Daylight Nightfire Village of Fools

After winter in Gotham City, the temperature began to rise. This was a rare season in Gotham that didn't rain much. Although the weather was still gloomy and there were no sunny days, and the city was always shrouded in a thin fog, the weather was still much better than in winter.

Mayor Roy's first reform measure after taking office was naturally to manage Gotham's traffic.

Of course, this is not because the previous mayor died in Car Accidents, but because Gotham City has ushered in a new round of development through cooperation with other coastal cities. Various warehouses and supporting facilities have sprung up, and a large number of cargo ships are docked in the port, queuing up to transport goods in.

But Gotham's traffic situation can only be described in one sentence—if it had even a shred of traffic rules, it wouldn't be completely devoid of them.

This has led to a very troublesome situation: the cargo ships have enough capacity, and the warehouses under construction, although not perfect, can actually accommodate the goods. However, the problem lies in the route from the dock to the warehouse.

The warehouses belong to different Mafia families, and they all need to transport goods, basically 24 hours a day. However, Gotham has no traffic rules, and no one says who should go first. The way to solve this kind of thing in Gotham is naturally whoever has more guns and more bullets in their guns goes first.

However, there is another problem. Although the driver is also a gang member, he is not a combatant. When the two vehicles block each other, the gang members escorting the goods start fighting, and the driver and other technicians in the vehicle will also be injured.

Gotham is already severely lacking in professionals like this, and when everyone starts fighting, they don't care about anything else. In the end, both sides will be exhausted and end up in the hospital at the same time.

It wasn't a big deal that they were admitted to the hospital, but their delivery truck was still blocking the road, causing a complete blockage for those who came later, making it impossible for them to move.

This vicious cycle brought Gotham's transportation to a near standstill. While it wasn't a problem for most goods to wait a few days, continuing like this was simply burning through money. The costs of manpower, warehouses, ship maintenance, and penalties for delayed deliveries were driving the leaders of the Twelve Families crazy.

Among them were many high-achieving college graduates, but Gotham was a quagmire. After living there for so many years, no one realized what the most important problem in the city was. When everyone thought about how to coordinate the relationships here, all they thought about was how to deal with other gangs and make them make way for them.

But everyone wants others to make way for them, so no one makes way, and everyone gets stuck in traffic.

Ultimately, Gotham is a chaotic and disorderly city. The evil order built by gangs here is still essentially disorder.

Fortunately, the new Mayor Roy, was a sensible man. He didn't instruct the gang on what to do when they were at their most enraged, but instead let them fight until they completely blocked the central street, preventing anyone from leaving.

Until Gotham's most important central roundabout and four Second Ring Road intersections were reduced to ruins, the gangsters were completely exasperated. The money was right in front of them, but they just couldn't get it. Nobody could make the cargo ship's contents grow wings and fly to the warehouse. There were no people, no cars, and now there wasn't even a road.

In the end, there was no other way but to ask the Old Godfather to come out of retirement. When the heads of the biggest families sat down at the negotiating table, they were all trembling with fear. Among those blocking the road were also goods from the Falcone family. The Old Godfather's power was as strong as ever, and the heads knew they were in the wrong, so they basically just bowed their heads and accepted the scolding in silence.

The problem is now very clear: if the fighting continues, the situation will only get worse. By then, not only will the roads be gone, but the entire city will be almost gone. How will they make money then? Are they just waiting to starve to death?

The situation has developed to this point, and a proper solution is indeed needed to improve traffic conditions.

So, on the second Sunday after Gotham's temperature warmed up, Mayor Roy gave a televised address on Gotham TV station.

The Roy on screen wasn't wearing a trench coat and felt hat like he did in Chicago. Instead, he looked like Gotham gangster, dressed in a suit and tie with a brooch pinned to his chest. He sat in his mayor's office and calmly said:

"Dear citizens of Gotham City, I am your new Mayor Roy Brown. I believe you all already know me."

"The main purpose of my speech today is to advocate for everyone to obey traffic rules, and also to explain the new municipal administration that I will be implementing in Gotham."

"As we all know, we have worked together to get to where we are today in this historic city, and now, Gotham City is about to experience another revival, and a great opportunity for development is presented to everyone."

