Chapter 1201

When Bruce saw Schiller in the interrogation room, he was still wearing a straitjacket and a mask, not at all absolved of his crimes as Amanda had said.

From the expression between his brows, Bruce understood that he had been waiting for him here all along. This series of farces should be ended.

When Bruce sat opposite Schiller, every detail of this whole affair from beginning to end began to play in his mind.

If Bruce had to summarize this matter, it was that he discovered for the first time that everyone in the game was arrogant, beautifying themselves, and imperfect.

Bruce felt that Schiller was an autistic patient, so he needed to be treated. The method of treatment was to bind himself to him, and he could never be separated from the society of ordinary people, regardless of whether arrogance wanted freedom or not.

Thomas, as Bruce's father, had a preset scene in his heart: he was the most important person in Bruce's life, and Bruce wouldn't live well if he left him. From this, he inferred that Bruce must have taken the wrong path.

Thomas failed to successfully cover up this line of thinking and was caught by Schiller in the loophole of his heart. Schiller gave him more affirmation, aiding the evildoer, making him more convinced of what he had imagined.

And the authority as a father made him feel that he was doing it for Bruce's own good, so he used violent means to force him to bow his head, feeling that his judgment and suggestions must be correct, and the other party must listen and must do as he said, otherwise he would definitely live a more miserable life.

As for Schiller, as Bruce's teacher, the pathological Schiller felt that he was doing it for Arrogance's own good, so without asking for his opinion, he forcibly bound him to Batman.

Arrogance felt that he was also doing it for Bruce's own good, in order to let him pass the exam and face possible dangers, so he constantly established his authority over the four years, oppressing Bruce in the capacity of a father.

Simply put, everyone constantly implemented their own will on others and firmly felt that their will was correct and for the other party's own good, and this was the essence of patriarchy.

Whether patriarchy is power wearing a coat of love or love wearing a coat of power is actually hard to say clearly.

Perhaps the father's suggestion is correct, perhaps the son's rebellion is also correct, but this cannot cover up the fact that everyone is hurting the other party in the name of love.

And at this time, we have to mention that old saying: love is not control, but fulfillment.

More importantly, one cannot just give the other party what one wants, and even less can one force him to accept it.

When Bruce sat opposite Schiller, he had actually thought through these things, but he still had one question he didn't understand, so he looked at Schiller and asked: "... Aren't you angry?"

Bruce felt very angry when he discovered that Thomas used violent means to treat him just because of his previous act of resisting him, discovering that Thomas was seeking private revenge.

Because the starting point of this violent means was no longer love; it was the result of the deterioration of patriarchy, just simply venting his own selfish desires.

And Bruce knew that he had also done this before. Originally, all of this should have ended after he let Schiller drink the blood, because the starting point of this act was still wanting to bind Schiller to the society of ordinary people, wanting him to receive treatment.

But later, Bruce used the pathological view to make Arrogance Schiller unable to release the controller at will, and made him return to the cell, which was indeed retaliating for the four years of mutual torture between him and Schiller.

So, isn't Schiller angry?

If he is angry, why not leave the prison directly and return to Gotham?

Bruce knew that whether Schiller rushed back to beat him up or used another complex plan like a ball of yarn to make him suffer a big loss, he actually didn't have any good way to resist and would definitely feel very painful.

But Schiller didn't do that.

Bruce urgently wanted to hear the answer, so he stood up. He walked behind Schiller, wrapped his hands around his neck, took off his mask, and then opened the lock of the straitjacket fixed to the chair.

The next second, Bruce's world spun. With a "bang," Schiller threw him directly to the ground and then stood beside him, looking down at him.

"You wouldn't still be holding a glimmer of hope that I'm not angry, would you, Bruce?"

Bruce, who had been thrown, instantly felt his eyes go dark. His physical condition was already bad, and being thrown heavily to the ground made him feel his lungs had split into several pieces.

"I know you're angry, but why..."

"Because I am your teacher." A black umbrella slowly appeared in Schiller's hand.

Bruce didn't see anger in Schiller's eyes; there was more helplessness there.

"I know you want to save me. I know your starting point is love. I appreciate your kindness, which is why I must preserve a bit of decency for the relationship between us..." Schiller said in a low tone.

Bruce slowly widened his eyes. He looked straight at Schiller. Schiller picked up the umbrella, gently stroked the umbrella surface, lowered his eyelids, and looked at Bruce, saying:

"The best education in this world is to teach by example. I must do it first before I can teach you how to resist patriarchy and how to exercise patriarchy."

