That powder unexpectedly ignited with purple flames.
The little underling excitedly pointed at the flames and said,
"Magnesium your ass! Haven’t you been to school?"
The boss was almost driven mad by his illiterate underling. If blame is to be placed, blame it on the North American illiteracy rate of 23%.
But honestly, if someone had an education, why would they be in a gang?
"Magnesium burns silver-gray. This is potassium nitrate! Who bought this stuff?"
"Bought it from old John."
"Must have taken the wrong one."
"Damn." That little punk thought it was all old John’s fault for getting him yelled at.
"Tomorrow I’ll smash up his shop."
"Smash your ass. Go get two more bags of glitter and redo it, otherwise we won’t make the shipping time!"
The punk nodded hastily, quickly walked towards the storage warehouse, ready to pick out two new raw materials.
Just as he passed under the vent, the grate above his head was suddenly kicked open, and a huge dark figure jumped out, stomping on his head.
The whole person hit the ground with a thud and passed out.
The sudden commotion immediately alerted the entire drug den, and they whipped out guns, ready to turn this unwelcome guest into Swiss cheese.
The Voucher was already prepared, tossing out two smoke bombs as he landed, thick smoke rapidly spreading. The most update n0vels are published on Nov3lFɪre.ɴet
Several guns fired bullets into the smoke, not knowing if they hit the target.
The Voucher seized the moment with the smoke, sliding under a table towards a gunman, grabbing the gun barrel and pushing up, bullets sparking off the ceiling, while his other fist swung hard into the opponent’s nose.
To the gunman, it seemed a pointy-headed black demon emerged from the smoke, dizzying him, and in pain, he let go of the rifle, handing it over.
Snatching the gun from the opponent, the Voucher immediately turned the muzzle around.
Bloody splashes burst from the gunman’s chest, lightweight armor pierced.
The Voucher couldn’t afford a gun, so he could only snatch it to make this outfit.
As for Batman not shooting or killing?
All drug dealers must die.
Also, haven’t you heard what Keaton’s Batman said?
Then Gotham will have peace!
Then the skies will clear!
But seeing the gunman wasn’t dead, still trying to pull out a pistol for a counterattack, the Voucher instantly grabbed his head and smashed it into the nearby electrical box, sparks flew, the gunman convulsing, smoking black, and within breaths, there was no response.
By this time, the smoke had dissipated, and other punks stopped shooting, but the Voucher was already long gone, leaving one dead and one passed out.
The leading Sixth Street Gang official asked,
"Did anyone see what it was?"
An underling, frightened by the scene, stammered,
"I saw a shadow, looked like a big bat!"
"What bullshit bat, someone fry your brain?"
The official thought his underling was scared stupid by someone; bats have been extinct for who knows how long, how could they appear here.
He looked around and immediately saw the kicked-open vent.
Randomly grabbing a grenade, he pulled the pin and tossed it inside.
After the two explosions, the vent was blown to bits, but there was no corpse or screaming inside.
Turns out a wall in the abandoned sewage pipe was blown open.
Four or five armed players stormed into the den, and Sword Saint saw the panicked drug makers and grinned.
"Slaughter them all!"
Shooting rang out in the basement immediately.
As the conflict erupted, the drug dealers’ attention was diverted, and the Voucher’s parents hidden in crates suddenly charged out, ready with loaded rifles, firing relentlessly, catching the Sixth Street Gang off guard, the sudden ambush killing quite a few.
After the clash, more than a dozen corpses lay scattered on the ground, some players, some Sixth Street Gang members.
The Sixth Street Gang official fired all his handgun bullets at the approaching black shadow, only to see the shadow continuously weaving between cover, deliberately taking every shot he fired.
Didn’t dodge even once.
Just as the Sixth Street Gang official thought the opponent had some subdermal armor, unafraid of bullets, the shadow charged in front of him.
The pitch-black Batman had been hit by five or six bullets but still stood firm.
This isn’t some super-strong bulletproof material, just enough for a few small-caliber handgun shots, bleeding out from multiple wounds!
The official was shocked looking at the Voucher, what kind of toughness was this, taking bullets without armor?
The crazy thing is, this guy isn’t even built!
Actually, the Voucher didn’t know how many shots he’d taken, he simply didn’t dodge, feeling chilled.
But since the opponent was so cooperative in asking, he still pretended to be serious and said,
"Because, I, am Batman!"
The hoarse voice made the official think the other had laryngeal cancer.
But the Voucher wasn’t about to continue, finished him directly with a shot to the head.
"Yo, is this still Batman?"
Sword Saint walked over, looking at the Sixth Street Gang official, eyes wide in death.
"I thought Batman didn’t kill."
The Voucher put a finger to his lips, making a silencing motion, then whispered,
"He’s not dead, just sleeping, sleeping peacefully like a baby."
Sword Saint nodded "Got it."
This is a fucking Batman.