American comic book: After mastering resurrection, I became incredibly popular.

"But it wasn't over. After that, the police called and told me: my wife and children died in a car accident last night. They were all dead, right here on this bridge..."

He poked at the bridge surface beneath his feet with his finger, venting his dissatisfaction with heaven and earth.

"All it takes is one bad day! You know what I mean? One bad day!"

“I understand.” The Angel of Death took a step forward. “But suicide is not the solution. You can always find another job, can’t you?”

"Work? Do you know who I work for?"

The man bared his teeth and brandished his claws, revealing his gruesome arm. "I work for the Penguins! Now you understand? I'm a criminal, a drug addict, a thug! My arm is covered in needle marks, knife wounds, and gunshot wounds. Would you really save a scumbag like me?"

Upon hearing this, the Angel of Death immediately held his breath.

"Why are you pretending to care about me? In the past, you would only arrest us and hand us over to the police or prosecutors!"

"Maybe I'll give up on suicide today because I listened to you, but what about tomorrow?"

"I might end up in Blackgate, or I might end up in Arkham Asylum. What difference would that make if I were dead?"

"The last two people who cared about me are no longer in this world, yet you act as if you care about me?"

"Hehe, among the criminals you've dealt with, I'm definitely the most insignificant one, because I've always been mediocre and unknown."

"But today, everyone—I mean, everyone is watching me!!"

As he spoke, his eyes turned red, and the bloodshot veins on his face made the Angel of Death grieve.

“Listen, sir, you don’t need to become a great person, you just need to be yourself. You only live once…”

boom!

Before the Angel of Death could finish speaking, everything came to an abrupt end.

I'm sorry, people often leave nothing behind before they die.

But he saw it.

A bullet came flying from a distance, piercing the man's temple precisely and nearly blowing half of his head apart.

Unstoppable blood splattered in all directions, eventually mixing with an indescribable liquid and splashing onto half of the Angel of Death's shoulder.

At that moment, he froze on the spot.

Inside the control building, the cavemen held their communication devices to their ears, and white smoke billowed from the muzzles of their guns.

"Boss, I did as you said and took care of that bastard. You were right, people associated with penguins are really annoying."

Bane's voice was full of contempt, "Now, capture the Angel of Death. The vial of 'Venom' that the Penguin stole is very likely in his hands..."

Chapter Thirty-One: What's so difficult about dying?

"Penguin, your hands are stained with blood."

Oswald Coppola couldn't help but burst into laughter upon hearing this.

He was peacefully sitting in the police car, listening to the Gotham radio host ramble on about trivial news, admiring the Gotham skyline at dusk, and reminiscing about this road he had traveled many times before…

But now, the police officer in charge of driving dares to criticize him!

“You’re still laughing,” the officer said, finding the penguin utterly incomprehensible. “You heard the man’s miserable state on the radio, didn’t you? It’s all your fault!”

"Come on, officer, this happens every day. Is this your first day living in Gotham? It's just that someone died. It's not a big deal." The Penguin whistled.

"Don't you have anyone you care about? You're a madman, a pathetic wretch!"

"Oh, here you go again. You think this can hurt me? Of course it can, and the care that person shows me is beyond your imagination!"

"Then you should know what empathy is. How many times have you been to Blackgate Prison? Why haven't you improved at all?" The other person continued to argue with him relentlessly.

"Empathy? Are you kidding me? When Mayor Carroll cuts your salaries, do you empathize with him? When the businessmen who sell you things empathize with you? Relationships between people boil down to two words: transaction!"

"Similarly, going in and out of prison is the same. I'll be frank with you: I've had people suffer for me, and not just once or twice. Some of them were named Smith, some were named Todd, but definitely not 'Coppert'."

"No matter what their names are, I give them money, and they suffer for me. That's the deal."

"What has your pathetic compassion brought you? What has your filthy police uniform given you?"

The more he talked, the angrier the policeman became. Just as he was thinking about how to respond to his fallacies, the walkie-talkie next to his thigh crackled to life:

"Freeman, have you finished delivering the penguin for me?"

"No, Brock, is there something you need?"

"Get this done quickly, Arkham needs more manpower..."

Behind him, the Penguin muttered under his breath, "...Admit it, one person's death is nothing special, just a number."

