Chapter 180: The Heavyweight Bar Where Stars Gather

"Mudface, release our Mr. Chuck."

As soon as the Riddler finished speaking, the burly man's body began to change again, just as it had when it "swallowed" Chuck earlier; he once more transformed into that brownish mudman and "spat" out Chuck, who had been imprisoned within his body.

Chuck hadn't recovered immediately; he bent over, gasping for air in great heaving breaths. The sensation of being completely imprisoned in darkness, unable to speak or move, was utterly suffocating. Although Mudface had left an air circulation channel within his body so he wouldn't suffocate to death, this feeling of suffocation sprang from the depths of his heart.

"Let's confirm for now: your son shares your name, Charlie Brown, correct?"

Hearing these words, Chuck's attention finally shifted to the man standing by the stage. He straightened his body and stared blankly at the few people before him.

Leaning against the stage, the man wore all green, with a hideous scar shaped like a question mark on his chest.

Beside him, the woman wore dark green jeans and a sweater, her hair as red as fire, holding a seed in her hand.

Behind them, the tall burly man's figure rapidly shrank until his entire body became a puddle of humanoid mud.

The Riddler, Poison Ivy, Mudface.

Chuck was no fool; he had worked for the Joker and remembered Gotham City's famous super-villains one by one. Precisely because of this, upon seeing such a lineup, he, as an ordinary person, began to tremble with fear.

"Your son is named Charlie Brown, right?"

Looking at his slightly trembling legs and cowering eyes, the Riddler wore a kindly smile on his face: "I don't like repeating questions."

"Yes."

"He and his mother live in the Cavalleri Rowhouse District, correct? Apartment 37G?"

Hearing these words, Chuck fell silent for a moment before answering in a low voice: "Y-yes."

"Very good." The Riddler smiled even more broadly: "Now, tell me about the meeting you arranged—the meeting with the Joker."

"Old Ma?"

On the following night, Chuck came to the bar to get drunk as usual. As expected, he spotted Ma Ma Zhaodi.

"Oh, Chuck." Ma Ma Zhaodi, holding a glass of orange juice, greeted Chuck: "How have things been lately?"

"Not too good."

Chuck sat on the stool next to Ma Ma Zhaodi and glanced worriedly at the time on his watch—it was already seven-thirty.

"Hey, Old Ma, I have to tell you something. You need to go home today—really, you must go home."

"Hmm? Why?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi took a bite of the fried chicken in his hand, looking somewhat puzzled.

"Because..."

Chuck was restless; the meeting time was only half an hour away. At that moment, Batman would start a battle with at least three super-villains in the restaurant. He very much did not want Ma Ma Zhaodi to stay here any longer; he might get caught in the crossfire.

In Chuck's eyes, Ma Ma Zhaodi was at least a decent friend.

"Because I suddenly feel a bit hungry. How about we find a restaurant? My treat?"

"Uh, no, this is enough." Ma Ma Zhaodi pointed to his fried chicken set meal: "Actually, the portion is quite generous, and the taste isn't bad either. Do you want to order one too—look, I even brought popcorn."

"No, I'll pass."

Ding-a-ling—

Just as Chuck was racking his brains thinking about how to get Ma Ma Zhaodi to leave, his phone rang.

He took out his phone; it wasn't a ringtone, but someone had sent him a text message.

"Mr. Chuck, time is almost up. We do not want any possibility of the plan going wrong, so please start drinking now and do not make any suspicious moves that might reveal a flaw—we are watching you."

Chuck put his phone back in his pocket, stopped trying to persuade Ma Ma Zhaodi, sighed, and ordered a glass of alcohol.

"What's wrong, Chuck?" Ma Ma Zhaodi asked while gnawing on a chicken leg: "Did something happen? Need help?"

Chuck shook his head and simply kept pouring alcohol down his throat.

However, by the time he was half-drunk, his mouth began to mutter involuntarily—this was his habit; when he drank too much, he would talk to himself or chat with someone.

"Old Ma, Old Ma, nine authors sit on a boat, one jumps into the river, how many creators remain?"

"What?"

"You think eight remain, but that's wrong. The answer is none; the rest are plagiarists—but that's not the point. The keyword is: is this a joke or a riddle, right?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi thought for a moment: "We call that a brain teaser over there."

However, Chuck ignored his answer and continued drinking glass after glass of alcohol.

"I mean, does it matter? A joke or a riddle, they both... ah, I still prefer thinking about wind matters—"

"Ah, I understand." Ma Ma Zhaodi put down the bone in his hand and wiped his hands: "Whether it's a joke or a riddle, you don't want to choose either, right? Actually, you were originally an aerodynamicist with your own life; 'wind' is what you would deal with in your original life."

"Yes, yes, that's right..."

No one noticed that the bar had already grown quiet by then.

The young man playing darts was gone, the burly men gambling with cards around small tables were gone, and the scantily clad women had all vanished together. Drunkards with clouded minds, people tangled together in corners, or prostitutes haggling over prices—they had all disappeared from the bar.

Only a group of tattooed gang hooligans remained in the bar, their waists bulging, each holding a glass of alcohol they had been drinking for half an hour without finishing.

Even Liles was silent, pouring glass after glass of alcohol. He usually chatted a few words with Chuck, but today, he didn't say a single unnecessary word.

Finally, before Chuck completely drowned himself in alcohol, a slender figure in a tuxedo walked in from outside the door. His mouth still hung downturned, looking quite unhappy.

"Chuck." He approached the two of them, looking at the half-drunk Chuck, who wore a cheap suit and looked exactly like a drunkard, while completely ignoring Ma Ma Zhaodi, who was burying his head in his food: "Chuck Brown?"

"Uh, Mr. Joker? Yes, hicc, it's me."

"Since you sought me out, you must have a request?"

"Yes, I, uh, want to join you."

Just as the two began to converse, the bar door was pushed open again, making a creaking sound.

"Hmm?"

The Joker frowned; he had previously ordered the men at the door to guard it well. Could those guys not even handle such a simple task?

"Oh my, the Joker and his poor little lackey, along with a Gotham City Police Department officer, gathered in a small bar. What a lively scene."

An unexpected voice sounded at the door, and the Riddler, dressed in a green suit, walked in from the entrance.

And behind him followed a humanoid crocodile covered entirely in green scales, a hulking figure with gray-white skin, and a scarecrow clad in an orange prison uniform.

"Since it's so lively, why not add me to the mix?"

At that moment, the nocturnal creature hiding on the roof also felt a sudden sense of dread.

"Not good, the Riddler has brought other super-villains outside the plan."

(End of this chapter)