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The next day.

Knock knock knock.

Matt knocked on the door of a high-end apartment.

This was the address Lynch had given him.

Listening to the sounds coming from inside, Matt's expression gradually turned strange.

After a while, the door opened.

"Karen?"

Matt asked uncertainly.

"Yes, Matt, come in."

Karen, dressed in loose pajamas, lazily invited him in.

After a while, Lynch, Matt, and Karen sat at a table, beginning to discuss the next steps.

"Karen, where did you put the information?" Lynch asked while yawning.

Karen, with dark circles under her eyes, glared at Lynch.

"I copied the information onto a USB drive; it's at the office now."

Lynch nodded and said, "So, we need to get the data first. Matt, you'll escort Karen tonight to retrieve it."

Matt tilted his head, puzzled by Lynch's words. "Why aren't you going?"

Lynch spread his hands with an innocent look. "I never said I wouldn't go! I'll just be in the shadows."

He explained, "Right now, they only know you're protecting Karen. If they knew it was me, the outcome might be different."

"Alright."

Matt reluctantly accepted but still had doubts. "Are you that confident in me?"

"Of course, I trust you," Lynch replied with a playful wink, though Daredevil couldn't see it.

"But," Matt changed the topic, "Are you sure the data will be useful?"

He was skeptical.

"It might be," Lynch admitted without hesitation. "If it is, we can charge Karen's boss with crimes like murder..."

Matt nodded and continued, "But it's very likely that it will only punish Karen's boss and won't lead to Wilson Fisk."

"That's true, but it's not useless."

Lynch looked at Karen. "At least we can save Karen, right?"

Hearing this, Karen smiled, feeling both touched and a bit shy.

"Fine, you're right."

Matt said with a bit of resignation.

The plan was set, and now they just needed to wait for nightfall.

Lynch looked at Matt with some excitement. "So, are you going to wait here until tonight? How about we spar?"

"I'm no match for you; why don't you spar with Karen? I'll come back tonight."

Matt quickly shook his head and stood up.

As he turned to leave, he finally understood how his friend Foggy felt when hanging out with him.

It stung a little.

...

At the top floor of a skyscraper, a man stood by a large floor-to-ceiling window, holding a cane and puffing on a cigar, quietly looking at the city below.

His large face had no extra fat, and it was full of depth and intensity. His body was massive and strong, more like a beast than a human.

As night gradually fell over the city, his shadow grew taller in the fading sunlight.

Once night came, this city would belong to him.

He was the king of the city's underworld—Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin.

In the room, there was also a man with a unique aura, slouched casually in a chair.

The man had a bullseye-shaped mark on his head, with a manic, slightly crazy expression. He was fiddling with a throwing dart in his hand.

This was Fisk's top assassin, the notorious Bullseye.

After a long silence, Bullseye suddenly threw the dart.

With a whoosh, the dart shot through the air and impaled a mosquito on a target on the wall.

Bullseye grinned with satisfaction, laughing a little madly.

At this moment, the door to the room opened, and a thin man walked in.

This was Wesley, Fisk's other right-hand man.

Wesley walked quickly to Fisk's side, then stood silently, staring at his toes, waiting for Fisk to speak first.

"Bad news?"

Fisk's deep, magnetic voice resonated through the quiet room.

"Yes, it's confirmed to be that guy's doing," Wesley calmly replied.

"He's becoming quite the nuisance, isn't he?"

Fisk's expression was relaxed, as if discussing something trivial.

"Indeed, he's overstepped a bit."

Wesley agreed with a calm face.

"Then we'll just have to make him disappear."

Fisk spoke with a tone of regret.

To him, Daredevil wasn't truly an enemy, merely a minor amusement.

As the ruler of an underworld empire, Fisk had a broad outlook. He was willing to let a troublemaker exist on his turf, adding some excitement to his life and challenges for his subordinates.

Of course, that was as long as the troublemaker didn't cross the line.

If the line was crossed, consequences were inevitable.

Fisk turned, the light casting his large shadow across the room.

Taking the cigar from his mouth, he turned toward his top assassin—Bullseye.

This guy, despite being somewhat unhinged, was exactly the type of dangerous weapon Fisk could control without fear of backlash.

"You know what to do?" he asked Bullseye.

Bullseye grinned maliciously, spinning the dart in his hand. "Of course, find him and put a hole in his head!"

Fisk was pleased with Bullseye's response but didn't agree with his approach.

"No, you don't need to find them. Just lie in wait—they'll come to you."

Bullseye grumbled in dissatisfaction, "Why make it so complicated?"

Fisk wasn't angered by his defiance. Bullseye was always blunt.

"You just need a little patience. Wait until nightfall, then let Wesley show you what to do."

Satisfied with Fisk's reassurance, Bullseye obediently left.

Once Bullseye was gone, Fisk put the cigar back in his mouth.

He started pacing slowly around the room, while Wesley stood off to the side in silence.

Unlike Bullseye, Wesley was Fisk's true confidant. And unlike Bullseye, who was unhinged, Wesley was composed, which meant he was always cautious in the presence of a dangerous boss.

As Fisk paced back and forth, lost in thought, Wesley remained silent, blending into the background like a potted plant.

"Wesley."

Fisk suddenly stopped and called out.

"I'm here."

Wesley immediately responded.

Fisk turned his head, and Wesley noticed the serious expression on his face.

"Have you noticed anything unusual lately?"

Wesley was surprised by the question. After thinking for a moment, he replied, "Nothing of significance..."

Halfway through his response, Wesley raised his voice as if recalling something. "Except I heard some rumors about a guy who caught bullets with his bare hands giving the Russian mafia a beating."

"What?"

Fisk's voice carried a hint of anger.

"Why am I only hearing about this now?"

The more Fisk thought about it, the angrier he became, glaring at Wesley until he was trembling.

"I… I thought it was just a rumor. You know how many lies like that are out there..."

"No!"

Fisk interrupted harshly.

"This isn't just a rumor. I have a feeling about it!"

His gaze flickered with thought, and he waved Wesley over. "Come here, and arrange for a few people later..."