In America, a place where people seemed to feel neither shame nor outrage, racism against people of Asian descent had never truly disappeared. Even now, there were plenty of ignorant country bumpkins who believed Asians had long, slanted eyes, prominent chins, and flattened noses, and that they enjoyed eating animal organs and dog meat.
That was precisely why someone had just used those racist stereotypes to insult Karl.
Hearing the man's insults, Karl merely smiled. He lowered his head, stared directly into the man's eyes, and suddenly launched a powerful kick toward him.
Karl was no longer the inexperienced fighter he had once been. In particular, after undergoing Bronze Tiger's training, his combat abilities had improved severalfold.
Although he wouldn't dare claim that he could defeat every formidable opponent, his fighting skills were already among the very best in the police force.
At that moment, his kick generated a powerful gust of wind that struck the television mogul's face, frightening him so badly that he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth to scream.
However, when he finally opened his eyes again, he discovered that Karl was still standing in front of him, smiling pleasantly.
The kick had never actually landed.
"Not bad! You've got quite a voice. For a second there, I thought you were some eighteen-year-old kid trying to act like a gang boss!"
As Karl spoke, he took out his phone.
The man's incoherent screams immediately echoed from the device.
However, since nothing had actually happened to him, the sight of the man screaming his lungs out for no reason looked utterly ridiculous.
The television mogul's face turned so red that it looked as though blood might start dripping from it.
At that moment, he was too embarrassed to utter another word.
"What exactly do you want?" another television executive asked. "Perhaps we could renegotiate our arrangement. There's really no need to be so impatient..."
"After all, Gotham City is enormous, and there are countless opportunities to make money. Surely there's room for us to discuss everything!"
Hearing this, a smile appeared on Karl's face.
He continued speaking.
"You're absolutely right! Wouldn't it be wonderful if everyone could make money together?"
"But if I remember correctly, I was the one who came begging for an opportunity to cooperate with you in the first place."
"Unfortunately, you looked down on me. You even planned to steal my project and claim it as your own, didn't you?"
The television moguls exchanged glances.
The expressions on their faces were truly something to behold.
After a long silence, someone finally managed to speak, stumbling over his words.
"That... that was just a matter of timing. Now, we're more than willing to continue working with you, Mr. Karl..."
Unexpectedly, before the man could even finish speaking, Karl waved his hand and rejected the suggestion.
"Don't say that."
"I've given this matter a great deal of thought, and I've come to realize that your opinions were actually quite reasonable."
"I've only just entered the industry, after all. I'm indeed a newcomer, and I still have plenty of shortcomings."
"Therefore, I'd like everyone here to take a look at our latest production and evaluate whether its artistic merit and commercial potential meet your professional standards."
Hearing those words, the television moguls were stunned.
Under circumstances like these, it hardly seemed like an appropriate time to watch a movie.
However, their lives were entirely in Karl's hands, so they had no choice.
They secretly made up their minds that no matter what Karl showed them next, they would close their eyes and applaud enthusiastically.
Even if the production was absolutely terrible, they would praise it to the heavens and describe it as an unprecedented masterpiece.
After all, as long as they could endure these few hours and make it out alive, would these wealthy media magnates really have any trouble arranging for someone to eliminate Karl in retaliation?
Besides, many of them were prominent public figures in Gotham City!
Unless Karl was some lunatic obsessed with the Joker, there was no way he would dare murder so many people at once.
The consequences of such an incident would be far beyond anything a mere district police chief could control!
However, Karl didn't bring out a projector, television, or anything of the sort.
Instead, he simply waved his hand.
Immediately afterward, a group of elderly, unattractive women appeared before them.
Some of them were old enough to be someone's grandmother.
Looking at these strange, elderly women, the television moguls were horrified.
They couldn't begin to imagine what Karl intended to do.
"I've heard a few interesting rumors lately."
"Apparently, some of you have been spreading stories behind my back, saying that I'm nothing more than a stingy cane salesman who doesn't belong in show business and disgracefully lashes out whenever things don't go his way!"
Karl introduced his plans in a completely relaxed tone.
"Well, I haven't forgotten where I came from."
"So today, I've decided to return to my old profession and shoot a truly extraordinary special video."
"I guarantee it'll be an intense production, something so unforgettable that it will haunt your dreams for years to come!"
"S-shooting?" the television moguls asked nervously. "You... you intend to start filming right now?"
They seemed to have a terrible premonition about what was coming.
Unfortunately, Karl's next words sent a chill straight from their toes to the tops of their heads.
It was as though they had suddenly fallen into a bottomless abyss.
"Exactly!"
"Since you've been so kind as to point out the flaws in my close-up filming techniques, I thought you gentlemen could help me correct those mistakes by taking on the roles your predecessors once played."
"In fact, not only are we beginning production right now, but I've also decided to invite all of you to play the leading roles!"
"So don't be so quick to refuse!"
"Come on! Give these gentlemen their medicine!"
As soon as Karl finished speaking, before the television moguls could protest or cry out for help, several muscular men standing nearby immediately rushed forward.
They grabbed the executives and forcibly stuffed the drugs they had prepared into their mouths.
Their movements were rough and brutal, as though they were force-feeding ducks.
"To make sure all of you can deliver outstanding performances, I've even prepared some special medication!"
Karl sat off to the side, making sarcastic remarks with a cold smile in his eyes.
"That way, when the time comes, you'll be able to perform at your absolute best!"
"Oh, and one more thing!"
"I'm genuinely impressed by your extraordinary talent for running your mouths and talking complete nonsense!"
"Don't forget to throw in a few gay guys as well. That should make the whole production even more interesting!"
The entire scene immediately descended into chaos.
The elderly cheerleaders, dressed in all manner of gaudy colors, looked almost like demons.
They shouted excitedly, saliva flying from their mouths, as they cheered and saluted the burly men who were carrying the media magnates into their respective rooms.
Several underlings carrying video cameras followed closely behind.
Then, the thick iron doors were slammed shut.
The rooms were so thoroughly isolated that no matter what happened inside, not even the slightest sound would escape to the outside.
For a while, Karl was left completely alone in the crowded cold-storage room.
He sat there quietly, smoking a cigarette.
In the darkness, his solitary figure resembled a lonely statue, sitting in a forgotten corner and slowly drinking in its own solitude.
The so-called "old ladies" were mostly women who had reached a certain age.
However, this was a profession in which money could be earned remarkably quickly.
Generally speaking, three to five years of work would be enough for someone to accumulate sufficient capital to start a small business.
At least, in the old days of Gotham's gang-controlled slums, there had been plenty of cases in which the families of gang leaders were left destitute after their men were slaughtered by rival organizations.
Their elderly mothers, wives, and daughters sometimes ended up in the city's most miserable red-light districts, forced to endure humiliation and hardship for a pitiful amount of money.
Perhaps it was tragedies like these, and the stories hidden behind them, that had inspired Auguste Rodin to create a sculpture depicting an aging courtesan.
(End of Chapter)
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