[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel":3,"chapter-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-106":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","My Life as a Mental Mentor in Marvel",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2322674,4544,"Chapter 106: The Bat in the Salt Shaker","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-106",106,"\u003Cp>February 23, 1987, Chicago, night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside the Chicago Theatre, Miss Tina gently stroked her fur stole after the dazzling, lively ball, leaned on her driver’s arm into a luxury sedan, and when she returned to her opulent apartment, a handsome man with blue eyes wrapped his arm around her waist; Tina said, “Our dance has only just begun, correct, Mr. Wayne?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moonlight streamed through the window, casting shadows beneath his brow that veiled those striking blue eyes; his handsome profile entranced Tina as he turned—Bruce Wayne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the afternoon of February 20, 1987, Schiller awoke on the Falcone estate’s bed, remembering he had been resting in the guest room of the Godfather’s mansion before his transit to Marvel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gotham’s mornings were never clear, but dawn always granted Schiller unique inspiration; while sharing breakfast with the Falcone father and son, the professor gained further insight and swiftly refined it in his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What do you think of Gotham’s future?” Schiller asked Falcone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Falcone shook his head: “If you’d asked me this forty years ago, I’d have told you this city was beyond saving—but now I say it needs no savior; it is what it is, and it will always remain so…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you think Gotham needs a new order?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Many have asked me this, but I can only say: any effort to make this city better ultimately vanishes, no matter how passionately it begins—it always ends in nothingness.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ve hit the crux—but I don’t know the answer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Godfather lit a cigar; smoke drifted slowly as he said: “In these forty years, I’ve seen steadfast revolutionaries, I’ve seen saviors with saintly moral heights—this world holds countless people, not lacking a few good souls or heroes determined to save this city.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They came to Gotham with this conviction—you must admit, even knowing they’d fail, you’re still awed by that resolve.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Perhaps you find it absurd, but I was once changed by these people—many might wonder, if that’s true, how did I become Gotham’s Godfather? How did I become the biggest gangster in this gangster city?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But precisely because I’ve seen them, because I lived through that era, I know: good people cannot save Gotham. Neither can heroes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So where are these people now?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Most are dead; some lucky ones escaped—those not native to Gotham will inevitably leave; if anyone stays, he must have always belonged to Gotham.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is there such a person? Where is he?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Godfather seemed lost in memory; after a moment, he made the sign of the cross and said: “I swore to the Lord I’d keep this secret.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave Schiller no clear answer—but Schiller already knew whom he meant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, Bruce was summoned to Schiller’s office; Schiller rarely called him directly, so Bruce wondered what he wanted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They sat on opposite sides of the desk, as they had on their first meeting; Schiller asked:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Have you ever, even for a second, thought of saving this city completely?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I mean, after you clearly understood the city’s true nature.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce opened his mouth; Schiller removed his glasses and stared directly at Bruce: “I think you’ve already seen that this city doesn’t need saving—and cannot be saved.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So are you trying to persuade me to stop? Stop being Batman?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course not—I don’t care if you become Batman. I only want to know: do you truly want to save Gotham?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s the difference?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Are you certain you’re Batman to save Gotham?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce fell silent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Let me rephrase: if there’s a chance to bring Gotham a new order, would you be willing to strive for it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Though I now suspect the answer, I still can’t determine what Gotham’s true nature is—why it became this way, or whether it truly cannot be saved.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Falcone told me many have tried to save this city, but all failed; most are buried here, yet some stayed, blending in, becoming part of Gotham.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who is he?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The sole priest of Gotham Cathedral. You should visit him, then return with your answer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce shook his head; he thought Schiller was inexplicable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he was genuinely curious about Gotham’s past—this city held too many mysteries to explore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His original goal was simple: revenge against all criminals. But as he learned parts of Gotham, he felt he should save it; as he learned more, he realized it needed no saving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, he was learning Gotham again—and found it seemed unsalvageable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Schiller said, Gotham was a book never finished; endless riddles, each reading yielding new insight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Bruce arrived at Gotham Cathedral, the priest welcomed him warmly; the old priest appeared over seventy—truthfully, few ordinary people in Gotham lived this long.