Chapter 938

We can’t let those mages run wild; more importantly, they must not conduct unchecked investigations in Gotham. Whether the Extreme Evil Curse is real or not, it violates the rules of the occult community—we cannot intrude into private spaces…

“Rules?” Constantine sneered, his eyes reflecting the golden glow of liquor. “When you betrayed me, you never gave a damn about rules.”

Zatanna’s fingertips twitched slightly. “I thought they were wrong back then too, Constantine. You’re a bastard, but not a evil man. You’ve sacrificed a lot for good deeds. But the world isn’t made up of only good people…”

Zatanna stared at Constantine’s weathered, Tuifei side profile, recalling his youthful, robust form. The first time she met him, she was very young, hand in hand with her father, who introduced Constantine as a once-in-a-century genius of the occult.

“Genius…” Zatanna whispered. “In this circle, the more talented you are, the sadder your fate.”

A silence settled between them. Constantine spoke again: “Your relatives would go mad if they knew you came to see me.”

“More than mad—they’d die if they found out I slept with you, a bastard,” Zatanna shrugged. “But I don’t care. Ever since I saw through their hypocrisy, I stopped caring what they say.”

“So, how do you plan to stop those mages from entering Gotham?” Constantine asked.

“Of course with magic. I specialize in counter-spells, but I’m not limited to them. Remember stage illusions? I’ll summon a thick fog to completely seal off Gotham’s spirit realm, blocking mages who rely on shortcuts—and crippling their magic the moment they try to cast.”

“So what do you need me to do?” Constantine asked again.

“Let’s go. Find a place. Unleash your best spell array. Within a week, we’ll blanket Gotham in fog—to warn any occultists trying to invade: this place is off-limits.”

Soon, they reached a basement. Constantine pointed to the floor. “This is downtown Gotham—the very spot of the spirit rift. Normally, I’d summon demons here to save effort.”

“Good. We’ll set up the array here. I’ve brought the materials.” Zatanna snapped her fingers, casting her signature counter-spell: “Materialize!”

Constantine frowned at the mountain of items she produced. “My God, you’re not trying to seal off the entire spirit realm of Gotham, are you? Look—I know you’re a rich heiress with plenty of rare magical artifacts, but isn’t this a bit overkill?”

“If you can’t do it, just say so. I can find another mage. I don’t have to rely on you, a bastard.” Zatanna had already begun organizing the materials. Constantine sighed helplessly—but finally gave in.

Deep inside, he felt unease. He’d lived in Gotham too long to miss its abnormalities. This city was abandoned by demons.

Even the greediest devils of Hell refused to come here. Otherwise, how could Constantine—called a once-in-a-century genius—need a spirit rift just to summon a demon?

Most demons shook their heads at the mere mention of Gotham. For Constantine, it was like living in an exorbitantly expensive city while broke and drowning in debt.

Without spending a fortune, no demon would come. Mention “Gotham and Constantine,” and every demon arrived demanding extra pay—and left looking like they’d just eaten shit.

The creatures of Hell had the sharpest senses. Their refusal to come wasn’t because of Gotham’s poor human Zhian . In their unique sight and smell, they sensed something else—something terrifying.

In occult circles, this was a terrible omen. Had Constantine not realized Gotham was a perfect place to hide from debts, he’d never have stayed.

If Zatanna was right—that an unimaginably terrible Extreme Evil Curse had poisoned this city—then whoever claimed it would unleash disaster. Constantine couldn’t stand by. As Zatanna said: he was a bastard, but not evil.

The rain grew heavier. The green tide still churned across the ground.

Standing on the rooftop, watching Gotham’s fog blanket the city, Zatanna sighed. “Our plan’s failed. The Green of All Things has arrived—it will forcibly open a channel in the spirit realm. Those mages will bypass our defenses and enter Gotham.”

Constantine’s eyebrows knotted together. “I told you this defensive nonsense wouldn’t work. We need to strike first—find that Extreme Evil Curse before they do.”

Zatanna bit her lip. “Fine. I admit—I don’t trust you. I fear you’ll use it like those evil mages. But if I have to choose between you and them—or my annoying relatives—I’d rather it be you.”

“Thanks for the trust!” Constantine snapped. “Comparing me to those fools proves your emotional intelligence. Believing I’d use it to destroy the world? That proves your IQ.”

As they bickered, Constantine didn’t notice a thin vine slithering out from the rooftop door, creeping silently toward his feet—then coiling tightly around his ankle.

*Crash!* Constantine was yanked to the ground. The vine dragged him along. He threw a talisman backward—but more vines surged from the door.

Zatanna remained calm. She swung her wand, summoning a giant rabbit from her hat. The rabbit leapt before Constantine, *crunching* through the vines Chanrao his ankles.

