The Upside-Down Man had been eliminated. Although it had happened in the gaps between universes, it was closely tied to every sorcerer. They could feel the shackles on them loosening, as though the price they owed had vanished at the same time.
Magic was free once more. It surged like a great river, and anyone could draw water from it, so long as they brought their own container.
The containers were the sorcerers themselves. They did not yet know whether there would be another administrator, but for now, they could relax. After all, free of debt, the body felt light.
So perhaps they were celebrating somewhere Deathstroke could not see.
Naturally, Su Ming could not allow that state of affairs to continue for long. He had a backup plan; he was merely letting them be happy for a little while. For now, he had business to handle—finding a reliable sorcerer.
It could not be someone young, or their accumulation of knowledge would be insufficient.
Preferably, it would be a user of Hell magic, because Albera was one too. Their magical specialties needed to match.
At the same time, they needed to know that Deathstroke could not be deceived, and fear the consequences of lying.
With those conditions laid out, only a handful of candidates remained. With the mindset of squeezing urine out of Toad if necessary, Su Ming brought Harley and Little Superman to Limbo.
"This broken house still looks the same." Standing before the battered doors of the House of Mystery, Su Ming sighed. "I'm making a deal with Constantine. Don't talk carelessly."
Little Superman floated indifferently behind Deathstroke. "But he's a scumbag."
"Still, a useful scumbag." Deathstroke raised a hand and knocked. Beneath the gray, silent sky, the sound carried far. "To me, Zha Kang is just a