Chapter 32: Punishment

"...I just finished a big job. It's time to enjoy myself, no more jobs for now..."

"...Did I ever say I was done being a killer? Keep talking nonsense, and I'll blow you to the sky..."

"...Haha, of course, it was fun. Didn't you watch the news? That explosion the day before yesterday, wasn't it cool? My masterpiece. The amount of explosives was just perfect, enough to blow them to pieces..."

"...I know, I know. I'll let you know when I take on new work, but it'll be at least a month... what? Two weeks? A month is a month..."

The killer was on the move, and Liu A'dou, driving his white war vehicle, zipped through the streets at lightning speed, with no one even noticing what had passed.

The Eye of God continuously relayed the killer's location into Liu A'dou's earpiece. The killer had nowhere to hide.

The killer was feeling quite happy at this moment; this job was enough for him to retire. But he was both a gambler and a drug user, so he only planned to rest for a month before squandering the money and then getting back to his killer profession. He turned off the busy main road and took a small path, heading into the slums of Narrows Island.

Narrows Island was the most chaotic area in Gotham City, and it had no equal. It was an alluvial plain on the central river of Gotham City. The potato-shaped island sat in the middle of the river, connected to the city by two bridges on either side. A century ago, it had been a place of exile for criminals, but in modern times, it had become a place where immigrants and the descendants of criminals built their homes. Because of the mix of people, Narrows Island became one of the most dangerous places in Gotham. There were no gangs here, just ruthless criminals.

However, the Eye of God was omnipresent and informed Liu A'dou that the killer was right there.

The cape fluttered in the night wind, drowning out the sound of the Batcycle's engine. The white phantom thief raced through the night, heading straight for Narrows Island.

Ah—

A sharp scream and a laugh echoed, the steam mixed with mist turning the entire island into a palace of death, where countless monsters and beasts lurked. Gotham's forgotten land, in its own unique way, hid anyone who entered.

Without hesitation, Liu A'dou rushed into the white fog of Narrows Island, entering the den of crime that even Batman found troublesome.

He stepped cautiously along the waterlogged path. It hadn't rained recently, but the sewers on Narrows Island were often clogged with strange things—like bodies or half bodies—that caused the water to back up and spill onto the streets. The killer didn't mind dirtying his shoes, walking through the murky water, humming a blues tune, with a cheerful expression all over his face.

This job had been easy. The target was just a small-time journalist; one bomb and it was done. It was a lot simpler than taking out a mafia boss, a politician, or a wealthy person. No bodyguards, no need to break through any barricades to plant a bomb, and no need to research the journalist's schedule. All he had to do was sneak into the parking lot after hours, and it was mission accomplished.

The target disappeared and reappeared, and Liu A'dou swerved the vehicle, changing course and heading in the other direction. The white shadow on Narrows Island looked like a white goose in black ink—distinct and clear.

The residents of Narrows Island watched as the white blur sped past them on the old streets, like a ghost wandering in the mist. On Narrows Island, white didn't symbolize angels or purity; it was only associated with the spirits of the dead.

People were afraid and hurried into their houses, not daring to challenge the ghosts.

This worked to Liu A'dou's advantage. He moved freely, unimpeded, getting closer and closer to the killer. The white mist and the darkness provided perfect cover. Unbeknownst to the killer, Liu A'dou was already standing right behind him.

The killer, walking through an alley shortcut and almost home, didn't realize that a far superior hunter had already latched onto him.

"I told you, you'd pay the price!" Liu A'dou intentionally lowered his voice, mimicking the killer's tone, striking like a blow in the night. The killer jumped in shock.

The killer spun around, pulling out a revolver from under his jacket.

Bang—

The gun didn't go off, but Liu A'dou had already grabbed the killer's gun hand and slammed it into a nearby wall. The handgun slipped from the killer's grip and clattered to the ground.

The killer's wrist felt like it was broken. His already pale face drained further of color, and his eyes, already unfocused, grew even worse with fear. He couldn't even distinguish the figure of Kaitou Kid in the white mist. "Who are you?"

