Chapter 482

"Young Master Falcone, let us explain—the situation is like this..."

One of the gang bosses who seemed familiar with Alberto stepped forward and said: "According to my men's reports, he saw a ghost on the third floor—right here."

"And not just him—many others on the third floor saw it too. Ask Spencer and Lawrence; their men were there."

Alberto frowned. The two bosses named spoke up: "Indeed, at first I thought they were high and hallucinating—but the fisherman who screamed first is the top truck driver on the Twelfth Docks route. He works fast because he doesn't do drugs, hardly even drinks. If it weren't for his gambling habit, I'd almost think he's from out of town."

Another gang boss with golden hair rubbed his chin and said: "Over thirty people were on the third floor for the event. Could they all be having hallucinations?"

"I think someone's playing tricks. I've lived in Gotham for years and never heard of any place haunted," said an older gang boss. Alberto turned his gaze to him. The boss stood and said:

"Now is not the time to argue over who lost or who owes compensation. Don't forget whose territory this hospital is on. Aside from the Don, that doctor is even harder to deal with."

"Even if he's no longer working here, we've turned this place into chaos right after he left. What do you think he'll think?"

The other bosses looked at each other. One cleared his throat and said: "Let's clean this place up quickly. If we have to, we'll tear it down and rebuild it entirely. I've been sick of this outdated decor for ages."

"Exactly. This hospital's fine everywhere else—it's just too old. The Arkham family? That's ancient history."

"I'll pay for it! Let's fix this while we can—open up the unused offices, enlarge the rooms, add a few game rooms!"

"I know a good renovation company—they did my estate. I'll call them right away..."

"Hold on..." The older boss was more composed. He glanced at Alberto's face and said: "More important than repairing this place is finding the ghost causing all this."

"Don't forget, this hospital is also Falcone family property. Whoever dares stir trouble on the Don's turf is asking for death."

"Right!" The other gang bosses exchanged glances and said: "We must find this so-called ghost first!"

The old boss glanced at Alberto's expression. He knew Alberto represented the Don—but even without that, this young heir, now growing into his power, already carried considerable authority.

These gang bosses didn't understand dissociative identity disorder. To them, Yinsi's former timid, indecisive demeanor was merely due to youth and inexperience. Now, Alberto's resemblance to the Don's personality was simply proof of his growth.

Though the Don still had years before retirement, no one wanted to offend his heir. After a brief consultation, the gang bosses agreed: no matter what, they must find the hidden hand behind this haunting.

Two minutes later. The bearded fisherman in the room hung up his phone, picked up his shotgun, and waved to the others: "Grab your gear—let's go!"

As they stepped out, the others did the same. The group that had just been fighting fiercely glared at each other, then split up and began searching the hospital.

Meanwhile, in the seventh-floor room, Hugo and Jonathan watched Constantine draw a sigil in the center of the room. One hand held a charred stick, the other glowed with eerie light, as he muttered incantations and circled the sigil.

"Why aren't you done yet?" Hugo asked impatiently.

"Why do you think magic is simple? If not for your stupid idea that got my little pet killed so horribly, do you think I'd enjoy summoning again?" Constantine said as he worked.

"The One Sword Supreme"

Soon, a faint green glow rose from the center of the sigil. As another ghost appeared, Constantine lowered his glowing hand and made a few gestures in the air, as if giving the ghost orders.

Quickly, the ghost with its eerie green glow floated out of the room—but suddenly, Constantine frowned.

"What's wrong?" Jonathan asked.

"Bad news—they're searching the building for us!"

"Searching for us?" Hugo raised his voice: "Impossible! How could they unite? Aren't they all lunatics?!"

Constantine crossed his arms and sighed helplessly: "Still think they're lunatics? Have you ever seen lunatics armed with automatic weapons, rocket launchers, grenades, and military flashbangs?"

Jonathan clearly disapproved of Hugo's plan, but before he could speak, Constantine said, slightly panicked:

"Damn—they're coming up! Get out of here!"

Constantine began gathering his things and ran for the door. Hugo and Jonathan, hearing his urgency, grew frantic. To them, Constantine's magic was their only protection—after all, the searchers each carried guns, while they had nothing but bare hands. If caught, the consequences would be dire.

Constantine led them out, through the seventh-floor corridor, into a vacant room at the end. The room was far from the staircase on the other side, giving them time to stop and plan.

Meanwhile, the ghost Constantine had sent out did not float down toward the crowd below. Instead, it drifted slowly along the sixth-floor corridor until it reached the window at the end, floated out, and dropped straight down to the first floor.

Batman, searching the first floor for the Joker, suddenly noticed a green glow behind him. He turned sharply—and as he saw the ghost, several batarangs flew toward it.

The batarangs passed through the ghost's body. Batman remained calm, pulled out a micro-flashbang, and hurled it at the ghost. After a flash of white light, the ghost did not flee. Its form slowly shifted, becoming Constantine, glowing with faint red light.

"Don't shoot—it's my Ash Avatar. Listen: two idiots I can't even describe are trying to escape, and they've incited a gang riot here."

"We're in the room at the southeast end of the seventh-floor corridor. Come quickly and take them away—I'm going insane from their stupidity!"

Before Batman could respond, the avatar vanished. Inside the room, Constantine suddenly turned pale. Blood trickled from his lips, then he began vomiting blood, followed by filthy sludge.

Between coughs, he gasped: "My ghost was killed again—I'm suffering magical backlash. Quick! Get me out of here!"

He collapsed again, vomiting. But Hugo slipped behind him, grabbed a vase from the table, and smashed it hard against the back of his neck.

