The Rain Kept Falling, and the Mood Wasn't Exactly Harmonious

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A moonless, windy night was perfect for murder. The people of Gotham surely treated that saying as gospel.

It was Lynn's first time observing Gotham from such a peculiar angle in the sky, feeling the freezing wind scrape against his bones like blades.

Lynn certainly did not have the ability to fly. Not for the time being, anyway.

But he had a cloud.

Clearly, the Nimbus Cloud had a mind of its own—or rather, an extremely subjective and rigid set of judgments.

Anyone who was not kind-hearted could not ride the Nimbus Cloud to buy groceries. It would actually make a pretty good law-level personality assessment device.

But that was obviously not the problem Lynn needed to solve right now.

Schrodinger could ride the Nimbus Cloud. Lynn had tried putting the kitten on it, then hanging a swing from the cat and sitting on it himself.

It worked quite well, except the kitten's physical condition clearly could not sustain such a grueling long-term assignment.

For the sake of the kitten's physical development, Lynn painfully gave up on that stroke of genius.

But once the doors of imagination had been thrown open, they only got wider and wider.

Lynn quickly found another path and came up with his second stroke of genius.

It was actually quite simple. He bought a giant balloon and stuffed the Nimbus Cloud inside it.

So now, Lynn was traveling while sitting atop a giant balloon flying through the sky.

Some people flew with superpowers, some with wings, and some with technological machinery... But whether they used hammers to yank themselves around or whips to drag clouds along, none of their methods of travel were as stylish and distinctive as Lynn's.

Including Aladdin, Lynn respected no one.

"Ah... aside from being a little cold, this is the perfect means of transportation.

Left... that's it, slower..."

No fuel, no charging, fully voice-controlled, automatic obstacle avoidance, and zero learning curve. If this thing could become widespread, driving schools would be the first businesses to go bankrupt.

"Ah, so this is Lord Falcone's old residence. The security really is tight."

Lynn knew where Falcone's residence was. Every Gothamite did. But when Falcone would actually appear there was another matter entirely.

"Next, I just need to wait quietly."

Wrapping the thick quilt around himself more tightly, Lynn closed his eyes, rose a little higher, and waited for the right moment to come.

Thorn Vine Man had disappeared.

That was a piece of news spreading secretly through Gotham's underworld.

For two whole days, the various big shots had sent nearly all their people to search for that guy in secret.

Unfortunately, everyone came up empty-handed.

Some rumors claimed he had died during Falcone's manhunt. Others said Batman had taken him out. The most bizarre rumor said that some big shot had secretly saved the gravely wounded Thorn Vine Man and was merely waiting for him to recover before reshuffling all of Gotham.

The phrase "every rustle of wind and swaying blade of grass put them on edge" probably described Gotham's underworld powers at this moment. Yet just then, Gotham's strongest man, Lord Falcone, had chosen to vanish along with him.

He showed his face to no one, sent no messages, and did not even bother responding to hostile forces appearing on his turf.

Most importantly, everyone discovered that the Batman had also strangely disappeared.

Could it be... they had not merely injured each other?

Things seemed to be getting increasingly complicated.

Even among the big shots who ruled the underworld through violence, their ways of doing things differed greatly.

Some rose through schemes and political maneuvering, while others made their names purely with fists and blades.

During this special period, the big shots all had different ideas as well.

Some chose to endure, enduring to an extraordinary degree. Not only did they refrain from expanding their territory, they even withdrew from Gotham entirely and handed their turf over to others.

Of course, some were willing to snatch chestnuts from the fire and gamble for wealth amid danger.

Undercurrents surged through Gotham's underworld. The dissatisfaction and covetousness Lord Falcone had inspired for years gradually erupted. Fights over territory were no longer confined to minor conflicts. Everyone slowly stopped hiding themselves, and even in broad daylight, muzzle flashes lit up the streets while guns and cannons roared.

Gotham's citizens said they had long since gotten used to it. Apart from some parents keeping their younger children confined indoors and forbidding them from going out, nothing else really changed.

When gunfire broke out nearby, people skillfully retreated, hit the ground, or packed up their stalls. If it was farther away, they could not even be bothered to lift their heads and look.

Gotham's toughness had always come from its people, never the city itself.

Lynn had already been in the sky for four days.

He had never imagined that one impulsive little maneuver of his would trigger such an interesting chain reaction.

Watching those people kill one another, Lynn's heart twisted like a knife.

Those were lives, each and every one of them!

Those were Soul Fragments, lottery draws, equipment, and skills...

He was definitely tempted. More than once, Lynn had nearly been unable to resist diving down to do some "mediating."

Stop! Stop fighting! You'd be better off letting me kill you all—it'd be faster that way.

Still, one should see things through from beginning to end.

Since he had come here to deal with Falcone in the first place, and that old fox was still hiding without showing himself, acting now would definitely ruin everything he had worked for.

He had been freezing in the sky for over a hundred damn hours. He could not let it be for nothing!

Besides, Gotham's poison ran deep into its bones. Evil thoughts kept breeding, and there was no end to the killing. No rush, no rush...

That was how Lynn persuaded himself.

Lynn's wait had not been in vain. Relying on this Patience Formula, he finally saw Falcone appear on the fifth day of holding his post in the sky.

The old man apparently really could not hold out any longer.

Losing territory and subordinates could not shake his resolve, but people were gradually losing their respect and fear for him. That was what would truly destroy Falcone's rule over Gotham's underworld.

If he kept playing dead, it would become truly difficult to reverse the judgment in people's hearts. By then, even if Falcone appeared alive, he would be no different from a dead man.

So Falcone appeared. He brazenly rode in his own car from one side of Gotham to the other, maintaining an unhurried pace as he slowly drove through the gates of the Falcone estate, which had remained shut for five days.

Gotham, your emperor had returned.

"Langzo, what are you looking at?"

One of the guards at the Falcone estate watched his companion lick his finger and stare up at the sky. He said sternly, "Pay attention. That guy could come at any moment. You should be watching the ground, the front, the back, and both sides—not the sky. Are you looking at the stars? Damn it!"

"No, Bob."

Langzo frowned, ran his finger across his cheek, then stuck it into his mouth.

"Bob, is it raining? Don't you feel it?"

"Has your brain gone bad? There are so many stars in the sky. Where would rain come from?"

"But I really... this rain... water?... It must have fallen from above...

Eh?

This rain..."

Langzo dry-heaved.

Why did this rain smell like piss?!