The moment the thought crossed his mind, Chen Mo casually stuffed the card into his pocket, his movement as nonchalant as throwing away a flyer.
The crowd poured out from the school gates, and he walked along with the flow of people. His pace was neither fast nor slow, completely blending into the student body, looking as ordinary as ordinary could be.
It wasn't until he reached the corner of the school gates that Chen Mo seemed to suddenly remember something. He turned his head and waved to the side, his tone incredibly lazy, as if he were fulfilling some bare minimum social requirement.
"I'm heading out first."
Barbara looked up at him. "Going home this early? Are you sure you aren't planning to go smoke weed with that crowd?"
Chen Mo shrugged, tossing his backpack over one shoulder, his tone as earnest as someone giving an interview.
"I have a real job, alright? Don't lump me in with those foolish two-headed ogres."
Barbara was visibly taken aback. "You? A job?"
Chen Mo nodded, his tone highly affirmative. "Legal income, stable output, no payment arrears, no exploitation. In theory, it can even support me."
She fell silent for two seconds before giving her evaluation. "Sounds like you just made that up."
Chen Mo sighed, looking deeply hurt. "That is structural mistrust toward the working class."
Barbara glanced at him. "You don't look like the working class."
"That's a matter of aura," Chen Mo said with a straight face. "I belong to the type that is poor but dignified."
With that, he took two steps back, waved his hand, and concluded airily, "Don't worry, I don't rely on others to support me. But if you want to proactively apply to sponsor me, I can consider accepting."
By the time he finished speaking, he had already turned and walked far away. His movements were crisp and decisive, leaving her absolutely no opportunity to keep roasting him.
Barbara stood where she was. She opened her mouth, closed it, and fell into a stifled state of clearly having something to say but not getting it out.
It felt agonizingly uncomfortable.
Once he left the school vicinity, the atmosphere of the street shifted instantly.
It was still crowded, but the noises were more chaotic, the rhythm more disorganized. There was an indefinable tension in the air, as if something could happen at any moment.
Chen Mo walked along the edge of the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. His thumb subconsciously rubbed those few pitiful coins, his face devoid of expression, but his brain had automatically started calculating expenses.
Breakfast was thrown together haphazardly, lunch was an outright failure, dinner...
The Wayne system operated normally when it came to keeping him alive, but there was clearly a loophole when it came to keeping him full.
What happened to the promised breakfast and lunch? Where was the food?
Which middle-management department along the way embezzled it?
Batman! Do something, hello?!
Why can't the Bat-Signal be lit for this kind of thing?
"Excellent," Chen Mo summarized in a low voice. "The system runs stably, but the result remains poverty."
He even nodded, as if grading this way of life.
"Experience: three points. Cost-effectiveness: negative points."
Just as he was about to turn into a familiar alleyway, his gaze was drawn to a small street stall at the corner. The stall was as ordinary as could be, but the problem lay in the things displayed on it.
A row of comic books.
The cover looked very familiar.
His pace slowed by a beat, and he took two steps back to look again, then stopped entirely.
Chen Mo squatted down, picked up a copy, flipped to the first page, then to the second page, and then closed it. He looked at the cover again, repeating the movements.
His expression began to change.
"...I drew this, didn't I?"
His voice was very soft, but his tone was starting to carry a hint of danger.
The stall owner glanced at him. "Are you buying or not?"
Chen Mo ignored him.
He swept another glance across the entire row of comic books. It wasn't just one copy; they were everywhere, neatly arranged, and visibly flipped through many times, their edges frayed.
Selling very well.
Chen Mo stood up and looked around again.
The newspaper kiosk across the street had them.
The front door of the roadside convenience store had them.
The stalls further away had them too.
Evenly distributed, well-established channels.
Like a mature sales chain.
Chen Mo was silent for three seconds.
Then he smiled.
He smiled very politely, even carrying a touch of gentle understanding toward the world.
"So--"
He spoke slowly.
"My comic book has achieved comprehensive coverage in Gotham."
Chen Mo paused.
"And I received two thousand in manuscript fees."
Another second's pause.
"And it was just a one-time payment."
The air went quiet.
Chen Mo nodded, as if confirming a conclusion.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his knuckles tightening slightly.
"Very good."
"A clear division of labor."
"They are responsible for making money, and I am responsible for being notified."
He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.
"Gotham's economic system is indeed advanced."
He put the comic book back and turned to leave. His pace was a bit faster than before, but the expression on his face was actually more relaxed.
It proved that as long as a person gets laughed out of anger enough times, their mindset will gradually become peaceful.
Seemingly emotionally stable, but in reality, even as Spider-Man, you are simply out of options.
Returning all the way to that old building, Chen Mo expertly climbed the wall, flipped through the window, landed, and casually petted the dog.