"Crack." Constantine lay motionless on the floor. Hugo dropped the broken vase handle and said to Jonathan: "Forget the mage. Let's go."

Jonathan glanced at the unconscious Constantine, hesitated not at all, and followed Hugo out. They ran downstairs.

Not long after they left, the door burst open with a crash. A mob of gangsters surged in.

Seeing a man on the floor, they instinctively raised their guns—but then Constantine stirred. He crawled up from the filth, raised his hands: "Don't shoot! It's me!"

"Constantine?" The lead fisherman recognized him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a mental patient. I came for treatment."

"Don't bullshit. How much did you take?" The fisherman clearly knew Constantine's habits. Constantine coughed twice, wiped the grime from his lips, and said: "Not much... cough... just maxed out the painkillers and slept it off."

The fisherman slowly lowered his gun and told his men: "Forget him. Let's go."

"Could he be the one causing all this?" someone behind him suddenly asked.

The fisherman turned back, studied Constantine. Constantine grinned, showing all eight teeth.

The fisherman snorted: "He's a junkie who's lost his mind—no drug den in the East End will take him. Forget him. Let's go."

The group left again. Constantine casually cast a spell to clean himself and wipe the floor, then snapped his fingers. A ghost glowing with green light appeared beside him. The ghost floated down the stairs to monitor the gang's movements.

Constantine himself slipped his hands into his pockets, whistling softly as he walked slowly downstairs. As he descended two steps and turned onto the corridor, he felt a hard object press against his back.

Alfred's face emerged from the shadows. Constantine slowly raised his hands. "Don't shoot. I can explain."

"I have no improper relationship with Batman. He doesn't like men, and he's got a cleanliness fetish. I admit—I tried a few times—but he completely ignored me. I promise I'll stay far away from him now, and I won't even mention I'm British."

Constantine spilled out every word in a rush. In the instant Alfred froze, the Constantine before him turned to ash, slowly drifting to the floor.

In a dark corner of the first-floor room, the red-glowing Ash Avatar of Constantine solidified. After the successful transfer, Constantine exhaled in relief—just as he turned to leave, a sharp whistling sound came from behind. He instinctively dodged—but a sharp dagger still slashed his back.

As blood sprayed, a manic laugh rang out. The Joker, holding the dagger, appeared behind Constantine, staring at him with a chilling grin.

"Found you."

Constantine, in pain, clutched his wound and shouted: "Joker? No! What have I done to you? Get away!"

The glow of magic flared in Constantine's right hand—but "swish!" the dagger slashed his right arm. Then "bang!"—he was kicked hard, flying backward. The magic faded.

Joker stepped forward, knelt on one knee, pressing his knee into Constantine's chest. He raised the dagger to Constantine's forehead and said: "You know... I've been following you. Not because I like you—but because Batman likes you."

He spoke with utter madness: "He likes you so much! He's been dating you for days straight!"

Never even glancing at poor little Joker!

"

"I know... I know... I know you checked into this asylum," Joker sniffled, his voice suddenly cracking with tears.

"But poor little Joker couldn't afford the medical bills and was thrown out by a cruel doctor—left homeless..."

"So I had to cause chaos to get Batman to send me here—otherwise, I'd have to endure you, a disgusting fly, constantly drawing Batman's attention..."

"Die, Constantine!" Joker raised the dagger with a snarl—when suddenly, the door burst open. Batman stood in the doorway: "Stop! Joker!"

Taking advantage of Joker's momentary turn, Constantine snapped his fingers and vanished. Joker screamed: "No! No! Constantine! You can't escape!"

He swung his dagger wildly and chased after him. Batman followed.

Constantine's teleportation didn't reach far. He reappeared at the end of the corridor—still in Joker's sight. Seeing Joker chasing him, Constantine sprinted upstairs.

Meanwhile, the gangsters spotted Hugo and Jonathan fleeing. They shouted: "Stop! Don't run!"

Hugo and Jonathan fled down the stairs. Fortunately, the stairwell was narrow, giving the gangsters no room to aim—only enough space to chase behind them.

Thus, two groups raced in opposite directions—one upward, one downward.

Just as Constantine and Hugo met, they both saw the pursuers behind each other. Without a word, all three stopped, hesitated, then dashed into the third-floor corridor.

At that moment, Alberto and Cobblepot—who had just arrived after receiving the newsboy's call—were discussing the asylum's reconstruction. Hearing the commotion, they stepped out and saw Constantine's trio charging toward them.

Cobblepot frowned and shouted: "Stop! Who are you?"

The fleeing trio paid him no mind, brushing past the two men as they ran.

Just then, a figure appeared by the window at the corridor's end. A double-barreled shotgun flashed fire—"Bang!" The deafening shot halted them. Alfred stood before Constantine, shotgun in hand, coldly asking: "Where do you think you're going?"

At the same moment, a group of figures glowing with green light descended onto the roof of Arkham Asylum. The deputy, Carol, said: "This is the place you called 'the most dangerous spot in the universe'?"

Hal put on a worried expression and said: "Yes. Let's go inside."

The other Green Lanterns glanced warily around, then activated their rings' barrier-piercing teleportation. A flash of green light—and they materialized directly on the third-floor corridor, where the crowd was thickest.

At that moment, Alfred, Alberto, Cobblepot, Constantine, Hugo, Jonathan, the Joker, Batman, and the heavily armed Gotham gangsters all looked up—staring at the shadowy corridor above, where the glowing green figures hovered.

Suddenly, from within the gang, a man with a full beard shouted:

"Ghost!"

"A ghost glowing green!"

The thunderous roar erupted from Arkham Asylum's windows, echoing across all of Gotham—

"It's them!"