Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 251 Ma Zhaodi felt he still had too many principles.
"The dead child lay on the bed with his eyes open and mouth agape all night. When I regained consciousness, a swarm of mosquitoes and flies had already found their way to the body, and other insects were gathering in larger numbers. I guess it was a rare treat for them."

After finishing his cigarette, Lester casually threw the butt on the ground and stomped it out. "I've made it through another day, but the voice in my head is getting louder and clearer. John, I can't handle that demon by myself. I can't hold on any longer."

Hearing this, Constantine sighed: "Very well, so this is why you came to see me. I fucking regret having a friend like you—"

“I need your help, John,” Lester emphasized. “I even kidnapped a tourist for this purpose, sold his passport, and used the money to buy a plane ticket.”

Chas frowned at this point: "You left that boy's body in the house to rot, and you might even have killed a passerby?"

“It’s a calamity, just a calamity.” Lester emphasized again: “At most, he’s lost his identification, but in a place like Tangier, you can survive even without identification.”

"Really?" Ma Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. "Then how will he buy a plane ticket back to China?"

“That’s his problem. Anyway—” Lester continued, “I went to Heathrow Airport. I had been craving it for days. I was freezing and had goosebumps all over, but the border control officers didn’t even look at me. I guess that was some kind of luck from the devil.”

At this point, he actually became somewhat angry: "I kept holding on because I knew Constantine would have a way, but when I came to you, you weren't here, were you!"

“Yes, yes, friend, calm down,” Constantine reassured. “I’m back now, aren’t I? Don’t be angry, continue.”

“You should have come back sooner, even a day earlier would have been fine,” Lester said angrily. “This morning, I got here, tricked Mrs. M into opening the door, went into your room, and then waited for you, but you never came—so I had to go out to find some medicine to clear my head.”

"but?"

"But I couldn't find the medicine, and then this thing started acting up again."

Lester clutched his head, his face contorted with despair and anguish, as if the buzzing, devilish voice were echoing in his skull again: "He talks and talks, sings and sings, endlessly. He promises me freedom, promises me relief from the fear and pain of my addiction—if I give Him freedom too."

"I was almost going crazy, and suddenly bugs started flying towards me from inside the room. At first there were only two or three, then five or six, then a dozen, dozens, and hundreds!"

“I’m about to break down, Constantine, I’m about to break down! That thing wants to kill me, and if I delay any longer, I’ll be bitten to death by a thousand insects—can you imagine being surrounded by hundreds of mosquitoes?”

Constantine looked at the dense marks on his body and shrugged at his old friend: "Not hundreds, at most dozens."

"Damn, anyway, that old lady said you were in America, and I remember you had a girlfriend there, Emma—so I asked her to send the package containing that bottle over there."

He murmured, "Constantine always knows what to do, Constantine will know."

Seeing that Lester's explanation ended there, Ma Zhaodi took the hat off his head and put it back on his coat—he had always known that Constantine's friends had no moral bottom line, but he never expected that Lester could be so irresponsible.

The child's death had already infuriated him, but that could at least be attributed to the devil's temptation; the tourist's passport being stolen was also a matter of expediency; but sending such a terrifying demon directly to his friend in a package—rather than "believing his friend could handle it," it was more like "better to die for a friend than for himself; if the sky falls, someone else will hold it up." His will to survive overcame everything. He knew the sinister package might never reach its destination, and he knew Constantine might be powerless to deal with the evil spirit, but he did it anyway because it would allow him to live—even though this act might lead to the deaths of others.

“No wonder he’s Constantine’s friend.” Ma Zhaodi shook his head: “Their ways of doing things are exactly the same.”

“Don’t fucking slander me.” Constantine immediately retorted, “I’m much better than this useless piece of trash. I don’t do drugs—I know how to deal with this guy, kick his ass over, throw him out the door, and then take a nap.”

Ma Zhaodi stared wide-eyed at Constantine.

Unexpectedly, Chas, who had been very taciturn, immediately responded: "Emm, I can take him away, and then, uh... find a place to dump him."

Ma Zhaodi's eyes widened even more as he looked at Chas.

No, buddy?
"You're talking about your friends, right?" he confirmed. "And are you sure you're exorcists, not gangsters?"

In Constantine's presence, Ma Zhaodi suddenly realized that his previous methods of doing things had been too conservative.

“Forget it, there’s too much trouble.” Constantine sighed. “If we leave this thing alone, it’ll cause problems again. In fact, according to Old Ma, it’s already causing problems. We have to fix it. Chase, go get some paper and pen. Lester, listen to me, you can rest soon, but you have to draw that kid first—his face, his tattoos, his bones, everything.”

Ma Zhaodi sat to the side, watching Lester sketch on paper with a pencil. In no time, the image of an African child with a large skull, sunken cheekbones, and a large mouth and nose took shape under his pen. The patterns and tattoos on his face were truly dizzying to look at—it was hard to imagine how excruciating the pain must have been for a child to have so many cuts on his face.

“The painting is quite good, Lester. I told you you should have finished art school instead of becoming a charlatan who knows a bit of magic.” Constantine took the painting with satisfaction. “Now, you can go to sleep.”

Chas shrugged. "So, my mission is complete?"

“Well,” Constantine’s face immediately broke into a malicious smile, “I’m sorry, old friend, you’d better find enough food, cigarettes, and pornographic magazines for three days—you’ll have to watch the kids here.”

"But I..."

"Don't look at me." When he saw Chas looking at him, Ma Zhaodi immediately shifted the blame: "You know, I paid him to take me to investigate this matter, I'm not planning to stay here and wait for news."

"Dude, you've worked hard." Constantine said with a smile.

"You owe me this."

(End of this chapter)