241-245

Chapter 241: The War Is Over 

Boom! 

Killer Croc, his massive frame blocking the way to Cody completely, threw a punch at the incoming Firefly. But it only tore through the ceiling, the sheer force of the blow making the surrounding air vibrate and hum. 

"I said, stop!" 

Firefly immediately raised his flamethrower, pointing it at the blocking croc-man. 

"Stupid animal, get out of my way!" 

At the same time, a blast of chilling cold with a deadly low temperature suddenly shot out from the side. Firefly, whose attention was drawn by Killer Croc, couldn't react in time. By the next second, as he darted sideways to dodge, the low-temperature beam from the freeze gun had already swept over him. 

"Crack, crack, crack—" 

Clang! 

The sound of metal hitting the floor rang out. Firefly's sideways dodge saved him from being completely frozen, but half his body was still frozen solid and cracking. This flight suit was entirely self-made, naturally without top-notch protective capabilities. It might withstand the high temperatures of a normal fire or general knife and gun damage, but Mr. Freeze's ice could approach or even reach absolute zero. That kind of low temperature was enough to make the armor lose its ability to fly. 

Stuck on the ground, half his body completely frozen, Firefly couldn't move. Zsasz, who had charged up right behind him, was immediately dumbfounded. He held his small dagger, looking at the solid, scaly hide of Killer Croc before him, and couldn't help but swallow. 

Could he win against Killer Croc with a dagger? 

It was a question worth pondering. Luckily, it didn't trouble him for long. 

Deadshot drew his pistol and fired two bullets instantly at Zsasz's legs. The shots were fired so quickly they almost sounded like one. 

Bang! 

The metal slugs accurately pierced Zsasz's legs and broke his shins, causing him to collapse immediately, howling in pain and unable to stand. 

"He always said knives were more reliable than guns," Deadshot said, blowing smoke from the barrel of his pistol. "Wonder if he changed his mind today." 

As for the Riddler, he had been pinned down next to the Joker by Batman, who had seemingly regained his focus. And next to him was the Joker, securely bound by Poison Ivy. 

"It's over, Nygma," Batman said. "You're out of moves." 

The basic rule of a fight is more against fewer. At this moment, the few who had attacked were easily controlled by the other dozen-plus supervillains. This war ended so abruptly and easily that everyone felt a sense of unreality. 

"It's not over yet," Catwoman said. "The Riddler still has a huge number of goons under him. If they find out their boss is caught, Gotham will have dozens, maybe hundreds, of large and small gangs popping up overnight, and then street brawls will start." 

"They won't. The Riddler will help us gather them all together, and then we'll round them up." 

Hearing Batman's answer, everyone else present looked down at the Riddler, who was still shouting curses on the ground. 

"You damn sons of bi—! You piece of work, don't let me see you again, or I'll slice you into ten thousand pieces! I'll find all your friends and loved ones, and then—" 

"I think..." Cody hesitated, scratching his head. "He seems a little angry right now, probably not going to be too willing to help us." 

"Nygma doesn't need to worry about that." 

After saying that, Batman delivered a chop to the back of the Riddler's neck, knocking him out cold. 

"We just need a Riddler to direct those gunmen. Whether that person is actually Nygma doesn't matter – after all, those gunmen will be completely rounded up within twelve hours anyway." 

"You want to find someone to impersonate him?" 

"Just need someone who knows the Riddler well enough, someone who can think on their feet." 

As Batman said this, his gaze turned back to Cody. 

"...Why are you looking at me? My services cost money." 

"No problem," Batman replied. "Solving the problem is what matters most." 

Half an hour later, the Riddler, dressed in a green suit and holding a cane, flew out of the building with a group of supervillains. Along with them were the tightly bound Joker, the Biker Freak in his black outfit, as well as Firefly and Zsasz, and also Batman, Catwoman, and Kite Man. 

"These four are traitors," the Riddler said to the others. "And Batman and those two were also caught with them. Tomorrow, I will personally execute these four, and today, Gotham is ours!" 

As soon as he finished his brief speech, the already eager goons around him immediately cheered and celebrated. 

"Riddler!" "Riddler!" "Riddler!" 

In this fervent atmosphere, the Riddler calmly walked into the crowd and left the building surrounded by people. 

"Oh, right, one more thing," he said. "Tonight, I'll be giving a speech at the Grand Theater. Everyone must be there – anyone who can't make it will be considered a traitor." 

