One's Reputation is Earned Through Killing When Traveling

"Magic and miracles aren't free."

-- Lu Xun

If the Consecrated Exorcism from before was a spell rather than a tool, Ma Zhaodi wouldn't have dared to use it directly. In this world, the power of magic is basically owned. Every kind of power has its own source.

Learning magic isn't about obtaining power, but about acquiring the method to borrow power from its source. Unfortunately, the demon gods or high-ranking beings who control each source are not philanthropists. They often demand a price from those who use magic, which could be a day's good luck, or it could be a person's fate and soul.

The power contained within this disposable Consecrated Exorcism tool belongs to the lineage of the one in heaven, and it was just right for performing an exorcism. In this case of perfect alignment, Ma Zhaodi merely used the tool and didn't have to pay any price.

If it weren't for this, he wouldn't have risked coming into contact with magical items. It wasn't because he was afraid of being unable to resist misusing magic and incurring debts, but because he was afraid of forming connections with certain people. After all, teammates are also a possible price that mages can offer as sacrifices, and some mages have indeed grown accustomed to doing just that.

Ma Zhaodi's thoughts wandered aimlessly as he drove, stopping to buy some groceries along the way before heading home.

"Clack."

He parked his car in an open space by the roadside outside the building where Drake lived and got out to lock the doors. He had just spent one dollar from his asset points on the system map to find a parking spot, and it showed that any location nearby could be a parking space. Although it was strange, the system hadn't scammed him yet.

"Thank God, you're actually okay."

Drake got out of a taxi nearby, looking curious. "This car doesn't seem as evil as the boss said it was."

"Damn it, two damned idiots," the taxi driver cursed under his breath and quickly started his car, fleeing the scene as if it were the plague.

He had followed this car as Drake requested and had now seen the details of its body. Although it didn't have a license plate yet and the paint had been completely redone in gray, he recognized it as the infamous Death Car from Gotham's accident records.

Damn it, who would be stupid enough to drive this car on the road again? Aren't they afraid of dying?

Seeing the driver speed away, Ma Zhaodi turned to Drake and asked, "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, maybe he's in a hurry to pick up the next fare since he lost the trip to Gotham Hospital," Drake shrugged. "Who cares?"

"I thank you."

"...Yesterday, the Gotham Police Department arrested a large number of mobsters again. According to information revealed by Commissioner Gordon, this operation was aided by Gotham City's masked vigilante—Batman."

"As of now, Batman has helped the Gotham Police Department arrest dozens, even hundreds, of Gotham mobsters. This makes me very suspicious: does the Gotham Police Department need the help of an outlaw with a mask to fulfill its normal duties? Must we rely on a masked man who uses violence and breaks the law to help us enforce the law?"

"Although Commissioner Gordon has repeatedly emphasized Batman's harmlessness, to this day, none of the arrested mobsters and thugs have broken their own arms, leg bones, or ribs. No one has ever entered the police station intact under this violent vigilante."

"Gotham's District Attorney, Mr. Harvey Dent, has also been ambiguous about Batman's attitude. Has Gotham's judicial justice been completely influenced, or even controlled, by an illegal vigilante hiding his face? We all don't know."

Mrs. Camilla sat by the small table, staring intently at the television.

"We all know this newspaper is owned by the Falcone gang," Drake sneered as he walked in.

"Listening to them talk is like listening to mice condemn rat poison. They talk about fairness, justice, respect for life, and equality, but in reality, they are just dogs manipulated by profit. How many honest police officers and prosecutors have Gotham had in the past ten years? They've all been hounded by them."

"I'll tentatively assume you're still talking about a newspaper," Ma Zhaodi said, hanging his jacket by the door. "So, do you support Batman?"

"Even the most correct words turn sour in their mouths. Anyway, I don't support these people," Drake shook his head. "But my opinion doesn't matter. I'm not from Gotham, and I won't be staying here long."

"That's true. Once you guys leave, I'll renew the lease on this place."

"Renew the lease for what? You have fifty thousand dollars, plus your job, and you could afford to buy a smaller house in installments in some parts of the Audisburg District."

"Stop right there, absolutely not. As soon as I can find work in another city, I'll be the first to leave. Buying a house in Gotham is a losing deal. The torment I've endured living here for a year is more than I'd experience in ten years in other cities."

Drake paused, realizing he had no retort.

Everyone knew that Gotham's daily life couldn't be described as vibrant and flourishing; at the very least, it could be called smoke-filled and riddled with gunfire. All the buildings here could be destroyed at any moment by a bomb, a missile, or a fire. Therefore, people involved in real estate in Gotham were generally not simple characters, and those who bought houses in Gotham were mostly people who couldn't leave.

Mrs. Camilla chimed in, "Ma Zhaodi, where did you get that cross necklace you're wearing?"

"Oh, we bought a car today and got it from there. I liked it a lot, so I put it on."

"It's so beautiful." Mrs. Camilla unconsciously stared at the shining necklace. As a Christian who had long suffered from illness, she was undoubtedly devout. Therefore, looking at the necklace Ma Zhaodi was wearing, she felt a strange sense of warmth.

Sensing the situation turning awkward, Ma Zhaodi quickly deflected. "Drake, why don't you get Mrs. Camilla a cross necklace?"

"Don't talk nonsense. The church did give out a blessed cross necklace," Drake mumbled. "She just likes pretty accessories that glow."

Camilla raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," Drake immediately pledged loyalty. "I'll buy you one this afternoon."

"Here, take the key," Ma Zhaodi offered the original car key. "Drive carefully on the road, nothing will go wrong."

Drake looked at the key, thought for a long time, but still didn't dare to take it.

That night.

Several sneaky figures roamed the streets and alleys of the slums. One of them spotted a car parked ostentatiously by the roadside and his eyes lit up.

"Leon, hey, look at that car over there. We're really lucky today."

Leon heard him, glanced at the car on the road, and immediately turned to leave.

"Lucky my ass! You didn't even recognize the Death Car? The driver just announced that the Falcone family's killer car has finally been sold. Are you trying to steal it back for him?"

"Hurry up and go! Idiot! This car is best left parked at the street corner forever."

When you're out in the world, your reputation is earned through your actions.