Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 276 I've Become a Backup Plan?
The following day, Ma Zhaodi bought a plane ticket back to Gotham City.

“This trip has been a little more complicated than I expected.” He took a bite of fried fish, then tasted a fry, and said to Constantine, “Can you believe it? It’s been so long since I landed at the airport and entered London, and I’ve only just had my first bite of British food.”

“That’s good.” Constantine casually flipped through the newspaper and chuckled at Ma Zhaodi: “By the time this meal is over, you will have eaten all the edible food in England.”

"You're going a bit too far."

"Maybe, maybe add greggs, which taste pretty good—but other than that, I'm sorry, that's it, at least I don't think so."

Ma Zhaodi looked at Constantine with suspicion and asked, "Really, there's nothing left?"

"Have you ever heard of gazing at the stars? A flatbread with a dozen or so dead fish heads stuck in it—you can't possibly want to eat that, can you?"

"I have indeed heard of that."

Constantine didn't find anything interesting in the newspaper, so he placed it on the table listlessly and asked in a low voice, "I've been wanting to ask you this since yesterday: how did you do it?"

“I have a prop that can help me avoid one… well, a special situation.” Ma Zhaodi answered his question: “You’ve seen it, the little totem on that phone charm, although it’s disappeared now.”

“That thing has this ability?!” Constantine felt his professional knowledge of the past ten years was seriously challenged: “It has no magical aura on it, nor does it have any trace of any sect or magician characteristics. In fact, it looks like a child’s scribbles. Most importantly, it is impossible for a person to do this so easily. It must require considerable strength, perhaps an equivalent sacrifice, and prior agreement with someone on one side.”

“I’m not quite the same as you. I’m somewhat out of place in this world. There was never a place for me here,” Ma Zhaodi explained. “But you are different. As you said, each of you is born and raised here. Cause and effect, fate and destiny are all entangled around you—especially like yesterday, it’s even more difficult to break free from fate.”

“Interesting.” Constantine listened to Ma Zhaodi’s explanation and pondered silently: “‘Non-native’, that sounds like some kind of visitor from beyond the universe.”

"No, what I mean is that cross-regional business doesn't work—your Western theology and my Eastern underworld don't have any extradition treaty."

"So, if Lester had used that item, he might not have been able to do as well as you?"

"He probably won't be able to do what I did; he might just be finished."

Ma Zhaodi didn't rule out the possibility entirely, but in reality, the system's message to him at the time was: "[This item cannot be used on this target in this event]".

Perhaps, in the original destiny, Lester had indeed perished together with Namos.

“Well,” Constantine sighed, “I guess things don’t always go as planned. Miracles and magic won’t be free this lifetime.”

"Anyway, you can come to me if you need anything." Ma Zhaodi wiped his mouth: "Paid miracles and magic are also good, don't worry—I have a price list."

Constantine pursed his lips, took out another scal and lit it for himself.

Smoke less.

"You're not skin and bones anymore; a couple of breaths won't kill you."

Ma Zhaodi sighed, got up, and walked out of the restaurant.

"What's that saying again? It's easier to change mountains and rivers than to change one's nature."

"Of course, you could also put it another way—fate has its own plans for you."

When Ma Zhaodi woke up, the plane had already landed at Gotham's airport.

"That's good, at least there weren't any major setbacks this time."

After leaving the airport, he hailed a taxi and headed to his cabin—on the way he saw several prisoners who had been sent out to work, which showed that Gotham's prison labor system was still operating stably these past few days.

Giving the city a form of hemodialysis is a long-term project, and Ma Zhaodi isn't in a hurry. At least for now, the city can be considered peaceful and safe. Of course, the crime rate might be slightly high, but there's always a gap between the reports and the actual situation; the situation is actually much better than it appears.

"Ugh, I miss you so much!"

As soon as he entered the house, Ma Zhaodi warmly hugged his own pillow.

Yeah, he's out of commission.

It was the middle of the night, so what was the point of not sleeping? To work?
Isn't that inhumane?
With this thought in mind, Ma Zhaodi entered a dream—

“You went to Britain, Africa, and the United States, but I couldn’t find any video footage of you on the plane that left Gotham.”

It can't get any closer.

It's just right, it still feels that familiar sensation.

After so long without hearing that hoarse, dark, emotionless voice, Ma Zhaodi felt a pang of nostalgia.

But more than anything, I felt annoyed—it was as if the other person had a talent for provoking people; a single sentence could make me feel uncomfortable.

So he warmly inquired about his old friend's health: "Are you suffering from some serious illness?"

"Did you even check the time? Do you know what time it is? Don't you realize you're disturbing the peace? I want to sleep, buddy."

At this moment, Ma Zhaodi's urge to complain was completely uncontrollable, and it all burst out at once: "Why did you come in through the window again? I've told you to use the door so many times, when will you ever listen to a human being? And Sheriff Gordon said you were taking a break from work, and Alfred said you've been working late into the night recently—so you don't have time to see guests, but you have time to investigate me, right? Aren't you worried about dying suddenly?"

However, the pointy-headed bat completely ignored him and continued in his own way, stating, "Something has happened in London and New York. People have died—mysteriously."

"What do you want to say?"

“A long time ago, I vaguely sensed that there were some areas in this world that were beyond science and common sense. If I had to describe them, they would probably be what people often call ‘magic’.”

"and then?"

“I know a bit about your companions: John Constantine, Midnight Daddy, Gary Lester—you also went to a Sudanese tribe.”

Ma Zhaodi began to rummage around, looking for something suitable to throw at someone.

"Are you out of your mind?" he asked. "You're investigating me so thoroughly just because I'm going out? Are you quitting your job in Gotham?"

“Since the Holiday Killer incident, I’ve been setting up intelligence gathering in the UK to avoid being caught off guard,” Batman replied. “It didn’t take much time.”

Ma Zhaodi was speechless.

“Those people who traveled with you don’t have good reputations, and the tribe you’re going to has a history of black magic—I hope you don’t go astray.”

"Oh God! No! I'm going to save the world! Not to destroy it!" Ma Zhaodi clutched his head in anguish. "Damn it... That's just how Constantine's social circle is, what can I do?"

"So, you really do have the ability to protect Gotham from attacks by some mysterious force?"

Upon hearing this, Ma Zhaodi finally understood.

"Byd, I've become the backup plan?"

(End of this chapter)