Chapter 64: Once Upon a Time, There Was a Holy City Called Gotham

John Edgar Hoover had no desire to cooperate with the Prohibition Bureau.

The reason was simple: most agents in the Prohibition Bureau were former Internal Revenue Service personnel who would stop at nothing to collect taxes, earning them a thoroughly rotten reputation.

The number of people in the lawful world wanting to shoot them in the back was easily equal to that in the criminal underworld.

Getting entangled with them would yield no effective intelligence; instead, it would invite secret sabotage from lawful adversaries like the police departments, making it a thoroughly unprofitable venture.

Edgar Hoover had originally served in the Department of Justice.

However, while the Prohibition Bureau stood at the forefront and absorbed most of the flak, the Bureau of Investigation was hardly blameless in this series of events.

The massive influx of American weaponry into Chicago like magic, followed by its stealthy shipment to Ireland, was a direct slap in the face to the Bureau of Investigation!

Since the head of the Prohibition Bureau was facing accountability, many within the Bureau of Investigation were held responsible as well. Consequently, Edgar Hoover was transferred from the Department of Justice to the assistant directorship of the Bureau of Investigation, tasked with handling the black hands behind Chicago.

Indeed, fools might be foolish in their own unique ways, but clever people often shared remarkably similar delusions.

Behind this series of abnormal events, there had to be a massive sinister force driving things from the shadows!

Hoover’s thoughts even transcended the scope of domestic criminal syndicates; he seriously suspected the intervention of foreign powers, such as... France, a nation that had always harbored resentment toward the Anglo-Saxon alliance and took pleasure in seeing Britain and America at odds!

That batch of American-made weaponry in Ireland was highly suspicious. Only a state-level power could bypass Britain’s watchful eyes and cleverly manipulate the geopolitical landscape with a single shipment of arms.

Domestically, there must also exist an efficient and covert transportation channel colluding with these foreign powers.

The existence of this channel posed a threat to national security far greater than ten thousand speakeasies.

True to being a ruthless operator capable of controlling the FBI for decades to come, Edgar Hoover did not want to smash this channel; instead, he wanted to control it, making it serve his purposes when necessary!

With his keen instincts, after screening and analyzing the existing intelligence, Edgar Hoover discovered a crucial anomaly: although the Chicago Mafia and the Irish Gang played significant roles in the unfolding situation, they did not appear to have been effectively integrated by a powerful external force.

Did this not suggest that the control exercised by the mastermind behind the scenes might not be as omnipresent as outsiders imagined?

He decided to take a personal risk, adopting a method so daring it bordered on insanity—going undercover to infiltrate the Chicago gangs, figure out the background of the mastermind, and locate and seize control of that covert channel.

However, reality dealt him a swift and brutal blow.

Whether it was the Mafia or the Irish Gang, both were bound by ties of blood and regional origin, exhibiting extreme xenophobia. Hoover tried various disguises, yet he could at best contact a few peripheral foot soldiers, utterly failing to penetrate the mid-to-high echelons that held core secrets.

Until the favor of fate descended upon him!

Well, whether it was truly the favor of fate remained anyone's guess!

...

Logan had no idea that a historical powerhouse was trying to track him down; he currently had his own worries.

By this point, external developments had progressed far beyond what a minor underworld figure like him could drive.

Yet one thing was certain: the relationship between the conjugated father-son duo of America and Britain was undoubtedly much worse than it had been during the same period in history.

While it had not yet escalated into a major conflict—the British and American fleets had engaged in a few renewed standoffs at sea, but they merely glared from afar without even scratching the paint, and the matter would undoubtedly be resolved through negotiation later—seizing every opportunity to act as a troublemaker and letting minor grievances accumulate into major ones was, well...

Instead, "internal" developments were giving Logan a headache.

After winning the exhibition matches against the U.S. military, Al Capone and O'Banion gained massive prestige not only in the underworld but throughout Chicago.

Coinciding with events escalating into a confrontation between nations, the government had zero time to spare for two tiny gangs, causing these two fellows to get entirely full of themselves!

