American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

"This fish is not bad, at least it's much cleaner than your henchman from before."

Xiu En wiped the corner of his mouth.

He stood up, casting a shadow over the short man who was still bowing.

"Cobbler, considering you delivered a lot of steel to my construction site and treated Solomon to a good meal, I'll say a few more words to you."

"I'm not an unreasonable person. Even that big, dumbsoaked Solomon who only knows how to recite nursery rhymes is praising you, saying that even monsters can be good or bad. But I don't like the musty, stinking smell here, especially that stench that was so strong it felt like even the soul had rotted away."

Shuen saw the penguin's eyes.

"Do you get me?"

At that moment, Copeport's business acumen was spinning faster than Gotham's fastest centrifuge.

He understood.

This god's standards are actually outrageously low.

As long as you're not crazy, as long as you're respectable, as long as there are rules.

And that big guy, Solomon Grandi!

Hey, it actually became his get-out-of-jail-free card in front of this glowing monster!

"I understand! Even if God himself were to descend, he couldn't find a more thorough understanding than mine, sir!"

The penguin looks up.

"I assure you, from tonight! No, from this very second, wherever Oswald Cobblestone can see, there will be absolutely no more of those zombie-turning pills! I will drag out those suppliers who only create chaos and stench, one by one, and no matter which sewer they're hiding in, I'll flush them down like a toilet!"

The penguin raised both hands in praise of Shu's grace, mimicking the gesture of the Sun Cultists.

"There can only be one color beneath Gotham's surface: the pristine gray beneath your radiant light!"

What a great excuse!

The penguin man was laughing inwardly.

He was worried about not finding a reason to break the balance of power among the various factions.

This is a legitimate war of monopoly, and there can only be one winner.

He quickly pulled a card with the family crest from the lining of his tuxedo and held it above his head with both hands.

"This is a small token of my appreciation for you and Solomon, and for the sake of order. Wherever the Copport name hangs, your doors are always open, and there's no such filth there."

"Gray? No, I want gold, or clean white."

He patted the penguin's still trembling shoulder with a gentle touch, but it almost shoved the dwarf right into the ground.

"Since you're so prepared, don't disappoint me. Even if it's just so Solomon can still have hamburgers, you'd better stay alive and clean this place up."

With that, Xiu En turned and walked out of the private room.

Soon after

My phone vibrated in my trench coat pocket.

Xiu En answered the phone, and a tired voice with the risk of receding hairline came from the other end.

"Penguin's data traffic has surged by 400 percent in the last ten minutes, with almost all commands pointing to house-cleaning. Gotham ER is likely to be very busy tonight."

Bruce Wayne's voice was deep, with the distinct sound of keyboard typing in the background.

"It works, Shuen. Simple, brutal, efficient. But I must remind you, the vast majority of people who use those things aren't hopeless scoundrels. They're just desperate. They're either hungry, cold, or simply can't see tomorrow."

Shuon flew around Gotham, watching the neon lights and shadows rush past.

The eyes hidden in the shadows closed instantly as he passed by, and they even held their breath.

No Gotham criminal who didn't want to die dared to look Shum in the eye at that moment.

"Listen to this, it's the same old tune again."

Xiu En still had a relaxed smile on his lips.

He flicked a sunflower petal that was perched on his shoulder, pretending to be asleep, with his finger.

"Just recently, that woman in armor with the shield said the same thing to me. Social structure, class stratification, psychological trauma. Do you intelligent people all like to stir up things that are simply black and white into a muddy mess?"

"I know that the construction site you built before was to provide food for people, so I conveniently saved that foreman a lot of money on blasting fees."

Xiu En changed his posture.

"But I don't care if they touched that pill that turns them into zombies because of childhood trauma or because they're unemployed. I don't have the time in America to counsel everyone. All I know is that if we clean that stuff up, those who want to live won't have to step in the shit so easily."

His voice sounded as if he were talking about pruning dead branches.

"As for those who don't want to live, they should be buried wherever they want. This world is too crowded; someone has to make room."

There was a full five seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

The sunflower spread its leaves, made a question mark gesture, and then pointed to the phone, implying that Bruce was definitely brewing something big.

Bruce finally sighed, but his tone was less lecturing and more filled with resigned acceptance.

Bruce finally sighed, but his tone was less lecturing and more filled with resigned acceptance.

He knew better than anyone that on this damned night, Hugh's unreasonable physical purification might be the most thorough detoxification Gotham had experienced in decades.

Even if it may not be entirely legal.

"You're right, Shum. At least for tonight, Diana and I can put our sociology papers on hold."

The keyboard sounds in the background stopped.

"Ah Fu made a midnight snack. Now that you've resolved the immediate trouble, come back. No one with a death wish will bother us at Wayne Manor for dinner."

"Okay, that's not too outrageous."

The doors of Wayne Manor slid open slowly.

As Hugh stepped into the foyer, the chill and Gotham's characteristic dampness were instantly dispelled by the warmth of the fireplace.

Alfred was already standing there, holding the impeccable white napkin in his hand, his face calm and composed.

"Welcome back, Xiu En."

"Given that your art piece on the bank's lightning rod tonight has gone viral on Twitter, the master is waiting for you at the restaurant to discuss the PR costs for that poor hippo."

Shum shrugged and casually tossed the penguin card toward the bronze plaque in the center of the hall. "Put it on Cobblestone's tab, Alfred. That's the penguin's voluntary contribution to the city's beautification."

Only one wall lamp was on in the restaurant, casting a dim and ambiguous light.

Bruce Wayne sat at a small round table near the kitchen, looking like an ordinary person who was a little tired but whose eyes were still sharp.

Opposite him was a huge tray.

The tray contained a neatly arranged pile of grayish-white cuboids and some sliced ​​pork leg meat.

"Ah Fu said you might miss that pure taste."

Bruce gestured for Shuen to sit down.

Xiu En raised an eyebrow, pulled out a chair, and the metallic scent made his mouth water.

He grabbed a piece and stuffed it directly into his mouth.

Bruce looked at him, the complexity in his eyes receding like the tide.

"Xiu En".

"I'm stubborn. Sometimes I'm so stubborn that I hate myself. About rules? About red lines? About how to save this damn place? I might be nagging you about those grand principles that you just won't listen to, forever."

Bruce put down his cup and looked directly into Shum's eyes.

"But I hope you believe me. Even if my methods may be slower than yours, even if they sometimes seem weak, I genuinely want to make things better here. In that respect, we are the same."

Xiu En stopped chewing and picked up a cup of coffee.

He swirled the glass; the black liquid clung to the sides, reflecting the flickering flames of the fireplace.

"Boss, you're being a bit dramatic."

Xiu En chuckled, but this time the smile reached his eyes.

He tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.

"I've always believed in you, Bruce. As always."

"Whether it's that memo you prepared to kill me in that damned Tower of Babel plan, or all your lame excuses."

"I believe you all. So, shut up, drink your cold coffee! And tell me what other fun things are planned for tomorrow besides this 'hard stuff'? Don't tell me you're just going to let me stay here and grow mushrooms?"