What followed was a long wait. They had arrived early, and many people on the list had yet to show up. Only the host and a handful of guests with faster means of travel were pacing around the boat, drinking, chatting, and laughing.
Only then did Su Ming see the underground lake in its entirety. To be honest, its surface was not very large—barely enough for a yacht around ten meters long to circle around inside. Beneath the sheer cliffs, the shore was littered with chaotic gravel beaches, and those black stones glimmered with an eerie sheen.
"What do you think he looks like?"
Lying prone on the flying carpet and hiding in the darkness, Bobo quietly asked Deathstroke beside him. His black-furred paw pointed at the Joker, who was currently raising a glass and drinking heartily on the yacht's aft deck.
The green-haired madman wore a classic purple suit and suspenders. He held a wineglass in one hand and a tiny glittering object that looked suspiciously like a spoon in the other, laughing uproariously as he chatted away with the others.
"You asked what he looks like rather than what he is, so you've already accepted that he's the Joker." Su Ming's gaze also dropped from the edge of his cloak as he answered Bobo's question. "If you ask me, he looks like an affected host from a children's program. Listen closely to the way he talks. It's as though everyone attending this party is a child in his eyes, and he's about to take them off to summer camp."
Deathstroke was right. Every sentence this Joker spoke rose at the end, and he liked talking to the "spoon doll" in his hand. That fit the format of certain old-fashioned children's shows.
Decades ago, there were barely any visual