"Therefore, as mayor, I propose a new municipal policy to serve the citizens of Gotham."

"The name of this new policy is the Gotham Civilized City Construction Plan. The main contents of the plan are: starting tomorrow, the 'Gotham Traffic Civilization Day Action' will be implemented at Gotham's six major transportation hubs, 17 main roads and 22 secondary roads."

"During this period, professional traffic guides will be on hand to manage traffic. Drivers are urged to strictly abide by traffic rules, or they will be responsible for the consequences."

The televised address ended there, and Bruce turned off the television. He suddenly had a bad feeling.

As it turns out, Batman's intuition has always been accurate, or rather, Gotham's first law is: in Gotham, no matter how correct your starting point, how clever your methods, or how perfect your plans, they will eventually turn it into a complete mess.

The next day, at the central roundabout in Gotham City, a brightly painted sports car slowly slowed down. The person inside rolled down the window, leaned out, and whistled at a beautiful woman standing on the street. A tattooed youth shouted, "Hey! Hey chick! Look over here, look at Gotham's racing kid..."

Before he could finish speaking, the girl turned around, threw her cigarette butt at the ground, grabbed a rifle from behind a lamppost, and fired a shot at the tire of the sports car.

The loud explosion startled the two people in the car. Just as they were about to get angry, the girl walked over with a gun. She looked young, no more than 20 years old, with a great figure and a wild, dark complexion.

She lit another cigarette and put it in her mouth. Then, she took out a small notebook from her jeans pocket, glanced at the two people standing dumbfounded in the car, and said, "You're the racer, right? Bipolar Disorder, Nervous Headache, and early signs of schizophrenia. Three months of treatment is recommended."

As she spoke, she scribbled in the notebook. After she finished, she tore the piece of paper and threw it into the car. The tattooed youth picked up the paper and saw that the title read "Arkham Asylum Diagnosis Report".

He immediately flashed a fawning smile and said, "Excuse me, miss, I didn't know you were an intern at Arkham Asylum. How about we get another one of these?"

"By the way, are they telling the truth? We can get a full prescription based on this diagnosis... I mean, effective medication for headaches."

The girl looked him up and down again and said, "Yes, you need to go to the attending Doctor's office for a consultation within three days and wait for the ward assignment."

"Can I have another one? I think I have a mental illness too," another youth shouted.

The girl ignored him, took the walkie-talkie from her waist and said, "Fourth Avenue! Fourth Avenue! A modified supercar, front left tire flat, two passengers, they are... who are you working for?"

"Old Smoker of East End, our boss is Smoker!"

"It's that Old Smoker of East End. Damn it, how come it's that poor bastard from the East District again? Don't those rich tycoons from the West End drive around anymore?"

She had barely finished speaking when two men arrived on police motorcycles. One of them, dressed in a police uniform, gave a perfunctory salute and then said impatiently, "Speeding, illegal lane change, running a red light, fine of 300."

After glancing at the Rocket hanging on their motorcycle, the youth reluctantly paid the fine. Then, another person who had come with the motorcycle walked over and said, "Hello, Doyle Towing Company, do you need towing services?"

"Doyle, it's you? You damn bastard! What are you doing in a suit? And when did your family start a towing company?"

The youth Doyle straightened his suit and tie. It was clear that he had just bought the suit yesterday, and it didn't fit him very well.

He leaned against the sports car, lit a cigarette, and said, "Don't talk nonsense. This is an ancestral business. My family has been in this business for eight generations. Since we're acquaintances, I'll give you a 30% discount. I'll tow it to the nearest main road for 150 yuan. You know, only I know which main road isn't congested. You're probably rushing to the warehouse on the east side to check on the factory, right?"

The youth in the car curled his lip and said, "Okay, it seems your boss really values you, assigning you this kind of work. You help me tow the car over, and the two of us will walk to Arkham to get some medicine."

As they were chatting, the girl turned her head and saw a black Mercedes-Benz about to make a U-turn. She grabbed the megaphone from her waist and shouted, "Stop!!!! You've violated traffic rules!!!"

A few seconds later, another gunshot rang out, and the police and towing company personnel didn't even need to move; they immediately closed another deal.

