Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 275 Call it a day
P.S.: My family dragged me out today because they were on holiday; it's the May Day holiday effect!

PS2: That's why the update is late. The second chapter will also be delayed.

"Cough, cough—byd Constantine"

Just as Constantine was smoking and silently grieving in front of Ma Zhaodi's body, Ma Zhaodi suddenly sat up with a scream. This sudden turn of events almost startled Constantine so much that he threw his cigarette away.

"Holy crap—it's Jesus!"

"Hey, what the hell?" Ma Zhaodi sat up abruptly, spitting out his cigarette butt, rubbing his head, and frowning as he complained, "Keep your voice down—I told you I don't smoke, do you know that?"

Constantine looked at Ma Zhaodi, who had sat up again, with some skepticism. Only then did he realize that his friend's previously withered skin had swelled up again, his dry eyes had regained moisture, and his hoarse, hollow voice had returned to normal.

This is normal; the Undying Totem has a healing effect after resurrection.

Immortal Totem

Price: $250,000 in assets
Note: When you die, simply holding this item will automatically activate it.

Restores your health to 1 point, removes all status effects, and grants you Level 1 Fire Resistance, Level 2 Health Regeneration for 40 seconds, and Level 2 Damage Absorption for 5 seconds (5 seconds of additional maximum health) – the effect is activated when the icon automatically pops up in front of you.

Note 2: I don't know which genius made this into a phone charm, but to be fair, at least it's on my wrist all the time.

"You've become active from smoking?"

“He died from smoking,” Ma Zhaodi corrected. “I didn’t say I was dead, so why were you in such a hurry to light my cigarette?”

"You don't even have a pulse, what kind of neurotic would I have to be to ask another question?"

Constantine looked utterly bewildered: "And what's going on with you? The Holy Son descending to earth? A miracle of resurrection after seven days of suffering?"

He raised his hand to look at his watch; it was past midnight—it was Sunday.

“If I were to be resurrected in three days, you’d be talking about the three days on the cross again.” Ma Zhaodi shrugged. “Where in the world are there so many miracles? Besides, I’m an atheist, Constantine, and I’m Chinese—if someone like that could be the Son of God, it just means that God really has no one else to use.”

"Isn't there a guy over there named Hong something, the Heavenly Father who killed the Heavenly Brother?"

"Hey, damn it, hold on! I don't want to start a war!"

During their conversation, Constantine unlocked the basement door. He examined Ma Zhaodi closely, making sure there was no halo behind his head, but still wouldn't give up, he asked, "Did you see anything unusual at the moment you died? Like a guy with a halo behind his head, or a winged birdman or something?"

Ma Zhaodi rolled his eyes: "At the moment I died, all I could smell was the smoke in my nostrils."

The two went up to the first floor and ran into Lester carrying cigarettes and alcohol into the house. He was stunned when he saw the two coming out of the basement.

Three pairs of eyes looked at each other, and a brief, eerie silence fell between them.

Finally, after less than half a minute of silence, Lester’s screams nearly lifted the roof off.

"Ahhh—Fuck Jesus!"

"There's a reason why you two have become such close friends."

Constantine shook his head helplessly. After this commotion, the safe house was probably ruined and could only be used as ordinary housing from now on.

Lester finally managed to stop screaming. He had checked on Ma Zhaodi at noon and thought he was dead. Moreover, the old shaman in Sudan had told him that the "vessel" was doomed, so the scene before him felt like witnessing a legend. "Are you a saint?" he asked Ma Zhaodi, kneeling devoutly. "Did God send you to save me?"

Ma Zhaodi sighed. He was tired of explaining, so he simply stopped and asked, "Have you seen the news? It's from Texas."

"I didn't see it, why?"

“The night before last, the roof of a church in Texas collapsed while 34 worshippers were singing hymns.”

Hearing this, Lester was speechless for a moment, then silently stood up from the ground: "You're going a bit too far."

“Or he might be one of those Satan-like God fans who turned into God haters.” Constantine added sarcastically from the side: “No ordinary person would like to contradict God so much—but I’ve met Lucifer, and he certainly doesn’t have an Asian face.”

“Believing in something beautiful and practical is different from blindly believing in something authoritative and empty,” Ma Zhaodi replied. “I don’t hate the worship of gods, but I hate false authority and swindlers who use the name of gods to seek their own selfish interests.”

“Well said,” Constantine chimed in. “Next time I’ll take you to meet that snobbish scoundrel Gabriel, and let that jerk taste what it’s like to be cursed by a saint.”

"Stop joking. Putting aside their character, they at least have authority in terms of force."

Jingle Bell--

Constantine's phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and without bothering to hide it from the crowd, answered the call directly.

“Constantine, seven days have passed.” Midnight’s voice rang out on the phone: “Hasn’t Namos self-destructed yet?”

Ma Zhaodi immediately gave Constantine an "OK" sign, indicating that Namos was completely dead.

“Dead, completely dead, you can rest assured—we can all rest assured.” Constantine replied, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up.”

“Constantine,” Midnight continued on the other end of the phone, “We are all powerful beings, and grief is a luxury—as magicians, we must abandon our humanity, or we will eventually suffer a mental breakdown.”

“I don’t want to hear your bullshit theories, Midnight Daddy,” Constantine retorted. “Leicester survived, and as I said, that old shaman’s ancient magic is quite something. On his turf, his power far exceeds what you and I can imagine.”

"Oh, so you mean he saved that drug addict?"

"Yes, if you encounter a demon and die next time, he can even lay flowers on your grave."

“I’m not going to waste my breath arguing with you, Constantine. Nobody can be lucky forever. You’ll understand my advice sooner or later.”

"At midnight, I'd rather die than become a heartless bastard like you."

Constantine hung up the phone and proudly waved his phone at the two people next to him: "See that? The tricks of a master con artist."

“That’s good,” Ma Zhaodi shrugged. “Now that things are over here, I should go back to Gotham.”

【Ding】

[Completed gig: Tears of the despicable]

[Special skill acquired: Smuggling]

(End of this chapter)