Chapter 936

The cat woman’s eyes widened, for she saw that the tiny flower, already crushed into pulp, suddenly sprouted countless vines amid its shattered fibers and sap.

The cat woman clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream; the vines quickly spread across the entire floor, the woman who had smashed the pot let out a terrified shriek and scrambled backward, only to fall onto the ground.

The vines wrapped around her arms and thighs, as if dragging her into an endless abyss; little Pamela froze in place and saw, on the vines by the window, a small flower blooming.

The flower smiled at her, whispering softly beside her ear: “You heard our weeping, and you wanted to save us—you are a good child, this is your destiny… come… come… ignore those who scorn plants…”

The plant vines enveloped the woman on the ground, as if preparing to digest her; the cat woman gripped the doorknob, hesitating whether to rush out and save her—after all, she had no gun, and her whip and dagger would likely be useless against these vines.

And at that moment, the flower still whispered to little Pamela:

“You no longer need to wear the colors you hate, or do the things you dislike—you will become the guardian of plants, embrace the green of the universe…”

Little Pamela’s expression grew distant; slowly, she reached out toward the flower. The blossom vanished into the sunlight outside the window; her hand extended, light falling on her youthful face, making her seem to embrace the light, while the flower continued its murmur:

“Yes… touch me… come… come…”

“Here I am!”

As a cold Ma Lei voice rang out, the window glass shattered with a crash, and a swift slash sent green blood splattering across little Pamela’s face.

Shiler pulled the flower off his umbrella blade, listening to the unknown soul scream in agony; he smirked and said, “Got you.”

Then he crushed it hard with his hand—green sap exploded outward, and the next second the room shattered into fragments; the cat woman stared in shock as she realized he stood inside a chamber woven from green vines.

Little Pamela had vanished; the cat woman turned to Shiler and asked, “What’s going on? Are we inside Pamela’s memories?”

“Correct,” Shiler nodded, staring at the petal fragments on his hand. “You saw it earlier—someone used a curse to invade Gotham, and now we’re going to find the mastermind behind it.”

The cat woman frowned; she was sharp and immediately grasped the issue. “The mastermind’s target is Pamela?”

“Just now, I saw inside the room—Pamela’s childhood wasn’t happy. Her mother seemed to force her to do things she hated. But did things really turn out the way I just saw? Did her mother die, eaten by vines?”

Shiler shook his head. “Don’t be naive. In memory space, this is the simplest form of deception: dig up fragments of their memories, exploit their weaknesses, and trick them into signing a contract.”

“If little Pamela had reached out and touched that flower, it would mean the Pamela we know would have made a pact with that mysterious entity and become his agent.”

The cat woman sucked in a sharp breath. “Then how can we possibly resist?”

“So you’d better watch out for traps like this. Someone might one day slip into your childhood memories, pretend to be your mother, and say they want to hug you. Once you embrace them, you become their slave.”

The cat woman scowled sharply. “If I saw my mother reaching for me in a dream, I’d punch her—knowing she was controlled by something. She never hugged me—only the cats.”

Here, the cat woman sighed wearily. “Well, adults are always like that—they always have reasons. When children ask wild questions, they just think the kids are crazy.”

“But little Pamela was right—refusing meat is to protect animals. Don’t plants need protection too? Don’t they feel pain?”

“You’re still naive. How do you know this scene wasn’t constructed by that mysterious entity?” Shiler turned to the cat woman. “Just to make you question this, to make you pity plants, and then sincerely want to protect them—to become the protector he claims you should be?”

The cat woman froze, then sucked in a sharp breath. “No way… they’re that despicable?”

“I don’t know if they’re that despicable—but I am.” Shiler walked along the corridor of the green chamber, glancing at the green slime on his palm. “Perhaps everything you’ve seen isn’t real. Pamela’s childhood never happened this way. Even her feelings of injustice, anger, and terror are fabricated.”

“The script is this: Pamela’s mother forced her to do things she hated, decorated her room in colors she despised, forbade her from talking about plants and mud, and shaped in her mind an image of evil. Then, using dinner-table conversations, they exposed her hypocrisy and injustice, making little Pamela believe utterly—fostering genuine sympathy for plants…”

“All of this was to guide her to pity plants, mold her personality into one who loves them, and make her willingly become an agent—sacrificing everything for plants…”

The cat woman bared her teeth. “Good thing no one’s targeting me.”

“Still, even if someone did target you, you wouldn’t fall for it easily. Think—after your mother serves you a bowl of vegetable salad, your first thought isn’t ‘Do plants feel pain?’”

The cat woman paused, then said, “I’d ask why there’s no meat tonight. And if she won’t let me eat it, I’ll sneak out at night and find my own food—Gotham kids are experts at self-feeding.”

“Cats are like that,” Shiler said. “They equally despise everyone.”

“Memories can be fabricated, but certain instincts etched deep into your genes cannot be altered. If you fabricate such memories for a child raised in the slums, it would easily unravel—at least we know Pamela’s background was genuinely decent.”

They entered another green chamber. Shiler spoke: “We can also deduce one more thing: Pamela is resisting him, and he currently lacks the means to forcibly make her his spokesperson.”

“So he can only resort to this slightly despicable tactic—tricking Pamela into agreeing without realizing it.”

“What do we do?” the cat woman said anxiously. “Someone who uses such despicable tactics can’t be good. That little Pamela is just a novice—she might be tricked soon!”

