Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 248 Deposit? What deposit?
“I know you’re in a hurry, but don’t rush.” The man who broke into Constantine’s house, Ma Zhaodi, continued, “Just this morning, I watched a fat man who had just eaten half a restaurant’s worth of food starve to death, and there were many flies swarming around him.”

Constantine, who had originally reached out to ask the guest to leave, paused at this moment. He extracted several key pieces of information from Ma Zhaodi's words.

First, Leicester's condition began to spread to the streets.

Secondly, this couldn't possibly be some kind of infectious disease. Any normal person could figure out with their toes that "a person starving to death" and "a person turning into a skin and bones within minutes" are both scientifically impossible and must be an extraordinary event.

Third, this person was a witness to the incident, and he was smart enough to know to find a specialist from the supernatural to solve the problem.

Fourth: This matter involves gluttony and flies, which gave him even worse thoughts.

“Alright.” Constantine took a deep drag of his cigarette. “Wherever you heard me from, man, since this hasn’t affected you yet, I really don’t recommend you get involved. My advice is, go home now, lie in bed and get a good night’s sleep, and forget everything you saw during the day.”

“Really?” Ma Zhaodi asked in return. “Although I’m not an insider, mythological knowledge isn’t hard to find. I looked up some information. Baal, the leader of the seventy-two demons in Canaanite mythology, happens to be Beelzebub, the king of flies and plagues and the deputy of Satan, the lord of hell in the Jewish-Christian mythology system, and corresponds to gluttony, one of the seven deadly sins.”

Constantine's brow furrowed even deeper. He was a seasoned rogue mage, and although he was a rogue mage, he had read all sorts of occult books. After Ma Zhaodi revealed the information, the first person he thought of was this Prime Minister of Hell, the King of Plague, and one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

But this is impossible.

“Child,” he smiled at Ma Zhaodi, “you may be a little clever and have read some superficial books on mysticism, but you know nothing about Beelzebub, do you? You don’t know how terrifying His power is, or how great His authority is in Hell—if this one had come to earth, you wouldn’t have been able to leave the restaurant alive, and I would have received no news at all.”

"Can you imagine an elephant trying to sneak into a room through a two-meter-high door? What if it were a Tyrannosaurus Rex? What if it were Godzilla? The human world is that room. Even if a demon of Beelzebub's rank only projects a portion of his power in, it would be enough to shake the entire human world."

Here, Constantine refers to projecting power because he doesn't explicitly state something: the supreme being in heaven dislikes angels or demons using their divine power to wreak havoc on Earth. According to his rules, angels or demons who wish to enter the human realm must weaken their power and appear in human form.

If Beelzebub wanted to come to the human world in his true form, he would have to give up a considerable portion of his power, which was absolutely unacceptable to him. Most importantly, he had no need to do so. The souls of a few, or even a few hundred, humans were not worth such a great deal of effort and power for him.

After hearing Constantine's answer, Ma Zhaodi continued, "But if it's not Beelzebub, then who could it be?"

That's a good question.

Constantine subconsciously turned to look at Lester. While the two were talking, his old friend had dried himself off and changed his clothes. Although his bath might not have been very clean, it was most important to find out the details of the matter at this moment.

“In short,” Ma Zhaodi replied, “you can treat this as a commission. If you help me find out the details of this matter, I will give you twenty thousand US dollars—how does that sound?”

"make a deal."

No sooner had Ma Zhaodi spoken than Constantine immediately changed his attitude and shamelessly agreed to the commission.

“We agreed beforehand.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and lit another one for himself. “Although I am Constantine, a master of dark magic, things like evil spirits are never safe. You have to pay a deposit first.”

“How about ten thousand US dollars?” Ma Zhaodi shrugged. “Give me your account number, and I’ll transfer it to you directly.” He was secretly pleased. In the past, it would have taken a lot of effort to reach an agreement with this scumbag mage, but now, the feeling of solving the problem by spending money was just too convenient.

I always thought Bruce Wayne was happy, but I was wrong. I couldn't even imagine how happy Bruce Wayne was.

After Ma Zhaodi transferred the money, Constantine spoke again.

"There's one more thing. I can't completely guarantee your personal safety, so once you get involved in this, your life or death is in the hands of fate. If you want to back out, you still have a chance now."

"What about the deposit?"

"What deposit?"

".byd Constantine—I know that one too, are there any others?"

"That's all, man—welcome to London, welcome to the crazy supernatural world."

Constantine chuckled and took a deep drag on his cigarette. Even without Ma Zhaodi's request, he had already planned to thoroughly investigate Lester's case. He just hadn't expected to make such a fortune along the way.

I'm so lucky.

Ma Zhaodi smiled. For him, the most important thing was asset points, and US dollars were one of the means to acquire them. In Gotham, however, a $20,000 offer would not be enough to persuade any supervillain to join him—his reputation as a jinx was already legendary there.

I'm so lucky.

Just as the two were exchanging knowing smiles, each harboring their own secrets, the door suddenly rang.

Boom boom boom!
"Wait a moment, my friend has probably arrived."

Constantine, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, gave Ma Zhaodi some instructions, then went out and opened the door. A middle-aged man in a jacket, with a sturdy face, walked in. His attire was quite ordinary, and he wouldn't stand out in a crowd. Few would have guessed that this unremarkable middle-aged driver was one of Constantine's longest-living old friends.

"How have you been, friend?" Constantine hugged him. "Did you bring the pink one?"

"I brought it," the middle-aged man replied sullenly, "even though I don't like doing it."

Constantine glanced at Lester, who was sitting on the sofa, looking dazed and muttering to himself with his head in his hands, and took another deep drag of his cigarette.

“Old friend, when did you become so taboo? Let him have his fill before we ask him any questions.”

(End of this chapter)