Chapter 161: One Has No Brain, One Is Unhappy

The Riddler, clad in a green suit, stepped through the door. It was midnight; the bright, clear moonlight streamed through the window into the magnificent, exquisite room, illuminating it almost as brightly as day.

The Joker sat silently behind a wooden desk. On the desk lay an extinguished lamp, a blank picture frame, and an open book, making the surface appear simple yet not empty.

Opposite the desk stood a comfortable chair.

The entire room was empty, containing only one person, one desk, and one chair, yet it was spotless, and the desk had been arranged. Even the positioning was quite interesting; one could see the clear moonlight as well as the incredibly bright Bat-Signal in Gotham's night sky in the distance.

Undoubtedly, the Joker had a guest—a guest worthy of his careful preparation.

But it was not the Riddler.

Yet the Riddler did not care. He glanced around the room, then walked directly to the opposite side of the desk.

"Knock on the door—knock, knock."

"Open the door—who is it?"

"An answer."

The Riddler looked at the Joker's drooping face. Although the Joker sat silently on the stool, his splendid formal wear smoothed of wrinkles, the Riddler could still sense an impolite air of disdain from these polite details.

But it was still the same old story; the Riddler did not care.

"Before I give the answer, do you want to know how I solved the riddle you left?"

The Riddler ignored the Joker's response and continued speaking on his own.

"The riddle you left him, the pattern on the map, the nose on the Joker's face, and—why is six afraid of seven?"

"Because seven ate nine, six was scared away, nine was eaten, so only 78 remains—but I saw more than that. I saw through everything. I know you can't smile anymore."

Speaking thus, a smile appeared on the Riddler's face.

"It is hidden in your action patterns, hidden in the way you attack Gotham. The Unicorn Comedy Theater, the Joke Shop, comedy films, stand-up comedy, the Joke Factory... while luring him to find you, you were also seeking humor."

The Joker remained silently seated behind the desk, his eyes glancing sideways at the Riddler, his mouth still turned down, his expression still appearing quite unhappy.

"And this is all because of him, isn't it? Punchlines must be unpredictable; that is why they are funny. But now that he is here, everything can be predicted. He can always see through the fog. He can always defeat you."

"You need to laugh, or else what kind of person do you become? But as long as he is out there, you cannot laugh—unless you kill him. You feel you must kill him."

The Joker still said nothing.

"What you don't know is that I feel the same. All riddles seem meaningless after he appears."

"I can solve everything, yet I cannot solve him. But if there is a riddle I cannot solve, I must solve it anyway; otherwise, what kind of person do I become?"

"I saw your plan, so I am no longer staying in prison. I must come out and talk to you. As long as one of us succeeds, the other's wish can never be fulfilled. So, we must decide the winner between us first. Either you kill me, or I kill you. Only the survivor has the qualification to take him down. And the worst part is, in this three-person war, he will be the one laughing last."

"But there is another path there, my friend. A clear path."

At this point, the Riddler clenched his fist and waved it vigorously, his tone carrying extraordinary excitement and conviction—or rather, a sense of seduction.

Then he painfully clutched his hand.

Damn it, it hurts so much. That bastard's helmet is too hard.

He suppressed his cry of pain with a twisted face and continued speaking.

"You and me, jokes and riddles. We won't fight. We will solve riddles together and laugh together."

He lowered his head, looked into the Joker's eyes, and said word by word: "Together—we kill Batman."

Facing the smile on the Riddler's face and the eager, ready-to-pounce light flashing in his eyes, the Joker finally spoke his first sentence.

"Hmm-hmph."

Seeing the Joker somewhat tempted, the Riddler added: "I can see every step of any layout clearly; this is what I am good at. And this step is the only way to break through our deadlock."

Hearing this, the Joker finally withdrew his gaze. He looked at the pages before him and made up his mind: "Yes, you are right. Joining forces with you is the only way to make me laugh again."

A satisfied smile appeared on the Riddler's face.

"Hmm, or maybe this works?"

As the Joker's words fell, a revolver was pressed against Nigma's stomach, causing the expression on his face to quickly turn to shock and rage.

"Wha—"

Bang!

The shot Riddler fell to the ground, clutching his wound and groaning in pain.

"No, this won't work either... Still not funny. Hmph."

The Joker let out a disappointed and angry sound, then stepped over the groaning Riddler and walked toward the interior of the building.

"Now, about you... Hmm, if he could come now, maybe he could survive? I don't know."

"Seventy-sixth floor, huff..."

At the same time, Ma Ma Zhaodi was climbing up the stairs, slightly out of breath.

"Damn Riddler, truly f***ing terrible. Several elevators were all pressed to the top floor, and waiting for them is f***ing slower than me climbing the stairs—but climbing stairs is so tiring..."

He raised his hand to check the time on his phone. He had been climbing for a full three minutes and was finally almost reaching the seventy-eighth floor. If not for his physical enhancement, he would most likely have collapsed exhausted on the tenth or so floor.

"Two floors left. Almost there, almost there, huff..."

Just one nap. I just took a nap.

The black bat flew through Gotham's night sky, filled with regret in his heart.

Whether it was to reward him for what he had done for Gotham City over the past year, or not, Gotham had welcomed sunshine unseen for a long time since the crime rate had decreased month by month. It was precisely in the early hours of today that he watched the rising morning sun and decided to take a good sleep as a reward for himself.

Alfred had temporarily returned to England, so only he remained in the manor, which gave him a sense of relaxation akin to parents being out of the house.

He casually turned off all his electronic devices and then entered a sleep undisturbed by anyone, something he had not done in the past year.

But it was precisely the events that happened today that made him regret it immensely.

The Riddler was kidnapped; the Joker attacked over a hundred comedians... He thought to himself, if I hadn't turned off my communication equipment, I should have been able to wake up in time and stop these crimes.

He saw Chief Gordon's Bat-Signal and intended to fly toward the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department, but at that moment, the sound of the police radio came from his ears—this was also one of the alarms he had originally set.

"A red taxi in the Burnley District suddenly lost control, rushed onto the sidewalk, and crashed directly into the plaza fountain. The status of the driver inside is currently unclear. A passerby reported that a passenger suspected to be the Joker appeared to exit the vehicle and walked into the building next to the accident scene."

This alert made him immediately change his mind. He dove downward, rushed into the Batmobile that had been following him on the road, and then sped toward the scene of the incident.

(End of this chapter.)