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After a moment of silence, Falcone suddenly burst out laughing. He laughed heartily, full of high spirits and boldness.

"Unbelievable. Someone like her has appeared in this world. If she'd been around in our day, I'm sure Maroni would have paid to have her kill me."

Sofia pinched the white cat's ears, shaping it into a rabbit, and corrected him with little interest:

"Uncle Maroni couldn't afford that much. Deathstroke is a mercenary; she puts a clear price on her targets, usually 30% of their entire fortune. I looked up her price for Bliss Wayne as she is now. Not counting her identity as Batwoman, just Bliss on the surface—guess how much it is?"

"How much?"

Falcone was interested too. He lifted his wineglass, took a sip, and curiously asked his daughter.

Back in their day, they often dealt with assassins too. The cheapest option was finding some random street thug, which only cost a few hundred dollars.

He could no longer remember how many times he had hired people to take care of problems in his youth. It was probably only after the family had grown powerful and acquired its own enforcers that he stopped needing outsiders.

He wanted to know the recent price trends, since he had not bothered with such "trivial matters" for a long time.

"Bliss holds an 80% controlling stake in Wayne Enterprises. Adding all her real estate and investments, along with inflation over the years, her fortune is roughly 80 billion dollars. So Deathstroke's price for her is 24 billion dollars. If someone offered that amount, she would kill Bliss."

Sofia counted it out on her fingers for him. The result was an astronomical figure.

"Pfft, cough, cough." Falcone choked at that method of calculating a fee. He coughed several times, wiped the wine from his mouth, and said, "She really dares to ask for it."

It seemed Deathstroke was both capable and willful. It was as if everyone's life were a plainly priced commodity, sitting in Deathstroke's supermarket waiting for the wealthy to buy it. No money? Then why hire the world's number one mercenary? Go find some street punk instead!

"So by that calculation, even if Deathstroke had existed back then, you would have been safe, Father. Although our family had no actual industry, the annual protection money could still serve as a basis for calculation. Your price would have been over 100 million, while Uncle Maroni's would probably only have been 40 million. He should have been the one worrying every day."

Only then did Sofia state her conclusion. Falcone did not know what expression to make. He somehow felt poor, and Bliss was far too good at making money, wasn't she?

"How did Bliss do it? Even the Wayne family and Kane Family combined couldn't possibly be this wealthy." Falcone asked her. Even after all his years in Asia's underworld, he had never made that much money, much less Wayne Enterprises, which did legitimate business.

Sofia shrugged. "She caught the information age, Father."

"But can Deathstroke really get work with prices like that?" Falcone was doubtful. He set down his glass, feeling that he truly had grown old and could no longer accept modern prices...

"Yes, business is very good. Celebrities like Bliss aren't everywhere, after all. Ordinary people seeking revenge are the most common customers. Just like she said on television earlier: basic service, 2 million dollars."

Sofia sat up straight, glanced at Gordon, who was completely immersed in his memories, and continued explaining to her father:

"Say you're a small business owner, but your competitors keep causing you trouble. At that point, all you have to do is contact Deathstroke. Two million dollars, and the other party vanishes from the face of the earth that very night. When you wake up the next day, you'll have a larger market and may even swallow up your rival's business. You'll think the money was exceptionally well spent, and there will be absolutely no clues linking it back to you."

"That's all? Her highest pricing model is astronomical, yet her lowest price lets ordinary people hire her too?" Falcone felt that her pricing standards were vague.

"Yes. Deathstroke doesn't care who you want killed or why you want them killed. She's only doing business. Of course, the wealthier and more famous the target, the higher the price rises," Sofia explained.

Falcone pondered for a moment, then raised his wineglass again. "But Barbara is not in that category. Deathstroke's target was Gordon. Why kill Barbara? No one paid for it."

Sofia did not know the answer either. She could only speculate.

"I heard Deathstroke is a very emotional person. When she's happy, she can kill someone for you without taking a cent. But when she's unhappy, she kills anyone she sees. Barbara was probably just unlucky."

"A lunatic. Another lunatic." Falcone shook his head, growing increasingly impatient with this city. He could not wait to see the new Gotham. "In that case, let Deathstroke be buried with Old Gotham as well. No matter how strong she is, she can't survive a Venom storm. Consider it some comfort for Gordon."

"Yes, Father. But our other guests have not arrived yet. They may have been delayed by the storm." Sofia became serious as well, putting down the cat and letting it move aside.

"The League of Assassins delayed by heavy rain? Is that one of you young people's jokes? They are never late, especially when seeking revenge."

Falcone immediately rejected her idea, making it clear that he knew them very well:

"Have our surveillance equipment run at full capacity. Watch every shadow entering and leaving the city. The moment they step into Gotham, we'll launch the Venom into the clouds and ensure they can never leave again."

Sofia nodded. Her long black hair rippled slightly, tinted red in the firelight. But she soon asked, "But will Ra's al Ghul and Talia both come?"

Falcone resumed his calm expression, placed both hands on his knees, and sat upright.

"They will. Once they learn that I am their opponent, they will definitely come, because they know their assassins cannot handle me. You're sure Gordon left them clues, right?"

Sofia smiled and nodded. She poured herself tea from the teapot on the table, her movements seeming specially practiced and exceptionally elegant.

"Yes. Commissioner Gordon thought I wouldn't notice him secretly carving words onto his glasses, but a martial artist at my level could see his little movements clearly. I even made sure the license plate number he left behind was correct before I felt at ease bringing him back."

"Very good. Once the League of Assassins discovers that I killed their people and finds the clue Gordon left behind, they will surely enter the city to prepare very soon. When that happens, we only need to let Ra's al Ghul and Talia survive."

Falcone praised her. He felt his daughter was far more capable than his son. As for Albert, that boy should just focus on studying and going to school.

"Why leave that father and daughter alive? Father, have you gone soft?" Sofia asked.

"No. Leaving aside the fact that Ra's al Ghul and Talia have both soaked in the Lazarus Pit and are extremely difficult to kill, New Gotham needs enemies as well."

"Otherwise, you, Gordon, and Bliss will be a scattered mess. You need a reason to unite. A crazed Demon's Head is the perfect opponent for New Gotham."

Falcone answered with a smile. He knew New Gotham had to unite, and only external pressure could bring the three of them together.

When the Demon's Head, Ra's al Ghul, had lost all his subordinates and gone mad, wandering outside Gotham, Gordon and Batman would become more reliant on the power in the darkness—more reliant on Sofia.

Sofia looked at Gordon. He seemed much more lucid now, or at least he looked alive again. Her voice lowered slightly. "But Father, are you really sure Commissioner Gordon will cooperate with me?"

"I had doubts before, but now..."

Falcone lifted his wineglass and took a light sip, his eyes resting on the dazed Gordon.