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"I knew it, I knew it. They think they can do whatever they want just because The Godfather is getting old? Well, then I can only say they're in a hurry to die..."

In a bar in the East District, a man with a big beard held a cigar. He was the second-in-command of the Cocaine Gang. The bartender brought a glass of water cut with whiskey to him. The bearded man took a sip of the whiskey and then drew on his cigarette. As he exhaled a puff of smoke, he continued, "They haven't experienced those times; they don't understand."

"The Godfather only wants loyalty," he tapped the bar's desktop with his finger, emphasizing his point. "He's telling us that if we want a share of this place, we must follow his orders."

"Just like what he did many years ago, how he united the entire Gotham Gang and established the Twelve Families. Those young and reckless ones will never understand."

The man sitting across from him was skinny, not as imposing, with a pale and gloomy complexion. He was the owner of this bar and a member of the Four Giants of the Hui Xing Gang on Elizabeth Street. Taking a drag from his fragrant cigarette, he added, "My boss once told me, you know, our big boss was The Godfather's first leader, and he used to work under him."

"That bunch of mixed-bloods from Metropolis, thinking they've challenged The Godfather. When The Godfather doesn't make an immediate move, they believe he's scared. They're so naive; The Godfather won't take action himself..."

"He doesn't need to," the bearded man said. "Gotham is no longer the era when the big leader needed to pull the trigger himself."

"He's telling these gangs that even though he's old, as long as he's alive, he will forever be the underground king of Gotham," the skinny man stated.

"A chief doctor got injured, and the mental hospital shut down? Only those greenhorn kids who just entered the business would believe such a story. What a load of nonsense! The chief doctor my foot!"

"Who needs a chief doctor there? Go and cure that guy on the street with the rooster's crest who shivers at the sight of eggs?"

The skinny man and those around him burst into laughter. The bartender wiped glasses while chiming in, "You can find a chief doctor anywhere now. I think I could do it too. It's just counting and writing medical records; there are no real patients there."

"So, that's why I said it's all a bunch of lies. The Godfather deliberately cut off this industry so that the gangs would understand that if they want to make money with him, they have to listen and help him deal with those enemies, or else they can forget about making money."

The bearded man took another sip of his drink and grinned, "Many years ago, The Godfather did just that. He had two poppy plantations and threatened the gangs in the downstream industry to take care of the biggest troublemaker back then, that... Anton. That was a huge deal. If he could really get his hands on the products from those two plantations, he would make a fortune. But as you all know, the Frenchman's head was placed on The Godfather's desk the next day."

"They won't live much longer," the skinny man said grimly. "The sissies from Metropolis should go back to their own turf and stay out of Gotham's business."

"Go back? I'm afraid they won't have a chance to go back. They're doomed."

On the other side, Schiller was in the hospital, holding a telephone. "Yes, thank you for your concern. I went in for some rest, that's all... Yes, just needed some recovery. I really didn't expect..."

As soon as he hung up the phone, a nurse walked in carrying a large bouquet of flowers. "Seems like it's from the Lauren family."

"Put it over there, thank you. By the way, please take these other bouquets away; they're getting a bit wilted."

The nurse tidied up the area around the hospital bed, filled with flowers and gifts from various gang families. She couldn't help but remember the conversations she had with her colleagues in the corridor. Even if The Godfather was sick, did it really warrant such a grand display?

Schiller, however, was in good spirits. He was on paid leave, and in just a couple of days, he had received dozens of pounds of expensive red wine and cigars. He didn't know who leaked the fact that he enjoyed cigars, but now his manor was filled with cigars worth millions.

The idea of pretending to be ill had struck him one morning, and he didn't need anyone to remind him that the people from Metropolis were coming for him.

Previously, when the hired assassins came with their employer's money to kill him, he had managed to persuade them to leave. But the mastermind behind them wouldn't give up so easily. Perhaps it was because of the failed assassination attempt that he couldn't hire a renowned lone hitman, and instead, he had gathered a gang of criminals from who knows where, intending to engage in a group battle.

According to conventional wisdom, Schiller should have started a battle of attack and defense against them by now. After all, in a city like Gotham, it was unlikely that he could rely on the police for protection. With the enemy lurking in the shadows while he remained exposed, Schiller could only hire top-notch bodyguards or arrange for round-the-clock protection.

Even if he used Grey Mist to locate their positions, Schiller had to be cautious to eliminate a few of them who were separated from the group.

However, that would be too foolish, Schiller thought. He didn't want to lower himself to the level of those criminals and be defeated by their extensive experience.

Since the mastermind could afford the Reaper, the gang he had brought must have had some capabilities. Otherwise, they wouldn't have come to Gotham and killed The Godfather's people.

Hiding, being on guard against potential assassinations every day? Schiller would not go down that path.

So, after informing Falcone, Schiller faked an injury, and not just any injury, but a significant one.

He needed an extended period of rest, he said, and claimed that he was in a bad mood and unable to think clearly.

His injury was not a big issue, but with the mental hospital closing down due to the lack of a chief doctor, who among the mob bosses could sit still?

