Chapter 2293: Jin Cheng's Late Autumn Evening (46)_1

Batman connected to the cosmos's network and searched for information about Barbados, but he knew that the information that could be found online was just the tip of the iceberg. If he wanted to delve deeper, he had only to consult with professionals.

He took note of what Constantine had said about the Oxford University researcher; he hadn't actually heard about Oxford University having a specialty in the study of the arcane.

The mysterious ritual site that appeared underground greatly heightened Batman's vigilance. No matter who those deities on the pillars were, the fact that they had revealed traces in the cosmos meant that the time for them to act wasn't far away.

Plans began to take shape in Batman's mind.

After the dark energy within All Things Green was expelled, he gradually calmed down, then nearly scared himself to death with his own recklessness and haste. How could he have forgotten he was in Gotham, the most notoriously bizarre place among all realms and elements?

In fact, Pamela had investigated the city when looking for plants that could survive in Gotham and stumbled upon All Things Green. But it had discovered that the city indeed rejected all intrusion by green elements. It wasn't that someone had created a barrier around the city, but rather it seemed as though it was already fully occupied by something else.

Reflecting on this, it was likely that this eerie city was precisely the stronghold of that damned Giant Dragon in the cosmos—Barbados, I've finally caught up with you.

Realizing this, All Things Green no longer lingered; after all, just arriving in this place had led to a series of infuriating events. Encountering a gathering of dark powers beneath the earth was too coincidental; it was clearly a trap prepared for him by Barbados. Even a fool would know not to stay here any longer.

All Things Green turned to leave, but as the saying goes, with the atmosphere already set up like this, could it truly be that easy to just walk away?

When Shiller gave Nick a look, everyone knew their good doctor had returned. When Nick gave Strange a signal, everyone understood that today's events probably wouldn't end well. And when they realized the supposed-to-be-present Loki was absent, they knew this was likely just the beginning.

Sure enough, there was a thunderous noise in the sky, and thunder shone brilliantly. Above Gotham North District, a startling thunderclap was followed by a bright tear in space lighting up, a hammer falling like a meteor, and closely following it was a robust silhouette.

"Loki, you damn trickster!!!"

The roar echoed in the North District Manor's skies. After Mjölnir fell, its might undiminished, it flashed with electrical light, sending countless dazzling electric light streams shooting out from its falling point, almost instantly scorching the manor area into a wasteland.

The enraged Thor was not to be outdone. Wielding his hammer like a madman, the structures of man crumbled under his might like paper. With a few flashes of lightning, the magnificent estate was snuffed out in an instant.

The mob bosses, who had been on the ground watching the excitement, were stunned. I heard someone's house was on fire, and when I went to look, it was my house, my house!

Standing alone at the second-floor corridor window, Alberto looked towards the distant lightning and fire with a cold expression. He embraced his wife next to him and kissed her forehead lightly.

"Is everything all right?"

"As long as you're here, nothing will happen."

Then he looked out the window again and said, "This farce that's lasted fifty years should end. We will ultimately sink to the bottom of history's river and drown in silence."

Previously, the great lord Vandal Savage had indulged in rampant spending in Gotham. This not only resulted in a substantial inflow of funds into Wayne Enterprises but, most importantly, caused the entry of Savage's antiques into the art market.

That was actually the time when the mobs made the most money. They hadn't completely legitimized yet, and the logistics industry had just started developing. Using every trick from the underworld and the legitimate world, money rained down as if from the heavens.

Unfortunately, people can never earn beyond what they understand. A mob is a mob, and even with a modern twist, it can only be said that the wisdom of the Twelve Families is shared, while the old godfather alone is worth eight parts. Without a vision for the future, matchless wisdom, faith, or a path, how could one not be enchanted by the sudden manna from heaven?

Money that comes too easily is also spent without care. Mob bosses made waves in the art and luxury goods market, snatching up seemingly precious and boast-worthy treasures at crazy prices, never contemplating that antiques thrive in prosperity but are as good as gold in times of chaos. Once their golden age passed, these historical relics, however historically valuable, proved extremely fragile.

Converting a large amount of liquid capital into antiques meant that they were almost unable to reinvest in production. The more furiously they spent, the sooner they were eliminated. It could be said that the mobs left today were the smarter ones.

The second round of sifting was whitewashing. In fact, some mob bosses had already realized at the start of the music festival that the methods of the underworld were gradually becoming less effective and even a hindrance.