Bruce hadn't even had time to be moved when a strong premonition of danger enveloped him. Schiller placed the umbrella in front of him, and a sharp knife suddenly appeared on the tip of the umbrella.

"Thank you for your kindness. I am very moved, but I don't accept it. If you want to force me to accept it, you are just satisfying your own selfish desires. Since that's the case, consequences at your own risk."

As the words fell, Schiller held the handle of the umbrella and stabbed a knife into Bruce's abdomen from top to bottom, blood splashing everywhere.

Bruce curled his body in pain. The umbrella knife didn't stab a vital point, just made him hurt more. In his haze, Schiller's posture of pulling out the knife was still very elegant and very decent, forming a sharp contrast with his hysteria.

Looking at the smile on Schiller's face, Bruce knew what he was going to say. This was a reverse competition. Whoever realized the truth that one should retreat because of love earlier would win.

Schiller retreated earlier than him, gave him more, and understood love better than him. The Joker won again.

And at this very moment, Bruce discovered that he was truly an incorrigible megalomaniac. Even in things like retreating, fulfilling, and giving love to others, he wanted to win.

Things had reached this point; who loved whom more was no longer important. The main thing was just wanting to win.

Thus, Bruce, lying on the ground, clutched his wound and looked at Schiller with unfocused eyes, saying word by word: "It seems... we both understand... love is not taking, but giving, giving the other party what they want most..."

"And I know... what you want most... is freedom."

After finishing, Bruce grabbed the umbrella that hadn't moved too far from his body.

Before Schiller could react, Bruce grabbed the umbrella, pulled Schiller's arm holding the umbrella, and brought the umbrella knife close to his own neck.

Then, without hesitation and resolutely, he slashed open the artery on the side of his neck.

"Sizzle!"

The last scene Bruce saw was the expression of this professor who never smiled, which could be described as flustered.

About a few hours later, in a room at Wei En Manor, Bruce, with bandages wrapped around his neck, chest, and abdomen, lay on the bed expressionlessly. Schiller, with a stiff expression and unfocused eyes, slumped in the chair beside him.

And on the other side of the bed, Gordon, Victor, Alberto, Cobblepot, Thomas, Lucifer, Alfred, and even Amanda and Angela stood in a row.

Their gazes didn't fall on Bruce and Schiller, but all fell on another tall figure at the foot of the bed—that was Clark Kent.

"Friends, who can explain to me, why on earth is this???" Clark spread his hands, his gaze sweeping across everyone's face.

Facing the very sincere and confused gaze of the small-town youth, everyone was speechless.

"Can I also understand the experience of Bruce and Schiller you just mentioned as two mentally ill patients who, under uncontrolled conditions, were forced to hurt each other for four whole years in a very complex relationship, and all of you just watched???"

Clark spread his arms wider, raised his voice, his tone already as sharp as the cry of a lamb born on a farm:

"Can no one come and manage this???!!!"

"Do you have any realization at all that they are both mentally ill patients???" Clark's tone was full of disbelief.

"They are persons with limited capacity for civil conduct! They need someone to take care of them, someone to look after them, someone to help them live! This is common sense that even the rural doctor working in our small town knows... You are big-city people!!!"

Clark walked to Schiller and Bruce's side, pointing at them with both hands and saying:

"Just because this city is rotten to an unbelievable degree, you should have realized that something was wrong with them when they were mixing like fish in water here!! What kind of high IQ does this common sense judgment require?!!"

The few people opposite all looked somewhat embarrassed. Victor cleared his throat and said: "But they themselves feel that they don't need help, and it's not good for us to..."

"Every mentally ill patient feels they aren't crazy!" Clark looked at Victor with even more disbelief and said: "If we listened to them, there would be no need for psychiatric hospitals in this world!"

"I think things aren't that serious..." Lucifer also spoke.

Clark stared at the expression on his face, which clearly wrote "Look at their current state and say it again."

Lucifer was also speechless. Gordon coughed twice and said: "Indeed, they went a bit too far this time..."

"A bit too far?!!!! My God! A student sends his teacher to prison and uses torture on him. A teacher deceives the student's father to go find trouble for him, breaks three of his ribs, and in the end, this teacher stabs him with a knife, and the student grabs the knife in the teacher's hand and slashes his own neck. And you call this 'a bit too far'??!!"

Clark took a deep breath. He clutched his chest and took two steps back, looking at everyone present and saying: "You should all go to a mental hospital, I'm serious!"