The mental hospital had been running for a long time. The first few individuals who had ventured into this business were now rolling in wealth. Those who had followed later had invested significant time and money in this endeavor, seeing it as a lucrative opportunity. They were on the verge of reaping the rewards when it all came crashing down. How could they be happy about it?

The ones who had already made money were even less pleased. Without having to risk gunfire, they could simply negotiate a profit-sharing agreement with Schiller and collect money while sitting back. Who wouldn't want such a deal? They had already earned a lot of money and wanted to earn even more. Shutting down at this point would be a loss, wouldn't it?

On the first day the mental hospital announced its closure, all the telephones were ringing off the hook, including Bruce's.

During the period when Schiller returned to Gotham University, Bruce was overseeing the entire hospital. Although Schiller had not consulted Bruce in advance about his plan, Batman being who he was, it took him only a few seconds to discern Schiller's intentions.

As a result, the world's richest person immediately took center stage. All the gang leaders who had attempted to subtly gather information by calling him on the telephone were met with Bruce's evasive trifecta: "I don't know, I'm not sure, I can't make sense of it."

"I'm just a billionaire with nothing to do and an empty head," he continued. "What use do you have in asking me? You might as well ask Evans."

Evans was also making a decent living within the hospital, being the son of The Godfather. Naturally, he was aligned with this group of gang leaders, so they had no choice but to make another call to Evans.

However, Evans expressed his predicament, explaining that this was his father's decision, and he couldn't interfere.

With that revelation, the gang leaders understood. This wasn't just an assassination attempt; it was The Godfather's way of sending a message. The Godfather's reputation was on the line, and no one would come out of this unscathed.

Those individuals from Metropolis who dared to disregard Gotham's rules while others stood by watching were putting everyone's profits at risk.

The gang leaders realized that The Godfather was indeed warning them. If they wanted to continue profiting together, they needed to show sincerity. "Point us in the right direction, and we'll take it from there," they thought.

After careful consideration, the gang leaders came to a decision. Those who had come from Metropolis were clearly just interlopers. "Find them immediately and dispose of them," they ordered. "No need to keep them alive; just bring us their bodies."

The ferocity of the Gotham Gang needed no further explanation, especially when their true interests were threatened. Everyone involved in this matter was on a relentless pursuit, seeking to confront the outsiders.

Originally, this group had identified their target in Metropolis a few days after arriving, namely Schiller. However, they hadn't acted yet, choosing to wait until everything was perfectly set up.

Schiller had moved out of Gotham University, and they were on the brink of executing their plan when he suddenly got injured.

"What? He was attacked by outsiders from Metropolis? Metropolis outsiders? But that's us! We haven't done anything!"

The Metropolis criminals were now in an extremely awkward position. They had faced all sorts of strange situations over the years, but this was the first time they had been framed!

"We haven't done anything! It was his own doing! What does this have to do with us?"

However, it was clear that this situation couldn't be explained away. If you wanted to find evidence proving their innocence, that might be feasible. But how could they prove their innocence when people were lying in the hospital?

When the victim says who attacked him, that's who attacked him. Furthermore, even if they hadn't done it, if The Godfather said they did, then they did.

Initially, they had prepared a bomb at Schiller's Manor and found a good place nearby to stake out. Their plan was to lure Schiller there. However, things took a turn for the worse when all the gangs in Gotham started looking for them. The location where they had been staking out was discovered, and they had to move.

They had initially caught The Godfather off guard, but that was in a sneak attack scenario. Over these past few days, they had witnessed how the Gotham Gang was using the firepower of a small-scale war in a shootout. Where in Metropolis would you find such an army? Now that these gangs had united and were no longer fighting amongst themselves, they were coming after them.

Looking at the rows of machine guns on armored vehicles, everyone wielding rocket launchers, and even a few rocket artillery vehicles, who wouldn't feel their hearts racing? Even if you stomped your feet, it wouldn't help!

So, now, these outsiders had become the ones who were desperately hiding and evading capture in the east of XZ. The Gotham Gang seemed uninterested in capturing them; instead, they found every location where they had hidden and obliterated it with rockets. They didn't want captives; they wanted corpses, even if not in one piece.

When it came to the level of madness among the gangs, there was no city in the world that could compare to Gotham. And when these crazed gangs united to target a single objective, the extent of that objective's suffering became all too apparent.

The frequent shifting of strongholds brought not only logistical challenges like dwindling supplies and a lack of daily necessities but more importantly, whenever they were on the verge of capture and needed to retreat, they had to leave someone behind as a rear guard. After several transfers, they had already lost several skilled individuals, and their group, which had originally consisted of over a dozen people, had dwindled to just a few.

They wanted to abandon the mission and escape, but the Gotham Gang wouldn't give them that opportunity.

It was unclear who had spread the word, but whoever presented their "invitation letter" first would receive the largest piece of the pie. With profit as their driving force, and the word "opportunity" on their minds, the gangs were all going crazy, eager to capture them and claim their rewards.