Chapter 51: The Cure That Works Instantly

The shadow of a bat, spreading its wings in flight, wandered through the streets and alleys of Gotham. This was his nightly routine: patrolling the entire city, saving those unfortunate souls who could be saved, breaking the bones of a few criminals, and hanging a handful from the clock tower.

For him, this was a rather mundane daily affair, but tonight was Thanksgiving, and crime on the streets seemed unusually sparse. Even criminals appeared to have families to spend time with, making his work this evening somewhat lighter.

After finishing his patrol, instead of returning directly to the Batcave as usual, he stood silently among Gotham’s towering buildings, gazing at the scattered lights in the darkness. The hypnotic glow of neon signs blended with the faint scent of fireworks drifting from countless small rooms, weaving together a unique festive atmosphere.

“What good things will be worthy of gratitude in the coming year?”

Meanwhile, on the streets of Gotham, Ma Zhaodi was carrying a paper bag containing the freshly made Horn of Plenty.

“Not bad. At least this Horn of Plenty is nondescript enough. If I run into that deranged killer again, at least Batman won’t fixate on me.”

Ma Zhaodi thought as he touched the disguise mask on his face and the mask on top of it. From now on, whenever he took on jobs like this, he planned to disguise himself thoroughly—ensuring that no twisted killer would ever see his true face.

He didn’t notice a familiar figure appearing behind him once more. The figure wore a black bowler hat, a loose trench coat, and rough men’s gloves, his features obscured.

Seeing the paper bag in Ma Zhaodi’s hand, the trench-coated man casually approached and snatched it before swiftly turning down a narrow alley.

“Damn it, who’s stealing my Horn—”

Ma Zhaodi felt his hand lighten, and the prepared Horn of Plenty vanished. Instinctively, he cursed and looked back, only to see a shadow disappearing deep into the alley.

At the same moment, a mission completion notification popped up.

Thanksgiving Horn of Plenty
Mission Description: Don’t overthink it. This time, only one client needs a Horn of Plenty. Do it well for a reward; do it poorly, no penalty.
Note: Low risk, high reward. This job was specially reserved for you. As for last time—that was your own mistake.
Status: Completed (1/1)

Reward: A Horn of Plenty that continuously produces food. With it, you can survive even the harshest environments. The food it produces can even restore health and grant a life-stealing effect in combat—don’t worry, it’s not a magical item from this world, so no cost is required.

Ma Zhaodi examined the Horn of Plenty in his hand. It was enormous—so large it resembled a small leg, thick as a thigh. He could even fit half of his forearm inside its opening.

Are there goats this big in the world? Ma Zhaodi wasn’t sure. His own horn had been bought from a store, but none were as large as this one. Carrying it around was a bit too eye-catching.

“This thing’s not easy to take out…”

“Add a visual disguise effect to the Horn of Plenty—for just one hundred asset points.”

“Money, money, money! Wait, does the pumpkin lantern have that effect?”

“The small pumpkin lantern’s special effect is turning off the light. Also one hundred asset points.”

“…I already have a small pumpkin lantern that doesn’t light up.”

On the night Batman found the restaurant, Ma Zhaodi had pulled out a regular small pumpkin lantern from the mall—its shape matched a magical pumpkin lantern but lacked any magic.

With Batman’s keen senses, he would never dare to reveal a magical pumpkin lantern directly. No matter if the chance of exposure was one hundred percent or one percent, in Batman’s subsequent analysis, detection was absolutely certain.

“Wait, I’m losing him!”

Ma Zhaodi hurriedly stored the Horn of Plenty in the system. He had intended to follow the deranged killer from a distance using remote surveillance tools to see who he planned to target next. But before he could focus, the trail went cold.

Ma Zhaodi hesitated briefly. Since tracking seemed hopeless, perhaps he could return to the hospital and use the Horn of Plenty to treat Harvey Dent’s wife, Gilda?

No, on second thought, that was too risky. Harvey Dent had only met him once—what would his sudden appearance with a bag of fruit mean?

After pondering, he took out the Horn of Plenty disguised as a popcorn bucket, ate a small strawberry, and headed home.

As for why it wasn’t actual popcorn, it was because the Horn only produced fruits and flowers, not modern processed foods or meats. Ma Zhaodi found this somewhat disappointing, as he had hoped to rely on the Horn of Plenty to cover all his food expenses.

The upside was that he no longer needed to buy groceries. Though called “fruits,” the produce included vegetables and grains: tomatoes and corn were both yielded by the Horn. Tomatoes are both a fruit and a vegetable; corn is a grain. So the Horn also produced assorted vegetables and grains.

Walking through the alleys, Ma Zhaodi passed the grand Astoria Tower Hotel and overheard sounds of clinking glasses, boisterous singing, and raucous celebration. The voices were familiar enough to make him instinctively spit.

“Bah, five shameless scoundrels. They’ll get their comeuppance sooner or later.”

Inside the hotel room, those revelers heard nothing of Ma Zhaodi’s grumbling. Their faces beamed with smiles, dressed in suits and polished attire, a stark contrast to their former street thug appearances.

The entire Irish gang toasted in triumph, smugly recounting their day’s gains, mocking the prosecutor’s stubbornness, Gilda’s gullibility, Commissioner Gordon’s anger, Batman’s silence, and the judiciary’s incompetence and weakness.

“Today’s Thanksgiving—let me drink first!”

“To Roman! To the sponsor of this damn feast!”

“To Roman!” *4

The delicious feast on the table emitted warm steam: Astoria Tower’s special Thanksgiving turkey. The enticing aroma mingled with the red wine in their glasses, and the ecstasy of sudden wealth intoxicated them completely. They nearly succumbed to the festive spirit.

Then, the door was thrown open.

Glasses shattered on the floor, fine wine spilled carelessly. Before they could slice into the succulent turkey, panic seized them as they reached for guns—only to find their tailored suits now hampering their movements, binding their hands tightly.

A pity. The Reaper’s patience had come to an end.

Bang!