Continuing along this street, at each intersection there are two Doctor, who are specifically responsible for stopping cars and issuing medical certificates. They all carry walkie-talkies, and once a traffic accident is discovered, the police and towing company personnel will quickly arrive at the scene on motorcycles, issuing tickets, imposing fines, and signing towing agreements in one go. The car can be taken away from the scene in less than ten minutes.

Of course, this only applies to ordinary main roads and intersections far from the Central City. In the six major battlefields closer to the Central City, the fighting is much more intense.

Bruce said to one of his bodyguards, "Go stop that red Lamborghini and tell him he took the wrong turn, goes back and tries again. Come back to me later to get the medical certificate."

"Also, where did that guy who was swearing all the time go? Drag him out and beat him up, then say Wayne beat him up."

He had barely finished speaking when there was a whoosh. Bruce took two steps back, and a car exploded not far in front of him. The driver scrambled out and yelled at the man holding Rocket on the platform in the middle of the intersection, "Are you blind?! I was going straight!! He changed lanes! He took my spot, why did you blow up my car?!"

Before he could finish speaking, the aftershock of the explosion seemed to have hit the car that had changed lanes as well. The hood of that car also made an explosion, and then flames suddenly burst into flames.

The driver who had changed lanes scrambled out of his car, and the two were about to fight when they saw that the person on the platform had reloaded the Rocket Launcher and was aiming at them. They left cursing and soon encountered a guy from a towing company. The wreckage of the two vehicles was quickly removed from the battlefield.

"Listen up!! You bunch of sons of bitches over there! Are you deaf? The next Green Lantern is our turn to go!! Did you hear me?! It's our turn to go!!"

"Haven't you guys watched TV?! Look at what I'm holding! What's this?! The Gotham Driver's Manual! See? You've already gone twice! Next time it's our turn!!"

A burly, tattooed man got out of a row of trucks across the roundabout. He was also carrying a rifle. He gave the yelling man the middle finger and said, "Is your brain filled with dog shit?! If you're going to leave, go first on the east road! Then we'll go. You'll have to wait a whole round!"

Bruce listened to them swearing at each other, and after a moment of intense thought, he realized that his brilliant mind couldn't find any evidence of the traffic rules that the two men were so confidently arguing about.

He asked one of his bodyguards, "Gotham Driver's Manual? Do you even have these? Go get me one."

The bodyguard said, "Yes, we do have some, but it was just reprinted yesterday, and it's a handwritten copy. Our mayor seemed to be a little drunk when he wrote this handbook..."

However, as he was saying this, he still went to find a car and then got a driver's manual. When Bruce opened it, he realized that what the bodyguard said was indeed true. If he had drunk less of a pound of vodka, he wouldn't have written such an outrageous driver's manual.

The handwriting on it Roy extremely messy. This mayor was also from a humble background and had never attended university. Many words were misspelled, not to mention the grammar was all over the place. After making a mistake, he would just scribble something down with his pen. Some lines were squeezed together, while others were far apart.

Bruce shut down his brain and tried to read the driver's manual from the perspective of these idiots. He found that although the handwriting was messy, the content was chaotic, and there was more profanity than actual text, it made a lot of sense.

The core message of the entire driver's manual can be summed up in one sentence: There are no traffic rules in this lousy place. Nobody you see here with a steering wheel has a valid driver's license. If you want to drive here, all you need to know is to grip the steering wheel, step on the gas, and then pray to God.

A while later, Bruce's phone rang. He answered, "Hello? Oh, Professor... Yes, the internship is going well. I'm at this intersection east of the central roundabout. The traffic here is pretty good, but it's more chaotic on the west side because there are too many sports cars there..."

"Yes, I also think this internship method is great. I heard them say that they've memorized at least dozens of mental illness terms, which is already a miracle. I believe they'll get at least 5 more points on the final exam..."

"Evans? No... no, he's not directing traffic, he has more important things to do."

As Bruce spoke, he looked up and saw a man in a black suit, who looked like the head of Twelve Families, bowing and scraping to Evans in the distance. In a few quick movements, he moved the car that was blocking the road, and the traffic, which had been congested, quickly became smooth again.

Although that's what Bruce said, in reality, this so-called Gotham Traffic Civilization Day was basically a complete mess.

