Chapter 197: A Battle with Zero Interaction (Vote Request)

Boom—!

The sound of a train pulling into the station rang out. Batman felt a terrifying airflow rush toward him; the headlights magnified before his eyes. If he did not react now, he would be crushed to pieces by this steel beast.

In that instant, his vision rapidly took in the surrounding environment. One survival plan after another was proposed, only to be rejected again and again, while the train drew ever closer.

"Using a grappling gun to pull me to the tunnel ceiling? Too little time, not enough."

"Jumping back onto the platform? Enough time, but impossible. Deathstroke and Deadshot are up there. They know I can do that; they won't let me do it."

"Ma Ma Zhaodi—he can ensure that Little Floyd and Slade's attacks aren't fatal, but the pulverization caused by the train likely wouldn't count as part of their attacks."

"Voluntarily jump back into the smoke and let Deathstroke and Deadshot's attacks hit me?"

"Or, if Ma Ma Zhaodi cooperates with me at this moment... wait, no need."

As he thought, time finally ran out. Stumbling, Batman still fell onto the tracks. At the same time, a fierce wind blew from behind the three of them, scattering the white mist directly.

After falling, Batman quickly rolled over, lying directly into the tracks. He tightened his body, pressing completely against the bottom of the rails, and turned his head to the side.

With a booming roar, the train finally entered the station. In the small space between the undercarriage and the sleepers, Batman's face was expressionless, but his heart was pounding wildly. The underside of the train passed almost touching his cheeks and skin, with surging airflow and vibrations surrounding him.

He was grateful that the Central Station trains had high enough undercarriages. Otherwise, he would not have fallen directly into the tracks; he would have spread his cape, hoping Ma Ma Zhaodi would seamlessly coordinate with him and use the clover to blow him away.

But in the end, he did not do so. Entrusting life and death to another's hands did not fit his style of operation.

Half a minute later, the train slowed gradually and finally came to a complete stop. Batman climbed out from under the train, but he could no longer see Deathstroke, Deadshot, or Ma Ma Zhaodi.

These three had either moved to a different location to fight or sounded the retreat.

Batman searched the scene further and found a total of four people caught in the crossfire between the two. Their injuries were not serious. Undoubtedly, Ma Ma Zhaodi had secretly treated them during the three-way battle.

On the other side, Deathstroke and Ma Ma Zhaodi drove a stolen car toward the East District where the Riddler was located.

"Tomorrow? Still fighting?!"

Ma Ma Zhaodi widened his eyes: "Seriously? Can't we not fight? I faked my death once today; this trick definitely won't work next time."

"Then you'd better find a way to keep yourself alive." Deathstroke answered calmly: "Soldiers carrying out missions are allowed only two outcomes: either success, or death."

"What about facing Batman?"

"He is the exception."

"Fine..."

Speaking of which, Ma Ma Zhaodi took out a signal jammer—he had done the same when saving Chuck: "I have a question I want to ask you."

Deathstroke looked at the jammer in his hand and asked: "What question?"

"If someone paid you to execute his orders conditionally without betraying the Riddler, would you agree?"

"Hmm?"

Deathstroke glanced at Ma Ma Zhaodi and replied: "Depends on whether the price he offers is high enough."

"Then let's rephrase: if someone paid you, would you interrupt the Riddler's employment contract?"

Deathstroke's answer remained unchanged: "Depends on whether the price he offers is high enough."

"Five times?"

"At least ten times. Whether I take it depends on my mood."

"That's really expensive... Deadshot probably has the same condition too?"

Hearing his remark, Deathstroke instead asked: "He might be cheaper—now, how much do you plan to pay to seal my lips?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi answered: "It's a bit expensive for me, but in the eyes of some rich people, this would probably be a super bargain—I'll connect you, and you give me a cut, okay? You decide how much."

"One-thousandth."

"No problem."

Damn, Deathstroke cursed inwardly for a rare time. He had given too much of the share just now; this kid was completely holding the mindset of taking whatever he could get.

The next day.

Bang!

Bang!

"Holy crap."

Ma Ma Zhaodi crouched in cover, scratching his pumpkin head, holding a large bullet-riddled ballistic shield in his hand. He had specially asked Deathstroke to prepare this after returning. As it turned out, this choice was very wise.

"Did you really have to snipe him head-on?!" he shouted into the communicator at Deathstroke: "He's only beating on me!"

"If we run over there like yesterday, we'll only enter the main field he has arranged."

Deathstroke responded calmly: "A whole night is enough time for him to fill an entire block nearby with countermeasure traps. Do you want to go over and taste his bombs?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi sighed: "Then why isn't he shooting at you?"

"I can self-heal; you can't—and your professionalism poses a challenge to him."

"Damn, how does this guy hold such a grudge?"

On the other side, Deathshot watched Ma Ma Zhaodi behind the rock formation through an infrared sniper scope. This was a scope he had specially prepared, capable of helping him see through that black robe.

"Damn, how does this guy hide so well?"

Yesterday, he had fired more than ten shots at this perverted Bat, yet still failed to kill him, and had even been tricked by his fake death. So when he saw Ma Ma Zhaodi jumping around alive and following Deathstroke to retreat, his mindset underwent a small change right then.

He, Deathshot, a top marksman with man and gun as one, one of the world's deadliest mercenaries, a super-villain who fought evenly with Deathstroke with a mortal body, a top warrior seasoned in countless battles with a resilient mind—

Yet he failed to kill a Sanliufan Sect villain with more than ten shots and was tricked by the opponent's fake death.

How could Little Floyd swallow such indignation? Therefore, today he specifically focused his shooting on Ma Ma Zhaodi, just to see if the other party was bulletproof. If he were a superhuman like Deathstroke, then Deadshot could let it go.

Starting with an intelligence disadvantage, being tricked was normal. After all, bullets can only deal with flesh and blood. For zombies like Solomon Grundy who have no vital points, or for opponents like Killer Croc whose skin and flesh are themselves like bulletproof vests, one naturally needs to specially craft special bullets to have an effect.

"You two, cease fire!"

Batman arrived at the battlefield again. Deadshot immediately put away his gun and shifted. He originally wanted to lure Deathstroke into mid-range to exchange fire with an assault rifle, but Batman, for some reason, kept chasing him, making his plan fail.

The third day.

Bang!

Deadshot pulled the trigger, and the bullet ricocheted three times before striking Ma Ma Zhaodi behind the cover, hitting the shield in his hand.

Little Floyd sighed, finally letting the other go, and letting himself go as well.

Why bother? This guy only has insulting value, no real damage. Why not snipe the nearby Deathstroke? That guy at least swings a knife a couple of times and fires back with a gun a couple of times, showing some respect, giving a bit of interaction.

Sparring with an unbreakable wooden dummy all day, he was starting to feel like vomiting.

"Floyd, stop!"

"Will you ever be done!"

Deadshot rolled on the spot, just dodging Deathstroke's bullets, only to be met by Batman's batarang. Irritated, he fired two bursts of bullets with a backhand: "You only know how to come and hit me! Why don't you hit Slade?"

The response was Batman's flashbang.

PS: One more update, the final one tonight.

(End of this chapter)