Yes, that pce couldn’t be known to them. Barbara might be able to handle it, but the reporter couldn't. Su Ming didn’t mind throwing Batgirl off bance, but the difference between her secret identity and the knowledge of Earthlings was vast.

  “If I give you another clue, can you not blindfold me?” Vicky tried to bargain.

  “No,” Su Ming said, tearing the towel into three parts and covering the eyes of all three. “If you dare to touch it, I’ll break your toes.”

  “But it’s so uncomfortable, and even if I did touch it, I’d use my hands. Why break my toes?” Vicky squirmed in her seat, clearly uneasy.

  “Because I feel like it,” Su Ming answered with a pyful tone. “Now, where’s your evidence?”

  “You won’t even let me look. I won’t say anything more. Go ahead, kill me,” Vicky turned her head, stretching her neck forward, practically offering herself to Su Ming.

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t look, just not until we get there. And the person you want dead will die tomorrow,” Su Ming said, pushing her back into pce. Cindy was driving like a madwoman, and everything in the car seemed to shake at high frequencies.

  “Fine. I’ll hold you to that. Heh heh.” Vicky chuckled, realizing her luck was on fire. “The boss of the bck-suited men, I know who it is.”

  “Oh?”

  Even Cindy perked up at that. If so many hadn’t noticed, why had Vicky figured it out? She didn’t think the reporter was smarter than herself.

  But Su Ming knew. Vicky was just one of those weirdly lucky people, like the universe had a soft spot for her. Not just discovering clues—hell, with that kind of luck, she could end up saving the world.

  In comics, it was always like this. She’d be in some sketchy situation with a gang, and some superhero would just happen to pass by. Or she’d be looking for a story, and the leads would find her, practically knocking down her door. When her bosses wanted to criticize her, some high-up would step in to defend her.

  That was why Su Ming had brought her along. Beyond using the TV station for work, it was her luck that made her useful. Sometimes, things just needed a bit of luck. She made a good tool.

  Though... he did wonder if luck could be considered a superpower.

  “Go on,” Su Ming urged.

  “Cough, I checked the wounds on the body. These wounds are pretty distinctive, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. It led me to think of ritualistic killing,” Vicky cleared her throat and unched into her lengthy expnation.

  Cindy shook her head, lighting up a cigar and blowing out a smoke ring that was quickly blown away by the wind.

  “I don’t remember Gotham having a Jack the Ripper.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. I haven’t finished yet.” Vicky’s face, partially exposed from under the towel, grinned as she continued. “I don’t remember Gotham ever having a Jack the Ripper either. So, thinking about ritualistic killing, I—if this isn’t a unique method, then it must be an ancient form of torture. I remembered seeing a record of it recently.”

  “An ancient punishment?”

  Su Ming crossed his arms, closing his eyes to concentrate, but no relevant memory surfaced. All that came to mind were dismemberments and traditional Chinese tortures.

  Cindy didn’t seem to have any ideas either, her expression showing nothing but indifference.

  “Heh, I didn’t look too closely at the body because it was kinda gross, but I estimated the weapon’s length was about 60 cm, with a bde about 5 cm wide. This confirmed my suspicion—it’s a form of disembowelment. I happened to come across this info while covering another ritual killing case recently,” Vicky said with pride, revealing her knowledge. It was a bit obscure, but she was gd to finally put it to good use.

  “This was an ancient Roman execution method. The victim would be tied to a pilr, and a Roman short sword would be used to slowly bleed them out. If someone in Gotham mentioned a Roman, who would you think of?”

  “Falcone, the Roman?” Su Ming sighed. “If it’s him, he does indeed despise both Gordon and Batgirl.”

  “Despise? Heh, Gordon tricked him, and Batgirl roasted him half-alive on the Bat-signal. He hates their guts,” Cindy chimed in with a ugh, shaking her head. She had heard the story from a decade ago, and honestly, Batgirl’s methods were... unconventional.

  But if this was Falcone’s work, it complicated things. Falcone wasn’t some mindless thug; he had been Gotham’s dark emperor years ago. For a man to reach that level, he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t do meaningless things, especially not with the League of Assassins, a centuries-old organization that surely knew all kinds of ancient tortures.

  The marks on the body were a signature. A message: I killed your people. Come find me.

  If this was the Roman from years ago, he would have had the guts to face the League. Back then, Gotham was entirely under his control.

  But now? What did he have to fight back with?

  “Could it be a frame-up? I remember Falcone should still be locked up in Bckgate,” Barbara said, trying to search it up on her computer, but the blindfold made that impossible.

  “Gordon’s daughter is so sweetly naive,” Vicky teased, reaching to touch her cheek before Barbara swatted her hand away. “Falcone was paroled for ‘sudden illness’ just two months after he was locked up. Looks like he’s back.”

  “Yeah. No one’s going to frame someone who’s been off the radar for a decade. If anyone’s bringing up old business, it’s him,” Cindy agreed. Falcone was back, that much was clear. Their clues pointed only in that direction.

  The rain outside grew heavier. Cindy had taken them off the ring road, driving down a muddy path, and the car bounced with each bump.

  Through the dark windows, tree shadows streaked by, the sound of rain hitting the leaves filled the air. Su Ming noticed broken tree trunks fshing by—a sign the winds were picking up. What started as a heavy rain had become a full-fledged storm.

  He hadn’t realized how remote the Wayne Manor was. Even basic utilities here probably required special lines. In an emergency, it would take too long to get to the city. Everything was inconvenient.

  If Blythe lived next to the police station, it would be much easier. One fsh of the Bat-signal, and she could meet Gordon in under two minutes.

  Staring out the window at the darkened ndscape, Su Ming let his thoughts drift, trying not to think too much about the dark multiverse. That sword hanging over their heads was always there. No point in looking up at it.

  Vicky, having finished with her clues, fell silent. But Su Ming could hear her ears twitching slightly, as if trying to memorize the route through sound.

  But that wasn’t something a rookie like her could do. Luck couldn’t do everything.

  His mind returned to the matter of Gordon’s kidnapping.

  If Falcone was deliberately provoking the League, he had to be prepared. Assassins were still human, trained, but not invincible. Even they would fall under heavy fire.

  Except for their leader—the immortal ‘Demon Head,’ Ra’s al Ghul.

  It seemed like the Roman had gathered a new team, ready to face the League. But as far as Su Ming knew, there was little connection between the two groups, let alone any animosity.

  All the League needed was money. They’d serve whoever paid them. So why was it turning into this? What did this have to do with Gordon?

  If Falcone was after revenge, his targets should be Gordon, Batgirl, and Penguin.

  Gordon had tried to negotiate with him, only to find Batgirl already waiting, setting a trap. And Penguin had seized the opportunity to take over his territory, becoming the biggest pyer in Gotham at the time.

  Falcone should have stuck to his own business with the League. But now? He had no idea how deep this was going to get.