Chapter 7: Me, Bats, and Green Arrow
"Allen, this mission is extremely important. Here's your budget from the organization."
Ra's al Ghul pulled out a stack of US dollars from his pocket, extracted three bills, and placed them on the table. Then, after some thought, he added two more, saying, "Here's an extra two hundred from me personally—make sure you take care of yourself."
"Boss, don't worry. I once fought my way from Penglai East Road all the way to the Southern Gate of Heaven, and my eyes didn't even dry out."
Allen vowed confidently while repeatedly counting the five hundred-dollar bills in his hand.
Ra's al Ghul nodded in satisfaction. As long as Allen maintained his usual state, it was only a matter of time before the other three factions started hunting him down.
With the mission explained, he immediately had the three board a helicopter to catch the next available flight to America.
The moment the walking disaster left, the base couldn't wait to throw a celebration banquet.
Everyone happily indulged in normal, delicious food.
Splat…
Splat splat…
Splat splat splat…
…
"What's going on?"
Ra's al Ghul suddenly felt a sharp pain in his stomach, instantly realizing something was wrong with the food.
But Allen had already left, and the dishes were freshly prepared by their own chef—how could anything go wrong?
Chelsea was the first to rush into the kitchen to inspect the seasonings. Being around medicinal ingredients for years, she only needed a sniff to identify the culprit.
She quickly zeroed in on a bag of yellowish-brown powder.
It was croton powder!
And inside the bag, she found a note.
"Lately, the trap in the restroom hasn't been triggered. You must all be constipated. It really breaks my heart—Allen."
"Nobody go to the restroom!"
Too late.
That day, the base was filled with wails of agony—mingled with an unmistakable, pervasive aroma.
…
Meanwhile, on a long-haul flight…
Three seats in a row. Allen sat in the middle, his keen eyes darting around mischievously.
"Bats, Green Arrow, it's a pleasure to meet you both."
Allen crossed his arms and extended both hands outward for a handshake.
He's not well.
Couldn't he just extend his hand normally? Why cross his arms to shake hands in such a convoluted way? Wasn't that inconvenient?
"Bruce Wayne."
"Oliver Queen."
The two didn't bother arguing over titles. It was clear Allen had an unusual aura—definitely no ordinary guy. He was overly enthusiastic, which meant this trip would likely be anything but peaceful.
Out of kindness, Bruce warned, "Allen, you should leave once we land in America. Ra's al Ghul wants to use this opportunity to eliminate you."
Bruce had joined the League of Assassins to hone his skills, not because he believed in their so-called justice.
Only by stepping into the darkness, becoming the darkness, could one defeat the darkness.
Similarly, Oliver didn't want to see Allen die needlessly.
Based on what they'd heard at the base, Allen's actions so far were mostly just pranks—nothing life-threatening.
Besides, he clearly wasn't normal. That should be taken into account.
In truth, Bruce and Oliver were well aware of each other's identities.
Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries were both at the pinnacle of high society. Their business dealings made it easy to cross paths.
With similar family backgrounds and shared training under the League of Assassins, the two had developed a mutual trust, willing to watch each other's backs.
"Boss would never stab me in the back. If anything, I'd be the one betraying him to seek the light."
Allen had a sudden realization. "Bats, are you jealous of the boss's trust in me? Trying to climb the ranks while I'm gone? Damn, you're such a green tea."
"Green Arrow, don't you think so?"
Allen turned to Oliver.
Oliver simply closed his eyes in silence.
It's pointless trying to talk sense into a doomed fool.
Bruce felt mentally exhausted. He decided to just let Allen deal with his own fate.
Before long, a flight attendant pushed a cart down the aisle, offering drinks with a professional smile.
"Sir, what would you like?"
Allen responded, "A Coke with ice—but hold the Coke, thanks."
"…?"
—
Pennsylvania.
Philadelphia.
The moment they landed, the three immediately hailed a cab to the meeting location.
Chen's Sichuan Restaurant.
Stepping out of the taxi, the trio stared at the somewhat rundown storefront, falling into a moment of doubt.
"Are we in the right place? Even negotiating with Hong Xing and Tung Sing would have more class than this." Allen couldn't help but complain.
"Pay up, b—."
The cab driver interrupted impatiently.
His hand was already reaching into the glove compartment. If these guys were planning to skip the fare, he had no problem introducing them to some democratic bullets.
"Keep the change."
Allen casually handed over a bill.
The Black cabbie blinked in surprise, took the money, and sped off.
"How much did you give him?" Bruce asked.
Allen checked his remaining cash—only four hundred dollars left. "A hundred."
"The fare was twenty-three," Oliver added.
Allen's brain, already bad at math, started working overtime.
Finally, he arrived at a conclusion—he had way overpaid.
Without hesitation, he dropped his luggage and sprinted after the cab.
"Come back! Give me my change!"
Before long, Allen returned, looking utterly dejected. It was obvious he hadn't gotten his money back.
"How'd it go?" Bruce asked deliberately.
At this point, they could somewhat understand the people back at the Snow Mountain Base. Allen was just too much. There were moments when they really wanted to strangle him.
Still, watching him suffer a little misfortune was oddly satisfying.
"I caught up."
Allen's expression darkened. "Then I realized—I was chasing the wrong car."
"…"
—
Inside the Sichuan restaurant, the three found a seat and waited for someone to approach with the secret code.
After all, the restaurant was just a front. This place served as a contact point for the four major factions.
Allen put on a pair of sunglasses and lowered his voice. "In a moment, just follow my lead."
Follow you, my ass.
Could you act normal for once?
"Sir, would you like to order?"
A waiter approached with a menu.
This restaurant was run by The Hand. From the kitchen staff to the front-end servers, everyone here was an assassin.
The moment the three walked in, it was clear they weren't ordinary customers.
Steady footsteps, controlled breathing—the unique aura of warriors was impossible to hide from fellow combatants.
Well, except for Allen.
He radiated an abnormal vibe from head to toe.
Possibly due to insanity.
"The great ridges rise high, a thousand streams flow eternal."
Allen confidently spoke the secret code, eagerly waiting for the response.
"Sir… would you like to order?"
The waiter looked utterly confused and asked again.
Allen scratched his head in frustration. "The code is right, isn't it? You're supposed to respond with 'Facing the ocean's waves, three rivers flow forever.'"
Since the code didn't match, the waiter was about to proceed as if they were regular customers and recommend some dishes.
"Shadow at Dawn."
Bruce suddenly spoke.
During his travels in the East, he had read a wuxia novel that featured a similar secret code used by the Heaven and Earth Society.
"Please, follow me to the second-floor private room."
"Shadow at Dawn"—this was the official secret code of the League of Assassins.
Among the four factions, the League held the highest status, so the waiter took them very seriously.
However, it was clear Allen was leading the group. His eccentric behavior left the waiter completely puzzled—what on earth was Ra's al Ghul thinking?
As the waiter led them to a secret meeting room, he went to inform the other three faction representatives about the scheduled negotiations.
Meanwhile, Bruce and Oliver straightened up.
Anyone qualified to collaborate with the League of Assassins was definitely no ordinary figure.
Announcement:
Due to the low number of members, I'm planning to change the public release schedule from 1 chapter per day to 1 chapter per week. This isn't final yet, but if there's no increase in members over the next few days, the change will be implemented in 6 days from now. Apologies in advance, and thank you for your understanding.