The Memoirs of Cultivating Immortals

Chapter 9
There were gunshots, shouts, screams, and the sound of a bank alarm ringing like a death call.

The gangster wearing a clown mask and a black hoodie raised his head and took a deep breath, as if he wanted to imprint the bloody smell in the air into his lungs.

Like the poorest ballet dancer, he tiptoed and twirled, and as the hem of the black hoodie floated, his figure jumped up lightly, and he sat down on the wooden counter in the center of the hall.

"history!"

The clown patted the Gotham National Bank's century-old wooden counter roughly, and shouted over all the noise: "History is a good thing, ladies and gentlemen, you must remember history."

A total of four other gunmen and masked gangsters jumped out from the back door of the orange school bus. They also wore clown masks of different styles on their faces, and their semi-automatic rifles shot aimlessly at the sky. At last, there was no one in the hall. People dare to stand up.

The clown who was the leader sat on the counter dangling his legs, tilted his head, and said: "According to the teaching of history, you lambs should all lie on the ground and keep silent like the mice in the church, otherwise I will kill you." Use your blood to decorate the walls, understand?"

The humble people lying on the ground like maggots did not respond, and only the siren sounded hurriedly in the huge hall.

Li Ang, who was hiding in the corner, sighed softly. He didn't want to cause trouble, not at all. If someone wants to rob the bank, then let him rob it. Anyway, the wealth in the vault has nothing to do with him.

The body of a certain security guard fell obliquely in front of him, and indescribable tissue fluid dripped down from the hollow eye sockets blasted open by bullets, and warm pools of blood slowly overflowed.

The twins held in Li Ang's arms trembled like two frightened little animals.Burying her head deeply into his chest, she sobbed softly, tears soaking Li Ang's newly bought shirt.

After all, they are children in peaceful times, not those boy scouts in black Africa who are seven or eight years old and kill people in the street with powder and guns.
Li Ang touched the twins' hair, and continued to spy on the situation outside with the reflection of the phone screen.

"Now, let's see who can open the vault"

The clown jumped off the counter and picked up the silent deputy manager of the bank from the ground—the former business elite in suits and leather shoes, confident and comfortable, but now sweating profusely, stuttering and speechless.

"You're not a clown, he's dead, he's dead!"

This sentence seemed to have a special magical power, which made the bandit leader suddenly stop what he was doing, just like the video player freezes after pressing the space bar.

Gotham City is a city of crime. No one doubts this. Too many villains and bandits are mixed in, sucking the blood of innocent people who step into the city like leeches growing in the mud.

The Penguin, the successor of the Cobblepot gangster family, the Frozen Man with a freezing gas spray gun, the scarecrow who creates panic by fear gas, the Riddler in a question mark suit, and the double-faced man who decides everything by coins.
These villains are entrenched in the sky above Gotham, like vultures watching over carrion, salivating for the gluttonous feast below them all the time.

If they can still represent the "ordered chaos" in Gotham City, then the clown at the top of the villain symbolizes pure disorder.

Crazy, cunning, insidious, evil, arrogant, contemptuous, willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of the end, like to watch the world burn
Too many titles can be embellished on the head of the lunatic in the purple suit. If Batman is the king of the city under the night, then the Joker will always be the court jester standing opposite him.

Without any extraordinary ability or huge power support, only relying on his mastery of intrigue and tricks and playing with the dark side of human nature, the clown has created a series of appalling horrors.

Until a year ago, he cut off his own face and disappeared without a trace. Some people said that he died of illness in a dark sewer, and some said that he was finally caught by his enemies and died of some terrible lynching.

For a whole year, there was no news of any clowns in the city. For this reason, the officers in the Gotham Police Department got drunk and celebrated in private more than once—at least they didn’t have to worry about the pervert in the purple suit being processed out of soap Explosives blow up the entire police station.

"Joker?" The gang leader let out a breath, and lifted the trembling bank manager, "For God's sake, who told you I was him?"

As if stung in a dark corner, the gang leader pulled off his mask in great excitement, revealing a face covered with pale powder and a funny bright red foam ball on the tip of his nose.

The corners of his mouth are not grinning, and the arrangement of his facial features is more gentle. He looks like a fat clown who appeared at a children's birthday party and performed magic shows for children.

"Could it be that in the eyes of you Gotham people, there can only be one clown of his mother in the world?" The gang leader shook the bank manager's collar like a collapse, and roared angrily: "Every clown, every one! I will register my unique clown face painting on the Global Clown Association, you can see clearly for me, am I that damn Gotham City clown who has not been registered and doesn't even have a nose ball?!"

The bank manager was speechless with trembling lips, and the gang leader suddenly loosened his collar, allowing the manager to fall to the ground.

In Li Ang's sight, the moment the bank manager fell to the ground, he secretly put his hand into his pocket, as if he had pressed some button.

Have you called the police?That's fine.

Li Ang softly reassured the twins and told them not to be afraid, he poked his toes out and made a sudden hook, and hooked the pistol that fell beside the body of the dead security guard.

"Good afternoon, fellow citizens of Gotham. Please allow me to take a few minutes of your time to explain our identities."

The gang leader pointed to the tip of his nose and said, "My name is Bucky the Clown."

He pointed to the other people, "The two who are using the drill to open the door of the vault are Hisoka the Clown and Pennywise the Clown, and Sacco the Clown is patrolling with guns. Registered clowns registered in the Clown Association cannot be confused with that kind of wild way. That poor copycat had better be dead, otherwise I swear to God, he must be cramped and skinned to make a human stick."

With a bang, a hole was drilled in the door of the vault, and the two thieves rushed into the vault suppressing their shrill laughter, sweeping away the brand-new dollar bills and heavy gold ingots on the shelves with large canvas bags.

"Aha, wealth, dazzling, unparalleled." Bucky rubbed his hands, and directed the others to load the bags onto the school bus.

The sound of rapid brakes suddenly sounded outside the bank, and seven or eight police cars blocked the door airtightly. The Gotham police, who arrived late, regarded the opened door as a rock, and pointed their guns at the car. Orange school bus.

The clowns looked at each other, and Bucky jumped up and said, "Damn! Didn't we cut off the phone line to the Gotham Police Department? What's going on?"

Beep zero zero, the rapid text message rang suddenly in the silent hall, and a text message from Christina was displayed on the phone screen.

"Have you received them?" There are a few cute question mark kaomoji on the back.

The clown Bucky's boots had already appeared in Li Ang's eyes, and the cold muzzle of the gun was pressed against his forehead.

(End of this chapter)