“You underestimate Pamela. You don’t know what kind of entity you’re facing. That she refused his demand means she has something special.”

Shiler carried his umbrella blade, glancing at the green slime on his palm after every few steps. The cat woman followed, puzzled. After several corridors, she asked, “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Can’t you tell yet?” Shiler raised his umbrella blade. The cat woman swallowed hard, shrinking back. “You’re not thinking of…”

“I’m going to stab him.”

On Gotham’s dark streets, a figure in a trench coat sprinted. When he reached a slightly brighter intersection, Constantine stopped.

He stood at the crossroads, tossed a playing card into the air; as the card burst into flame, it pointed his way. Constantine started toward the indicated path, then paused. “Wait… isn’t that the direction of Gotham University?”

“My God! You, Green of All Things, why did you pick such a place?!” Constantine gritted his teeth. “God help me—don’t let your agent be one of those students. Otherwise, I’ll just pray for you…”

He hesitated by the roadside, then sprinted to the nearest phone booth. He picked up the receiver but didn’t dial. The rotary dial flared with flame; he spoke into the phone: “Miss Magician, when are you arriving? I need to warn you—things have gotten serious!”

“Why else? Don’t tell me the Green of All Things appearing in Gotham is coincidence. You’ve been making deals with it behind my back!”

“Now it’s invaded Gotham—and worse, Gotham University. That madman will tear it apart!”

“You said you were protecting Gotham, so I cooperated. But now so many coincidences pile up—how am I supposed to believe you?” Constantine pointed angrily outside the booth. “What’s with those madmen? What’s with the plants? Don’t tell me they just happened to coincide!”

“You want me to listen to your explanations? Zatanna—you’ve always called me a liar. Aren’t you one too? To find your father, you’d do anything. One day, you’ll sell your soul to the devil—just like me!”

Constantine slammed the phone down, furious. In the thick fog and drizzle, he lit a cigarette, drew a deep breath, and exhaled—white smoke suddenly flared with fire.

Constantine opened his eyes slightly, pulled the cigarette from his lips, and stared at a cluster of flames outside the booth. “Who’s there? Stop playing ghost!”

He snorted, and a magical array glowed beneath his feet, piercing the fog—but the flames didn’t extinguish.

Constantine vanished in a flash, reappearing above the phone booth. His talismans coalesced into glowing dots circling him. The next instant, fire erupted beneath him, engulfing his entire body in roaring flames, his screams turning to charred remains.

Yet from the fog came a voice: “Stop pretending, Constantine. I know you’re there.”

The smoke dispersed. Constantine reappeared inside the booth. He tossed away his cigarette and stepped out. “So you’re a colleague. You came that fast?”

“Don’t lump me in with those fools—unless you want another round of meds.” Constantine stared as a figure emerged from the fog. As the figure drew closer, Constantine’s eyes widened. “Dr. Brand?!”

Watching the flames on Brand’s hand, Constantine narrowed his eyes. “You’re a magician?! Then you told me all those magical arrays were my delusions—and wanted to increase my dosage?!”

“You were delusional. Those arrays you described? They only summon devils that swallow me whole. Increasing your dosage? The magical community would cheer me.”

“...Magical community?” Constantine sneered, pulled out another cigarette, lit it. The flame flickered as he gave a cold smile. “Don’t lump me in with those fools either—especially not that idiot woman, Zatanna Zatara.”

At the mention of Zatanna, the flames on Brand’s hand flickered, but he spoke: “Do you know where Shiler went?”

Constantine turned toward Gotham University.

“If I’m right… he went into the heart of the Green of All Things.”

Constantine’s gaze pierced the fog, entering the biology lab. Through Pamela’s eyes, he saw a vast green hall filled with vines. Pamela was bound to a chair.

But suddenly, she lifted her head. “No matter who you are, you’re finished. Before you pulled me here, I saw someone… a professor…”

“Pamela, no one can change your destiny as the Guardian of Plants,” came a deep, gentle voice. “You are the child born of the deep green, the most exquisite flower of the Green of All Things. You are destined…”

“You are destined to be the child born of the sea of knowledge, the most exquisite blossom upon the ivy, the greatest botanist to emerge from Gotham University…”

Shiler’s voice echoed through the hollow hall. He carried his umbrella blade, stepping before Pamela. A thunderous rumble rose from the ground—a massive vine surged upward, its furious voice shaking the entire space:

“Who are you?! Why interfere with the Green of All Things’ choice?!” he roared, then added, “You cannot stop this. It is her destiny…”

The massive vine lunged toward Pamela—but faster still was the umbrella blade. Shiler plunged it straight into Pamela’s forehead.

In reality, the tip of the umbrella darkened. The cursed soul raced up the shaft, surged into Pamela’s body, wrapped around her soul, and bit down on the green power deep within her.

Countless vines writhed, emitting horrifying screams. The cat woman, just waking, shrieked and leapt onto a higher cabinet. She grimaced—she could hear the agony in their cries.

Shiler opened his eyes, retracted the umbrella, and stared at the most unusual vine hanging from the ceiling. He smirked.

“Green of All Things, I’m not here to negotiate.”

At that moment, the mysterious entity suddenly sensed a terrifying curse clinging to him—a presence infamous throughout the occult world.

He let out an even more agonized scream—as if he’d swallowed a fly that had just flown out of a cesspool.

Constantine, still facing Brand, heard the trees, vines, and all surrounding plants roar as one:

“Constantine!”

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