Deathstroke's contract was a confidentiality pact. After helping decrypt Albera's letter, Zha Kang would be unable to tell anyone else what it contained, nor could he use the exclusive spells recorded within.
The Green served as the witness to this contract. If he breached it, then the next time Constantine lay down to sleep, his bed would come alive and use thorn-covered branches to burst the "flower" behind him.
There was no room for bargaining. In order to seek Deathstroke's help, Zha Kang signed the contract without hesitation. After all, when you had enough lice, one more bite did not matter; when you owed enough debts, one more was nothing to worry about.
"All right, tell me. Whose debts are you hiding from this time?" Su Ming sat on the soft old-fashioned sofa with one leg crossed over the other, swirling the wine in his glass. "Logically speaking, Maze, Izanami-no-Mikoto, and The First Fallen should all still be busy dealing with Heaven's offensive against Hell."
Watching Harley guzzle his treasured liquor like beer hurt Zha Kang more than signing an unequal treaty.
So he simply competed with Harley to see who could drink faster. As long as the alcohol went into his own stomach, it still reduced his losses.
As he drank madly, the liquid remaining in the bottle visibly dwindled. At the same time, he answered quickly, "Trigon is coming to make trouble for me. This time, he should be genuinely angry."
"Why? Because of Raven?" Su Ming raised one eyebrow, signaling Little Superman to stay alert with his eyes before questioning Zha Kang again. "But when it comes to his daughter, he usually makes a big show of raising his hand, then brings it down lightly."
"It's not just that." Constantine smiled and wiped the wetness from the