the twelve Elders of the High Table! They will pay for this. I will have all High Table assassins retaliate," the Marquis roared.
At this moment, a grenade was thrown next to the Marquis, leaving him terrified and at a loss.
The Marquis's bodyguard quickly pulled him and ran wildly. The Marquis, still shaken, looked back at the explosion site, and for the first time, a sudden fear of Hell's Kitchen surged within him.
"Retreat, cover the Marquis. We need backup," a suited bodyguard said into his earpiece.
And so, for the next few days, the Marquis embarked on a desperate escape. He thought that as long as he survived this attack, he would be safe. Little did he know, the next time, he would pay with his life.
...
Good Luck Restaurant
At this time, Chen Ye was recruiting a chef. Chen Ye held a resume and said to the disheveled, white-haired Asian man opposite him, "Mr. Stephen Zhou, right? Why do you want to apply for this restaurant?"
"I'm new here and looking for a way to make a living. I heard you're the most reliable on this street, and you provide food and lodging," Stephen Zhou said.
"Looking at your resume, you even won the International God of Cookery title. What happened to make you so down and out that you'd stoop to working for me?" The more Chen Ye read the resume, the more something felt off. Why did this person's experience feel a little familiar?
"Hahahaha, those are all things of the past. A good man doesn't boast about past glories. I wonder if I am qualified?" Stephen Zhou asked.
"As you know, the most important thing for a chef is their cooking skills. I wonder what signature dishes Mr. Stephen Zhou has?" Chen Ye retorted.
"Hmm, I have many signature dishes, like Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, and I can also make a Manchu Han Imperial Feast. As for my best, it might be the 'Sorrowful Rice,'" Stephen Zhou replied.
"Sorrowful Rice, a very unique name," Chen Ye immediately became very interested.
Just as Chen Ye was about to ask Stephen Zhou to demonstrate his skills, an uninvited guest arrived at the restaurant, followed by John Wick and Old Ma.
Seeing this, Chen Ye could only turn to Stephen Zhou and say, "You're hired. The test can wait. Come back tomorrow, I have something to attend to now."
Seeing this, Stephen Zhou could only leave helplessly. Chen Ye didn't know what a great chef he had just missed.
"Chen, this is Winston, the former manager of the Continental Hotel in New York. Winston, this is Mr. Chen Ye," John Wick introduced the two.
Chen Ye stepped forward and shook Winston's hand. "You wouldn't come without a reason, Mr. Winston. What can I do for you?"
"Hello, Mr. Chen Ye. I mainly came here to find John, to teach him how to solve his current problem. But he said you would help him solve it, so I came to you out of curiosity. Secondly, I want to cooperate with you," Winston said, getting straight to the point.
Chen Ye didn't rush after hearing this. He sat down, took out a tea set, and began to brew tea, motioning for them to sit and talk.
Chen Ye finished brewing the tea and filled their cups one by one, then said, "Please have some tea. This is Pu'er from China. I probably know what you need. You want to redecorate your Continental Hotel, don't you?"
Winston was surprised to hear that Chen Ye knew his needs. Just as Winston was about to speak, Chen Ye continued, "I know you all want revenge. I will take care of the Marquis and let you reopen the Continental Hotel, but..."
Winston understood that Chen Ye had conditions and said, "Name your price. As long as you can help me get revenge and reopen the hotel, I'll pay any amount."
Chen Ye smiled, shook his head, then extended his hand and pointed at Winston, "I don't want money, I want you."
Winston and John's expressions instantly changed. They hadn't expected Chen Ye to have such a preference.
Chen Ye saw their expressions and knew they had misunderstood, so he quickly explained, "I'm not gay. I mean I want your loyalty, and the Continental Hotel and your resources behind you. And I want the Continental Hotel to open inside Hell's Kitchen, since your Continental Hotel was already bombed anyway."
Winston remained silent after hearing this.
Chen Ye pressed on, "I know your concerns. I will solve the problems with the High Table. I will let you open normally, without any trouble. You just need to be loyal to me."
"How will you solve it? As you know, unless you are one of the twelve seats of the High Table, it's impossible for the Continental Hotel to pledge loyalty to you. Personally, I have no problem. And even if you deal with the Marquis, others will continuously come to bother you," Winston expressed his concerns.
"You don't need to worry about that. The Antonio Family, the High Table's New York branch, is almost wiped out anyway, aren't they? I'll just replace that family. If I can't do it, can't Kingpin?" Chen Ye said calmly, taking a sip of tea.
"Next, I'll just issue a challenge to the High Table. The condition is for them to open a Continental Hotel in New York's Kitchen, and it will belong to me."
Chen Ye was determined to take one of the High Table's twelve seats; not even Jesus could stop him.