But now, more plants stormed the rooftop. Zatanna cursed. “What the hell did you do to the Green of All Things? It looks like it wants to kill you!”

“I don’t know!” Constantine scrambled up. “Maybe when the Red of All Things caused trouble last time—I didn’t help!”

“Wait…” Zatanna frowned. “I think I hear plants screaming… Yes. My spiritual sense is sharp. They’re crying out in pain… Oh my God, Constantine, you bastard! You didn’t try to kill the Green of All Things, did you?!”

“You can’t do that!” Zatanna raised her voice. “It represents all plant life—the embodiment of green in the universe, a god of renewal and sprouting! You can’t—”

“Just run!” Constantine had already reached the building’s edge. He turned and shouted to Zatanna: “We’ll debate morality after we survive!”

But every nearby building was choked with vines. Constantine looked up—the entire city was drowned in green. Endless vines surged like a tsunami, swallowing buildings, cars, signs—all wrapped in thick tendrils.

The crazed citizens, who moments before had been chasing and devouring each other, were now frozen in place, trapped by vines, screaming helplessly.

As Constantine prepared to leap, the whir of helicopter rotors filled the air. He looked up—Batman’s bat-marked chopper landed above him. “Get on!”

He glanced at the vines, then leapt onto the Batcopter without hesitation. Zatanna followed.

Batman froze when he saw Zatanna. But Zatanna didn’t recognize him.

She only stared at Constantine. “You owe me an explanation. What did you do to the Green of All Things? Plants are vital to human survival—if you destroy them, the world will—”

“Wait—I can explain!” Constantine said. “If the Green of All Things is after me, why send only plants? You know what kind of beings these Color Embodiments are. If he wanted revenge, he wouldn’t use this pathetic tactic.”

“Hold on,” Batman said. “What’s the Green of All Things? And who is this woman…?”

“Oh, right—I forgot.” Constantine gestured. “Batman, let me introduce her: Zatanna Zatara. From an ancient magical family. Her father’s a mage—unlike my rough-and-tumble path. She’s a famous heiress in the occult world…”

Batman narrowed his eyes at Zatanna. “Is your father a magician?”

Zatanna’s eyes widened. “You know about my father?! You… wait—your chin… it’s familiar… Oh my God—Bruce Wayne?!”

Zatanna drew a sharp breath, then froze. The helicopter’s atmosphere turned strange. Constantine, confused, said: “Zat, what’s wrong? You don’t need to be this shocked by Bruce Wayne’s identity.”

“I mean, yeah, a rich guy dressed like this is odd—but compared to occult weirdos in their bizarre robes, it’s not that bad?”

“I… that…” Zatanna stammered. She turned her head away, sensing Batman still watching. She paused, then lowered her voice: “Fine. Leaving without saying goodbye was my fault. But my father vanished—I had to search the world for him…”

Constantine’s eyes widened, flicking between Batman and Zatanna. But Batman stood, walking to the rear of the chopper. “It’s fine. So why are you back now?”

“Oh, right!” Zatanna snapped back. “Bruce, you have to help us. Gotham’s cursed—dangerously. A group of mad mages wants to claim it!”

“A dangerous curse?” To everyone’s surprise, Batman didn’t correct her term. He only frowned deeply.

Zatanna stepped forward, explaining urgently: “Yes—a curse. You don’t do magic, so you might not understand. But a curse is a long-lasting spell, activated through a medium, that brings endless negative effects.”

“Gotham became this way because an Extreme Evil Curse exists here. It twists everything toward ruin, dragging all into the abyss and hell.”

“You know how powerful a weapon this is. To any madman wanting to destroy the world, possessing this curse means destroying the entire occult world—and the mortal realm, spirit realm, and even Hell!”

Batman repeated the name “Extreme Evil Curse.” Suddenly, his fingers stiffened. Constantine saw the motion and spoke instantly: “You’ve heard of this curse, haven’t you?”

Before Batman could answer, Constantine pressed: “If you have any clues about this curse, tell us now. I swear—I’ll destroy it.”

“Remember what I told you before?” Constantine stared into Batman’s eyes. “Gotham can’t be saved—there’s an occult reason. I didn’t know what it was then. But now, Zatanna’s news gives us the answer.”

“Batman, you’ve always tried to save Gotham. But unless you remove this occult influence, you’ll never succeed. If you help us find and destroy the Extreme Evil Curse, maybe—just maybe—you can achieve your dream.”

Constantine spoke with rare sincerity—no lies, no fluff, no distractions.

But strangely, Batman remained silent—unnervingly still—in the face of this direct, piercing truth.