"Hello Bruce, did you miss me?"
Bruce's tail wagged so fast it almost became a propeller.
"I love you too. Come here, gimme a hug."
Chen Mo lay down on the bed, holding Bruce and staring blankly at the ceiling, letting his mind go completely empty.
Ten seconds.
Then he suddenly sat up.
Bruce was almost thrown off.
"Almost forgot."
"I still have a class to attend today."
The "class" Chen Mo spoke of was clearly not the school kind.
He stood up and briefly stretched his shoulders.
"Change clothes first."
A few minutes later, the window was pushed open, and a red-and-blue figure flipped out, landing on the edge of the roof, gently bending his knees to absorb the impact before standing straight.
The night air was a bit cooler than during the day. The city hadn't gone quiet; it had merely exchanged its clamor for another form to exist in.
Chen Mo stood there, his gaze sweeping into the distance, his mind naturally returning to earlier today.
Those few kids who cornered him.
Their way of speaking, their positioning, and that confidence born from clearly having someone backing them up.
"It wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing," he muttered.
"It's organized."
He began to replay the details in his mind: who spoke at the front, who watched from behind, who was responsible for monitoring the intersection, and a name mentioned in passing.
Piecing it together, it became very clear.
"Alright."
He gave a small nod.
"Then I won't look for the students."
"I'll look for the guardian."
Chen Mo leapt down from the roof and landed in the back alley, his movements clean and agile.
He was all too familiar with this kind of place.
Few lights, a chaotic crowd, messy noises, but there was a pattern.
Nothing special, just practice making perfect.
If you patrolled dozens of times a day, you'd be familiar with it too.
Following this pattern, in less than ten minutes, he spotted his target.
Those few kids were there.
And there was an adult next to them.
Standing in the center, speaking, collecting money.
A very clear role.
Chen Mo stood in the shadows and watched for two seconds. Once confirmed, he didn't wait any longer and walked straight out.
His steps were neither urgent nor slow.
"Bad evening," Chen Mo spoke.
He paused.
"Never mind, good evening, out of respect for the Minor Bastard Protection Law."
Several people spun around simultaneously.
The faces of those kids instantly changed.
"Spider-Man!"
Chen Mo didn't look at them, looking straight at the adult instead.
"Yours?"
The other party frowned. "Who the hell are you?"
Chen Mo tilted his head. "For real? You don't know me?"
His tone even carried a hint of being offended.
Seeing Chen Mo appear, a poor sucker who wanted to run but failed and ended up stuck by web-shooters quietly added, "He just got out of the hospital... his brain... recovery is so-so..."
Chen Mo nodded. "Alright, then I'll keep it simple."
In the next second, he reached out, grabbed the man's shoulder, and pressed down.
Crack.
The sound was crisp.
It wasn't broken; Little Spidey had always been peaceful, it was just dislocated.
The man dropped straight to his knees, his reaction a beat slow.
The surroundings instantly fell silent.
Chen Mo didn't stop, casually twisting it in the opposite direction.
Crack.
The second sound was even crisper.
This time, the man screamed outright.
Only then did Chen Mo let go, letting the man collapse onto the ground.
He stood straight and clapped his hands.
"Don't worry, it can still be popped back in. I have an excellent sense of measure."
Only after saying this did Chen Mo turn to look at those kids.
His tone softened a bit.
"Hello there, children. I heard your moral values have run into a teeny-tiny problem."
Chen Mo pointed at the man on the ground.
"Is this your guardian? I need to have a chat with him about your education. I hope I didn't find the wrong person."
No one spoke.
They didn't even dare to move.
Chen Mo nodded. "Excellent, this should be the one."
He paused for a brief moment, then added at the end, "In the short term, he won't be arranging any work for you. I also hope you won't go looking for 'part-time jobs' yourselves, like bullying your classmates. That's not nice, really."
His tone sounded like he was approving leave slips.
Then he looked down at the man on the ground.
"You too."
"If you can't manage people well, then manage less."
Siren blared in the distance.
They were approaching.
Chen Mo tilted his head to listen.
"Wow, such efficiency today?"
After saying this, Chen Mo took two steps back, reached out, and hoisted the man up, hanging him directly onto the iron railing. The posture looked highly uncomfortable, but it was secure.
"Someone will be here to pick you up shortly, you won't be uncomfortable for too long."
His tone sounded like after-sales service.
Those kids didn't dare to utter a single word.
Chen Mo turned and walked out.
The police car lights had already turned into the street entrance.
Chen Mo raised his hand and waved backward.
"Children, good luck to you tonight."
Stepping out of the alley, he added another line.
"Listen to your friendly neighbor and give yourselves a few days off, alright?"