Chapter 263: My Hometown Dongda Is Like This

The time was deep night, the moon high in the sky, black clouds pressing down overhead.

In the brightly lit city of New York, the conversation between two wizards continued.

"Indians say that when a tiger eats, the jungle holds its breath."

"We call it one mountain cannot hold two tigers," Ma Ma Zhaodi smoothly picked up the thread.

Constantine, who was speaking, had his rhythm broken; he instinctively rolled his eyes at him, then rekindled his emotions before addressing Midnight: "Think about it, old man, what powerful person could tolerate a demon causing trouble in their own garden?"

Listening to Constantine's words, Midnight looked gloomily at the night sky outside the window, while behind him, Constantine continued trying to persuade.

"I know how to defeat that thing, but I need a magician to help—a magician with resources, a powerful magician."

"A magician who helps for free," Ma Ma Zhaodi thought silently beside him: "Strong enough, and with a stake in it, the kind willing to help without payment."

Constantine couldn't hear Ma Ma Zhaodi's thoughts; he casually took out another cigarette, walked to the altar holding the skull, and lit it from the candle on the table's edge: "Old friend, think it over carefully, you can ask the skull too. I'll be back in a while—by the way, remember to convey my love to your sister; she was an incredible woman in life."

"She still is."

Midnight saw him push Lester out, holding a white rooster, and say to him: "One more thing, do me a favor, look after this friend for me—that's it, see you later."

Ma Ma Zhaodi couldn't help but frown; he hadn't expected Constantine to dump a teammate right there, a completely unnecessary choice.

But in the next moment, he saw Lester clutching the chicken, lowering his head and eyes, walk over to stand beside Midnight, actually tacitly accepting Constantine's arrangement, even appearing somewhat eager, which made him swallow back the words he wanted to say.

When the two left, Ma Ma Zhaodi could faintly hear Lester's voice coming through the door crack: "Uh, Mr. Midnight, John said you could help me get my fix, do you have any high-purity stuff?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi couldn't quite hold back his expression; Lester made him laugh in exasperation.

"Constantine, I thought of an old saying from my hometown."

"Hmm?" Constantine, looking completely at ease, asked: "What thing?"

"The landscape changes easily, but human nature is hard to shift."

"Don't get it, speak English."

"A dog can't stop eating shit."

However, what Ma Ma Zhaodi didn't know was that after the two left, the conversation between the two parties continued.

"Oh, my friend, you can have whatever you need, but we must wait first—first, why not tell me about your old friend, and that stranger? Have you known them for a long time? Do you trust them?"

"Uh, that stranger seemed to have come to find John just a few days ago; we aren't very familiar, not even friends," Lester answered cautiously: "I only know his name is Ma Ma Zhaodi, he's Chinese, likes things related to the occult, has some money, seems gentle, but he always likes to control people; I don't like him much, nor do I trust him."

He had originally thought of the candy he'd eaten and the hat he'd worn, but he also knew clearly that he was an addict, and these past few days he had been driven to nervous exhaustion by the Namos, always in a half-asleep, half-awake state; he wasn't quite sure if those strange things that looked unreal were his hallucinations, so he simply didn't mention them.

"Oh, another outsider who doesn't know the height of the sky or the depth of the earth," Midnight smiled knowingly, like those bumpkins who, thinking they have a little money, lose their awe; he had seen many of them. Without exception, they all believed they could buy anything with wealth, fantasizing about spending money to make the occult serve them, earn them more money, or use it to eliminate opponents, or use it to defy heaven and change fate, extending life and longevity.

They simply didn't understand how high the price of Traces and Magic was, nor did they know that US dollars could never be used to pay the price of magic; the more valuable the thing they wanted, the more important the thing used for exchange had to be; fate, life, soul—these were the universal currencies of the occult.

After receiving Lester's answer, Midnight the Old Man instantly lost interest in the intelligence about Ma Ma Zhaodi.

"So, what about your old friend? John Constantine, do you trust him?"

"John..." After considering for a moment, Lester answered: "I trust John."

"I entrust my life to him."

On the other side, Constantine and Ma Ma Zhaodi had just gone downstairs when a cold, chilling wind suddenly rushed toward them—rustling sounds made a noisy din, and outside it began to rain heavily.

"No taxis on the street, and quite a few people," Ma Ma Zhaodi looked at the passersby under the streetlights, marveling that New York's bustling districts could have so many people at night; Gotham didn't have such a scene: "Did you bring an umbrella?"

"Why an umbrella? It's not far from here to the subway," Constantine exhaled a puff of smoke: "Haven't you stayed in America for a while? Since you're in New York, why not go out and have fun at night?"

"Sounds like you want to act alone and just made up a lame excuse to get rid of me," Ma Ma Zhaodi couldn't help but retort: "You might as well be more explicit; no need to hide anything."

"I'm going to meet my girlfriend."

Ma Ma Zhaodi understood.

"Alright, I can understand your feelings, but your girlfriend might have already come into contact with the Namos; in other words, be careful when you act alone, don't get hit."

"Even if I run into the Namos, I don't need you to—"

Halfway through speaking, Constantine suddenly stopped, thought about it carefully again, and answered: "I think you make sense; come with me."

Ma Ma Zhaodi looked at Constantine, who had suddenly become so reasonable, and immediately felt a bad premonition in his heart.

"No, no, I expressed concern purely out of politeness," he immediately waved his hands and said: "You don't have to take it seriously, and this is between you and your girlfriend—"

"Enough talk," Constantine directly pulled him toward the subway station: "Just come, I'll need your help later."

The New York subway at night was still shoulder-to-shoulder, the crush of people making Constantine feel like a sardine in a can.

The rain had made many people's bodies and shoes wet, and their coats carried a musty smell, making the air in the subway not very pleasant.

Ever since getting on the plane, Constantine's face had not looked good, and when squeezing into the subway, his expression turned even fouler.

Then, he watched in stunned silence as Ma Ma Zhaodi slid into the sea of people, moving through more than a dozen gaps as if at home, strolling leisurely to his side.

"Why are you so adapted to places where people crush each other?"

"Nothing special, practice makes perfect—my hometown Dongda is just like this."

(End of Chapter)