Chapter 20: A New Day
When it comes to Americans, it's easy to think of the NBA. Almost every American household with a small yard has a basketball hoop, and Ang's villa is no exception. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor, he was determined to charge in for a layup, but he was unable to do so. He was tightly double-teamed, facing the most severe defense he'd ever encountered. What was outrageous was that the opponents blatantly ignored the "No-Hand-Check rule" and directly used their hands to push against his waist. Their brazenness left Ang quite frustrated. After all, it was a private basketball game without any referees. He could only shoulder the defense, gripping the ball with both hands, and repeatedly attempting the "Triple Threat" to break through the tight defense.
"I'm in! Now I'm out!" he thought as he executed a skilled lateral movement. Simultaneously, he had to employ the post-up technique he had practiced for over two and a half years, firmly holding off the defender harassing him from behind. After using his perfected probing steps for the 999th time, Ang finally broke through the defender in front of him, redirecting all his focus to the one behind him. This basketball game was grueling. An NBA game lasts 12 minutes per quarter, with four quarters, plus various substitutions and timeouts, totaling around 150 minutes. Overtime consists of 5-minute periods. This is the epitome of high-intensity sports. As a result, Ang couldn't finish off his opponent during regular time; it took one overtime to secure victory.
...
On a sunny morning, Sarah opened her drowsy eyes to the cheerful chirping of birds outside the window. She struggled to distinguish whether this was a dream or reality. What met her eyes wasn't her cramped, shabby apartment that consumed 30% of her monthly salary in the slums. There was no smell of nasty cigarette leaves from the neighboring apartment, nor the usual morning commotion. Everything was too good to be true, making her slightly incredulous. A familiar voice brought Sarah back. Emerging from the white covers across from her was the face of her older sister, Dana. "Good morning, Sarah," Dana greeted. Startled, Sarah took a moment before responding, "Morning, sis." Dana noticed Sarah's hesitation and asked, "Are you... okay?"
Her sister's question instantly triggered horrific memories, and Sarah recalled everything: the terrifying zombie woman who looked just like her, Ang swooping in to save the day, and... Sarah took a deep breath, mustering courage. "I'm not afraid anymore." Dana reached out her fair arm from the covers, interlocking her fingers with Sarah's extended hand. The two sisters simultaneously felt a jolt of pain, furrowing their brows in unison, sharing a bit of awkwardness. Just then, they noticed the TV in the room had been on all along. The host was reporting celebrity gossip: "Oh, what a pity! This time, the famous female journalist Christine Everhart, who was vying for a position beside New York's top billionaire Tony Stark, has once again been ousted from his residence after a friendly match. Miss Potts, Stark's housekeeper, took action."
"So, who will be the next contender for Mrs. Stark's position? Let's wait and see. The betting website for whether the next challenger will succeed is XXXX." Americans bet on everything. How long a playboy like Tony Stark's entourage would last was a popular wager among New Yorkers. When that amusement was directed at you, it wasn't so enjoyable. The faces of the Lance sisters stiffened. They dressed in silence, avoiding the fact that someone was once a VIP client in Gotham City's high-end nightclubs. Their hands clasped, they left the room. Who knew that as soon as they stepped outside, a row of twelve maids would greet them, all bowing and addressing them, "Good morning, Miss Lance."
"Good morning," the two replied with a slight stiffness. Was it time? Was it finally time? Are they chasing us away? Ang doesn't owe us sisters anything. We're even now. ...
The air was unusually quiet as the two sides faced each other in silence for several seconds. Finally, the eldest maid stepped forward and said, "Miss Sarah Lance, please give us instructions." "Instructions?" What instructions? Seeing Sarah's confusion, the head maid seemed to realize and reminded her, "According to Mr. Ang's orders, Miss Sarah Lance, you are now the housekeeper of this mansion. All of us servants need to follow your orders." "Ah!" Sarah's brain finally clicked into gear, remembering that Ang had indeed said that. Feeling embarrassed, she managed to respond quickly, "Nothing's changed, carry on as usual!" "Understood," the head maid acknowledged before the maids left.
In the modern-themed grand hall on the second floor, only the Lance sisters remained. They exchanged glances. "Sarah, it seems I'm your secretary now, and you're the housekeeper." "Yeah." The sisters were somewhat absent-minded, especially Sarah. It took her a while to accept her new role. Following the maid's guidance, they arrived at the underground training ground. After greeting Louis and the other bodyguards, they entered and immediately saw Ang practicing his sword techniques tirelessly. His focus was incredible, and each movement was executed with utmost precision. Hundreds of times, thousands of times, his movements remained flawless, akin to the actions of a robot.
After completing one thousand sword strikes, Ang finally noticed the sisters' presence. Facing each other again, both sisters turned crimson at the same time—an uncommon occurrence. Sarah dared not look at Ang's face; after all, she had just met him yesterday. While many American girls might be more open-minded, the Lance sisters leaned towards conservatism. Struggling for words, Sarah finally managed, "Did you sleep well last night?" "Not really. I didn't get enough sleep," Ang replied straightforwardly, leaving Sarah taken aback. Before she could respond, Ang flashed a charming smile. "But for the two of you, I'm willing to sacrifice some sleep." In the next moment, the sisters blushed. Unable to hold back, they scuttled away, running awkwardly.
After finishing his workout, Ang, content with the progress in his system's progress bar, dried himself off and headed to the dining room. While having breakfast, he perused that day's "Gotham Gazette." After reading the first four pages, Ang couldn't help but wonder, "What did I just read?" According to online sources, a mysterious woman in a bat costume wreaked havoc in a major arms smuggling operation in Falcone last night. Another woman, dressed in a strange black and white spider suit, overturned dozens of Joker's henchmen, preventing a massive destruction. There was also a Joker-themed woman who stole an oil tanker, rammed it into a train carrying hazardous materials near a chemical plant, causing an explosion visible thirty kilometers away.
Despite this, the mayor assured the citizens of Gotham not to worry, as the real threat was the villain "Mad Hatter." All these major events in one night, and what was in the newspaper? From concerns about why Bruce Wayne hadn't been dating recently, to the birth of two baby goats at Gotham Zoo, and then seemingly Ang's involvement with the former lead singer of the Black Mask Club. In short, the entire newspaper existed to make one point—nothing significant happened yesterday! How ironic!
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