Roy built a small watchtower in the center of each major traffic hub intersection, where traffic controllers were basically armed with machine guns and Rocket, ready to fire wherever they were in the wrong place.

Under this deterrent, the vast majority of cars are still willing to obey traffic rules. However, the problem is that Gotham does not have a unified traffic rule, and the people here have never learned traffic yielding rules. So Roy added another person who had driven normally in other cities to the Watchtower to provide guidance.

However, in the United States, traffic rules differ from state to state, and driver's manuals vary, which results in different traffic rules being used at each intersection.

Although this situation is much better than the previous one where nothing could move at all, it still cannot actually meet the needs of logistics operations.

In a faculty office at Gotham University, calculus professor Anna rubbed her forehead and said helplessly, "The error in the capacity calculation is really too large. Do you have any clues? Victor..."

Victor looked even worse; his two huge dark circles almost covered half of his face. If you didn't listen to him speak, you would think Mr. Freeze had awakened just by looking at his current state.

He said, "Don't forget, we also have to consider shelf life. The cargo ships at the second pier are carrying goods that urgently need to be stored in the warehouse. They must have an express lane, otherwise the goods may be damaged. There are also fragile items at the third pier, so we can't drive too fast. When these vehicles join the central roundabout, it will affect the overall speed..."

Just then, the door was pushed open with a bang, and Roy rushed in, gun in hand, saying, "How's the logistics system coming along? There are over a dozen the Leader waiting for my news. All their goods are piling up at the dock, and I can't hold on much longer!"

"We're doing manual calculations now. Have you ever seen anything faster done manually?"

"They can raise the price, any amount! 100,000? 200,000? As long as you can deliver results quickly, business waits for no one! Friends!"

Victor put down the documents in his hand and said, "Last night I called a few of my old classmates, all of whom are professors in mathematics, physics, and biology. You'll have to offer them a price they're satisfied with before they'll come here. You know, this city doesn't have a very good reputation..."

"Give me their phone number, and I guarantee you'll be satisfied!"

On the other side, just as Roy had said, most of the heads of the Twelve Families were gathered in a conference room, anxiously awaiting the outcome. Seated at the head of the table was the head of the Spencer family, who held a telephone and said:

"The goods in Warehouse 3 are damaged? Why? Weren't they frozen perfectly fine?"

"The temperature detection device isn't working properly? Why hasn't anyone checked it?... Can't you read the gauge? Damn it! You bunch of illiterate people! That's worth tens of thousands of yuan!!!"

"The cryogenic chamber isn't working well either? What should we do then? What about that expert we kidnapped... no, that expert we hired at a high salary? Tell him we'll double his promised salary! Tell him to figure something out right away! Never mind, let him answer the phone!"

"Who? Professor Freeze? And who is that? Gotham University? No... I can't get into that place, it's the Godfather's territory. Contract work? Is he that powerful?"

"... What? A living, breathing person? His wife? No... that's not important!"

"You mean, he froze a living person in a cryo-chamber and she still managed to stay alive?!"

"Ha... oh, no... no... I mean, it's really such a pity, such a sad love story. God bless this poor lady. I'm willing to donate to this, and I'll invite him over tomorrow. You know, I'm a believer in love too..."

Meanwhile, Schiller was sitting in his office at Arkham Asylum, with a long line in front of him. Without even looking up, Schiller called out, "Next!"

A burly Black man walked up, clutching the diagnosis report in his hand. The report was smaller than one of his fingers. He carefully held the report and handed it to Schiller. Schiller glanced at it and said, "Congenital polio?? Which student who didn't pay attention in class wrote this?? Didn't I tell you to look up the term in the textbook and memorize it?"

He glanced at the Black man and said, "Room 3, 2nd floor." Then he quickly scribbled a couple of lines on the diagnosis form, signed his name, wrote a prescription, handed it to the man, and continued calling out, "Next!"

Just then, Brand, wearing a white coat, rushed in and said, "We can't admit any more patients! We really can't admit any more! We're out of wards!"

"Let them squeeze in, there are still more than 100 people here."

"But no matter how crowded it is, there's no way a single ward can accommodate 30 people!"

Schiller looked up and thought for a moment, then said, "Let them be released on parole. There's always room in Gotham Prison, isn't there?"

