Chapter 40: Relief Finally Arrived

"Ma Ma Zhaodi, where is that pumpkin you carved yesterday? Did you leave it at home?"

"I remember that pumpkin was quite unique. Didn't you bring it today?"

Facing Santos and Castro's seemingly curious questions, Ma Ma Zhaodi wore an awkward yet polite smile on his face.

He really shouldn't have carved a pumpkin in the restaurant yesterday; now his own colleagues were interrogating him fiercely—how could he possibly admit the pumpkin at the scene was his? Even if he admitted it to Gordon, he certainly couldn't admit it to these people from the Falcone family. The deceased was Falcone's own nephew. It was said that a few months ago, he had personally hosted a lavish banquet for his nephew to celebrate his wedding.

Judging by the style of this Gotham big shot, the Falcone gang might talk reason with him, but it was unlikely the Falcone gang would talk reason with him.

Sweating profusely, he immediately set a save point to this moment, then sheepishly took out a magic little pumpkin lantern: "No, no. When I was setting up my stall yesterday, I found out no one wanted to buy such an ugly pumpkin. Look, it's still in my hand."

"Oh?"

The group looked closely; the pumpkin in Ma Ma Zhaodi's hand was indeed different from the one on TV, yet it bore a certain resemblance to the one carved yesterday—yes, they were equally ugly.

"But I always feel both pumpkins look a bit like your work," Rick said, stroking his chin. "Their style is too similar; both exude an abstract ugliness."

"Come on, you can't discriminate against me. There are so many people in this world; surely there are a few who can't carve pumpkins like me." Seeing them wavering, Ma Ma Zhaodi suddenly gained confidence and shouted at them: "It makes it seem like I'm the only bad person in the world, but actually, I am law-abiding."

"According to information provided by the Gotham Police Department, yesterday, approximately twenty million US dollars stored in a large factory caught fire and spontaneously combusted, turning to ash on Halloween night. Based on sample tests of several bills blown out of the warehouse, all the money inside was legal currency, not counterfeit. However, the amount was particularly huge, and its origin remains a mystery. Police speculate this sum may be illegal proceeds from some criminal syndicate, using the warehouse as a cover."

"This also means the criminal syndicate will be unable to complete its money-laundering process for a considerable time, proving the efficiency and reliability of the Gotham Police Department, as well as its deterrent power against illegal forces. Chief Gordon stated."

Hearing the news broadcast on TV, Ma Ma Zhaodi's voice, which had been shouting, suddenly grew quiet until it vanished completely.

Real? Real money? Twenty million?

"Fxxk!"

Just as he was struggling to think about the meaning of this news, Santos beside him slammed his fist hard onto the table.

"These damn dogs are too arrogant! If it weren't for that bank manager, the family's company would have already..."

"Santos."

A voice stopped Santos's hysteria. The manager walked slowly into the restaurant and turned off the TV with a casual motion.

"Don't be so undignified. We have guests to receive today. Don't let such matters affect your work."

Santos gritted his teeth and nodded hard.

"What's the rush? Everyone knows the Don's money cannot be touched by anyone. Whoever dares to challenge Falcone's dignity will sooner or later pay the price for it."

"Mr. Ma Ma Zhaodi, today's matter was just casual chat. I believe you are not someone who likes to gossip, right?"

"Ahahaha, of course, haha, of course."

Ma Ma Zhaodi stiffly fended off the manager, his smile on his face uglier than crying. Everyone thought he was nervous because he had heard some family news.

But in reality, no one could understand his nervousness.

"Twenty million? Real money? Falcone's?"

These three words were each heavier than the last; combined, they brought Ma Ma Zhaodi infinite surprise.

If before his level of nervousness was equivalent to facing a backpack full of blank homework on the last day of summer vacation, then his current level of nervousness was equivalent to the teacher suddenly announcing he had to arrive at school a day early.

"System! You tricked me!"

"Ma Ma Zhaodi, are you okay?"

The manager suddenly patted his shoulder: "Are you sick? Do you need to take a day off?"

"Oh, no need, no need."

Ma Ma Zhaodi forced a smile to see the manager off, then carefully flipped through the newspaper, hoping it was a reporter's slip of the tongue in the Gotham News, or that he had simply misheard the news.

Finally, after confirming again and again, he finally revealed a relieved smile and casually put down the newspaper in his hand.

The heart that was hanging finally died.

Peaceful. jpg

Damn it, looking at the timeline, the cooperation between the Falcone Company and the bank had dragged on for over half a year. During this time, the Falcone family's gang money-laundering plan was stuck at this final step. In other words, these twenty million US dollars were all the Falcone family's dirty money right now, and through the Falcone Company, this money was about to be laundered.

Furthermore, the Falcone family was likely cooperating with gangs from other regions. Judging by the Falcone Company's business scope, it might be families from New York, Metropolis, and Chicago.

At this critical juncture, burning this money wasn't Ma Ma Zhaodi striking at crime; this was slapping Falcone in the face.

Fine, fine, fine. When the day comes that Falcone finds out a little thug named Ma Ma Zhaodi left a mark at the scene of his nephew's death, and then discovers this guy burned the family's twenty million US dollars, the residents of Gotham City can watch a fireworks show in the East District—the kind that blows people and houses up into the sky together.

Damn it, even if I die, I cannot expose myself, because if I expose myself, then I'll truly be dead.

——

"I want that little thug dead! I want that hiding rat, that pretentious murderer! And that lawless arsonist dead! I want to cut off their heads and hang them on top of the Gotham Tower, throw their bodies into the street, and show everyone in Gotham City the consequence of provoking the Falcone family!"

In a top-floor apartment in Gotham City, the gang boss Falcone, with three scars on his face, was jumping with rage. Undoubtedly, this was absolutely not an emotion he usually had as a gang don. Rather, as a big shot with excellent self-control and etiquette, he had rarely lost his temper to this level before; ordinary people were generally not worthy of making him fly into such a rage.

Until today, when his eyes and ears scattered all over the city carefully collected all clues regarding that warehouse night and finally found nothing, only then did he unleash this Lei Ting fury, because it meant he would not be able to find an object for revenge.

Encountering such a situation, with anger having nowhere to vent, was a taste he had not savored for a long time; only when facing masked vigilantes like Batman in the past would he feel so frustrated.

Because he could find neither the opponent nor the opponent's family.

(End of Chapter)