"No problem, Riddler," his right-hand men around him promised solemnly. "Tonight, everyone will be there!" 

The Riddler smiled. 

That night, Poison Ivy also went to the theater with them. The Riddler's speech lasted about half an hour. After that, all the gunmen present collapsed onto the floor, falling into a hallucinogenic state. 

It just goes to show, in a confined space like that, Poison Ivy's plants were incredibly effective. 

"Police, come clean up the mess!" 

Following a loud shout from the Riddler on stage, hundreds of Gotham police officers wearing gas masks and police uniforms filed into the theater from outside, cuffing all the gunmen and confiscating all their weapons. 

The next day, the Gotham sun rose as usual, but familiar dark clouds once again covered the sky. It seemed the city was tired of the recent dramatic events and had returned to its original state. 

"Through the efforts of the Gotham City Police Department, and with the assistance of Batman and Kite Man, the Riddler and Joker have been fully apprehended and brought to justice. The thousands of hired terrorists under them have also all been captured. Currently, these criminals are being transferred to police departments in various cities to alleviate pressure on the prisons." 

"I have to admit, I previously misjudged the Gotham Police Department. They are well-trained, resilient, and brave. Even after experiencing something like the bombing attacks, they were still able to turn the situation around against the Joker and the Riddler. This time, the government should issue a bonus to Commissioner Gordon and the other officers." 

"Frank, do you still think Batman is useless now?" 

"Bill, I don't deny he did some things, but he's still just a masked vigilante breaking the law. Besides, the post-event repairs and recovery work are the most important, and he's completely useless for that. On the other hand, Mr. Bruce Wayne is willing to donate the five hundred million dollars recovered by the police for the reconstruction work in Gotham City – that's what I call real help." 

"Frank, seriously, have you ever considered applying your mouth for a Guinness World Record? I've lived this long, and I haven't seen anything harder than that yet." 

Chapter 242: Wait, Where the Heck Did It Send Me This Time? 

The war in Gotham City was finally over. 

Residents who had previously fled from the Diamond District and Park Row to other areas of Gotham, or even to other cities, finally began to return. Buildings damaged by the fires of war were being rebuilt, patients in Gotham hospitals were gradually recovering and being discharged, order was being restored, and criminals who had taken advantage of the chaos were being rounded up. Everything seemed to be getting better. 

In the early hours of the morning, amidst the ruins of a small bar, the owner, Lil' Rhys, stood behind the newly wiped-down bar counter, hanging a neon sign on the broken wall above. The sign bore large, eye-catching, glowing letters: "Front Lines." 

This uniquely named bar seemed to have just opened; the entire place was empty except for two people sitting on two broken wooden chairs by the counter. One was drinking alcohol, the other juice. 

"Nice name, Front Lines," Cody said with a smile, taking a sip of his orange juice. "Never realized Lil' Rhys had such a knack for business." 

"Yeah, he's even got part of the liquor cabinet set up already. That's pretty fast," Chuck took a swig of tequila and couldn't help but chuckle. "Even though I didn't like the war, the idea is pretty cool." 

"Yeah, he even specifically got orange juice ready. Guess I had to show up." 

They both smiled and clinked glasses. 

"So, back to the main topic, what are you gonna do? Go back to your ex-wife?" 

"Yeah, she said she wants to get back together... and I still like her." 

"Alright," Cody shrugged. "No matter what she likes about you—whether it's that you became a hero, or that you stopped drinking and got your act together, or maybe just that you're a good dad to your kid—either way, you guys getting back together is a good thing." 

"Isn't looking at it so closely a bit calculating?" 

"Hey, I didn't say anything. Anyway, I wish you two a long and happy relationship after you get back together." 

"Thanks... What about you? What's your plan? Why'd you quit?" 

"Me? Well, my real identity was found out by the Riddler, the Joker, and over a dozen other supervillains. You know, being a cop is too noticeable, especially when supervillains are onto you—I'm seriously afraid I'll die wherever I go now." 

"So you just left Gotham?" 

"Yeah, Batman gave me a payout anyway. That money's enough for me to keep living." 

"Now that you mention it, what about that five hundred million?" 

"You didn't actually think Commissioner Gordon would okay that, did you?" Cody sighed. "The money I made while undercover, I could kinda get away with that, you know, 'cause it was a special situation. But five hundred million is way too much, and it was on the Riddler's books. If that got out, it'd be huge news—so I was out of luck." 

