Chapter 20

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Crash! Accompanied by the shattering of glass, a slender figure fell to the ground.

Big, lifeless eyes stared at Gotham's night sky, and a single tear rolled down her delicate face. After a while, her chest stopped rising and falling.

Meow! The piercing cry of a cat echoed continuously. A black cat emerged from the dark alley, approaching the woman's lifeless body and quietly staring at her.

More cat cries filled the empty street as one by one, cats appeared from the shadows, gathering around the woman, creating an eerie atmosphere.

The persistent meows caught John's attention as he passed the street corner. He paused, looking curiously at the peculiar group of cats.

Whether it was his gaze or the cats losing interest, they scattered, disappearing into the dark corners.

John sighed as he looked at the motionless figure on the ground. In his previous life, he would have called the police immediately upon seeing such a scene. But now, he was used to encountering bodies while walking down the street.

Pushing a cart loaded with empty beer bottles destined for the recycling plant, John continued into the dark alley.

Clang! Clang! The clinking of glass bottles echoed as John walked deeper into the alley.

"Ah!"

Patricia's vacant eyes widened, her pupils constricted, and her chest heaved violently. She clutched her head in pain, confused by her sudden return to life.

At the other end of the street, a man with lip and ear piercings, dressed in a leather jacket, emerged from an alley. He was followed by two similarly dressed men, their arms around each other, loudly bantering.

One of them noticed Patricia struggling to get up. With a knowing glance, the three men ran over to her.

Seeing Patricia's futile attempts to stand, they exchanged lecherous glances.

"Hey, pretty lady, need a hand?"

"No!" Patricia's face darkened. She was confused about why she hadn't died but felt vulnerable in her current state.

The man with the lip piercing ignored her refusal and reached out to touch her shoulder, grinning lewdly at the soft feel of her skin.

"Let go of me!"

Patricia, pale and gritting her teeth, swatted his hand away, but a wave of weakness quickly enveloped her.

"Oh, come on, let us help you," the man sneered, his yellow teeth showing as he ogled her delicate face.

"Brothers, let's help this lady out. She can stay with us tonight!"

"Haha, Hamm's got the right idea!"

The three men laughed, reaching out to grab Patricia. In resignation, she closed her eyes, not expecting to survive only to face such a fate.

Her heart pounded as she waited for their touch, but it never came. Cautiously opening her eyes, Patricia froze at the sight before her.

A man in a black trench coat and wide-brimmed hat stood with his back to her, holding two of the thugs, each standing over six feet tall, in the air with one hand.

The third thug lay on the ground, his eyes wide open and bleeding from every orifice, his body twitching. Patricia's keen eyes noticed a handprint-sized depression in his chest, suggesting his ribs had been crushed with a single blow.

Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of the scene. She realized she was staring at something beyond her comprehension.

"Help!"

The two men struggled and shouted in pain, their cries echoing in the silent street. John's deep eyes calmly observed them.

"You're unlucky. I was about to leave, but your joyous laughter carried to the next street. I thought I'd join the fun."

"Fuck!" One of the men, tears and snot mixing on his face, cursed hoarsely.

With a casual kick, John sent the man flying like a cannonball into the wall.

Bang! The impact scattered debris, and the man fell silent.

John covered his nose, frowning at the other man, whose face was red with fear and whose crotch was damp with urine. The smell assaulted John's heightened senses.

With another kick, John sent the man flying. He waved his hand to disperse the smell before turning to Patricia.

"Oh, miss, I think you misunderstood!"

Patricia had sat up and was holding a knife, pointing it at John.

"Why did you kill them?"

"Kill? I hate seeing men bully women. From their behavior, this wasn't their first time."

John shrugged, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Thank you!"

Patricia eyed the masked man warily. She couldn't blame her caution, given the shocking events she had just witnessed.

A single punch or kick that took a life was beyond normal.

The next moment, another extraordinary thing happened. John moved like a blur, appearing before Patricia in an instant. Reflexively, she punched at him, but he caught her fist effortlessly.

"Miss, repaying kindness with hostility isn't good."

He disarmed her, returning the knife to its sheath at her waist.

Lifting her onto his shoulder, he walked calmly down the empty street.

"Where do you live?"

"What? Aren't you taking me to your place?"

"You're pretty, but I'm not desperate."

"You!"

...

In an old residential building, John examined the dilapidated structure, feeling a pang of sympathy.

Following Patricia's directions, he found her apartment and gently placed her on the worn sofa, covering her with a blanket before turning to leave.

"Wait!"

Ignoring her call, John walked out and closed the door.

His figure vanished into the dark hallway.

(End of Chapter)