Chapter 44: Chapter Forty-Three: God Bless Gotham

“...Sar and his partners had a bit of cleverness—I remember when I first met him, he was just a green kid who’d just arrived in Gotham, extorting cargo ship owners at the docks. Not long after, Lauren from the Red Light District took an interest in him, that red-haired woman took him around that neighborhood, and soon he bought his first bar. That was over twenty years ago...”

Falcone sat in his chair, smoking a cigar as he recalled: “Sar won’t let that police chief live, even if he’s just extracting information from him—he’ll die in the end. You could pick another condition: is there someone else you want killed, or another problem you want solved?”

“My troubles come from Metropolis—I won’t trouble the Godfather.”

Falcone shifted his eyes slightly, glancing at him: “The men I helped you eliminate—they seem to have powerful connections. Who exactly have you stirred up?”

Shi Ler raised his eyes and said: “Your Excellency, I believe I may become your son’s longest-serving tutor.”

Falcone tapped the table with the butt of his cigar: “I won’t let trouble find you when you work for me—but you’ve gone and involved yourself in those strange affairs, and now you’ve come hiding here...”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll drag the Falcone family into the water?”

Falcone turned his chair back around and said:

“When did the Falcone family ever get ashore? Since the day I came to Gotham, I’ve known—we’re all rotting wreckage inside a sunken ship, never meant to reach dry land.”

Then he let out a faint sigh.

“...But my son thinks differently from me.”

Young Falcone—Evans Falcone—unlike his father, was full of passion, convinced he could restore order to Gotham.

True, he was the future heir of a crime family, but he genuinely wanted to restructure Gotham’s order—though that order was built on violence, not some utopia.

To be honest, his thinking might even be saner than Batman’s: absolute violence brings absolute authority, and absolute authority controls everyone. The only question is whether young Falcone has the ability to pull it off.

After a while, the butler knocked on the door and stood outside; Evans stood behind him. When Evans stepped in and saw Shi Ler, he froze for a moment, then turned to the butler and whispered: “Do you remember me mentioning recently how I forgot my homework—or failed to turn it in?”

The butler shook his head. Evans visibly relaxed. Shi Ler stood up and said: “Evans?”

“You know each other?” Falcone asked.

“Father, this is my university professor. I mentioned to you that I needed to write a psychology paper.”

Before Falcone could speak, Evans said: “I’m sorry, Professor—if there are issues with my recent assignments, it’s because I’ve been busy lately and neglected them. If you’re dissatisfied, I’ll rewrite them immediately.”

Then he shifted his lips and turned to Falcone: “Father, matters in the eastern district have kept me occupied—I may have neglected my studies. I’m truly sorry Professor Shi Ler came to visit you.”

Shi Ler understood—he’d mistaken him for a home visitor. Evans was terrified.

He’d heard Shi Ler’s infamous reputation: wherever he went, people died; the serial killer collector; he’d publicly berated Bruce Wayne for not turning in homework and sent him a notice of expulsion...

Shi Ler, the homework-hunting monster, was notorious across Gotham University. No other professor demanded homework so strictly—anyone who dared not submit would face scathing, humiliating ridicule in class, even if they were Bruce Wayne, chairman of the university board.

But Evans never imagined he’d find Shi Ler showing up at the head of Gotham’s largest crime family to chase him for homework!

Evans sighed inwardly: Is this professor insane? No wonder he’d treated Bruce Wayne like a drowned dog—even the new chancellor, Xie Dun, avoided him.

As the heir to a crime family, Evans had never believed those wild rumors—but now he did. Who but someone mentally unstable would come to the Godfather’s house for a home visit?

It wasn’t Shi Ler’s fault for caring so much about homework—he still thought like his past self. Many students couldn’t memorize the heavy psychology texts and failed exams; to pass, they needed to boost their grades with coursework. But if they didn’t even write assignments, they had zero points—and their pass rate would plummet.

If the pass rate was too low, his evaluation would suffer. Though Gotham University had no reliable professor evaluation system and no one cared whether students passed or failed, Shi Ler was used to his old habits. He felt he hadn’t even used 30% of his strength, yet these Gotham students raised on “happy education” were already breaking down.

If you threw them into the university he’d taught at in his past life, a single short paper would crush them. Those students wrote twenty-thousand-word papers and completed long essays to publishing standards.

So he couldn’t understand: how could someone fail to meet a 3,000-word requirement? English papers naturally use fewer words than Chinese ones—3,000 words meant only about 2,000 terms. How was that too much?

After Shi Ler used every method to chase homework, three-quarters of his class finally submitted assignments—including Evans, who was among the best: he turned in every paper, met word counts, and his content was decent, even earning top marks two or three times.

Shi Ler thought such a good student deserved praise. Look at all the other freshmen—compare them to the useless Bruce Wayne. A 2,000-word essay where one-third was transitional phrases, another third meaningless embellishment, and the rest just “the” and “a.” Others used two-character dashes—he used a whole line. And still, he had the nerve to ask Shi Ler to save him.

Falcone frowned slightly and said: “Then how has Evans been performing at school? Any problems with his assignments? What about his exam scores?”

Evans took a deep breath. Shi Ler said: “Actually... very well. I’ve spoken with Anna, who teaches advanced mathematics—Evans excels in the sciences. I’d even offer him a graduate spot. He has real talent in psychology.”

Evans exhaled. Seeing his son’s performance, Falcone said directly:

“From now on, Professor Shi Ler will be your tutor.”

Evans stiffened, cold sweat on his back, but he dared not question his father’s decision—only replied: “Yes, Father.”

Falcone gripped the armrests of his chair and rose: “It seems I must deal with those troubles you brought from Metropolis.”

Shi Ler shook his head: “This is a major problem. I don’t believe the cost I’ve paid justifies you doing this.”

Falcone said: “Becoming my son’s tutor isn’t enough—but if you become a friend of the Falcone family, we will clear away all your troubles.”

“Behind Metropolis lies a dark vortex no one can imagine. I escaped it, but lost much. Gotham has no reason to get involved in Metropolis’s affairs, does it?”

Falcone shook his head, took another drag of his cigar, and said: “You don’t know me well enough, sir. Forty years ago, I came to Gotham alone. No one had ever heard the name Falcone. Thirty years ago, I ruled three streets—there was no Falcone family yet...”

“I’m not boasting. But in forty years, I’ve ruled Gotham—the city once called hell.”

Falcone pressed the butt of his cigar against the table; smoke curled from between his fingers: “So you only need to say ‘yes.’ All the troubles you’ve suffered will vanish.”

Shi Ler looked at him. Falcone’s expression was calmer than Shi Ler had imagined.

Shi Ler thought: This Falcone is no comic-book sidekick from Batman’s early days. He is the true Godfather of Gotham, its undisputed king.

Even without Batman, Gotham was never peaceful. This man ruled it for forty years. He could never be as foolish or short-sighted as the comics portrayed.

Finally, Shi Ler stepped forward and kissed Falcone’s right hand: “...God bless Gotham, Godfather.”

Shi Ler let the final word roll in his mouth. Falcone caught the subtle difference—but didn’t mind.

No matter how glorious those forty years had been, the Godfather was old. The Falcone heir was far from mature.

Falcone thought: Perhaps the age without a king in Gotham is coming.