Actually, the five hundred million in cash wasn't the biggest deal. What Cody sighed about was that the five hundred million asset points hadn't increased either—he had been hoping to get rich overnight. 

[System judged this mission as a special circumstance. All income obtained during the undercover period, if without legal penalty, will be considered legal income.] 

"What about that five hundred million?" 

[Verifying—Apologies, the Riddler did not issue a clearly priced mission commission and subsequently changed the criteria for claiming the five hundred million. This mission was a false commission.] 

"Huh?" 

At this point, Cody recalled the situation. 

"Bruce Wayne's billion is still half intact, and at this point, it's useless to me." 

"Tell me who you are, or say goodbye to that five hundred million dollars!" 

"Who'll kill him! I'll give him the five hundred million!" 

"Oh my god, how could the Riddler be so evil?" 

Cody covered his face. Damn it, the Riddler truly lived up to being the guy best at riddles. From beginning to end, he never explicitly stated he would give him the money—that's because he never planned to give him the money in the first place. 

Code, I'm so mad. 

"Uh, if I kill myself right now, can I still get the money?" 

[This mission is a false mission. Repeating, this mission is a false mission.] 

"Ugh, when he dies, I'm definitely going to his grave and stealing his offerings like crazy." 

Cody grumbled, checking his account. Including the million dollars Batman finally gave him, he only had a measly $1,090,000 in asset points left. 

"Is that a lot? Not really." 

[This business trip mission has concluded. Returning to the original universe in ten minutes. Please prepare yourself.] 

When the system prompt sounded, Cody downed the drink in his hand and placed the empty cup on the counter. 

"Hm?" Chuck seemed to sense something. He also put down his bottle. "Leaving?" 

"Leaving. No more drinks," Cody stood up. "Hope we meet again." 

"Good luck, Cody." 

"Same to you." 

He waved, and after turning the corner of the bar's street, he scaled the outer wall of a tall building, reaching the roof in just over ten seconds. 

He didn't move again, just stood quietly on the rooftop, looking down at the city under reconstruction. The long night had passed, and the east was starting to lighten. 

Finally, Cody's figure disappeared into the first rays of the morning sun. 

[Ding] 

[Your business trip in Gotham City for this phase is complete. Employee authority has now been upgraded. Work and business trip permissions for areas outside Gotham City have been unlocked. You can now acquire asset points in other cities.] 

[Performance evaluation for this phase's work: Excellent] 

[Rewards for this phase's settlement: Advanced Mechanical Mastery, Master Air Dynamics Mastery, Master Kite Flying Mastery] 

[Special Reward Obtained: Kite Man's Friendship] 

[Kite Man's Friendship Note: If Kite Man were to answer what changed his fate and made him a hero, the answer would likely be nothing more than two people and two gusts of wind. But for him, that was already enough.] 

[Advanced Mechanical Mastery Note: Want to be the next Tony Stark? Want to fly through the air in an Iron Man suit, creating sonic booms? Want to be a one-man army and sweep away everything with a mechanical horde? 

Note 2: Don't even think about it. Gotta pay extra.] 

Cody didn't continue looking at the master-level air dynamics and kite-flying skills. He had already seen the specific effects of these skills on Kite Man. 

"But speaking of which," he reached up and scratched his head. "Why do you always pull some kind of stunt every time you send me somewhere?" 

Cody looked up, observing the bustling traffic, the neon lights, the whole vibrant scene on the street. It was still a picture of prosperity, but something wasn't quite right... 

A fine drizzle was falling, and a thin layer of water had accumulated on the city streets. The traffic wasn't moving; it was clear the street traffic situation wasn't great. 

But overall, it was still lively. 

But this wasn't Gotham. 

"Fing airline food, fing rain, f***ing England!" 

The curses of a passerby reached Cody's ears, revealing his current location. 

The UK, London. 

Chapter 243: Is British Food Really That Weird? 

"Please recall what you said to others before your departure." 

"What does that mean? What did I say to others before I left...?" 

As he mumbled, Cody suddenly realized. 

"Harvey, I'm going on a long trip. I might need your help. Do you have time?" 

"Freeze, I've got to go on a long trip. Can you help me out and come along?" 

"Commissioner Gordon, I'd like to borrow your key. I need to get to the rooftop to turn on the Bat-Signal and find Batman." 

