Somewhere in a high-rise building in New York—
Only a handful of people knew that within this building resided the most powerful crime lord in all of America.
It was said that forty percent of the nation's crimes were somehow connected to this one man.
That alone spoke volumes about the scale of his influence.
He ruled the underworld like a monarch seated at the center of a vast web.But unlike the cultured elite who spent their days with books and calculations, this man valued something else entirely—
Physical strength.
He had trained his body relentlessly since his youth.From a nobody in the streets to the Emperor of Crime, he had never stopped exercising.
Every day, he fought hand-to-hand against elite martial artists from around the world—and each time, he faced ten opponents at once.
If you thought he was some kind of masochist, you couldn't be more wrong.
He wasn't a masochist—he was a tyrant.
Those world-class fighters who faced him rarely lasted more than twenty seconds.The outcome was always the same: either dead or crippled.
Terrifying.
He had literally trained himself into a monster.
That massive body of his wasn't fat—it was pure muscle.
And that alone set this crime boss apart from all others.
He was—Kingpin.
At that moment, ten burly men lay motionless on the floor of the training hall.
Look closer, and you'd see that every one of them was a rising star from the underground fighting circuits—black horses who had clawed their way up from the blood pits.
Unfortunately for them, tonight they had been "invited" to serve as Kingpin's training meal.
Unlike famous professional fighters bound by rules and pride, these underground brawlers played only by one code—fast, ruthless, and lethal.
Kill your opponent as efficiently as possible. That was their creed.
But tonight, all ten had ganged up on a single target—Kingpin himself.
At first, they had sneered at the "fat pig."
Fifteen seconds later, when they lay sprawled on the floor taking their final breaths,no one dared think that again.
Kingpin rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles.He glanced down at the ten corpses without a flicker of emotion—as if they were nothing more than ten piles of dirt.
He casually pulled a fresh towel from a nearby rack, wiped away nonexistent sweat,and went right back to his routine.
Training, to him, was like cultivation—stagnation meant decline.
He couldn't afford to waste a single day.
A long while later, his daily regimen was finally complete.
For the first time, he felt a trace of fatigue.He sat down heavily on a wooden chair, which creaked under his weight.
Tilting back his head, he took a gulp of water.Then, like an ordinary man, he turned his gaze toward the computer screen—where a live news broadcast was playing.
Recently, American news had been filled with bizarre stories.
Some nonsense about "superheroes."Some nonsense about "next-generation video games."
Kingpin sneered.
Right now, the news anchor was talking about Warcraft—the new hit from Antarctic Games Studio.
The company had become one of the most famous in America—and even the world.Every move it made was headline material.
The launch of a new title was, of course, all over the airwaves.
As Kingpin watched, an odd feeling welled up in him.
Just earlier, he'd sent his men to kidnap the company's boss.And yet, that same man's game was now dominating the news.
He grunted.A damn video game, and it's all over the media? I don't buy it.
Unfortunately, his underlings were incompetent fools.When he'd ordered them to dig up background information on that man—Xu Dan—they'd come back with nothing useful.
The only thing they could offer was a copy of Warcraft.
Their reasoning: Maybe his new game contains clues about him.
Idiots.Kingpin had nearly shot the whole intelligence team on the spot.
But thinking about it now… perhaps there was some merit to that idea.
He had nothing better to do at the moment anyway.Might as well take a look at what kind of game this Xu Dan had made.
It would help him figure out how best to exploit the man once he was captured.
In Kingpin's mind, Xu Dan was already his property—a future tool for laundering money and generating profit.
Whether Xu Dan agreed or not was irrelevant.
Kidnapping didn't come with a consent form.
Smirking to himself, Kingpin leisurely double-clicked the Warcraft icon on his desktop.
The game launched, and the opening cinematic began to play.
And in that instant—
He froze.
The sheer visual impact of the CG intro seized his attention completely.
Kingpin had almost no experience with video games.His childhood memories of gaming were filled with crude, childish things.
But this—This was on a whole different level.
This was what a real computer game should look like!
He didn't understand the technical side of it, of course, but even a layman could tell—it was damn impressive.The graphics looked real.
Fortunately, Warcraft came with a foolproof tutorial.Anyone with half a brain could pick it up quickly.
And Kingpin, for all his brutality, was not stupid.He breezed through the tutorial and soon found himself clicking "Start Game" almost instinctively.
Why was he doing this?He didn't know.He just… couldn't stop.
The deeper he went, the more the game pulled him in.
Having finished the tutorial, he now entered a real match—and immediately felt the intoxicating thrill of control.
A real-time strategy game—where he commanded armies, managed resources, and conquered enemies.
It felt oddly familiar.
After all, in real life, he ruled exactly like this.To him, it was as if the game world mirrored his own criminal empire.Each opposing faction represented rival syndicates from around the world.His mission: crush them all.
In his first match, Kingpin's eyes turned bloodshot with rage—because a random nobody completely wiped him out.
In the second, he refocused—only to be demolished again, this time by an experienced player.
He couldn't accept it.In real life, he was the King of Crime—how could he be trash in a game?
So he launched a third match.
This time, luck was on his side.He won.
And in that victory, he felt a surge of euphoria—as though he'd conquered the entire underworld.
That feeling of triumph and dominion was beyond words.
He couldn't get enough.Without hesitation, he started another game.
Never before had he been so engrossed in something.
In his childhood, games had been simple and boring.Beat them once or twice, and they lost all meaning.
But Warcraft was different.Even with just a few maps and limited factions, there were endless strategies and possibilities.
And every match was against real people—not lifeless AI.
So he lost again.
"No! How can I lose to some worthless nobody!?"
He slammed the desk, face red with fury.He'd been so close!Just one small mistake away from victory!
"One more match," he growled.
But that next game went even worse.Still brooding over his previous loss, he played sloppily from start to finish.
Another defeat.
Two losses in a row.
His jaw twitched with anger.
Snarling, he grabbed the mouse and started another match immediately.
This was his sixth game.And just like his third—he won easily.
A grin spread across his face.
And so it went:Two losses, one win.Two losses, one win.
Before he knew it—Kingpin had become addicted.
Addicted to Warcraft.
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