Brand was dumbfounded. He said, "Parole means... what?"

"But most of them were originally there for medical parole!"

"Then set up a medical station in the prison and send...send Bruce there. Doctor is still Doctor, he has experience. Let him apply the model here. If the hospital has no space, go to the prison; if the prison has no space, come to the hospital. That's it."

After quickly settling the remaining patients, Schiller returned to his office at Gotham University, where chaos reigned; everyone with a college degree or higher had been taken in for calculations.

In this era without supercomputers, calculating the perfect logistics route by hand requires an enormous amount of computation, driving Victor and Anna, the leaders, nearly insane.

Schiller, relying on his Symbiote, also got involved. He was quite happy to work overtime so that he wouldn't have to deal with traffic jams on his way to and from work in the future.

But soon, Roy came again, still carrying a gun and holding a phone. He rushed into the office and said, "Two of the three municipal government treasurers have run away from exhaustion, and the other was buried by sand leaking from a dump truck. He's still being rescued. Who's coming with me? The financial statements are piling up like a mountain!"

One of the Gotham professors said, "This isn't a job anyone can do. In Gotham, the mayor may not live long, but the treasurer's life isn't long either. Everyone knows what they do..."

Upon hearing this, Schiller was no longer sleepy. He rolled up his sleeves and said, "Let's go, I'll go with you!"

Roy hesitated for a moment before saying, "Excuse me for being blunt, Professor, but aren't you a Psychology Professor? Does psychology include a financial section?"

"Of course there are. You know, psychology is all-encompassing, and I happen to have a lot of personal experience in it..."

Roy had no choice but to agree with some skepticism.

The next morning, Roy stood before all the Mafia families and said, "Now I have good news and bad news."

"Tell me the good news first, I've had enough bad news," one of them said. "I still have three trucks stuck on Fifth Avenue."

"The good news is that, barring any unforeseen circumstances, the city's GDP may surpass that of the Metropolis this year, making it the number one city in the United States."

A commotion erupted instantly below. The gang leaders whispered among themselves, saying, "How did we get to number one so quickly? I haven't even sold any of my goods yet!"

"Wasn't it fifth or sixth before? How long has it been? Are you sure there's nothing wrong with the statistics?"

Roy waved his hand, signaling them to calm down, and then said, "The bad news is, it's not because our city has developed, but because there's something wrong with the reports."

"So now it's up to everyone to decide whether or not we want to be number one."

The others were even more confused. Just how big of a problem could the report have been that allowed them to surpass the Metropolis and jump straight to first place?

To be honest, Roy didn't understand this problem either. Anyway, after Schiller spent the whole night compiling that pile of financial reports, he gave him a statistical report that was both extremely reasonable and extremely outrageous.

Then tell him that he is about to become the mayor who leads the city's economy to the fastest growth, the most significant improvement, and the fastest pace of development in the history of urban development in the United States.

Roy said, "According to a finance professional who wished to remain anonymous, if we become number one, we'll become more well-known and have more investment opportunities; if we don't become number one..."

Roy stammered for a moment, then took out a piece of paper and read from it, "Some errors that are permissible in the understanding of macroeconomics will give actual data more room for adjustment, including stabilizing measures for... artificially inflated growth, redundancy left by the impact of the crisis, and..."

As Roy read on, he couldn't continue. He said, "Sorry, there are too many words I don't know in the last part. Basically, if we don't want this reputation, everyone will have more..."

Roy made a gesture commonly used by gangsters, and all the bosses understood immediately; they unanimously chose the latter.

Of course, this is certainly not for the convenience of official money laundering; it's mainly because Gotham City are not vain and are humble and low-key.

Meanwhile, in Gordon Gotham Police Department, Bruce was finally losing his composure. He said, "You mean, you want to borrow my Bat-Lamp? What do you want to use it for?"

Gordon was a little embarrassed. He said, "There was nothing we could do about it. Yesterday, some bastard had some crooked idea and actually modified the One old, dilapidated Green Lantern at the central intersection, causing quite a bit of trouble."

Sure enough, just as the traffic was starting to improve a little, things went wrong again.

Most intersections in Gotham don't have Green Lantern because they weren't used before. Only the big roundabout in the very Central City still has an old-fashioned Green Lantern pole.

