Chapter 43: Summary Recovery

"Boom."

A dull peal of thunder exploded amidst the storm clouds over Gotham City. Pale lightning suddenly illuminated the sin city in the night rain, catching the silhouette of a bat as it streaked across the sky.

"Santos, here is your pay for the month. Keep it safe."

"Thanks, Philip."

"Rick, come here. Try to stay out of trouble at parties from now on. I’m tired of having to bail both of you out of the precinct every single time."

"Alright, alright, I get it."

"Castro..."

As the manager’s gaze swept across the staff, it landed on Ma Zhaodi, whose face was filled with excitement. The manager felt a subconscious twinge of pain in his heart. Every time he looked at this man, he was reminded of that brilliant shot during the shootout the other day, and that incredibly expensive chandelier.

"Ma... Ma Zhaodi, why are you so excited?"

"Because it’s payday."

"I have to remind you, your salary was already advanced at the beginning of the month. Don't think for a second I'm paying you twice."

"The money at the beginning of the month was just currency, but this payment at the end of the month is joy. It’s about the ritual, Philip. Rituals are important."

The manager looked confused. He tried his best to grasp Ma Zhaodi’s strange line of reasoning, but after thinking for a long while, he still couldn't make sense of it. Finally, he could only shake his head. "Regardless, your salary has already been—"

Ma Zhaodi stared intently at the manager’s lips, excitedly waiting for him to say those words. To him, the feeling of thousands of asset points hitting his account was undoubtedly pure joy.

"Crash!"

The sound of shattering glass was piercingly sharp. In his panic, Ma Zhaodi turned his head instinctively, catching only a glimpse of a dark shadow crashing into the restaurant from the night.

Unlike Ma Zhaodi, the manager was experienced in shootouts and noticed the details.

For instance, the several bat-shaped shurikens whistling through the air.

"Batman!"

A sense of impending doom washed over him. As a gangster who had spent a long time in Gotham, he had encountered this bat once before; that time, he had been bedridden for three full months.

When he realized the bat had arrived, the painful memory of having his bones broken resurfaced. He vaguely recalled that last time, the bat’s method was to turn the entire venue into its home turf—a place of absolute darkness.

With that thought, his eyes involuntarily darted to the opulent chandelier that had just been installed. At that moment, time seemed to stretch interminably. The trajectory of the Batarang became incredibly clear in his mind; although his eyes couldn't keep up with the high-speed projectile, his brain subconsciously mapped out its path.

He could only watch with utter despair as it struck the chandelier with unwavering precision, a wail of hopelessness erupting from his throat.

"No—!"

"Snap—"

A series of shattering sounds erupted as the massive crystal chandelier plummeted to the floor, exploding like a splash of water into countless radiant, tiny gemstone fragments.

Though it might be rude to say, the manager’s voice made Ma Zhaodi feel as if he had traveled back to that rainy night a few days ago.

Familiar music seemed to echo in his ears.

"Snowflakes drifting, northern winds whistling—"

Ah, how strange, why did I say "again"?

"Batman!"

In the middle of the darkness, the manager’s roar erupted once more, just like last time.

"You goddamn bastard! I’m going to kill you! Do you have any idea how long it took to fix that chandelier—"

Batman remained unmoved, calmly lunging forward. He tackled a waiter who had been quick enough to draw his gun, swung a massive fist, and delivered a powerful uppercut. It struck the man’s jaw with precision, stimulating his trigeminal nerve and disrupting his cerebellum’s sense of balance. The enemy was instantly knocked to the ground, dizzy and unable to rise.

Having taken down one enemy with a single punch, Batman moved like a ghost in the night, silently appearing behind another. A swift hand-chop to the back of the neck rendered the second enemy unconscious.

"Manager! Manager, are you okay?"

Ma Zhaodi fumbled in the dark, calling out to the manager with a hint of tears in his voice. "Help! Someone help! The manager is down again! Call an ambulance!"

"Get out!"

Hearing Ma Zhaodi’s wailing, the manager’s vision darkened. His blood pressure spiked instantly, solving his problem of not yet having hypertension.

"You're okay! Thank goodness! Manager,"

By now, Batman had already taken down seven or eight waiters. Even unarmed, he tore through them like a tiger among sheep.

"Use the muzzle flashes to light him up!" someone shouted. In the next second, both of his hands holding the gun were firmly grabbed. A finger wedged itself behind the trigger to prevent him from firing, while the other hand gripped his wrist like a pair of pliers and gave it a sharp twist.

"Ah—! It’s broken! My hand is broken!"

The intense pain caused him to curl into a ball in the darkness, shivering as he clutched his broken hand.

Then came the next one.

"Don't come over here! Don't you dare come over here, you bastard!"

One enemy seemed to know a bit of martial arts. After Batman kicked his companion’s ribs to pieces, he lunged with a knee strike.

Batman sidestepped, caught the man’s lower leg, straightened it, and brought a vicious elbow down onto the knee.

"Crack."

"My leg! My leg!"

The crisp sound of shattering bone made everyone present tremble. Yet, Batman’s assault continued. The sounds of breaking bones, agonizing screams, and the dull thud of fists hitting flesh filled the dark space. Outside the window, the harsh thunder roared, adding to the terror.

Gales and cold raindrops blew into the room through the shattered windows. No one knew if their trembling was due to the biting cold or pure fear, but every bullet seemed to miss its mark. The ghostly shadow of the bat felt truly like a monster from urban legend—untouchable, uncatchable—hunting the gangsters in the restaurant like an experienced predator.

"What exactly are you doing?!"

Batman did not answer. Dialogue was meaningless now; only when everyone was incapacitated could he proceed with his interrogation.

However, the manager wasn't shouting at Batman.

"Just one sentence! Just one! Hurry! Otherwise, it’ll be too late!"

Ma Zhaodi pleaded with the manager in utter despair. "Just tell me you’ve paid me my salary! I worked so hard for this whole month!"