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Gotham, no one teaches children to help the elderly cross the street—because there are no children taught, and no elderly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before the pulpit, the priest smiled, gripping Bruce’s arm: “I’ve long heard of Mr. Wayne’s name. Forgive me—I have nothing better to offer you; this church is ancient, as old as I am.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Look—these tables and chairs are falling apart; perhaps some kind soul will one day replace this pulpit with one that doesn’t need bricks to prop up its legs…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce knew such words well; he made the sign of the cross: “I do not ask for divine grace—Wayne Construction will fully renovate this church, cleanse His kingdom anew, all things restored to the Lord…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old priest seemed deeply satisfied; as Bruce spoke of the past, he offered no concealment, speaking plainly of his own history.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I came from an ordinary British family, served in the Church as a youth; to bring more souls to hear the Lord’s gospel, I came here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Originally, I settled in a small town on the East Coast, but heard Gotham was decent, so I came.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You may find it unbelievable, but Gotham was indeed decent back then—because of the docks, it was still prosperous, crowded, with decent living conditions; the gangs at the time were barely getting started, fewer than a dozen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Back then, there were still ordinary people with dreams—wanting to build order, grow with the city; I, too, thought that way.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the priest’s voice grew lower, echoing through the empty church; the colored light from the stained-glass windows above the windows flowed like a time tunnel, his voice carried back along those rays to that era.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“There were many such people then, ambitious, believing this was a golden coast, a new Klondike; though chaotic, all saw it as mere growing pains of urban development.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Young missionaries, Bibles tucked under their arms, arrived by ship—this story of traveling far across the world wasn’t as grand as others imagined, yet many here took interest in me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I preached faith here, helped everyone I could, mediated violent clashes among gangs; nearly everyone granted me respect.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce now viewed the priest with new respect; this elderly man, contemporary with Falcone, had once held influence in Gotham’s underworld.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this gang-dominated city, food could be eaten freely—but words could not be spoken lightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one would dare fabricate such a tale claiming all gangs owed him favors; Bruce knew only Falcone possessed such power—if anyone else boasted it, his corpse would be dumped in the sea the next day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the old priest spoke as if recounting something trivial; Bruce heard humility in his tone—he suspected this man, contemporary with the Godfather, had once held equal stature.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now they were vastly different: Falcone became Gotham’s revered Godfather; this priest guarded a crumbling church, perhaps going days without a single worshipper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce had long been curious about that faded, sepia-toned era—like people always imagining their parents’ glory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Falcone had once told him the story of the docks, revealing how gangs rose amid chaos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, in this empty cathedral, the aged priest revealed another face of Gotham from that era.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When I arrived in Gotham, the war was far from over; isolationism ruled here, yet most common folk feared the war, unable to comprehend why distant lands erupted into chaos.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I began spreading doctrine here, believing faith brought peace; at first, I did well—you know, many British still remained then; they invited me to their estates to hear my sermons; I spent nearly every afternoon like that.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Initially, small gangs only roamed near the docks; few even reached the inner streets; that’s when I met Falcone—though then there was no Falcone or Twelve Families; perhaps not twelve proper gangs existed in all of Gotham.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Back then, the economy was still colonial; by accident, I began dealing with gangs—they saw my connections to wealthy British patrons and wanted me to act as a middleman to expand their power.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I didn’t wish to enter these whirlpools, but had no choice; if I must, I’d choose the most promising one—Falcone.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Later, many realized Gotham wasn’t as good as imagined; wealthy British began leaving, gathering in more prosperous, promising places.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Their main legacy to this city was the estate district and this cathedral; through my persuasion, they collectively funded its construction, and I became its sole priest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And then? What happened after?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When the upper class that maintained order vanished, those with the most bullets filled the void—Falcone and his Twelve Families were such people; they caused chaos for a while, then seized control.