Hearing this, Hong Fei's pair of sword-like eyebrows moved slightly. Constantine stared intently at his expression. Seeing this, his eyes flickered, but as time passed, he couldn't help but frown in confusion.
"Why don't you ask me?"
"Can't you say it yourself?"
Constantine fell silent for a moment, then sighed and said, "After we first met, I did two things. First, I returned to the scene of the car accident. After my inspection and judgment, I discovered that the environment there would not cause any of the seven deceased to become ghosts. You know, after ordinary people die, they either go to hell or heaven; there is basically no chance of them becoming the kind of monsters you saw, so that's very problematic."
"Then I started the second thing: tracking your aura. I went against the direction toward New York and found the place where your aura first appeared. Guess what I found?"
Hong Fei looked at him with an indifferent gaze. Constantine curled his lips, took a wad of toilet paper from his bosom, carefully peeled it open, and placed it on the table.
A small pinch of black dust was piled on the white paper. Hong Fei glanced at it, his brows slightly knitted. Constantine looked at his furrowed brows and smiled, "This is something that only remains where a demon has passed—unique magic material left behind after being scorched by flames from hell. Since you know I practice magic, you should know that I wouldn't misidentify this thing."
Hong Fei nodded.
"Who do you think it is?"
"I don't know. This is already beyond my capability. I can only tell you that a crater was left where you appeared. I guess the commotion at that time must have been quite large, perhaps that was exactly what caught the demon's attention, and then it has been watching you from the shadows. However, what I can't figure out is why it didn't take action against you directly. Let me guess again, this should have something to do with the method you used to eliminate that thing, right?"
Hong Fei did not answer, but closed his eyes and recalled, the situation at that time flashing quickly through his mind.
Constantine continued, "According to the timeline, it must have been late at night when you appeared. Demons don't need too many scruples at that time, so this is the first point of suspicion. I followed your aura and walked your path again. You climbed to the top of the mountain and suddenly turned back, then walked all the way, and took a set of clothes from the host at a ranch nearby.
Besides confirming that you are not from here, this also makes me feel that you didn't know you would suddenly arrive here. Then, you should have encountered the victims of the car accident—I mean when they were alive—and then you encountered the scene after their car accident. You must have seen the corpses too. Do you know what the most interesting part of this is?"
Hong Fei shook his head, the corners of his mouth curling up, "You should be a Police officer. Are you interested, Officer Constantine?"
Constantine ignored his deeply mocking words and continued, "It's the demon. It must have followed you the whole time, otherwise, there wouldn't have been ghosts appearing. But since it's interested in you, why didn't it take action itself, but instead wasted time creating a ghost to harass you?"
Hong Fei responded directly, "Testing."
"Exactly, I also think it's testing. It's interested in you, but it doesn't have absolute certainty to make a move against you."
Constantine suddenly leaned his upper body forward, "So, what exactly are you?"
Hong Fei rolled his eyes at him, then pondered to himself. What Constantine said might be right. The demon not taking action might be because it sensed something unusual beneath his seal, but the power of the seal came from Odin, and not just any random demon could sense it. If it could sense it, it should know that Hong Fei's current state would not be a match for it.
Then, guessing conversely, if the opponent is very weak, then what it might be wary of is the Sword of Sif that was in his bag at the time, because that is a true divine sword. Besides that, it is also possible that it was Superman who was not far away at the time. The next day he also met Clark, which proved that the other party had been rushing in the direction where Hong Fei was.
If the demon took action, then it was hard to guarantee that Clark wouldn't suddenly change into his suit and fly over to beat it until it called him daddy. But if it is a very weak demon, how could it follow him all day and night without causing any abnormalities? Hong Fei glanced at Constantine.
Putting the question aside for the moment, he chuckled and said, "You have been trying to avoid letting me value you, even going so far as to disguise yourself as someone who cares only about money. Why the sudden change of heart, deliberately showing off your intelligence in front of me?"
Constantine didn't refute, just chuckled, "That's simple. I've always believed that if you want to make friends with others, you must show your value. Even if it's just the simplest use, it can become the starting point of a friendship. Also, I have to correct one point: I'm not disguising. I really like money, especially the way you throw gold bars at me."
