Seemed Relieved

"Ma Zhaodi, what about that Pumpkin you carved yesterday? Did you leave it at home?"

"I remember that Pumpkin being quite unique, didn't you bring it today?"

Faced with Santos and Castro's seemingly curious questions, Ma Zhaodi wore an awkward but polite smile.

I shouldn't have carved that damn Pumpkin in the restaurant yesterday. Now he was being grilled by his colleagues. How could he admit the Pumpkin at the scene was his? He wouldn't admit it to these Falcone family guys even if he admitted it to Commissioner Gordon. The deceased was Falcone's own nephew. It was said that a few months ago, he had personally hosted a lavish banquet for his nephew to celebrate his wedding.

Given this Gotham big shot's style, the Falcone family might reason with him, but it was unlikely.

Sweating profusely, he immediately created a Save Point at this moment, then chuckled and took out the Magic Pumpkin Lantern. "No, no, when I went to set up a stall yesterday, I found that no one wanted to buy such an ugly Pumpkin. Look, it's still in my hand."

"Oh?"

The others looked closely. The Pumpkin in Ma Zhaodi's hand was indeed different from the one on TV, but it also resembled the one he carved yesterday—yes, they were both equally ugly.

"But I always feel like these two Pumpkins are a bit like your work," Rick said, stroking his chin. "Their styles are too similar, both exuding an abstract ugliness."

"Come on, you can't discriminate against me. There are so many people in this world, there are always a few who can't carve Pumpkins like me." Seeing that they were wavering, Ma Zhaodi suddenly gained confidence and shouted at them, "It makes it seem like I'm the only bad guy in the world, but in reality, I'm a law-abiding citizen!"

"According to information provided by the Gotham Police Department, a fire broke out in a large factory yesterday, incinerating approximately twenty million US dollars stored inside. After testing several samples taken from the warehouse, all the US dollars inside were found to be legal currency, not counterfeit. However, the amount of money is particularly large, and its origin remains a mystery. According to police speculation, the funds may be the illegal gains of some criminal group, using the warehouse as a cover."

"This also means that the criminal group will be unable to complete the money laundering process for a considerable period, proving the efficiency and reliability of the Gotham Police Department, as well as its deterrent effect on illegal forces, Commissioner Gordon said."

Listening to the news broadcast on TV, Ma Zhaodi's originally loud voice suddenly became smaller, until it disappeared completely.

Real. Real money? Twenty million?

"Fxxk!"

Just as he was trying to figure out the meaning of the news, Santos next to him slammed his fist hard on the table.

"These damn bastards are going too far! If it weren't for that bank manager, the Family's company would have long ago..."

"Santos."

A voice stopped Santos's hysteria. The manager walked slowly into the restaurant and turned off the TV.

"Don't be so ungraceful. We still have guests to receive today. Don't let this kind of thing affect your work."

Santos gritted his teeth and nodded fiercely.

"What's the rush? Everyone knows that no one can move the Godfather's money casually. Anyone who dares to challenge Falcone's authority will eventually pay the price."

"Mr. Ma Zhaodi, today's matter was just a casual chat. I believe you're not the type to gossip, right?"

"Ahahaha, of course, haha, of course."

Ma Zhaodi stiffly dealt with the manager, the smile on his face uglier than crying. Everyone thought he was nervous because he had heard some Family news.

But in reality, no one could understand his nervousness.

"Twenty million? Real money? Falcone's?"

These three words were heavier than the last, and when combined, they brought Ma Zhaodi infinite surprise.

If his previous level of nervousness was equivalent to facing a backpack full of blank homework on the last day of summer vacation, then his current level of nervousness was equivalent to the teacher suddenly announcing that school would start a day early.

"System! You're scheming against me!"

"Ma Zhaodi, are you okay?"

The manager suddenly patted him on the shoulder. "Are you sick? Do you need to take a day off?"

"Oh, no, no."

Ma Zhaodi forced a smile and sent the manager away, then carefully flipped through the newspaper, hoping that the Gotham News reporter had misspoke, or that he had misheard the news.

Finally, after repeatedly confirming, he finally revealed a relieved smile and put down the newspaper in his hand.

The hanging heart finally died.

Peaceful.jpg

Damn it, according to the timeline, the cooperation between the Falcone company and the bank had been dragging on for more than half a year. During this time, the Falcone family's money laundering plan had been stuck at this last step. In other words, all twenty million US dollars were the Falcone family's current black money, and through the Falcone company, this money was about to be laundered.

Not only that, the Falcone family likely also cooperated with gangs from other regions. According to the Falcone company's business scope, it might be families in New York, Metropolis, and Chicago.

At this critical juncture, Ma Zhaodi, who burned this money, was not cracking down on crime, but slapping Falcone in the face.

Good, good, good. When Falcone finds out that a nobody named Ma Zhaodi left a mark at the scene of his nephew's death, and then discovers that this guy burned the Family's twenty million US dollars, the residents of Gotham City can watch a fireworks show in the East End—the kind that blows people and houses into the sky.

Damn it, he couldn't expose himself even if he died, because if he was exposed, he would really die.

"I want that little bastard dead! I want that secretive rat, that pretentious murderer! And that lawless arsonist dead! I want to cut off their heads and hang them on top of Gotham Tower, throw their bodies on the street, and show everyone in Gotham City the consequences of provoking the Falcone family!"

In a penthouse apartment in Gotham City, the Black Gang Godfather Falcone, with three scars on his face, was raging. Undoubtedly, this was not an emotion he often had as a Black Gang Godfather. Rather, as a big shot with excellent self-restraint and etiquette, he had rarely been this angry. Ordinary people were not worthy of making him so furious.

Until today, when his informants all over the city carefully collected all the clues about that night at the warehouse, and finally found nothing, he unleashed this thunderous rage, because it meant he would not be able to find an object for revenge.

Encountering this kind of thing, but having nowhere to vent his anger, was a taste he had not experienced in a long time. Only when facing masked vigilantes like Batman in the past would he be so aggrieved.

Because he could neither find the other party nor the other party's family.