The bartender kept shaking his cocktail shaker. Patrons came and went, and after sitting there from noon until night, Chen Feng had finally run out of patience.
This was far too inefficient.
Chen Feng wanted hidden masters, not some bioengineered crocodile man, birdman, or hedgehog guy—weakling villains whose names alone screamed roadside cannon fodder.
Without street cred, you just couldn't get anywhere.
Chen Feng believed that if Heavy Cannon were recruiting here, he would soon draw a whole crowd of fanboys.
Worse still, without a reputation, he couldn't get any big jobs from a fixer.
Chen Feng tapped the table with his index finger and told himself, Chen Feng, think. You've watched all those movies and anime and read all those novels. How did those badass villains recruit their teammates?
In the TV series Gotham, the Joker had found his teammates in Arkham Asylum. The asylum was packed with supervillains Batman had sent there. In plain terms, it was a prison.
A prison. That's it!
An idea suddenly came to Chen Feng. "Melissa, you've hacked the Public Security Bureau's files, so you should have their criminal records, right? Check whether anyone here has never killed somebody."
"No," Melissa said. "Didn't I tell you? There isn't a single good person in City World."
Then I can rest easy.
Chen Feng stood up, walked over to the bar's singer, and snatched his microphone. He cleared his throat. "Everyone, eyes on me. Look at me. Look at me."
The entire bar fell silent.
Chen Feng was about to speak when the door was suddenly kicked open. A man wreathed in flames strode in with a gang of bare-armed henchmen sporting flame tattoos.
It was Flame Maniac, whom he had turned down earlier that day.
Flame Maniac waved a hand, and all his henchmen