Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 265 Midnight Dad, the Business Genius
After finishing his cigarette, Constantine finally calmed down. He patted Ma Zhaodi beside him and smiled, "Well done, buddy. Uh, what was that sword you used? And that beam of light?"

"The lightning-struck peach wood sword, along with the demon-slaying magic, are all old remedies passed down from our ancestors. If one's cultivation is deep enough, they can basically cure any ailment."

Lightning-struck peach wood sword
Price: $100,000

Note: This is a rather old magical artifact, said to be made of peach wood struck by lightning in a small world in the end of Dharma's reign, hence it naturally carries a hint of red lightning.

The Seventy-Two Divine Powers of Earthly Fiends - Demon Slayer

Price: $600,000
Note: Ordinary iron is no obstacle, but divine weapons are even better; they can slay evil spirits, dispel demons, and eliminate monsters.

Ma Zhaodi bought these two items, intending to try and use the peach wood sword with the demon-slaying technique to instantly kill Namos. However, it turned out that this evil spirit had grown to an absurd level in New York. Even after he poured all his magic power into it, he could only inflict serious injuries.

"So what do we do now?" he asked. "The spell can only trap it for one night at most, but we have to find a way to get rid of it. We can't let it stay in the church forever."

"Now?" Constantine breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing that it had been a night. "Now that the matter has been investigated, we can rest and find a place to get a good night's sleep."

"?"

"Come on, Old Ma, people aren't machines. They need to rest—I need to recover my energy too. Tomorrow, we'll go find Midnight and Lester and work together to take down this demon."

"Then tonight?"

“There’s nothing else to do tonight. Midnight cleared out two rooms for us in his building—here’s the address, you go get some sleep. As for me, I’ll go find somewhere to have some fun first, and then I’ll come back to the building to meet you later. Don’t worry, we’ll get this sorted out tomorrow.”

"This is what you mean by restoring energy?"

"What else? Leaving me in this boring little room would be the greatest torture for me—it's settled then, see you tomorrow."

Constantine waved and strolled away from the street.

Ma Zhaodi looked helplessly at the note in his hand. It was a hotel that Midnight had found for them. They could easily take a taxi to this destination, or they could find it by following a map of New York.

"I feel like there's something odd about this guy."

Constantine got into a taxi.

"Hey buddy, to the midnight casino." He tossed his finished cigarette butt out of the car and told the driver, "Hurry up."

The driver started the car immediately, but after hearing the blond passenger's thick London accent, he subconsciously glanced at him a few more times in the rearview mirror.

“You know your stuff, buddy,” he said. “People from England and La Liga generally don’t know anything about these underground casinos, let alone the word ‘midnight.’”

“Don’t bother trying, buddy,” Constantine replied. “Do you think I’m some kind of sucker who’s visiting for the first time? Just drive it.”

As the car sped through the streets of New York, Constantine was silently thinking about Moss.

"I need to hurry—find Midnight Dad quickly, I need to discuss tomorrow's plans with him, and Lester too."

Thinking of Leicester, his fingers trembled slightly as he took out his cigarette.

“In any case, I need his help.” He thought to himself, “My mind is made up.”

When Constantine entered the secret casino where high stakes were offered, he did not see the person he wanted to see.

The air inside was thick and murky, the chips clinked together, and the gamblers' eyes were bloodshot. Some had lost everything, while others had become rich overnight. The stench of money, greed, and despair permeated this den of iniquity. "I like this smoky, chaotic atmosphere," Constantine thought, "but unfortunately, I have other things to do tonight."

Otherwise, he might actually be planning to play a couple of rounds here.

He walked out of the casino and hailed a taxi on the roadside.

"Midnight Club".

"Want to go dancing?" The driver turned around and smiled at him. "You've picked the right place, buddy—we'll be there in five minutes."

Ten minutes later, Constantine emerged from the crowded club.

The disco balls were dazzling, the crowd swayed wildly, and the music was deafening. Undoubtedly, this was a great place to have a good time, but Constantine didn't have time to dance for the time being.

He hailed another car: "Midnight Club, buddy."

The driver gave him a knowing smile: "Oh, I get you, buddy."

But Constantine still couldn't find the person he was looking for here; all he found were men and women, blinded by desire, tangled together like snakes.

"I'm too lazy to spend money on silver-faced beauties, I'd rather just find someone I like at a bar. By the way, where did that jerk go at midnight?"

After thinking for a moment, Constantine suddenly had an idea. He went back to the roadside and hailed a taxi.
“Midnight Boxing Club,” he said. “Hurry up.”

"Row."

The boxing club is Midnight Papa's territory, where "death" can be found just one floor down.

Constantine walked down the stairs, and as he entered the door, the frenzied shouts of the audience outside the octagon made him feel as if he had entered the Colosseum in ancient Rome.

However, this was originally an underground boxing ring, and only one person was allowed to walk out alive from the octagonal ring, so it was no different from a gladiatorial arena.

boom!
The burly man on the stage, wielding a metal baseball bat, smashed another burly man to the ground with one blow. One of the men's legs was deformed and bent backward, revealing white bone fragments and flesh. This scene caused the surrounding crowd to erupt in cheers.

Midnight, dressed in a suit, stood by the ring, calmly watching the two on stage tear at each other and fight like wild beasts, a smile occasionally appearing on his face.

“Constantine,” he said to his back, “Don’t you like this entertainment? I thought you weren’t such a conservative person.”

“Dude, to me, two men swinging baseball bats and smashing each other into a pulp—that’s not exactly exciting,” Constantine said, then looked down and lit another cigarette.

Midnight smiled at him: "I think so too, but violence is just a symbol, used to release the energy contained in bloodlust—but here you can smell it and hear it."

"Kill him! Kill him!"

Smash his face!

Constantine surveyed the entire arena. The people around him were both spectators and gamblers. There was almost no rationality here, only money betting, blood and flesh flying everywhere. The roar of the crowd was frantically praising the killing and death. The tickets in their hands made everyone who placed a bet want to kill. The more bloody and mangled the stage was, the more excited they became.

"Busy when alive, and still fighting on stage after death, being a resurrected corpse must be tough."

"It's always better to use dead people than living people."

(End of this chapter)