"I found the man, but I won't tell you who he is. I can only tell you that there were indeed no items or clues related to the Holiday Killer in his room. After he arrived in Gotham, he acquired five guns in total. None of them was a .22 caliber clipper—not even a single .22-caliber firearm."
"And the most important point is that his skill with firearms is terrible. Absolutely terrible. There's no way he could have rapidly shot five gang members to death within a few seconds."
That was true. Ma Zhaodi had spent less than half a month practicing with guns in total. There was no trace of firearms training on him, and he had only one recorded shootout. His sole achievement had been taking down a chandelier, which had misled everyone's judgment.
Harvey looked at the figure in the darkness. He actually wanted very much to know that man's identity, but Batman's refusal to say meant that he had his reasons.
"He matches Harvey's account. Gordon, we should trust our old friend."
Gordon frowned and thought it over before finally nodding slowly.
"All right. At least Harvey donated the money—but you'll probably run into trouble over this later."
"Interrogations, investigations?" Harvey shrugged. "Whatever. I can handle that. What about you? I heard there's a porridge stand in the slums now?"
"More than that. The Gotham Police Department has been running around dealing with this for the past few days."
"I heard the porridge there is good. What's it called?"
"Laba Congee. It's a holiday food from Dongda."
Batman chimed in casually. After returning, he had specifically looked up information about it.
"Tastes all right."
"?"
Gordon and Harvey immediately widened their eyes and stared at Batman in the shadows.
What the hell? Were you really Batman?