Gotham, Miao Mu's home.
After a passable feast—the pot had burned, but Miao Mu still enjoyed it—he took a shower as well.
He sent Jason obediently back to bed.
Miao Mu also lay down on the soft bed. Other than the loneliness of sleeping alone, there was nothing wrong.
Sleeping in his own bed really felt nice.
The moment his head touched the pillow, he fell asleep peacefully...
One second, Miao Mu had closed his eyes. The next, he was in Hell, beneath a pale red sky and upon desert-like land.
The foul stench of sulfur and fire drifting through the air filled Miao Mu with an indescribable fury.
He just wanted to get a good night's sleep, then tomorrow...
Wait, who was that?
Two people ahead were arguing, the kind where spittle flew everywhere and their mouths moved so fast they nearly left afterimages.
"Impossible! This clause has already been avoided. My soul remains freely mine for thirty hours!"
"The markings here state that from the moment your soul fell into Hell, it already belonged to Hell!!!"
The First of the Fallen sounded angry.
Across from him, Constantine held a cigarette between his fingers and shoved it into his mouth, as if he wanted to finish it in a single drag.
The cigarette was burning down at a visible speed.
Constantine was fighting at that moment. A Hell Scroll lay spread out before them, shining brightly.
It was practically the ultimate version of a Hell Contract.
Even an accidentally fallen drop of ink on it constituted a contractual clause. Beneath marks no larger than a strand of hair were tiny, invisible lines of demonic text—the true intent of the contract.
Of course, Constantine had secretly altered it more than a dozen times. He would never entrust his life to