"Alfred, is Bruce around? I need to talk to him about something..." 

Oh right, he had asked a lot of people before he left. Basically, everyone in Gotham knew he was going on a long trip. To cover his tracks, he just bought a random plane ticket and then secretly snuck back to his rental apartment. 

"But still, why did you send me to London? Why London of all places?" 

"Your plane ticket's destination was London, and the system detected Batman heading to your rental apartment. To prevent exposure, emergency measures were activated." 

"...How long have I been gone?" 

"Time elapsed in the business trip universe: Twenty-five days, twenty-one hours, eight minutes, forty-seven seconds. Time elapsed in this universe: Zero seconds." 

"So, business trips come with time-stop? Why didn't you tell me earlier...? I wouldn't have used such a lame excuse then." 

Cody looked around. It was a gloomy, rainy day, with thin puddles collecting in the streets. Soaked trash bits and chewing gum stuck to the asphalt in patches, looking like unsightly scabs on the earth. In the distance, a flock of surprisingly fearless pigeons rummaged through a large pile of garbage bags next to a sidewalk bin — probably where the trash bits had washed out from in the rain. 

"There seems to be a lot of trash..." Cody frowned. His sense of smell was too sharp, and the foul odor of the street garbage was assaulting his nose. 

Fallen leaves, discarded paper boxes, cigarette butts... Huh? Why is there a completely dismantled bicycle? 

Cody shifted his gaze from the road to the buildings lining the streets. The tall gray, blue, and white buildings were beautiful, with stone carvings, intricate brickwork, and some Gothic styles even boasting pretty little spires. Warm light streamed from arched white windows, providing a comforting feeling to passersby. 

--- 

Looking at the beautiful architecture, Cody's mood improved slightly. He might as well treat it as a sightseeing trip. 

The streets were bustling with people. Some trees and garden plants even had colorful lights strung on them. Cody tried asking them how they felt about it, but it seemed the plants didn't really care — they were just plants, without the complex emotions of humans. Their greatest emotional fluctuation was probably their instinctive craving for water and sunlight. 

As he rounded a street corner, Cody saw two homeless people sitting on the curb, with mats under their bottoms, silently staring at the ground. They weren't talking or begging, just sitting there, seemingly exhausted or out of energy. 

Cody thought for a moment, then pulled a dollar bill from his pocket. After a moment of silence, he turned and went straight to a bank. 

"Let's see, I need to get a British account, and a passport, and then..." 

--- 

"You can spend ten thousand US dollars of your assets to upgrade 'Local Identity' to 'Local Global Identity.' The system will upgrade based on your Gotham citizen identity, providing a global account, automatic visa renewal procedures, and relevant document processing, communication SIM cards, etc." 

"Awesome!" 

Cody spent ten thousand points to upgrade, but he still went to the bank afterward. After all, the cash he had wasn't in British pounds, and the dollars he'd acquired in the other universe had all been converted into gold, which he couldn't spend directly and was currently sitting in his "shop space." 

Don't misunderstand, the system doesn't accept regular items. But Cody cleverly had those gold pieces sculpted into a golden pumpkin. 

"Ugly Golden Pumpkin Headset of Sanity Loss Price: System does not accept trash. Note: It's hard to imagine the mental state of someone who sculpted this monstrosity — but given its material is gold, it's unlikely anyone would refuse to own it. In a way, it possesses a numerical beauty." 

Cody didn't care at all about the system's evaluation. It was good enough that he could store it. It wasn't like he needed to buy a special storage bag or ring for it. 

Spatial items were just too expensive, after all. 

When Cody emerged from the bank, his bank account had over seven thousand British pounds — what he'd exchanged for ten thousand US dollars. He wasn't sure how long that money would last in the UK, but it should be enough for about a month of living expenses. 

He certainly wasn't going to actually stay there for the full two years of the visa. In fact, Cody planned to explore for a while and then head straight back to Gotham. He still needed to check on the progress of the renovations! Bruce had promised that after each phase of the plan, if successful, a portion of the profits would be deposited into his account, the exact amount depending on the plan's profitability. 

Cody pondered these things as he walked back onto the streets of London. He noticed a food truck by the side of the road, so he walked over to it. 

"Let's see if British food is as weird as they say." 

However, he didn't get to try it. 