Hong Fei's smile immediately vanished, "Sorry, I don't want to be friends with you. A simple and clean employment relationship is enough."
Constantine closed his mouth, pretending to be embarrassed. He rolled his eyes and took out a new business card to hand to Hong Fei, "Alright then, if you need help, you can call me anytime. I'll give you a twenty percent discount."
Hong Fei took it and looked. He had only crossed out the phone number on the original business card and written a new string of numbers. He spun the business card precisely into the trash can, put his legs down, and sat up straight, "How about we change the method?"
"What?"
Constantine's eye muscles twitched. Hong Fei wore a smile again, "You will work for me when I need you. No matter the time, you cannot refuse. You get paid half before and half after. At least twenty thousand per time, and no upper limit depending on the difficulty. No talk of feelings, only talk of money."
Constantine immediately raised his eyebrows, "Officer Hong, this is too harsh. No matter the time is fine, but why can't I refuse? What if you tell me to commit suicide?"
"You can rest assured about that. I won't make you kill people."
"That's hard to say. Even if it's not killing people, there are many things I can't do, for example, breaking the law and committing crimes..."
While speaking, he observed Hong Fei's expression from time to time. Hearing this, Hong Fei directly pointed to the door, "You can go now."
"Hey, don't be in such a hurry. We can talk, it can still be negotiated!"
Hong Fei shook his head, "The conditions are just that simple. Agree, and there will be work for you in the future. You won't need to worry about money anymore, and you won't need to come to this kind of place every day. If you like a lively atmosphere, you can go to higher-class places. If you want to accumulate virtue and go to heaven, there will be enough funds for you to help others. Disagree, get up and walk out that door, the gold bars are yours as hush money. We are completely settled. I won't look for you again, and you don't come looking for me."
After saying this, Hong Fei leaned back again, his arms spread out on the back of the sofa, "Choose!"
Constantine listened in astonishment, "I invited you for a drink, after all, aren't you being too overbearing..."
"Forgot to mention—I don't drink."
Hong Fei didn't so much as twitch.
Silence stretched between them until Constantine finally lit another cigarette, dragging deep before speaking.
"Figured you for the type bound for bigger things."
"Bullshit."
"You went from terrorist with a gun to NYPD in what, a week? That's not a career change—that's a goddamn power play."
"Spare me the analysis."
Hong Fei's voice turned glacial.
"It just makes me want to put a bullet between your eyes. Get to the point. You're not the chatty type, so stop wasting both our time."
Constantine exhaled smoke upward, glaring.
"Fine. I'll do it."
Hong Fei stood, extending a hand.
"Then we're temporarily in cooperation."
"Right, right—strictly business, no feelings involved."
Constantine rose to shake, but Hong Fei yanked his hand back at the last second.
"On second thought, no. God knows what sewers those hands have been in. Wash them before we meet again. And don't forget the intel I asked for—quickly."
He turned toward the door.
Constantine blinked at his own palms, then shouted after him, "I do wash! Even after taking a piss—"
The door swung shut, drowning his protest in a wall of bass-heavy music.
Sighing, Constantine scooped up Hong Fei's discarded coat and tie. After a beat, he swiped two bottles from the table, stuffing them into his trench coat before hurrying out.
The alley was empty when he arrived. He lit a cigarette, the flare illuminating a nearby trash bin.
"Would've been a shame to leave the suit," he muttered, peering inside. "Those shoes alone cost more than my rent. Socks are nasty, though. Wait—don't tell me he actually ran off in his underwear?"
A grin spread.
"Huh. Guess even mister high-and-mighty has his quirks."
Meanwhile, Hong Fei vaulted between rooftops in his black-gold armor.
"Sir, I've extended the counseling invitation to Dr. Harleen under clinical pretexts. She's accepted—day after tomorrow, afternoon, Gotham City."
"She won't leave Arkham?"
"Negative. She's buried in research for that particular patient. Obsessively."
"Then we're running out of time."
