American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

Oswald Copperpot, the gentlemanly master of crime in Gotham's underworld, should have been in a good mood this morning.

He received word that Batman had left the city once again.

While Batman was away from the city, he swaggered out of Blackgate prison on medical parole with just a cigar in exchange and a promise to pay off the warden's gambling debts.

He didn't see the clearly overloaded truck until he saw it under the coastal viaduct.

"parking."

The penguin tapped on the back of the driver's seat, whose face was full of scars.

"See that thing being carried in the back? That must be the gate of some Sumerian temple. The rust on it, wow, it looks like it was painted with gold. This thing would definitely make a grand entrance in the VIP lobby of the Iceberg Club."

"Boss, the person sitting in that car... looks a bit scary, not someone to mess with."

The bodyguard hesitated as he looked at the man in the truck bed who was radiating a high-wattage golden light. Unlike the Penguin, who had been in prison all his life, he had heard some of the fearsome reputation of this man of light.

"Bright? Which nouveau riche in Gotham doesn't like to embellish their image?"

Oswald snorted and straightened his tuxedo and bow tie.

"This only proves he's a rich but tasteless sucker. Who do you think I am? Give me a shout with your RPG, or you'll blow up my door."

Thus, an unfriendly rocket, accompanied by a piercing whistle, was snatched and exploded in mid-air by a black and gold metal tentacle that suddenly appeared less than two meters away from the Shuen truck.

Before the flames from the explosion had even faded, Hugh had already poked his head out from the top of the truck's cab with great interest.

"Look who this is!"

With half a screw still in his mouth, Xiu En looked at the black stretch Lincolns blocking his way and revealed a smile that sent chills down Ivy's spine.

"A penguin out of water? What, is the food in prison bad, so it escaped to give me extra food?"

The penguin was not frightened by the rocket that had been blown up.

In a city full of superhuman beings, this isn't too surprising.

Holding his modified bulletproof umbrella, which he never let go of, he got out of the car as gracefully as a short model who had just stepped off the catwalk.

"Although I don't have a good eye for your style, something too bright will attract moths."

The penguin turned his monocle.

"But I'm very interested in that door. Since you seem like a decent businessman, you can leave the door there, and I might allow you to leave with your pants."

Behind him, a dozen elite men raised their already-loaded vintage Thompson submachine guns in unison, the dark muzzles pointing at the people in the truck.

"Oh?"

Xiu En raised an eyebrow.

"Want my door? You'll have to trade several tons of your scrap metal for that price."

"Those who refuse a polite toast will be forced to drink a forfeit!"

Just as the penguin was about to raise his hand to give the order to fire.

The next second, a series of metallic cracking sounds erupted.

"What's going on? My gun!"

"It? It's biting my hand!"

The gangsters were horrified to discover that their beloved guns, which they polished to a gleaming shine every day, suddenly began to vibrate and heat up violently, as if they were living snakes. The barrels even twisted into pretzels as if gripped by an invisible hand.

The once cold steel, faced with the surge of appetite, shamelessly chose to betray them.

It's clear that Xiu En, due to the pain in his lungs, has given up all hope and is using his strength without any regard for consequences.

"Ahem, in the realm of metals."

"I am the only client."

Author Soul Valley personally recommends: I hope you enjoy the story of "American Comics: Praise the Sun Starting from Gotham!"

Before the penguins could recover from their shock at why my arsenal had collectively gone mad, a roar erupted from behind the truck.

"Blasphemer!"

Joestar leaped out from behind the bronze door, brandishing the still-glowing Holy Steel.

"How dare you bare your weapons against the glory of the Lord! Smash them!"

Behind him, dozens of muscular cult members, who had just warmed up during the Holy Gate's transport, sprang out of several vans and charged at the group of "gentlemen" who were now out of guns.

This was yet another extremely unequal battle.

Without firearms, gangsters are no better than a turkey in a street brawl in Gotham.

All that could be heard were the sounds of "Ora Ora" and the cracking of bones breaking.

Penguin watched helplessly as his former Blackwater bodyguard, whom he had hired at great expense, was thoroughly humiliated, and he felt that the world was too crazy.

"Now."

A shadow fell over Mr. Copperfield, who was less than 1.6 meters tall.

Xiu En squatted down in front of the penguin, playing with the specially made mechanical umbrella that had "unconsciously" flown from the penguin's hand.

He peeled the high-strength alloy canopy open with two fingers as easily as peeling a banana, then plucked out a few miniature missile heads and chewed them.

"Shuen commented, his gaze sweeping over the trembling penguin," he said.

"Consider this umbrella as a deposit for the car. As for the rest, Mr. Penguin, I think we can discuss the building materials supply?"

"I...I'm willing to donate!"

Oswald Coppola made the most business-like choice between dignity and being treated as dessert by that giant man-eating flower, and quickly put on a fawning smile.

"I also have two containers of high-grade steel in the port, which were originally intended for the reconstruction of the Iceberg Club..."

"very good."

Xiu En stood up and patted his dusty trench coat with satisfaction.

"Looks like we can head back now. By the way, you can join Joestar's group; I heard the construction site is short of a foreman who can manage the workers in a militaristic way?"

"Construction site, oh construction site, it's all a misunderstanding, a truly regrettable misunderstanding, my friend."

Oswald Coppert couldn't light his cigar no matter what he did, mainly because even if his hand wasn't shaking, the look in the eyes of the guy in charge of lighting it made him uneasy.

But he truly is the most resilient cork in the murky waters of Gotham.

In just a few minutes, he had already adjusted his mindset. Compared to being treated as a snack by that terrifying metal man-eating flower, any problem that could be solved as long as he paid money was not a problem.

"Look at this door! The profound sense of history, the aura that only those who truly understand art and power can wield."

The penguin pointed to the bronze bricks on the truck behind him and began to praise them against his conscience.

"Building materials of this caliber must be used to decorate the city's newest landmark building, right? I wonder which powerful, newly emerging family is contributing to its construction?"

He was already calculating in his mind: if it was some outsider who had crossed the river from out of town, maybe he could back down first, and then sell this information to Black Mask in prison or that damned Riddler, making a profit to make up for the loss.

"Newly promoted?"

Xiu En looked at him as if he were an idiot.

"I don't think so. I think it's more like, how should I put it? A hypocritical charitable project by an old-school capitalist?"

"Bruce Wayne's."

"We're working for Wayne, and I plan to use this batch of steel to build a metal storage facility."

The penguin's fawning smile froze on his face.

Bruce Wayne?