Both of them were thinking: *Since I am the chosen one and now possess such prestige, shouldn't I unify Chicago's underworld?*

Thus, both sharpening their knives, they prepared to launch a large-scale war of annexation to completely wipe out the other.

Logan, who simultaneously received requests for "Dark Side assistance" from both of them, was left speechless: ...

Fine, you two were going to fight sooner or later, but why fight at this exact moment?!

By now, a delicate balance had formed in Chicago: the majority of Chicagoans leaned toward opposing prohibition; the municipal government acted blind and silently supported the choice of Chicagoans; and the Prohibition Bureau and federal government, lacking support from the first two, often had no choice but to turn a blind eye.

Good grief, if you two went to war—and all-out war with machine guns and artillery at that—you wouldn't just attract the attention of the federal government; you'd easily push all Chicago citizens over to the opposition.

"I need to find these two inflated idiots something new to do and open up a fresh track," Logan muttered to himself.

He still had to dig into the treasure trove of Hollywood. *Aha, got it!*

Thus, one night, his primary persona "Han Solo" appeared before Al Capone once more.

Getting straight to the point, his voice deep and oppressive, he asked, "Chosen One, have you considered launching a grand war of unification and conquest?"

Al Capone nodded smugly, waving his cigar: "That's right! Venerable One! Chicago will be ours!"

"Han Solo" nodded slightly, then posed a solemn question: "Then, Chosen One, have you thought about how you will manage the vast underworld once it is unified?"

"Huh?" Capone froze, his mouth hanging slightly open. "Manage?"

He instinctively repeated the word, his brain seemingly incapable of processing the concept.

"Isn't it just... beating them into submission and then sitting back to collect the money? Whomever disobeys gets taken out."

Wasn't that the ultimate dream of a gangland king?

Management? What on earth was that? Did it require any thought?

"Han Solo" suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. *Fuck, I knew it!*

"Such magnificent mountains and rivers, yet how many heroes they breed!"

Using his signature aria-like tone, "Han Solo" continued, "The dark world has never been short of brilliant heroes. Strike down the heroes of the north, and even more will emerge. Is your grand ambition simply to slaughter them all until you are the only king left standing in an empty city?"

Capone was stumped, instinctively scratching his head.

"Han Solo" let out a slight sigh, his tone carrying the helpless exasperation of *you chosen ones of this generation are truly pathetic*, and began teaching him hand-in-hand how to truly "rule"—

"Very well, let me give you an example of a great Chosen One from the distant annals of history."

Capone immediately pricked up his ears.

"That Chosen One was named Bruce Wayne."

"Han Solo's" voice grew deep and magnetic, as if recounting an ancient epic.

"He was never content with mere violent conquest; instead, through supreme wisdom and power, he built a magnificent holy city—Gotham City!"

Capone listened in rapt attention. Gotham City? Never heard of it, but it sounded immensely impressive.

"Great Chosen Ones always have their official proxies. In that holy city, the surface government system secretly works in service to Bruce Wayne, maintaining a facade of order, while true power remains hidden deep underground."

"The underground world of the holy city, blessed by the Dark Side, is a land of outstanding talents, attracting countless untamed heroes gifted with extraordinary skills from all over the world to study and develop."

"Such as the master philosopher who understands human nature and laughs in the face of death, the Joker; the intellectual who is obsessed with puzzles and riddles, the Riddler; the master who can manipulate human fear, the Scarecrow..."

"Yet Lord Wayne did not banish or destroy them. Instead, through vast magnanimity and profound strategy, he sheltered heroes, befriended heroes, and provided a stage for heroes... In the end, these heroes all became the Dark Knights assisting Bruce Wayne in ruling the underworld!"

"Bruce Wayne thereby won everyone's awe. No matter where he walked, all heroes would address him from the bottom of their hearts with a single title—The Godfather!"

"Han Solo's" historically mutilated "epic story"—so altered that even Bruce’s mother wouldn't recognize it—came to an end.

Looking back at Al Capone, he was completely spellbound, his eyes filled with infinite shock and yearning!

So this was how a true Chosen One operated?!

Such grandeur! Such aura! Such a realm!

Damn it, I, old彭, am going to build a holy city just like that too!