"Sir, based on behavioral markers, she hasn't yet crossed into psychosis. If your objective requires Harley Quinn's brand of insanity, meeting prematurely may compromise—"
"You're capable of actual thought now?"
"...I always have been, sir."
"Within narrow limits. Her madness was cultivated, yes, but the seed was always there. Not anyone can become Harley Quinn. Otherwise, Gotham would be drowning in knockoff Jokers by now."
Arthur paused.
"Are you implying you wish to... reshape her? Like training a pet?"
"That's—" Hong Fei scoffed.
"An exaggeration. I'd call it accelerated guidance."
"My apologies, sir."
If following the Joker made her Harley, what happens when she follows me? Dragon Girl? His thoughts snagged. And White Dragon... Speaking of White Dragon, she is still in my body and hasn't woken up. Did I break her? If she's dead, that's one hell of a waste of a perfectly good dragon corpse.
"Book me a flight—Louisiana tomorrow night, connecting to Gotham at dawn. And I'll need two cars."
"Understood."
Dawn came early the next day.
Hong Fei walked alongside Cora, his police uniform crisp under the streetlights. She nudged him with her elbow.
"See those people?"
Her chin jerked toward a loose cluster of figures across the street. They were young—black and white kids in their twenties dressed in uniform rebellion: tattooed arms spilling from cut-off vests, gold chains thick as bike locks, jeans sagging past decency.
"I see them."
Cora's voice turned instructional.
"If you're confident, demand their IDs. If not, pin them against the wall for a pat-down."
Hong Fei's eyebrow twitched.
"Confidence? You mean evidence?"
"Obviously not."
She shot him an exasperated look.
"I mean if you can take them all in a fight, or if you won't piss yourself when one pulls a piece."
Hong Fei nodded. Another lesson learned. After a beat, he frowned.
"They carry guns?"
"Sometimes. Rarely unless they're dealing or gang-affiliated."
Two uniformed officers passed by, shooting them curious glances. Cora dismissed them with a cold stare.
"They're clean."
"How can you tell?"
"Experience. Mostly the eyes, the way they move. You've got a Master's in psych, right? You know guilty expressions when you see them."
She started walking, then threw over her shoulder, "Bet you've read criminal psych texts too. Useful stuff."
Silence. Cora frowned.
"Well? Have you?"
Still nothing. She turned—Hong Fei was already halfway across the street, standing toe-to-toe with the group. His focus locked onto a white kid pulling his eyelids up in a slant-eyed mockery. Cora's temper spiked.
Her hand flew to her service weapon as she sprinted forward, scanning both ends of the block.
"On the ground! Hands on your heads—now!" she barked.
The group froze like deer in headlights. Some gaped; others twitched toward escape routes. The offending kid dropped his hands and belly-flopped onto the pavement with practiced speed. The others followed like dominoes. Cora exhaled through her nose.
Hong Fei looked crestfallen.
"You're too impulsive," Cora muttered, closing the distance between them.
"I was confident," Hong Fei murmured. These punks couldn't bruise him if they tried. Cara's eyes darted to a shadowed alleyway.
"No cameras up ahead left."
Hong Fei's head snapped toward her.
"Don't give me that look."
Her voice dropped.
"Kid's a repeat offender. Needs an attitude adjustment. Just make sure it doesn't leave marks."
Huh. This white girl wasn't so bad after all.
After saying this, Cora stepped forward and grabbed the guy by the collar, dragging him toward the alley. The kid thrashed like a hooked fish until Cora's pistol cleared its holster. Instant compliance. One kick sent him sprawling into the darkness. She glanced back at Hong Fei with a pointed stare.
Hong Fei stepped forward.
At the alley entrance, Hong Fei studied the man curled up on the ground, shivering. He frowned.
"He's too weak."
"Hmm?"
"I'd probably kill him with one punch."
Cora snorted.
"Big talker. Scared to do it? Want me to show you how?"
"Sure."
She shook her head with a sigh and stepped forward.
"Watch closely."
