Chapter 22
Holy shit, Batman!
As everyone knows, a magician’s favorite act is the “disappearing person” trick.
This kind of performance, which can evoke extreme emotions in the audience, is particularly beloved by magicians.
However, this magician’s identity is somewhat special.
Henry thinks that if the other party plans to bring him back, he’d probably have to turn into Batman.
“Henry, don’t you think something’s off about all this?”
Just as Henry is about to leave, Sherisa suddenly asks him.
Sherisa plays with a gold coin in her hand, her eyes filled with amusement.
Henry, however, remains completely oblivious.
“This is the first time in my life I’ve been on stage for a performance. Mom and Dad would definitely be proud of me.”
“…The Rumelter Family probably wouldn’t share that sentiment, would they?”
Sherisa helplessly massages her temples, unsure whether Henry is genuinely clueless or just pretending.
*****
Joker feels nervous on stage.
If Sherisa doesn’t come up to the stage, they’ll have to activate their backup plan.
At that point, the entire venue will lose power, and the Limping Man will step in to kidnap Sherisa.
“Hello, Mr. Joker.”
A hand suddenly lands on Joker’s shoulder out of nowhere.
Startled, Joker’s ass instinctively clenches.
He turns his head in terror to look at Henry, not even realizing how the latter got so close.
“How did you get up here?”
“Didn’t you invite me? I’m the one from Box No. 1.”
Henry points to the VIP box above.
Sherisa waves at Henry, signaling for him to enjoy himself.
Joker realizes the first plan has failed.
His gaze shifts to the Limping Man in the audience.
The Limping Man silently rises from his seat and leaves, clearly understanding Joker’s signal.
Once the Limping Man is gone, Joker turns back around.
“Alright, sir, please step into the box. Next, I’ll perform the disappearing act for everyone. I hope you won’t be too nervous.”
Though his face wears a smile, Joker is secretly annoyed with Henry.
He decides to teach Henry a little lesson.
Henry enthusiastically greets the audience before excitedly climbing into the magic box.
Joker slams the box shut and bows slightly to the crowd.
“Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
He snaps his fingers—and the next moment, the entire venue plunges into darkness.
The audience erupts in screams, startled by the sudden blackout.
Even Joker is surprised the Limping Man acted so quickly.
But to buy time, he raises his voice and reassures the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, no need to panic! This is all part of the show. Count to three, and the lights will come back on.”
Joker’s words seem to calm the audience.
The noise gradually dies down, replaced by a unified countdown.
“Three!”
Click!
The lights flood the venue again, and everyone freezes in place.
Joker grits his teeth in frustration.
Damn it, aren’t we supposed to be on the same team? Why are you sabotaging me?!
Besides, weren’t you supposed to be kidnapping Sherisa? Why is she still watching me from the box?!
Meanwhile, the audience gasps in shock, their eyes fixed on something behind Joker.
Joker turns around—and his heart skips a beat.
Holy shit, where’s my box?!
That box was custom-made at great expense. How could someone just steal it?
But with so many eyes on him, he forces a smile and maintains his composure.
Sherisa crosses her arms, her expression equally surprised.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Excuse me, Miss Sherisa, we’re here to replace your tableware.”
“Come in.”
Sherisa doesn’t turn around as the door opens.
A man dressed as a waiter limps in, pushing a cart.
He smirks inwardly, unimpressed by Sherisa’s security.
I got in so easily. The Noel Family isn’t all that impressive.
He pulls a syringe filled with an unknown liquid from his pocket and moves to inject Sherisa’s neck.
Suddenly, the room goes dark—or rather, the Limping Man’s vision does.
He can’t see a thing, and a low chant fills his ears.
“Hmm, it seems you’ve been planning this for a while. But did you underestimate the Noel Family?”
Sherisa’s light laughter sounds like a demon’s whisper to the Limping Man.
He instinctively draws a dagger from his waist, but something presses against his back, freezing him in place.
A snap rings out.
The Limping Man’s vision returns to normal.
But what he sees now is a group of suited enforcers standing protectively around Sherisa.
Sherisa swirls a glass of juice in her hand.
“Sorry, my family doesn’t allow me to drink alcohol, so I’ll have to settle for juice.”
This pretentious woman! She’s definitely a Noel!
The Limping Man doesn’t dare move, knowing he can’t escape these men.
But there’s still a chance—if he can stall for time!
“The Noel Family lives up to its reputation. But how did you find me out?”
“From the moment you infiltrated.”
Sherisa’s tone is casual, as if it’s no big deal.
“From the innkeeper to the vegetable vendor on the street, they’re all informants for the Noel Family. Unless you stop eating, drinking, and acting human, we can even find out what kind of underwear you wear.”
“Tch! Seems you saw right through my plan.”
“No, your plan.” Sherisa sets down her glass and walks up to the Limping Man. Under his confused gaze, she stomps hard on his bad leg!
Agonizing pain makes the Limping Man scream.
Luckily, the box is soundproof, so the audience below hears nothing.
“Honestly, if we weren’t testing Henry’s abilities today, this circus wouldn’t even be happening.”
“Don’t get cocky! Even if I die, I’m taking you with me!”
With that, the Limping Man pulls out an object from his coat—
A vividly colored Blood Essence Stone!
This thing isn’t just for storing magic—it can also explode like a bomb!
The Limping Man crushes it in his hand, and in an instant, the entire box erupts in a violent explosion!
The glass shatters like an avalanche, countless shards dancing wildly in the air, refracting fragmented rainbows under the chandelier’s warm glow—yet carrying a deadly sharpness.
When they hit the marble floor, they burst like a storm of cracks, debris flying half a meter high. Some shards even embed themselves into a wooden wine cabinet three meters away.
The leather sofa splits open with a grotesque gash, stuffing fluttering out like snowflakes.
The wine glasses on the bar topple over, dark red liquid snaking through the broken glass like a river, reflecting the flashing red lights.
The suited enforcers shield Sherisa tightly, a faint magic barrier shimmering around them.
The audience below panics and flees, but miraculously, no one is hurt.
Behind them, several mages cast protective shields.
But soon, thick smoke fills the venue, obscuring everyone’s vision.
Blades flash through the fog, their targets locked onto Sherisa in the box.
Joker has never seen anything like this.
Terrified, he falls to the ground and scrambles toward the exit on all fours, desperate to escape.
But as he crawls forward, he bumps into something.
He screams—only to realize it’s his missing magic box!
The once-sealed box is now wide open, and Henry is nowhere to be found.
“What the hell? How did he open the box?”
“No ghosts here, but I do see a clown.”
A low, hoarse voice sounds behind Joker.
He turns his head in horror and instinctively shouts—
“You’re Batman!”