After society had initially restored some semblance of order, certain criminal acts could bring about greater troubles. Take a step back, they were eagerly scoping out new locations for a small goods processing plant when a subordinate called in to report a severe fire on a certain street. Not only had forty or fifty thugs died, but over a hundred workers were also affected. Whose blood pressure wouldn't rise?

Small commodities with a Gotham cultural attribute were like money printing machines when they went on sale before the music festival. Having a factory was like having an additional money printer, and when a factory was affected, it could mean losing hundreds of thousands of US Dollars in revenue per day.

However, the mob has always relied on violence and power for survival; you can't just say you won't fight when challenged. If you're still part of the mob, you can't seek justice from the law, you have to fight back.

But fighting back wastes manpower and resources, and it affects production input. James Gordon won't pamper your problems; if you cause too much trouble and involve too many people, he'll find a fire safety excuse to shut down your factory. And if you think about getting justice from the police station with violence, then you really have nothing else to do.

So, a very small and shrewd fraction of the mob bosses, though outwardly maintaining their status as heads of the Twelve Families with Falcone at the helm, had actually been investing the money earned into legitimate industries. By the time the music festival started, they had already laundered a considerable amount of liquid cash.

In comparison, the less clear-headed mob bosses fell into a vicious cycle. If others were feasting on meat, they couldn't just settle for soup; naturally, they had to set up factories.

But having been brazen and arrogant in the past, they didn't know how to avoid direct confrontation. The land and money for the factories were taken by force. While the construction went well, once completed, their enemies would come seeking revenge, burning everything including the people inside, leaving them helpless.

The more incapable they were, the more covetous they became of the functioning factories. The more it seemed that others were making money, the more they sought ways to rob others, but the more they did so, the more enemies they attracted and the louder the chaos became.

Gotham had changed from its past days. With social order established, the fruits of economic development could trickle down further, offering average citizens more legitimate job opportunities.

If one could sell cold noodles at the train station, why risk one's neck in the mob's violent conflicts? Selling a serving of cold noodles for five US Dollars and even getting a thank you from tourists sure beats dying in the mob's melee and possibly not even getting that much in condolence money.

Most ordinary people possess a natural intelligence to seek benefits and avoid harm while living in the marketplace. At their core, it's better to cling to life than to choose a good death. Unless it's absolutely necessary, no one wants to risk their life.

This led to a significant number of young people who should've joined the gang system and rejuvenated the mob's ranks at this time, instead choosing other careers. Whether through connections or finding their own way, isn't it better to set up a shop on the street than to join the mob and handle a gun?

To outsiders, mob members might seem cooler than street vendors, but Gotham locals had demystified the mob eons ago, recognizing just how cruel and dark that survival system is. Consequently, once they saw even a glimpse of hope to leave, they utilized all their tricks to escape—whether it was by walking or running.

This resulted in the orthodox mob struggling to recruit new people. But an even more serious problem was that the individual's asking price was increasing.

As everyone around chose to live within the social order and could earn a decent income, those who considered risking their lives naturally began to weigh the value of their existence.

If gambling with my life doesn't earn more than a regular nine-to-five job, why wouldn't I just sell cold noodles instead?

Thus, their asking prices seemed outrageous to the mob bosses, resembling less of a weekly or monthly paycheck and more of a mercenary's lump sum payment.

With the mob bosses busy with other matters, fewer willing to join the mob and the higher prices demanded, selection had to be more cautious. But nobody else in the mob would take on this task, leading to the emergence of many headhunting organizations, middlemen, and brokers who made a profit on both sides, blatantly exploiting these rich brutes.

As human resources in Gotham turned into a complete buyer's market, the not-so-bright mob bosses found their money evaporating even faster, especially since their lack of ability to manage finances was already draining them just dealing with enemies.

By the eve of the music festival, their liquid assets were nearly depleted, and they were economically on the brink.

Yet they still had one last hope. While Savage had not made much progress in Gotham, he was a genuine Long-life. The antiques in his possession were authentic.

In this era before the capitalist bubble collapse, with the global economy stable, antiques still had a market. If they could offload those antiques acquired from auctions at low prices, they could quickly recover a large sum of capital.

Unfortunately, fate was not on their side. Odin's emissary brought divine retribution. Thunder God Thor, having broken free from the spatial rift, descended exactly on the central hub of the Twelve Families' stronghold through a special passage.

What's more coincidental was thunder, a force that could completely ignore physical resistance if powerful enough. In his fury, Thor unleashed havoc at the heart of all the manors and underground storerooms. To say that the items inside remained intact would only mean their presence lingered on.