Chapter 57: Jason Todd

"Winter in Gotham City

Mission Briefing: Gotham City is typically a place of ten months of rainy weather, plus two months of a long snow season. For some, these two months are a nuisance; for others, they are no big deal; but for some, it is a winter that must be endured with all one's strength. For them, a bowl of porridge might be a matter of life or death.

Note: Sima Xiangru, though his home was bare of furniture, at least had a home. Sometimes, you never imagine how vicious fate can be.

Status: In Progress (0%)

Reward: Will grow in sync with mission completion.

Food cooked for you will be imbued with the 'Festival' attribute. For every orphan who receives your food assistance once, the 'Festival' attribute effect will be strengthened by one ten-thousandth.

Additional Reward: For every one-thousandth of strengthening gained, receive one hundred dollars in asset points."

"How much?" Ma Ma Zhaodi read the reward carefully, unable to help but stare at that additional reward: "Why is the payout so generous this time?"

According to the system's settlement method, one percent completion equals one thousand, ten percent equals ten thousand, and one hundred percent equals one hundred thousand—one hundred thousand dollars in asset points. Even if the mission progress is only pushed halfway, that is still fifty thousand dollars in asset points.

As for the difficulty of the mission, Ma Ma Zhaodi didn't think much about it; in any case, its danger level was definitely not as high as the previous few times.

Thinking this, he turned in circles several times at the street corner near the ruins of the burned-out building.

"Sigh, where's my car?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi scratched his head and searched for a long time, but the street corner was empty. Not to mention the car, even the tire tracks had been completely covered by the swirling heavy snow. At this moment, Ma Ma Zhaodi's mindset was slightly on the verge of collapsing.

"No way, buddy? Who the hell is that bold? I left my car here for so long, the gangs wouldn't dare touch it, thieves wouldn't dare touch it, I could even use it as a door god, so which materialist stole it from me?"

"Doesn't he fear a blood disaster?"

Just then, his peripheral vision flickered, and he suddenly saw a familiar silhouette flash across the road; the shape looked exactly like his beloved car.

"Wait, holy crap! That is my car! This little rascal has gained sentience and run away from home!"

He immediately strode forward with long steps, but that car, which seemed about to stop at the street corner, appeared startled by his approach, restarted its engine, and sped off down the street in a flash.

"Where do you think you're running!"

At this moment, Ma Ma Zhaodi was running as fast as the wind. The healing effect of his healthy diet over this period seemed to act not only on wound regeneration but also on his physique, which was gradually becoming normal; he was no longer the scrawny-armed, scrawny-legged person he was when he first arrived in Gotham, and even his slight nearsightedness had completely disappeared.

The snowy roads were muddy and slippery, causing the car to be unable to speed up, which facilitated his pursuit. One man and one car chased each other through the streets of Gotham, and all the passersby, watching Ma Ma Zhaodi chase the car ahead with his feet, remained expressionless; some even revealed mocking smiles.

Very good, Gotham is still that Gotham.

However, Ma Ma Zhaodi was no longer a newbie who had just arrived in Gotham; he was no pushover. While running, he recorded all the passersby who had laughed at him in the system's notepad.

"You'd better not appear at the banquets I serve, or you will know how cruel the system's powerful laxative can be."

This chase lasted a full fifteen minutes. The car drove into a small alley and finally stopped inside. Ma Ma Zhaodi followed the tire tracks in the snow, panting heavily as he chased in. At this moment, his state could not be described as half-dead; at the very least, it could be called the last flicker of a dying lamp.

Seeing the car in the alley, he was almost in tears. The first thought that popped into his head was not "Finally caught it," but "Finally don't have to run anymore."

There was no help for it; his athletic ability peaked in middle school, began to weaken in high school, and after university, he had completely turned into a total weakling.

He leaned against the car, out of breath, and weakly patted the glass: "Not bad, the most useful thing in the family knows to bring the most useless thing in the family out for exercise—do I have your permission to be angry?"

However, it made no response to Ma Ma Zhaodi's accusation.

Ma Ma Zhaodi did not ask again; he searched Shangcheng, wanting to find something for exorcism, but when his gaze fell on the ground of the alley, he discovered something was wrong, because the ground here seemed to have been swept by someone.

The technique was light, but the action was too hurried. Ma Ma Zhaodi was an outsider and could not track such traces, but he could still see the signs.

No, my beloved car didn't become a spirit; someone stole the car.

He opened the car door and, as expected, saw the wires pulled out inside the vehicle.

"This person must be a novice."

Thinking this, Ma Ma Zhaodi was actually less anxious. He rummaged through Shangcheng, found the tracking skill, spent three thousand five hundred points to purchase Intermediate Tracking Proficiency, and spent ten dollars to buy a car repair kit. The content in Basic Driving Proficiency included some aspects of vehicle repair; this situation was easy to handle.

He planned to chase after them to see who the holy figure was that dared to steal his car.

On the white snow, a child was forcefully knocking on the door of a dilapidated, rusty iron shed, looking anxious, and occasionally glancing behind him.

"Open the door quickly! It's Jason! Open the door quickly!"

"Jason? Jason is back!"

Cheers immediately erupted from inside the door, and the sound of chains clinking and clanking rang out; the locking mechanism of this great door seemed stronger than its own defensive capability.

Ten seconds later, the great door finally opened, and a dirty little face poked out. Before he could look carefully, he was shoved back inside the door by Jason.

"Don't dawdle! Someone might catch up and see us!"

"Who's chasing you? Wait, didn't you go out to sell the car—"

The companion watched Jason hurriedly lock the door with a rusty half-chain, then looked him over. His bright eyes immediately dimmed, and the words he had started to speak suddenly stopped.

"Didn't that car sell?"

Jason's action paused. After locking the door, he didn't even look at the other's eyes; he just walked straight inside, but after taking two steps, he suddenly stopped.

Inside the leaky, broken house, patched with newspapers and wooden boards like a hundred-patch robe, snowwater occasionally seeped down from the ceiling. The room was packed full of children; their faces were sallow, their bodies thin and shriveled, their clothes tattered. They were huddled together around a fire for warmth, now looking at Jason with a pair of expectant eyes, this smartest and strongest of the older children.

Another slightly older child rushed excitedly to his side, hugged him, and asked: "Jason, did we sell the car we stole last time?"

Looking at the expectant eyes of his other partners, Jason almost clenched his fists until they bled. His lips trembled twice, not knowing what to say, because he knew everyone was counting on his harvest today to eat their first meal in three days.

"It sold."

A man's voice suddenly rang out.

"Help open the door; I am the cook he hired."

(End of Chapter)