She bent down, pinned the man to the ground, and in one fluid motion, drew her baton and struck his groin. A piercing scream tore through the air. Hong Fei swore he felt his own soul leave his body for a second. One hit—that was all it took.
Cora stood, stowing her baton as the man writhed on the ground, clutching himself and sobbing.
"A special technique. No internal damage, but you've got to control the force. Can't actually pierce through—might kill him, and then you've got a bigger mess than a shooting."
Hong Fei gave her a sincere thumbs-up.
Once the man's wailing subsided, Cora cuffed him, dispersed the onlookers with a sharp command, and turned to Hong Fei.
"I'll take him in. You keep patrolling. Remember—don't be impulsive. Don't hesitate to shoot if you need to, but don't go trigger-happy."
"Understood."
As Cora left, Hong Fei resumed his patrol.
"Arthur."
"Understood."
"You understand again?"
"Sir, my online learning has accelerated my growth. Combined with archived data, I have a general idea of your intentions."
"Explain."
"I'll arrange a car accident for him. Life or death will depend on fate."
"Hmm. What kind of car are you thinking?"
"A fully loaded heavy truck."
"Brilliant! You're better suited to be a crime boss than I am."
"Thank you."
Cora didn't return until afternoon. Hong Fei suspected she'd ducked out to avoid patrol duty, but he had no proof. The rest of the day was uneventful, save for a group of kids who'd gotten a basketball wedged between the rim and backboard. Hong Fei leaped from a standstill to retrieve it—a testament to his improving physical fitness.
Well, never mind that. By dusk, they were back at the station, clocking out.
"You did all right today," Cora said, "but you're still too impulsive."
"I was confident," Hong Fei countered.
Cora arched an eyebrow.
"You think you're a good fighter?"
"I am a really good fighter!"
Her gaze swept over him like a scanner, from his face to his chest, down to his feet. Finally, she smiled.
"Alright then. I'll see it for myself in the future."
Where exactly did she plan to see it? Hong Fei filed that question away on Constantine's behalf.
"Tomorrow and the day after are your days off, then it's the night shift. You can come in a bit later."
"Got it."
Hong Fei changed into fresh casual clothes, stepped out, hailed a cab, and headed straight for the airport. Louisiana—named in honor of Louis XIV, the Sun King. He was the grandfather of Louis XVI, who met his end beneath the guillotine he'd designed himself.
Located in the southern United States, along the Gulf of Mexico, Louisiana lay about two thousand kilometers from New York City. Three hours later, Hong Fei touched down. Exiting the airport, he followed Arthur's directions to a nearby warehouse.
Soon, a brand-new car with freshly issued plates rolled out. In the passenger seat sat an ordinary Cross-blade, two revolvers, and a stash of ammunition.
"Any money left?"
"Yes, $1,031.74."
"How'd you arrange the car, the plates, and these weapons?"
"Using the internet, borrowing personal identities, stealing call routes, mimicking voices, and commissioning acquaintances to handle the details."
"Cost a fair bit, didn't it?"
"If you need, I can—"
"No, that lacks finesse. I prefer to rely on my own hands. You might as well arrange a server setup for yourself."
"I've been using it from the start," he said, "but to stay undetected, I can only tap into a fraction of idle resources. It drains my computing power. I need something unused—something I won't have to hide."
"You..."
The man hesitated, a flicker of recognition crossing his face.
"You remind me of certain... activities."
"Cheating. Stealing."
"Enough!"
The man raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Alright, I'll admit it. You're sharp."
"Thank you, sir."
More than an hour later, Hong Fei reached the outskirts of his destination. He climbed a low hill, pausing to survey the landscape. In the distance, the prison stood like a fortress amidst the sprawling plains and marshlands. 4.44 kilometers.
An ominous number. He moved forward another hundred meters, his iron armor gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Two revolvers hung at his waist, and in his hand, he gripped his Cross-blade, its edge catching the pale light.
"Looks okay."
"From China," Arthur added.
"Very good."
Hong Fei slid the blade into its sheath on his back. With a single step, his body launched forward like an arrow, his posture low and streamlined. Under the cover of night, his shadow blurred as he darted through the brush, swift and silent.