In this wretched place called Gotham, true light has never existed. Harvey Dent, who aspired to be Gotham's Knight of Light, failed and fell, becoming Two-Face. Even Batman can only become the Dark Knight, fighting darkness with darkness.
The Gotham Police Department was corrupted by Gotham's criminal underworld countless years ago, becoming a shield and accomplice for criminals.
"So you think that with Chidi Kohl dead, we've lost our protection, and might even face double pressure from the Two-Face Gang and the Gotham Police Department later on?"
Qingshui stroked his chin, his gaze thoughtful.
"This..."
"Never mind, I'll handle these things. Just tell me the current situation of the gang."
"Boss Watt, let me explain! I was the one who handled Chidi's... that kid Chidi's accounts. Right now, our gang's territory, besides this factory on the edge of the old industrial zone, also includes the entirety of Hogg Street."
A middle-aged white man wearing glasses smiled obsequiously at Qingshui, then pulled out a small booklet from his back pocket, wet a finger, and flipped it open. He began:
"Every household on the street pays a protection fee of three hundred dollars a month. We take half the profits from six shops, and there's also a department store and a used motorcycle shop. Over the past year, these have brought in an average of over fifty thousand dollars in income for us each month."
"However, fifty percent of that has to be paid to the Two-Face Gang. Of the remaining money, Chidi Kohl takes another half. What's left is barely enough for the brothers to get by, nowhere near enough to live lavishly. So, the brothers usually do odd jobs on the side, like manual labor or helping to guard places."
"Also, we have seven handguns, all second-hand, and just over a hundred rounds of ammunition. No other firearms. But we can use the motorcycles from the used motorcycle shop whenever we want. The rest of our weapons are baseball bats, crowbars..."
Qingshui couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
The Kohl Gang was truly poor.
And this was already the best-established small gang he'd found in Gotham's slums.
Now it seemed their good foundation was thanks to the Two-Face Gang, led by Two-Face himself, covering for them.
After Chidi Kohl and his brother Kerman Kohl took their half, the thirty-odd members effectively only got three or four hundred dollars each, on average.
How was that enough to live on in Gotham?
But by being part of the Kohl Gang, at least they wouldn't be easily bullied in the slums, and they could even bully ordinary civilians.
In Gotham, three or four hundred dollars a month was practically slave wages.
However, if those three or four hundred dollars were considered a base salary, and they earned extra by doing manual labor for others, or guarding places, or intimidating people, or even robbing and stealing in the streets and alleys as commission, then the money these thugs earned on a daily basis was actually enough for them to indulge themselves.
"I understand. The Kohl brothers take tens of thousands of dollars every month, so Chidi Kohl should have a good amount of property too. Take us to retrieve it."
Qingshui waved his hand at the fawning middle-aged white man.
"This... Boss Watt, although I managed Chidi's accounts, but..."
"Do you think I believe that?"
Qingshui stared at the bespectacled white man.
"Sorry, Boss Watt, I really don't know, but Chidi has a room here that no one is usually allowed in or out of. Only he and his brother have the keys to it."
The middle-aged white man said with a conciliatory smile.
At the same time, his gaze shifted to the blurry mess of flesh and blood on the ground.
The key probably can't be used anymore.
"Lead the way."
Qingshui stood up from his chair, hands clasped behind his back, and crooked a finger, manipulating Black Gold to move to his side.
"Heh heh, alright, Boss Watt, my name is Dura, Dura Bent. I graduated from Gotham Gradia Church University with a degree in accounting. A few years ago, I went to prison for cooking the books for a company. My wife and kids left, and I went bankrupt, so I came here to make a living..."
"It's fine. Having been to jail just proves you've completed your accounting internship. I have high hopes for you to become Gotham's top accountant in the future."
"Boss, my name is Angus! I can fix cars. I'm in charge of our gang's used motorcycle shop..."
"Boss Watt, I'm Frank..."
...
Along the way, the thugs eagerly introduced themselves, hoping to leave an impression on Qingshui.
Just looking at the powerful and towering Black Gold, everyone could tell that another powerful supervillain was about to emerge in Gotham City, and the gang's future was clearly incomparable to other small gangs.
Taking this opportunity to curry favor with the new boss, they might even become successful gang leaders in the future.
*BOOM!*
Chidi Kohl's room was smashed by a single Pneumatic Fist from Black Gold.
"Search."
Qingshui instructed blandly.
"Yes!"
"Alright, boss!"
"Understood!"
...
The thugs began searching in a chaotic mess.
"Boss, would you like to sit for a bit?"
A yellow-haired man dragged over a chair and placed it behind Qingshui.
"Boss, let me massage your legs!"
"Boss Watt! I'll give you a shoulder rub!"
…
"Get to work. Following orders is far more important than trying to curry favor with me," Qingshui said indifferently, kicking a chair aside.
These were all street thugs, fierce and prone to fighting, so they definitely couldn't be expected to follow orders like ninjas or soldiers.
However, instilling discipline was the best and most effective way to improve the combat effectiveness of a disorganized mob.
If Qingshui wanted to become a gang leader in Gotham, he needed to start cultivating a group of obedient subordinates now.
As it turned out, these low-level Gotham thugs were far less capable than the highly skilled individuals in Arkham Asylum; they couldn't even find anything.
By the time dusk approached, they still hadn't found a single penny.
"Turn on the lights, keep searching."
Qingshui sat on Black Gold's shoulder, looking down at the room from above.
He had been watching the whole time.
Most of the room had been searched. The remaining spots didn't look like places to hide money, nor did they seem suitable for setting up traps.
Dura, the accountant, quickly pressed the light switch, but the light didn't come on.
"Boss! I can fix lightbulbs! Give me a few minutes, I'll have it done right away!" a thug with brightly dyed hair shouted, raising his hand.
"Go ahead."
Qingshui decided that if they still couldn't find anything within half an hour, he would just have Black Gold tear the place apart.
Soon, a subordinate found a stepladder, and the thug climbed up to fix the lightbulb.
The lightbulb base twisted once, and before the bulb could be removed, the adjacent ceiling loosened, revealing a crack.
Qingshui's eyes narrowed, and he ordered, "Stop for a moment."
Then, he concentrated Chakra in his feet, stepped onto the wall, and walked upside down across the ceiling.
The thugs stared in astonishment, and the guy who was about to fix the lightbulb almost fell off the ladder.
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