American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

"The White Emperor rules the West, and his color is white."

Xiu En muttered the setting he had heard from the system as he looked at the messy ruins in front of him.

This unfinished building is like a giant junkyard, but fortunately, Gotham's architectural style leans towards gloomy gray and white, so it's not hard to find some white things.

He first pried off a few relatively intact white marble floor tiles. Although the edges and corners were still a bit chipped, as long as the smooth side was facing out, it looked quite decent.

He arranged the floor tiles around the stone platform, barely creating the boundary of a "sacred area".

Then, he pulled half of a white plaster mannequin from the grass.

He only has an upper body, and is missing an arm, with that eerie smile on his face.

"This thing looks like an evil god."

Xiu En frowned.

Place the mannequin on the left side of the stone platform.

"But since it's white, let's just consider it a maidservant serving the White Emperor. It'll do."

He then found several white plastic buckets.

After washing it clean, I filled it with soil and stuck a few dead branches in, treating it as a decorative tree.

Finally, they even found a roll of yellowed white dust cloth in an abandoned shed.

Xiu En laid a dust cloth on the stone platform, covering the originally rough cement surface.

[System Evaluation: The aesthetics are extremely distorted, but it barely meets the "white" element.]

Xiu En patted the dust off his hands.

Just as he was about to move the last long stone slab to be used as a step, his fingers touched a hard object under the slab.

The texture felt more like rusted metal than stone.

Xiu En had an idea and forcefully pried open the stone slab that weighed several tens of kilograms.

Buried halfway in the soil was a biscuit tin. The original pattern on the tin was no longer visible, and the surface was covered with reddish-brown rust. A ring of cracked duct tape was still sealed around the edge of the lid.

"I know this plot well."

Xiuen took out the switchblade and carefully cut along the seams of the tape.

With a soft click, the tin box was pried open.

There was no earth-shattering treasure map inside, nor any severed fingers or ears.

There was only one roll of banknotes bound with a rubber band, probably worth two or three hundred dollars.

Next to the banknotes lay a silver metal lighter and a small, unopened bottle of kerosene. The lighter was engraved with a soaring eagle. Although it was badly worn, you could still tell that it must have been quite exquisite back then.

At the bottom was a folded sheet of paper. Xiu En unfolded it and saw only a single line of hastily written words:

"The project payment is delayed again, those bloodsuckers. Leave some emergency money for Martha, in case I disappear too."

"Looks like this foreman isn't having much luck."

Xiu En put the roll of banknotes into his pocket and filled the lighter with kerosene.

He picked up the lighter and gave it a gentle push with his thumb.

"bite."

The crisp sound of metal being opened echoed across the empty square.

A cluster of orange-yellow flames stubbornly leaped out, swaying in the wind and emitting a faint smell of kerosene.

"nice one."

Xiu En closed the lid with satisfaction.

"Now we don't need to start a fire by rubbing sticks together at night."

[System Evaluation: Although it's just a broken lighter, it's the only source of fire here and now. Fire is the god of rites; even the somber god of the West needs a little warmth.]

The sky gradually darkened.

Xiu En sat cross-legged on a stone platform covered with a dust cloth, playing with the jade buckle in his hand.

My stomach started growling again.

He glanced at the rotten pears and rice wine in the woven bag next to him and swallowed hard.

"That's for the gods to eat."

He warned himself

He took the remaining steamed bun out of his pocket and took a bite in the cold wind.

The unfinished building plaza was not quiet at night.

The sound of police sirens on the street in the distance.

The barking of stray dogs.

There were also strange noises from the expansion and contraction of steel bars in abandoned buildings.

They intertwine to form a uniquely Gotham lullaby.

Shuen huddled inside his hoodie, clutching his Glock, leaning against the plaster mannequin, his eyes half-closed.

This is only the first day.

At two in the morning, the night wind in Gotham carried a biting chill.

But his attention was not on the cold at all, but on those few pairs of eerie green eyes.

"Hiss!"

A black cat with a bald patch stood on the edge of the stone platform, its back arched, and let out a menacing growl at Xiu En.

Behind it were three or four other equally emaciated but menacing stray cats, staring at the woven bag containing rotten pears and rice wine.

As expected of Gotham, even stray cats are breathing on people in groups.

"Get out of here."

Shuen lowered his voice and waved the Glock in his hand.

"I have a gun, and I'm in a bad mood right now."

The lead black cat clearly hadn't received any gun safety training; instead of backing down, it tentatively stretched out its paw, trying to hook the plastic bag.

[System notification: During the fasting period, killing any living beings is strictly prohibited.]

[Countdown: 2 days and 18 hours.]

"You win."

He put away his gun, took out a lighter, lit it, and suddenly waved it in front of the black cat.

The bright flames and the overwhelming smell of kerosene finally instilled fear in these beasts.

The black cat let out a strange cry, its fur standing on end, and jumped off the stone platform. The other cats also glanced longingly at the rotten pear before darting into the dark ruins.

Even cats bully honest people.

Xiu En cursed, pulled the woven bag into his arms and hugged it tightly, then shrank back under the dust cover.

In the latter half of the night, a light drizzle began to fall from the sky.

Fine raindrops pattered on the dustproof cloth, making a "pitter-patter" sound.

Just as Xiu En was drifting off to sleep, a series of hurried and heavy footsteps mingled with the sound of rain.

That was the sound of leather boots stepping on gravel and mud, stumbling and arrhythmic.

Xiu En instantly snapped to attention, gripped the gun tightly, pressed his body against the plaster mannequin, and used the shadows to hide himself.

A dark figure burst in through the gap in the unfinished building.

By the dim light of the factory in the distance, Xiu En could see that the man was wearing a torn leather jacket, one hand clutching his abdomen, with dark red liquid constantly oozing from between his fingers.

He wandered around the square like a headless fly for a couple of seconds before finally collapsing straight down onto the stone platform.

The human body crashed onto the soft, wet mud, splashing up a puddle of muddy water.

That location was right on the edge of the "sacred area" that Shuen had enclosed with white floor tiles.

Xiu En waited a minute to make sure there were no pursuers behind him before carefully jumping down from the stone platform.

He lit the lighter and brought it close to the unfortunate man.

He was a young man, and his attire suggested he was a typical Gotham gangster.

Someone stabbed him right through the abdomen, and the wound is still oozing blood. If he doesn't get treatment, he probably won't survive the night.

"...Help...help me..."

The man wasn't quite dead yet. Sensing the light, he instinctively reached out a blood-stained hand and grabbed Xiu En's trouser leg.