Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 53 Every family has its own sutras that are difficult to recite
"Is it a bullet this time?" asked the old man's voice.

"7.62 and 5.56, nothing new." The deep voice replied.

The black tights and cape were placed aside, and the man's upper body was exposed, revealing beautiful, thick and strong muscles. From the front to the back, his whole body was covered with dense scars, and there was almost no good meat to be seen.

The old man looked at the scars on his body and suddenly fell silent.

There were knife wounds, gunshot wounds, burns, cat claw marks, claw marks from large wild animals, puncture wounds from umbrellas, bruises from blunt force wounds, arrow holes from crossbows, some old, some new, some stacked together, and now there were more than a dozen new scars that were still bleeding.

These are just external injuries, and the inside of this body can be said to be riddled with holes.

How many more wounds must he incur before he rests? How many more wounds must this city inflict on him before it can redeem itself?

"Please allow me to remind you that your armor is only bulletproof, not bullet-proof. Also, your refreshing flower tea is almost finished. We cannot grow or replicate the key ingredients in it. You need to rest properly."

"I'll go back to microsleeps, taking five-minute naps every once in a while."

The old man was speechless.

During this moment of silence, a red alarm location suddenly appeared on the computer next to the two people.

"A large-scale gunfight has broken out at the residential building at No. 176, East District Old Street! Everyone rush to support immediately! I repeat, everyone rush to No. 176, East District Old Street to support immediately!"

Watching the man stand up and reach for the bat suit next to him, the old man opened his mouth, but in the end, all he could think of was a brief reminder.

"Please come back soon, Master."

"The Holiday Killer, who roamed Gotham, struck again recently, wiping out all five members of the Irish Gang!"

"Who is the Holiday Killer? Is Gotham about to face another serial killer?"

Ma Zhaodi sat on a small stool, turning on the small pumpkin lantern and reading the newspaper in his hand. He had nothing to do today. In fact, it should be said that there was nothing he could do today.

"Ah ah ah ah ah--!"

A figure jumped down and fell from the window to the ground screaming, almost having a close contact with him.

"Shh-"

A swift shadow passed through the air, suddenly pulled the man up, then spread its black bat wings, glided and circled for a moment, and then put him on the ground again.

It's just that the action was a bit rough.

A crisp cracking sound was heard. Ma Zhaodi had become numb to it. Yes, he had heard this sound dozens of times that night in the restaurant, perhaps hundreds of times. Every time Batman broke a bone, such a sound would be heard.

Even when he was sleeping that night, he could hear the sound of broken bones cracking in his dreams from time to time, which scared him from time to time.

Perhaps the stimulation that time was a bit too strong, and now Ma Zhaodi has become a little desensitized. He sighed and turned another page of the newspaper.

"Ah! My leg is broken! My leg!"

"Yes, yes, yes. Can you please stop arguing?" Ma Zhaodi sighed and put down the newspaper in his hand. "Be a man, okay? You chose to start the fight in this building. You're lucky you didn't get shot. Can you please thank God, or Batman?"

"Bang! Bang!"

"Bang!"

Upstairs, thick gray smoke and gunshots continued to pour out of the window endlessly. Ma Zhaodi could even see yellow tongues of flames rising from below.

It was obvious that Ma Zhaodi's indifferent attitude deeply stung the burly gangster. Perhaps he was used to being feared and avoided by ordinary people, so he felt particularly underestimated at this moment. "You son of a bitch! Call an ambulance! Or I'll shoot you—"

"Click"

"Ah—my hand! My hand!"

Batman swooped down from the night sky and stepped on the hand that was holding the gun, breaking it.

"Don't let it happen again." He just said this coldly, and then flew upstairs again with his hook gun.

"It doesn't matter if there is one." Ma Zhaodi absentmindedly continued Batman's words and continued flipping through the newspaper. "There's nothing to be afraid of anymore. Why ask why?"

"Someone call the fire department! There's a fire! The building is on fire."

"Is anyone there? Is anyone calling?"

"I've hit you, I've hit you, stop shouting." Ma Zhaodi replied impatiently and turned off the pumpkin lantern.

This newspaper is totally unbearable to read.

"How long have you called the police?"

"It's been fifteen minutes. If the fire truck had moved faster, maybe they could have gotten the electric toilet I just bought yesterday." He replied, "It's okay if they come a little slower. I don't really like that toilet anyway. I'm just worried about the money."

Passersby patted Ma Zhaodi on the shoulder with some sympathy. It was obvious that judging from the burning speed of this house, there would probably be nothing left of his home after the fire was over.

"You don't look too sad?"

Ma Zhaodi listened to the questions of passers-by, watched the rising flames illuminate the night sky, and could hear the sounds of gunfire coming from the building. He couldn't help laughing.

Laughing angrily.

"It's like this," he said. "Imagine you're a worker, and your boss was in jail last month. So you've been working hard all month, been harassed by an old woman, had cops come to your house, been dragged into a strange gunfight, and then been scolded by your supervisor. And at the end of the month, you don't get a cent."

"Luckily, your boss found you another job after he went to the hospital, and tomorrow is your rare day off. You planned to sleep until noon, but you were woken by a bunch of stupid gangsters gunning it down in a shabby apartment building. A bullet went through the wall and hit your refrigerator, another hit your TV, and another pierced your wife, who just arrived today. So, of the four-figure worth of stuff in your house, only an automatic toilet remains."

"You were furious, and then you realized those idiots weren't just shooting, they were lighting fires, and your room was already on fire. At that point, you didn't dare stay a second longer, so you grabbed everything you could get your hands on and went downstairs under the hail of bullets."

"Now, a superhero in a tights comes along and breaks the bones of the bad guys in the building one by one and throws them outside. The whole scene is as lively as 500 ducks running out of a farm. And all you have on you is a newspaper, a cell phone, and a small pumpkin lantern."

"Is that why you're only wearing your underwear?"

"Shut up."

Ma Zhaodi interrupted him, calmly wrapping the newspaper around himself and continuing, "Then you called the fire department, even though you knew full well that the fire trucks always arrived in the East District after the shooting was over."

"Guess what, you look at your phone at this time—it's exactly twelve o'clock."

"Dang——dang——dang——"

At this moment, the bell from the tall bell tower in the distance rang out at the right time, as if to confirm Ma Zhaodi's words.

"Now, look me in the eye, and I'll repeat my question." Ma Zhaodi asked, his face expressionless, "Are you hurt?"

"Yes, sorry"

(End of this chapter)