As a ninja, running along rooftops, scaling walls, and walking on water are all basic skills.
Ignoring the raucous noise from the bar downstairs and in order not to attract attention, Hardy picked up the safe, climbed onto the window, then evenly distributed chakra to the soles of his feet. He walked vertically up the wall at a ninety-degree angle, reaching the balcony without anyone noticing. With a few agile leaps, he disappeared into the city's high-rises.
An hour later, at the Iceberg Restaurant.
Basement Level One.
This was the casino hidden beneath the Iceberg Restaurant.
As soon as Hardy arrived, someone invited him to a private room.
"It's truly unbelievable that you actually escaped from Arkham, Doctor Puppet."
Inside the private room, the Penguin scrutinized Hardy in surprise.
Here, Hardy didn't conceal his identity, because his status as an Arkham graduate actually helped him blend in better.
It was like having a high-level criminal diploma, personally certified by Professor Batman himself—extremely valuable.
Thanks to Gotham's news media, which dispatched helicopters and reporters to capture footage of Batman's showdown with the Joker, the whole city already knew what had happened at Arkham Asylum.
The few criminals who escaped—including Hardy—had all become dangerous fugitives, wanted throughout Gotham by the police.
Especially Hardy.
After an investigation by Batman—the world's greatest detective—it was determined that Hardy was the mastermind behind the Arkham breakout, taking advantage of the Joker incident.
Overnight, Clear Water (Kelier Water) became a household name in Gotham, rising as the city's newest star villain.
"Interested in working for me?"
As expected, the cigar-chomping Penguin extended an invitation to Hardy.
"I prefer to work alone. Besides, if we all gather together, we'll become too big a target and attract the attention of a certain little black animal."
Hardy placed the safe on the table in front of the Penguin.
"I need to buy a few things."
A female croupier carrying an electronic scale promptly came over and began counting the contents of the safe.
"Aha, you're absolutely right! There's a little bat brat snooping around for information about you right now!"
The Penguin adjusted his glasses and laughed heartily.
Another headache for the Bat Family—what a wonderful thing.
The one looking for Hardy was Nightwing.
After the Titan formula was separated from Milovan's body using WayneTech's blood separator, restoring his original appearance, Nightwing realized he'd been played.
Once the investigation was over, Nightwing volunteered to help Batman track down the escaped Arkham inmates.
"Fifty chips in total. Normally, I'd charge a five percent handling fee for deals here, but I'll waive it for you this time."
The Penguin clapped his hands, and an underling immediately brought over fifty chips and handed them to Hardy.
"One chip is ten thousand. Happy shopping, my friend."
The Penguin made a graceful gesture, opening the door.
Hardy left the private room, walked through the noisy casino, and arrived at a small door. He opened it and stepped into the elevator.
Basement Level One was the casino; Basement Level Two was the Penguin's black market.
He'd been here once before, so Hardy was quite familiar with the place.
Black cloaks and masks hung in the hallway.
These were prepared for guests who didn't want to reveal their identities—optional to wear.
Hardy donned a black cloak, casually picked up a tanuki mask, and entered the black market.
As Gotham's largest black market, the place was bustling.
After all, the Penguin was a big name in Gotham's underworld—arguably the most business-savvy crime lord in the city.
Most people, like Hardy, disguised themselves with cloaks and masks.
Both sellers and buyers did the same.
Guns, ammunition, human organs, rare minerals and drugs, all kinds of jewelry—you could find almost anything here.
Hardy began browsing, checking things here and there.
His main goal was to find materials for making puppets.
If he saw something interesting, he'd buy a small amount.
He wasn't familiar with most of the materials here, especially regarding their chakra conductivity.
Most seemed rather mediocre.
In the world of Naruto, chakra had existed for thousands of years. Many substances had developed a certain resistance and conductivity to chakra, such as chakra metal, or the various plants used to make explosive tags and chakra paper.
But not here.
Hardy frowned.
For making puppets, it didn't matter if the main body's chakra conductivity was a bit poor, but for the chakra hub—the part connecting the chakra threads—the conductivity had to be excellent.
So far, none of the materials he found seemed particularly effective.
It looked like he'd have to make do.
Gold, silver, and copper are the three most conductive metals, able to transmit energy well, and were the best chakra-conducting substances Hardy could find for now.
With his wealth, he could afford quite a bit, but unfortunately, these three metals weren't very hard, making them unsuitable as the main structure for puppets.
So he decided to go with aluminum alloy coated with bulletproof stainless steel.
As for weapon modules, there was no need to be picky—there were so many weapons here, even RPGs for sale.
After a round of shopping, Hardy finally picked out three ceramic composite bulletproof vests, a bag of miniature cameras, small radar sensors, and two guns.
One Harding revolver, and one Beretta PMX submachine gun.
All of these were intended to be modified and installed on his puppets.
He also picked up some other useful materials.
The total cost wasn't high—just two chips, or twenty thousand dollars.
"You didn't buy much. Are you dissatisfied with the goods here?"
After leaving the black market, Hardy went to find the Penguin again.
"No—"
There are things I want, but thinking it over, you should be able to help me solve part of my problem."
"Oh, those things you bought—I really can't tell what you intend to do with them. But I think I know what you're after from me: an identity, right?"
The Penguin chuckled.
Right now, Hardy was wanted by the entire Gotham City Police Department. If caught, he'd be sent straight back to Arkham. And since he'd already escaped once, he'd likely get the same treatment as the Joker—locked up in the highest-security cell.
So, he needed a new identity.
"That's right. A legal identity, one that can withstand scrutiny. I don't want that annoying bat on my tail for a while."
"Aha, I understand. Such an identity will cost you a hundred thousand dollars. Would you like me to arrange a top plastic surgeon for you as well? After all, the paperwork is easy, but your face…"
The Penguin grinned, puffing on his cigar.
"No need."
Hardy lifted his cloak and formed a series of hand seals.