The killer didn't know who he was facing, nor what he was dealing with.

"Have you forgotten my voice?" Liu A'dou continued, lowering his tone.

The killer began to recall that the voice did indeed sound very familiar, and he had heard it just recently. But it took him a little longer to remember exactly where he had heard it before.

While the killer was still trying to recall, Liu A'dou made his move again. He twisted the killer's wrist, forcing him to bend forward, with only the hand being held high, the pose painfully awkward.

"I remember now. You were the third person in the car with the little journalist the day before yesterday. That voice... is it really my own voice?" The killer finally realized. Just before he triggered the bomb, it was that same voice saying he would pay the price. His face twisted in disbelief as he thought of something eerie: "Impossible, why would my own voice turn against me?"

The killer completely lost his composure. Liu A'dou continued to intimidate him. If he didn't scare the killer properly, it would be disrespectful to both himself and Iselin.

"It can't be my own voice! I'm right here. Who are you?" The killer took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He couldn't believe that there was another version of himself. Even if there was, he was certain that both he and the little journalists were blown to bits in the explosion. "Didn't you two journalists die too?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" Liu A'dou now mimicked Iselin's voice, then switched back to his own. "We're not dead. Don't give up until the end."

"Of course you didn't die. From the start, there was only one person, and your target never existed."

"Impossible... Impossible... how could there only be one person?" The killer's mind struggled to keep up. "No, you're all dead, you're ghosts! You're spirits, have you come back to claim my life?"

The killer's expression shifted to one of sheer terror, his mind on the verge of collapse.

What a superstitious killer! It wasn't just superstition, though. The killer had a guilty conscience. Every time he slept, he would dream of the people he killed coming to seek vengeance. These nightmares were what kept him awake at night, so he resorted to drugs to numb himself to sleep. That's why he looked so weak. Tonight, Liu A'dou's impressive vocal mimicry brought the killer's worst nightmares flooding back.

"No... no! You're all dead! Don't come after me!" The killer waved an arm in a panic, as if trying to dispel the vengeful spirits in the mist. "Don't come near! I'll blow you up!"

To Liu A'dou's surprise, the killer had a remote control hidden in his clothes.

Who brings a remote control while eating out? Liu A'dou didn't expect this. But his movements were lightning fast—his right foot hooked the killer's chin, cutting off his air supply, while his other hand swirled the white mist, taking the remote control from the killer's hand.

Click The remote control dropped to the ground.

"Really, you never learn!" Liu A'dou had initially planned to send the killer to the police, but now it seemed the killer was too dangerous, exhibiting a complete disregard for humanity. But Liu A'dou had ways of dealing with this scum. He took a red and white pill from his pocket.

With another quick movement, he forced the killer to stand by pressing his right foot on his neck. "Take this!" Liu A'dou pinched the killer's jaw and tossed the pill into his throat.

The killer suddenly felt a wave of heat rushing through his body, his bones feeling like they were melting. He cried out in pain, but his scream was swallowed by the numerous agonized cries that echoed across Narrows Island. His pain would not attract any sympathy.

The killer's skin started to wrinkle, his body hunched over, his blonde hair thinning, and within moments, he rapidly aged, becoming a frail old man.

This was the APTX4869, developed by the Black Organization. Even they didn't know that the drug could turn people into children. But Liu A'dou, as a transmigrator, was well aware of this. He had taken many risks to infiltrate the Black Organization and steal their data, acquiring a great deal of information on the development of APTX4869. He had also used his own knowledge to further develop the drug into a series that could control the age of the user. Of course, this drug had a massive side effect—it would freeze a person's appearance at the age they were when they took it, and they would never age beyond that point. The killer, if he survived for the next forty years, would live those years with the frail body of an elderly man, incapable of even holding an egg without dropping it.

This was a cruel punishment, but Liu A'dou didn't hesitate to administer it. He felt this punishment was far more effective than simply throwing the criminal into prison.