Just as Cody was halfway there, a man in a suit with a receding hairline suddenly rushed out from the side of the road. He was sweating profusely, looking anxious, and urgently told the man by the food truck, "Gino, six super burgers!" 

"Six? Henry, what's wrong? Didn't you have lunch?" 

"Don't ask, just give them to me!" 

Cody suddenly stopped. Aside from superhumans with enhanced physiques, he had never seen anyone who could eat like that. Yet, this plump man's steps were unsteady, and his reactions to his surroundings were sluggish. He didn't look like a supervillain or a superhero at all. 

Maybe some people are just naturally big eaters? 

As Cody thought this, the man already grabbed a burger in each hand and started devouring them. 

"Slow down, Henry, slow down." 

Henry opened his mouth, bit off half a burger, then swallowed the other half. After finishing six, he asked for six more, as if there was a giant, hungry chick waiting to be fed inside him; a mountain of burgers couldn't fill his ravenous stomach. 

"Is British food really that weird?" 

Cody sighed. But then he remembered this was the DC Universe, where eccentric people were common among the populace, so a big eater didn't seem so strange. He simply decided to ignore it and turned to walk into a restaurant on the street. 

"Fish and chips are also a British national dish. It wouldn't hurt to try them." 

Both the UK and America speak English, so Cody had no language barrier. After ordering, he sat down and pulled out his phone. He wanted to check the news. 

However, three minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed outside the restaurant again. 

Chapter 244: The Man Who Starved to Death 

Hunger. 

So hungry. 

An intense feeling of hunger clawed its way from his stomach to his brain. His stomach growled with a deafening rumble, and even after eating so many burgers, his body instinctively craved more food. 

The more he ate, the hungrier he became. 

Why had he become so hungry? 

He didn't know; his brain couldn't process it. At this moment, the hunger was driving Henry completely insane. When a person is extremely hungry, they have no room to think about anything else—it's a primal instinct for survival. 

Despite this, as Henry's gaze swept across the post office on the street corner, memories involuntarily stirred within him. 

Yes, the post office... he used to work there... 

Hadn't there been an unclaimed package once? 

"Package..." he murmured the word unconsciously. 

By now, he couldn't remember what was inside the package at all. He only recalled opening it, and after he did, the hunger seemed to take root within him. 

But this thought only flashed through Henry's mind for a few seconds before being overwhelmed by the intense hunger once more. 

He stumbled away from the burger stand and ran toward a nearby restaurant, leaving behind dozens of burger wrappers on the ground, attracting a swarm of scavenging flies. 

When Cody saw Henry rush in, a bad feeling immediately surged within him. 

"Unless there's a 'Gastronomy Guru' in the DC universe I haven't heard of, then I must have stumbled upon another strange event..." 

The problem was, he wasn't intimately familiar with every detail of DC lore. He had no memory of a bizarre and nonsensical event involving an "overeating Mediterranean glutton." 

"I want fish and chips, steak, Yorkshire pudding, and shepherd's pie... All of it! Bring me everything on the menu!" 

The胖 man ordered eagerly, like a starved ghost, wanting to devour the entire menu. Cody became increasingly aware of his abnormality. 

Aside from his unusually enormous appetite, after eating so many burgers, his stomach hadn't distended at all. It was as if the burgers hadn't gone into his stomach but into another dimension. There were also some strange flies buzzing around him. Although there were only a few scattered ones at first glance, once noticed, the insect scent on him grew increasingly strong. 

Corpses attract flies, Cody thought, but this fat man clearly looked alive, and he didn't have any particular rotten smell that would attract flies. So why were flies and mosquitoes drawn to him? 

He tried to talk to the insects, but strangely, they didn't respond to him, only emitting a buzzing sound, like meaningless static. 

Animals in this world weren't particularly clever, but generally, they wouldn't fail to respond at all—unless they were being controlled. 

As he pondered, the fat man was already seated at a table, stuffing his face. Spoonful after spoonful, forkful after forkful, he ate quickly and frantically, drawing curious glances from everyone else in the restaurant. 

"Oh my goodness, look at that guy! How can he possibly eat all that?" 

"Jesus, that's just crude. A person shouldn't torment their body like that." 

Ten minutes later, all the dishes on the man's table were completely cleared. A waiter in a suit, looking utterly bewildered, stood beside him, finally finding an opportunity to speak. 

"Uh, are you satisfied, sir?" 