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I once worked closely with Falcone; I knew he differed from other gangs—he wanted to build a new order here, however violent, better than no order at all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I did all I could to aid him; I believed gangs were merely temporary replacements for the emptied upper strata, and one day Gotham would return to normal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I never imagined it spiraled out of control; after Falcone and his families ruled, Gotham became a true crime capital—twelve gangs multiplied into 120, then 1200, until everyone here became gangster or criminal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Evil spread here, and I was powerless; I know Falcone felt the same—many believe he caused Gotham’s decay, but I know that’s not truth.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, the priest looked around the church and said: “Few buildings remain from that era; I’m grateful they left me this place, a shelter.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then why don’t you leave? Even if you can’t return home, you could go to Metropolis—there are many clergy there, living well.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The priest said: “You don’t understand—I didn’t merely witness evil slowly infecting this city; I was already deeply entangled in it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He made the sign of the cross, whispered a prayer, then said: “The greatest truth I learned in this process is: this city only accepts those who belong here; true heroes who seek to save it will inevitably leave—they don’t belong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So why is this?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I don’t know—but I’ve always believed my choice was right; Falcone and I are both guardians of this city, not destroyers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“To you, the Godfather may seem a success—he ruled Gotham’s underworld for forty years—but I know, and Falcone knows, we are both failures, weaving only an unstable order from the abyss of evil to preserve ourselves.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The priest shook his head: “But I’m merely an ordinary man, only lived longer than others; I know even less than Falcone—and perhaps Falcone doesn’t know the true answer either.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the sun sank, shadows of the church’s tables and chairs stretched longer; the colored light from the stained glass began flowing over Bruce.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, the old priest said: “I can only remain here, guarding a fragment of His kingdom; when I die, this sanctuary will vanish, like countless hopes that faded in Gotham.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of that generation, only I and Falcone remain—we are old; perhaps when we both meet our Lord, the last order in this city will vanish.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you think a new order is possible?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Countless have tried—and all failed. Falcone succeeded slightly, but only delayed the inevitable; perhaps no one can delay it any longer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With the priest’s sighing voice, Bruce fell into deep thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whenever he heard these stories of his homeland, Bruce could not feel the nostalgic longing of a returning exile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because Gotham’s story was absurd and hopeless from start to finish—nothing here had cause or consequence; even those who lived through it couldn’t explain why.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this mysterious quest to uncover Gotham’s history, the time machine’s gears always jammed on fog-shrouded fragments; every time Bruce tried to repair this broken old projector and uncover its truth, forces of all kinds blocked him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Leaving the cathedral, Bruce pondered Schiller’s question; the priest’s answer was: this city had no chance of new order—once the old generation died, darkness would swallow it whole.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He suddenly conceived a strange but vivid metaphor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All the evil in Gotham, all the criminals living here, were like salt grains spilled from a salt shaker.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was a shaker that would never empty; the holder poured out crystalline grains slowly, patiently, like a fisherman crafting bait.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Young Bruce, from his professor, from Falcone, from the old priest, had long understood one truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gotham became what it is not through simple natural evolution; his goal of avenging criminals may never be fulfilled, never fully save Gotham—because the salt shaker above Gotham never empties; the grains of evil, crystalline and bright, drift down like the ceaseless, fine rain of Gotham itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this did not crush Batman—it kindled in him a greater ambition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman had no desire to keep flying endlessly around these salt grains, scattered like alms, like a foolish fish circling bait, hoping the current would wash up some scraps to fill its belly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>baimengshu.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What he wanted to do was crush this salt shaker outright—or, as he had once done to Louis—appear behind him like a bat, let shadow engulf the man who proudly held the salt shaker, and make him tremble with fear of the bat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, take the salt shaker, and all the salt grains inside it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If this world was destined to have a salt shaker that held all criminals, then that salt shaker ought to belong to Batman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It must belong to Batman.\u003C\u002Fp>",2323,"2026-06-20T16:39:12.484Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","d36cfb1ff3b0910dd1939b964a689bf6c8c8e9b4e27506fbf9b3f4131e343119","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-107","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-105",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]