Although it hadn't worked before, Gordon discovered, under the threat of force, that this thing was indeed much more convenient than shouting.

As a result, most of the traffic in the Central City is directed by Green Lantern, and the person who circled the Watchtower is only responsible for military deterrence.

But as expected of Gotham City, this absurd city has never lacked absurd geniuses.

I wonder which physics and engineering genius went out in the dark in the middle of the night to modify this ancient Green Lantern that has been around for who knows how many years.

Under the wrong Green Lantern guidance, yesterday at the central roundabout, the situation was: go left, then right; go in front, then right; go behind, then right again...

Throughout the day, the entire right-hand intersection remained completely clear, while the other three intersections were left completely blocked.

The drivers in Gotham City are all suffering from severe road rage. If everyone is stuck in traffic, that's one thing, but when others are moving forward one after another while they are stuck in traffic, they are bound to be unhappy.

So the central roundabout, which had just been slightly repaired, was almost reduced to ruins again.

Later, the Green Lantern was repaired, but after so many repairs, this old-fashioned Green Lantern was basically no longer working. The fate of ordinary Green Lantern probably be similar to this one; during the evening rush hour, they would basically not last more than three hours.

For the Gotham City, something so inconspicuous would be hard for their somewhat deranged brains to discern, so Gordon came up with a solution: he planned to install a high-powered one.

So here's the question: where is the most powerful light in all of Gotham?

Bruce looked at Gordon speechlessly. Gordon rubbed his hands together and said, "Actually, this can be considered a way to combat crime. After all, if everyone is transporting goods at night, most people won't go out looking for trouble."

Gordon pulled Bruce over to the Gotham map hanging on the wall and said, "This is a statistic I recently did. You see, the crime rate has dropped significantly in the neighborhoods with better traffic, because gangs usually hire drivers who know the routes."

"These drivers are basically members of local gangs, the main force of local crime. Because there is a shortage of transportation capacity, the gangs are willing to pay high prices to hire these people to deliver goods for them overnight. It doesn't matter if they don't have a driver's license, since most of them don't have one anyway."

"They spend all night driving trucks to deliver goods, so of course they don't have much time to go out and commit crimes. Moreover, the money they earn from two trips is equivalent to the proceeds from two months of robbery. Now most gangsters who can drive have found similar jobs. I heard that a small gang has collectively switched to becoming truck drivers and is currently recruiting like crazy."

Actually, this was not unexpected for Bruce. Batman had been patrolling at night recently, but there was really nothing to patrol because the streets were full of people working.

Truck drivers don't rest, but they still need to eat and drink. After finishing a night shift, they can grab a late-night snack. So restaurants, bars, and roadside stalls also stay open. Restaurants need to sell their daytime offerings and then sell their nighttime offerings, which requires more raw material reserves, more drivers to deliver goods, and more cooks and waiters.

However, regular restaurants have rent, so their food is more expensive, and the food prepared by the chefs may not suit the tastes of those gangsters, who have been eating street food since they were young.

So many people who know how to cook have set up roadside stalls. Gotham doesn't have any city management officials, so they can set up their stalls wherever they want.

With the proliferation of roadside stalls, the already narrow alleys have become even narrower, forcing most people to demolish illegal structures in front of their buildings and widen the roads to facilitate the formation of night markets.

These night shift drivers suddenly made a lot of money, so of course they became enthusiastic about spending it. Casinos and dance halls simply stopped taking breaks, and bartenders, dancers, and dealers also had to work all night. These people needed more service industry facilities for eating, drinking, and relieving themselves.

In short, the streets near each transportation hub have been brightly lit and busier than during the day for the past few days. When Gotham City gather together, they try to find ways to get excited and engage in competitive sports. In this era, there are no video games, so the ways to get excited are nothing more than playing basketball, soccer, or gathering to brag.

Who is Batman? He is the Dark Knight of Gotham, the emphasis being on darkness.

Imagine you've walked into an alleyway near the main road. At the beginning, you'll find a group of amateur soccer Master and yelling, and at the end, a group of truck drivers sitting on stools around a table, eating and talking nonsense. The entire street is crisscrossed with electrical wires, various strings of lights are hung between streetlights and lampposts, and high-powered spotlights are suspended in mid-air, illuminating the ground. Batman, who has just landed from the dimly lit rooftop, is stunned by the glare.