"More! I want more! Steak, fries, cream cake!" 

"...Alright." 

Watching the man directly grab a steak from the table and shove it into his mouth, Cody's expression grew very serious. He was a hundred percent certain that this person's physical and mental state were extremely abnormal, and it was a negative kind of abnormality. 

However, the man still hadn't shown any aggression, which left Cody undecided about what to do. 

Henry paid no mind to the other diners. The more he ate, the more intense his hunger became. It was as if a black hole was tearing at his flesh from within, and fear completely stripped away his last shred of sanity. He was utterly consumed by hunger. 

Even after finishing everything on his table, he still couldn't stop wanting to eat. So, he turned his attention to the next table, then ran over and grabbed the food from their plates, stuffing it into his mouth. 

"Hey! Hey! What do you think you're doing!" 

"Call the police!" 

"Someone do something! He's sick!" 

The two people at the table cried out in shock and anger. However, the next second, everyone watched as the fat man's round face began to sag, his skin becoming incredibly loose, as if all the flesh and fat beneath had been completely drained away, leaving only a loose, baggy skin. His hands, his face, his body—all of it. In just a few minutes, he transformed from a胖 man into a skeletal figure. 

"No, I have to keep eating, keep eating!" 

The man, his hands greasy, grabbed a blonde woman's skirt. He was so hungry he had lost all reason, stuffing the tablecloth into his mouth with his left hand while grabbing the woman's leg with his right. 

"No, please!" 

But Henry paid no heed. He opened his mouth and bit down. 

"Ahhh!" 

Cody couldn't just stand by. The scene before him was like something out of Resident Evil. Marvel had its zombie universes; what if DC had a zombie virus event too? 

He took three quick strides forward and immediately pinned the man to the ground. The man struggled fiercely, and Cody felt an immense force from him. He wondered if it was some kind of virus at play, as the man's strength was truly superhuman. 

Fortunately, Cody managed to keep him down. He examined the man carefully but found no signs of decay in his pupils, nails, teeth, or skin, which only confused him further. 

Just then, the restaurant manager and waiters finally arrived. Seeing the scene, both were instantly enraged. 

"Get this jerk to the police station!" 

"Oh my god, he suddenly turned into skin and bones!" 

Amidst the crowd's anger, the man on the ground was pulled away by Cody. But soon, without food to sustain him, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. 

Not a zombie, Cody thought. Zombies wouldn't have such poor stamina; otherwise, humans could just hide for a few days to avoid being eaten and escape the crisis. 

He could feel the man's vital signs rapidly fading. He immediately activated his "I Didn't Kill Anyone" skill, hoping to keep him alive, but strangely, even after being lifted onto a stretcher, the man still tilted his head and passed away. 

[Notification: Skill level insufficient, unable to block fatal force] 

Chapter 245: John Constantine 

"What's going on?" Cody's heart sank as he looked at the man dead on the stretcher. "This has never happened before." 

The system responded: [The force that caused his death was too strong and went unobserved by you. If it cannot be observed, it cannot be understood, leading to the current skill level being insufficient to block the death.] 

"What if I upgrade?" he asked. 

[If your skill level is ten levels higher than the fatal force, it can be forcibly blocked.] 

Cody sighed. Ever since he reached level five, the upgrade cost for "I Didn't Kill Anyone" had jumped to 200,000 USD asset points per level. Even if he used up all million of his points, he'd only barely reach level ten. 

That fatal force was seriously messed up. Instead of trying to suppress it with a skill, it would be better to find a way to observe and understand it. 

Suddenly, a notification chimed: [Ding!] [You have a new odd job available. Please check it.] [The Glutton Who Starved to Death] 

[Task Description: For unknown reasons, a fat man transformed into a thin man in minutes, a living person became a corpse in minutes, and a glutton was literally starved to death in minutes. London, this place, never plays by the rules. But as they say, life finds a way. When the sky falls, there's always a taller person to hold it up. This is a profound truth discovered by a certain legendary magician.] 

[Note: Of course, those who couldn't handle it are already gone, but that's not the point. The point is, the solution isn't to become the tallest one, but to find someone taller than yourself.] 

[Status: Pending (0%)] 

[Reward: Beginner Mastery of Occult Knowledge] 

Cody scratched his head. The system's task notification was pretty clear. He could tell at a glance that this incident was related to the occult, in other words, a supernatural event. 

