Arkham District, air-raid shelter.
Miao Mu held a bottle of mineral water and gulped it down. The elevator beside him opened, and Constantine walked in, looking somewhat dejected.
"You look like someone screwed you and didn't even pay," Miao Mu mocked venomously.
But Constantine did not retort this time. He merely sat down on the sofa beside him and lay back.
Miao Mu turned to look at him. "No, what's wrong with you?"
"I was just thinking... what to have for dinner tonight."
Constantine turned over, presenting his ass to Miao Mu. He did not like sharing what he was thinking with others.
Some words became lies the moment they were spoken, just like the diary he had written. If what was written in it were true—
He would definitely be the most righteous exorcist in the world, practically a saint. Even God would have to give up His seat for him.
"I didn't call you here so you could sleep. Come help take a look at this rat. There's nothing wrong with his soul state, right?"
Constantine reluctantly got to his feet.
He walked over to the treatment bed and glanced at the person whose body had gradually begun transforming, then used a little magic.
"His soul is fine, but he's very weak. He'll probably die soon. Are you going to treat him?"
With both hands in his trench coat pockets, Constantine rubbed that bullet, his mood growing even more stifled.
"That's why I called you here. Do you have some kind of magic that can restore a person's body, or use someone else's life force to restore another person's life?"
Constantine turned to Miao Mu. "If I had that kind of ability, would I be this miserable?"
Miao Mu turned his head and said without mercy, "Your miserable