……

[Low-level dead aura detected]

[Experience points +10!]

[Resurrection spell cooldown countdown: 106 hours 20 minutes]

Wang Baixi's brows furrowed as the image of the man falling on the bridge came into his view through his binoculars:

Blood, brain matter, and the frozen silhouette of the angel of death.

"What's wrong? Let me pass?!"

"Your Majesty, stand there and don't move."

Looking into the distance, the Angel of Death suddenly turned its head and looked at the abandoned shipping dispatch building on the north side of the bridge.

The next second, he left the spot.

The grappling hook's rope propelled his body off the bridge, tracing an arc almost parallel to the bridge surface, before crashing directly into the window of the control tower.

Midway through, he deflected several incoming bullets.

But it wasn't until he came hurtling in like a cannonball and smashed the windows of the control building into countless pieces that everyone realized: he was serious.

"It's you..."

The caveman had just put his gun away and hadn't even had time to turn and retreat when the Angel of Death's fist slammed into the face of the mercenary next to him.

The mercenary's head hit the wall, his skull cracked, and then he slumped to the ground.

"Fire! Fire!" the caveman shouted as he retreated.

Damn it, how could this guy be so reckless? He's nothing like a "hero" at all.

The remaining four henchmen simultaneously raised their submachine guns. Gunfire erupted in the cramped control room, bullets raining down like downpours.

The Angel of Death's cloak billowed in the blast of bullets. His armor had taken a full magazine of bullets, and sparks flew from the titanium plate on his chest, but it seemed to have no effect on him.

He took one, two, three steps forward amidst a hail of bullets, his armor bent, deformed, and dented by the impact.

With every step he took, a gunman fell.

The first one was knocked down by his palm strike, the second one had his nose broken by his elbow strike, and the third one was grabbed by the collar and thrown out of the window.

The fourth man had just emptied his magazine when the Angel of Death grabbed him by the neck.

“I have been commanded to rule over your lives, to cause your death, and finally, to call you back to your Lord.”

Click!

The mercenary's body slipped from his grasp and lay motionless on the ground.

Seeing this, the caveman tossed aside his empty pistol and drew two short knives from his waist. Surrounded by the shadow of death, he became strangely calm, baring a set of uneven teeth at the angel of death:

"I thought none of you guys liked killing."

The armor plate on the Angel of Death's chest was deformed, with more than a dozen bullets embedded in the bulletproof layer. Blood seeped from the gaps in the plate and dripped down the edge of the belt.

But he remained standing.

"Your armor doesn't seem to be working anymore?"

"That's enough to kill you."

"it is good!"

The caveman sprang into action at the sound, like a maddened beast. His daggers plunged into the angel of death's throat and abdomen, the blades flashing two unsettling streaks of white light in the fading sunset.

The Angel of Death dodged the stab to the throat, but a second dagger pierced a gap in his left ribcage.

The pain of the knife tip piercing his muscle shot straight to his forehead.

However, before the caveman could twist the blade to widen the Angel of Death's wound, the other's left hand had already gripped his wrist, and his right hand reached for the back of his head.

According to the Angel of Death's intention, this blow would have been enough to shatter the caveman's skull.

However, the sharp pain in his ribs slowed his movements by a few seconds.

The caveman took the opportunity to break free from his grasp and leaped back a large step.

"Boss! Should we run away?" the caveman shouted at the communication device on the ground.

A deep voice came from the other end of the device: "Kill him."

"receive."

The caveman gripped his twin swords tightly again and began circling the Angel of Death, trying to find some opening.

He knew the Angel of Death's strength was rapidly declining; bloodshed didn't lie, nor did the cracks in his armor.

Suddenly, two small, round metal balls rolled in through the broken window.

The first smoke grenade landed at the caveman's feet, and thick gray smoke instantly engulfed half the room.

The second one also exploded quickly, and the entire control building was turned into a sealed chimney in a very short time.

"Who?!"

The caveman brandished his twin swords wildly through the smoke, but unfortunately, his swords only struck the air.

Then, flashes of light erupted in the smoke, turning the entire room a ghastly white.

"I can't see, boss! Someone threw smoke grenades and flashbangs!"