And coincidentally, he did know that London in the DC universe had a bunch of people involved in the supernatural, the most famous of whom was a seasoned freelance magician, whose real name was... 

"Constantine." 

On a drizzly London street, a taxi was stuck in traffic. The road had been jammed for twenty minutes, and it still hadn't moved. 

"Constantine, right?" the taxi driver casually chatted with his passenger in the back, trying to alleviate the boredom of the traffic jam. "That's your name, isn't it?" 

The person in the back ignored him. 

He sat in the backseat, watching pedestrians with umbrellas pass by on the street, seeing them occasionally squeeze across the road in front of the car. He felt even more irritable than the driver. 

Damn it, he thought, it's because I have to give way to these bastards that it's so freaking jammed. And I can still vaguely smell stale vomit in the back seat; I wonder which drunk bastard threw up in the car. 

"I've had enough," he said. "Mate, I'm getting off here. If I'd decided to walk earlier, I'd be home by now." 

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror at the scruffy, unshaven man. He had a head of bright, handsome blonde hair and was wearing a dark yellow trench coat over a suit, tie, and trousers. While the outfit seemed quite expensive, it looked like it hadn't been properly cared for in a while. It was wrinkled and had some faint, unwashed stains. Clearly, this guy made an effort with his appearance, but not much. 

If it weren't for his handsome blonde hair, his slightly roguish yet mature face, and his tall, well-proportioned physique, which somewhat masked his unkempt details, most people's first impression would be a frown, thinking he was an unkempt rogue. 

And in reality, that impression was spot on. 

"Sixteen pounds, eighty pence, mate." 

Constantine paid without a word, turned, and walked into the light rain with his suitcase. After a few steps, he stepped on some trash in a puddle by the roadside. The musty smell from his foot reminded him of the faint vomit smell in the back of the taxi, which in turn churned his stomach. The awful airplane food inside his gut churned like a swamp, making him feel utterly uncomfortable. 

Whoosh— 

The cold wind, carrying raindrops, blew down his neck. Constantine shivered and immediately pulled up his collar. At that moment, he finally couldn't stand the discomfort in his stomach and swore loudly. 

"F** the airplane food, f* the rain, f** England!" 

Constantine cursed as he merged into the crowded flow of people, carrying his suitcase through street after street. 

This city was often rainy. While it wasn't like Gotham, there were always times when the sun showed itself, but it never felt warm. To Constantine, the entire city reeked of mildew, decay, brokenness, and impending doom. 

Of course, this wasn't entirely England's fault; Constantine saw everything in a negative light when he was in a bad mood. 

Crossing streets and passing lampposts, Constantine walked for over twenty minutes before finally arriving at the bottom of an apartment building. He glanced at the parked bread van on the street with the "Rentokil" company logo – they specialized in pest control and house cleaning. 

Although he found it a bit strange, Constantine was exhausted. He didn't want to think any more than he had to and just walked to the door. As he reached for his keys, his hand suddenly paused. 

"Where are my keys?" 

A moment later, he remembered: his house keys were still in Bogotania. 

"Damn it, am I seriously going to have to run back to South America to get them?" 

Constantine felt a sudden wave of frustration. He simply reached out and rang the doorbell. 

"Who's out there?" 

"It's me, John Constantine..." 

Click. The door opened. His landlady, Mrs. M., with her graying hair, stood in the doorway, her expression quite displeased. "You left without a word, no news for months. Where did you go?" 

"Just traveling around, Mrs. M., just traveling around." 

Constantine casually brushed her off as he walked into the apartment. Mrs. M. closed the door behind him and grumbled discontentedly, "Wait a minute, dear, I have something I absolutely must tell you—" 

Constantine sighed. The familiar smell of stewed cabbage wafted from the kitchen, automatically bringing to mind Mrs. M.'s bland cooking. 

Oh God, please don't torment me. 

"Come on, Mrs. M., I'm practically dead on my feet. Can we talk later, alright?" 

This was a lie; he had no desire to listen to the old woman's nagging. He just wanted to get upstairs and find some peace. However, the old woman knew him too well. Seeing him about to go upstairs, she quickly continued speaking. 

"I didn't kick him out because I know he's your friend—but this isn't right. This is a respectable house." 

"Friend?" 

Constantine, halfway up the stairs, turned back curiously. "What friend?" 

"The junkie, named Lester or Gary or something—I can't remember."