Thomas frowned. The few sentences Bruce said at the end had already made him understand that Schiller might have been lying to him. Thus, just as he wanted to open his mouth to express his dissatisfaction with Schiller, Clark reached out his hand to stop everyone from speaking.

"No matter what you think, I believe I must be responsible for the abnormality in my friend's life. This might be caused by my lack of concern for him, not providing the help he wanted, or not providing help in time."

"And when this kind of thing has already happened, I must improve his situation as much as possible to make up for the debt I owe him."

Clark put his hands on his hips, glanced at Bruce, then looked at Schiller and said: "Bruce is my good friend, and Schiller is a teacher I have always respected."

"I'm very sorry, they are both mentally ill patients, but according to my shallow medical common sense, the most urgent thing now is to separate them and let them have a quiet, warm, and comfortable convalescent environment."

"This city never sees the sun all year round and is very damp, and the rain here is also strange, which is the exact opposite of the environment for mentally ill patients to recuperate. Yet we friends let them live here for four years without any awareness, neglecting their care and concern. I think this is the culprit for their condition developing to today!"

"So, we should separately let them go to a sunny, warm, and physically and mentally comfortable environment, and only end our care for them after their mental condition truly reaches a point where they can take care of themselves... Does anyone object?"

When Clark said these words, his voice was a bit shaky, clearly angry to the extreme. In this state, Clark didn't even realize how powerful he was, causing the group of quick-witted monsters opposite to be unable to say a word.

"Alright, then it's decided! I think my hometown, the farm in Kansas, is a good environment, so I will take one of them away. Now, you two decide who is coming with me!"

Bruce, lying on the bed, said in a weak voice: "I have a plan, we can..."

"No plans!" Clark interrupted him immediately.

Schiller also said in a weak voice: "How about we make a bet? Let's bet..."

"No betting!" Clark interrupted again.

"Your chaotic, mentally deranged brains filled with hallucinations are not suitable for making any plans at all, and don't even think about betting with anyone... Now, immediately, right now, rock-paper-scissors!"

In the end, Bruce chose to follow Clark away. It wasn't because he lost rock-paper-scissors, but mainly because he couldn't lift his arms, while Schiller could.

Still the same saying: even if Batman died, was buried, and grass grew on his grave, he would still shout from deep underground, "Anyone can beat him, but the Joker can't!"

In a sense, this might also be the will of the universe, making one feel helpless.

And Lucifer planned to take Schiller to the West Coast. The bar business had always been bad, and he had long planned to change cities.

After everyone dispersed, Lucifer stood in front of the window at the end of the corridor of Wei En Manor. Seeing Clark walk over, he said: "They are really lucky to have a friend like you."

"No, being able to help a friend is my luck. This lets them know that I love them, and letting others feel my love makes me feel heartfelt happiness."

Lucifer lowered his head, as if thinking of something. After a while, he said: "Once, I also had a friend like this, but my arrogance made me ruin everything."

"You can apologize to him," Clark said directly.

"He is no longer here."

"Then go find him."

"He is dead."

"Then apologize to his tombstone."

Lucifer stared at Clark. He didn't know how to evaluate him. The young man in front of him was simple and straightforward to an outrageous degree, even a bit childish, but perhaps it was precisely because of this childishness that what he said had a fascinating magic.

After the night deepened, in the hall of the Rodriguez estate, Merkel asked somewhat worriedly: "Do you really not need me to go with you? Professor Schiller's self-care ability is really a bit..."

Lucifer shook his head. He looked at the packed luggage, turned and went upstairs, saying as he walked: "This is the last night he will spend in the manor. I'll go see if he sleeps well."

After entering the room, Schiller had already fallen into a deep sleep. The days in prison were not so easy to get through. The scene of Bruce's blood splashing reminded him of certain memories he thought had long since gone away.

Pure white and huge angel wings spread out and then drooped down, helping Schiller block the light from the gap in the curtains that was disturbing his dreams, making his brows slowly unfold. Those nightmares went far away, and Schiller finally sank into dreamland.

The sound of fine rain and the rumbling of thunder sounded at the same time, and the "sorry" mixed in it sounded like a sigh of regret, and also like a sad shout.

Hey!

Some people accuse Bruce of being abnormal.

Some people accuse Schiller of being abnormal.

Little fools.

I mean, is there a possibility.

Neither of them is normal.

The people around them are also not normal.

The only normal person in the whole scene.

Kryptonian.

(Not even a human).

Old liar. jpg

Hahahahaha.