Because the streets near these transportation hubs were too crowded, Batman had little room to maneuver, so he headed towards more secluded and less crowded streets.

However, the commercial clusters bring not only urban prosperity but also population movement. Even the most vulnerable groups in Gotham, such as single mothers with children, can find jobs as waitresses or dishwashers in restaurants that are open all night.

Strong laborers usually go to do jobs that pay better. Restaurants are short-staffed and would love for more people to do this kind of work. The people of Gotham City are not isolated; basically, there is contact between groups. One person tells ten, ten tell a hundred. Many disadvantaged groups living in more remote and distant areas will find a bustling night market nearby to do odd jobs. Even if it's just picking up trash, they can earn a dollar or two, enough for a meal.

However, because their homes and workplaces are far apart, which would interfere with their work schedules, most of them move to places closer to home.

The rent for houses near such places will be more expensive, but landlords aren't stupid. Originally, he could charge $100 for renting a room to one person, but now he can divide the room into three and rent each room to three people for $50, making an extra $50. Those people will be grateful to him.

As a result, many landlords in the night market streets began to subdivide their houses into smaller units. The vulnerable groups did not care how small or dilapidated their rooms were, since they were no worse than where they originally lived.

Then the gangs that managed and ruled the street discovered that if they could create more of these rooms, they could attract more outsiders, improve the efficiency of the entire street, and collect more protection money.

So they began to proactively convert the lofts or vacant rooms in their properties into smaller apartments, specifically for outsiders attracted by the properties.

Some poor people really don't have a single penny, and the gangsters allow them to move in first and then pay off their debts every month. Some gangsters who urgently need people don't even charge interest. They waive all rent for the first period after moving in. As long as you work for them on this street, they not only won't charge you interest, but they'll also give you subsidies. Anyway, they're not making money off your meager rent.

Then Batman discovers that Gotham has become eerily quiet lately, and new commercial districts are gradually developing, radiating outwards from the transportation hubs and various night markets.

In these new business districts, few people cause trouble because in the past, if you killed two people in a dark alley, the police might not find out for a long time. In fact, if you had some special skills, it might become an unsolved case.

However, in such a bustling night market, such a thing is almost impossible. Even when playing football, if someone kicks someone else, the news will spread throughout the entire neighborhood the next day. If you were to rob someone on the spot, you'd better hope the police arrive quickly, otherwise the local gangsters will definitely shove you into the sewers.

If you commit murder in the street, it takes time to cover it up, right? When the police come to investigate, you have to cooperate with their investigation, and all the eyewitnesses in the vicinity have to be summoned in turn. How much time will that waste? How much revenue will you lose? How much protection money will you lose?

If you're far away, the gang might not bother with you. But at this close range, with a dozen or so gangsters patrolling the street, you might end up with a dozen or so holes in your body before you even utter the word "robbery."

Business is business, Gotham's tradition of firing first and then questioning cannot be abandoned.

And so, in one dark night after another, Batman stood alone on the rooftop, watching those once dimly lit nights slowly begin to be lit up. Now, he stood on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the very center and highest point of Gotham, with thousands of lights shining below him.

He thought that perhaps he had witnessed a miracle so closely: this hopeless, chaotic, and terrible city began to sprout and grow amidst the chaos, and then bloom into a strange and bizarre flower.

It bloomed wildly in the darkness, making no attempt to conceal its chaos and malice. Batman thought that this black flower would still open towards the sun, only a black sun.

But he, Batman Batman, did not feel defeated. A new power surged within him, a new idea, an idea broader than the night and revenge, appeared in his mind for the first time.

He had a strange premonition that this world, this universe, just like Gotham, was changing for some reason.

And next time, he thought, he would no longer be a bystander in such a miraculous change, but a participant.

He watched as night fell once again, and one by one the lights gradually came on. Then, apart from the cold wind and darkness above, the twinkling lights began to spread rapidly across the streets until they illuminated the entire city.

Right here, right now, this solitary bat standing above the city feels it has finally learned how to light a lamp.

Ten thousand words today!

Because the plot is quite coherent and the storyboard is quite compact, it was completed in one chapter.

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