American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

On the dirty ceiling, several pieces of peeling wall plaster were hanging precariously.

Xiu En suddenly sprang up from the old mattress.

A heart-wrenching cough followed.

His back was hunched over, and his hands were gripping the bedsheet tightly.

A muffled gasp escaped from deep within his throat, and a glaring red mark appeared in his palm.

He looked up, and on his retina floated translucent scarlet numbers that only he could see.

[Lifespan Countdown: 03 hours, 42 minutes, and 11 seconds]

With each beat, my heart twitches.

Next to the heart-pounding countdown, a line of highly sarcastic text in bold gold Song typeface reads:

[Daily Task: Please go outdoors to bask in the morning sun (0/1)]

[Reward: Max HP +24 hours]

The words looked incredibly sacred, and were even emitting a faint golden light.

Xiu En, however, only wanted to curse.

He turned his gaze to the only small pane of glass in the window.

There's no need to wipe off the dirt; the sound of heavy rain hitting the glass says it all.

Outside, a dark and chaotic rain curtain hung in the sky. It was 10 a.m. in Gotham, but it was as dark as midnight.

Forget about the sun, you can't even find a single slightly bright cloud.

"Gotham, the sun."

"System, are you having some kind of culture shock? This place only has searchlights and bat lights; do you want me to go stand in that blazing sun?"

Only the monotonous, mechanical sound echoed in his mind.

"A faint stellar response has been detected, but it is severely blocked by the atmosphere. Current light intensity: 0. Please find a direct source of sunlight as soon as possible. Note: This system is bound to ley lines; leaving the Gotham City area will not count towards mission progress."

What a clever ley line binding!

Xiu En wrapped his clothes tighter around himself.

My body is very cold; it's an extreme cold caused by the loss of my life force.

It seems unlikely that we'll be able to get any sunshine, unless Superman or some other deity can blow away this cloud layer that's thicker than a septic tank lid.

He didn't want to be the first unlucky guy to die of tuberculosis right after transmigrating.

My gaze fell on another line of small gray text at the bottom of the panel.

[Side Quest: Perform good deeds (you can obtain a "Little Sun" temporary power pack)]

[Note: The standards for good and evil are determined by the system.]

"Do good deeds and accumulate virtue."

To be a good person in this seemingly honest but sinful city? That's no less difficult than asking him to fly up and tear the dark clouds apart right now.

But he had no other choice.

Xiu En pushed open the creaking door, and the hallway was filled with a nauseating smell of marijuana and urine.

He leaned against the wall.

I moved step by step toward the rain curtain downstairs.

Even dying on the street is better than rotting in this deserted doghouse.

Go out and do a good deed, even if it's just opening the trash can lid for a stray dog.

The raindrops stung my face.

The icy water seeped into my collar.

The thin hospital gown was instantly soaked through.

Xiu En gripped the apartment door handle, panting heavily.

He coughed up another mouthful of blood, the red phlegm mixing with the rainwater and spreading in the puddles at his feet, disappearing in an instant.

If this were the old sterile ward, the nurses would probably have sounded the alarm and rushed in long ago.

But he smiled.

It hurts.

Even the stench of garbage that seeps into your nostrils is a million times more appealing than a ceiling with constant air temperature that remains the same color no matter how much time passes.

This is the taste of freedom.

He is still alive, not a specimen that needs a caregiver to even turn over.

The red countdown on my retina relentlessly jumped to [03:25:12].

Every change in the numbers was accompanied by a wave of dizziness and palpitations.

The system's glittering golden "Do Good Deeds and Accumulate Virtue" sign hung over my head like a death warrant.

Xiu En wiped the rain off his face, his eyes searching through the rain.

Apart from a few drug addicts who were chased away by the torrential rain, all that was left were the trash can and a few rats still fighting over rotten pizza.

Helping an old lady cross the street? Even an old lady knows not to go out in this awful weather.

Helping the police catch thieves? The Gotham Police Department is probably busier than a den of thieves.

Since the system doesn't define the standards of good and evil, we'll have to test the waters according to Gotham's rules.

There were some figures moving around at the alleyway ahead.

The dull thuds, mixed with the man's curses and the woman's sobs, were torn apart by the heavy rain and came out intermittently.

Three men in leather jackets were kicking and punching something.

With each thud of their heavy military boots, the shadow on the ground shrank even more.

Rainwater washed over the ground, and the water flowing from that side had a faint pink tinge.

A typical Gotham day.

If it were someone reading a comic or watching a movie, Xiu En would probably complain that this is too stereotypical.

But now, that's his only lifeline in the last three hours.

The system will most likely classify this act of bravery as a good deed.

Xiu En waded through the puddles.

There was no sense of weakness from a body that seemed ready to fall apart at any moment, nor the fear of violence.

Anyway, I only have three hours left to live, how much worse can it get?

At worst, I'll die early, which will save me from suffering.

He paused as he passed a toppled GG sign.

There was a half-rusted hollow steel pipe, soaking in the puddles.

If he were to walk up to those three people and say, "Please stop bullying," he would probably be met with a passionate 9mm bullet, or be riddled with holes.

If you want to do good deeds, you must first have the ability to physically exorcise these bastards.

He bent down and picked up the steel pipe.

The three people in front noticed the commotion.

One of the men, with a full head of blond hair, turned around, twirling a switchblade in his hand, and looked the sickly man in front of him up and down with a mocking expression.

"Get out of here, you tuberculosis-ridden wretch. Don't let your poor, sickly attitude bother us."

Xiu En used a steel pipe to brace himself against the ground so that he wouldn't fall over in the wind.

He raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the other person's neck.

"Excuse me, I'd like to get a piece of the pie too. This woman's wallet looks pretty bulging."

If you're going to do something good, sometimes you have to put it in a different guise in a place like Gotham.

The blond thug didn't take this sickly man, who was on the verge of death, seriously.

He found Xiu En's panting sounds amusing.

"Want a share?"

Yellow Hair played with the switchblade in his hand, the tip drawing silver arcs in the rain.

He turned to his two accomplices and winked, then suddenly turned back and spat into the puddle at Xiu En's feet.

"The only value of trash like you is to die somewhere far away and not bring me bad luck. Want a share of the money? You can talk about it in your next life when you're reborn as a decent dog."

Xiu En did not refute.

He simply lowered his head, seemingly intimidated by the other party's imposing manner, his body trembling violently in the cold wind.

In his palm, the rusty steel pipe gently tapped the ground with each shake, producing a dull thud.