Chapter 1415: Is This What Batman

Diana pulled Clark away in a hurry, seemingly wanting no part in this family drama.

"I went to find Professor Schiller today, hoping to transfer back into the Psychology Department, but unfortunately, he's no longer teaching at Cat Getan University."

Bruce looked at Thomas and explained, but Thomas stared back coldly, his tone filled with fury: "I'm asking, how did you manage to get expelled in the first place? Bruce, even if Martha and I have been lacking in our parenting for all these years, do you really lack even the most basic morality?"

"In my day, only students who committed grave offenses—including but not limited to murder, rape, and kidnapping—would be expelled by their professors. What on earth did you do?!"

Bruce opened his mouth, but no words came out. Thomas took a deep breath, looked Bruce in the eye, and said, "Don't you dare expect anyone else to take responsibility for your actions. Fix this with your professor within a week at most, make it as if it never happened, or else I'll make you regret it!"

"My academic record at university doesn't really..." Bruce raised his voice to argue, but was cut off halfway by Thomas, who stepped forward, projecting an air of dominance.

"Bruce!"

"I don't want to talk about this!"

"Then let's talk about your Lamborghini tractor! What kind of land requires you to drive a Lamborghini tractor yourself to plow it?!"

"I..."

Bruce instinctively wanted to explain, but suddenly lowered his head, his tone bewildered as he repeated: "Lamborghini... tractor???"

"That's not even the half of it." Thomas slapped the back of the sofa, looking at him with disappointment. "Dick's homeroom teacher told me you've transferred him to six different schools in a single year, and you haven't visited his dormitory even once. You've missed two out of the three parent-teacher conferences held this year."

"Jason's soccer coach has called you twice, but you completely forgot about the athletic talent he mentioned, and you even missed the registration deadline for the youth soccer club this quarter."

"You didn't attend the parent-child surfing event Tim's father organized last weekend. He doesn't even know ten kids his own age, and you completely forgot about his request to add a series of detective books to the Wei En Manor library—Constantine had to buy them instead."

"And Aisha—I took her to kindergarten last week and found out you've never even met her sensory integration teacher! She had to call Selina in Los Angeles just to find out she's starting elementary school next year."

"Bruce Wei En!" Thomas called his full name again, looking him in the eye. "Did Martha and I raise you to be this negligent? Not one of these children is enrolled in more than three clubs, they haven't learned etiquette, they don't know how to socialize, they just wander around Wei En Manor every day!"

"They should be out stargazing with the astronomy club, playing soccer on weekends, hosting book clubs, caring for ponies at the stables, or even just playing video games together!"

"Dick has spent the last few years living a life of nothing but school and homework. He's in middle school now and hasn't even been to summer camp!"

"No child of the Wei En family should suffer such abuse! I don't even know how to describe how incompetent you are!"

Bruce opened his mouth again, clenched his fists, and raised his voice: "But I can't spend every day revolving around these things! I have more important things to do! I'm going to make this city a better place!"

Thomas crossed his arms and sneered: "It sounds like you haven't been doing a very good job at those other things, despite spending all your time on them! How did you get expelled by your professor, then?"

"I'm an adult! I don't need you to lecture me on what I should or shouldn't do!" Bruce gripped the back of the sofa, shouting: "Stop trying to control me!"

Thomas's face darkened instantly. He took a deep breath and said, "Fine. Do you think I enjoy managing you? It would be best if you could manage yourself—but don't use my money to do it!"

"I'm freezing all your bank accounts. Alfred, pack the young master's luggage!"

With that, he slapped the sofa backrest, shot Bruce one last cold look, and headed upstairs. Bruce stood frozen, as if unable to believe that even in his twenties, he was still being grounded.

Alfred stepped forward and patted Bruce on the back. "To maintain the status quo of Wei En Enterprises and cover the company's losses, Master Wei En has been working overtime for three days straight. Work-related exhaustion can make one's temper quite volatile."

"And he has a point about one thing: Aisha starts elementary school next year. Have you looked at any schools for her yet?"

"I don't want to deal with this!" Bruce waved his hand impatiently, dodging Alfred's attempt to drape his coat over him, and headed toward the basement door. "I'm going to the basement to run experiments. I don't want to be disturbed by anyone."

He stormed into the basement and slammed the door shut. Tim, watching his back, narrowed his eyes and turned toward the garden.

Bruce entered the basement and stared at the sparse, scattered equipment in the empty room. He strode toward the nearest filing cabinet and began rummaging through it.

The first drawer was filled with blank paper; the second finally had some documents, but they were mostly warranty manuals for lathe parts; the third held common tools; the fourth had handwritten notes—drafts of psychology papers.

He checked the shelves. Aside from dust-covered small parts, there were only heavy spare tires for the Batmobile, the hood of the Batmobile, various sizes of rain boots and waders, and a mountain of plastic bags.

In the corner of the basement, some military hardware was covered by camouflage cloth, but most were common firearms, and even the ammunition wasn't fully stocked. In another corner sat the components of a brightly painted children's slide, with two rows of teeth marks on it.

Bruce walked over to the machinery and turned it on, only to find it was the most basic equipment for operating a lathe. When he turned the lathe on, there was no malfunction, but the sound of grinding gears indicated it hadn't been run in a long time and lacked lubricant; it would wear down if left like this.

Aside from that, the basement was empty. Bruce stood in the middle, looking around, his lips pursed in dissatisfaction. Soon, the basement door opened. Alfred brought in hot tea, and Bruce turned to him: "Where's the Batmobile? I need to go out."

"It's in the backyard."

Before Alfred could finish, Bruce rushed up the stairs and headed straight for the backyard, where he finally understood what the pile of parts in the basement was for.

The Batmobile parked in the backyard was missing its front-left and rear-right wheels. The front hood was gone, exposing the complex vehicle machinery to the rain. A wrench and screwdriver lay nearby.

Bruce walked over and found more damage: the front bumper had been smashed by something and was completely crooked, and a large chunk of the rear was missing. Even by Cat Getan's traffic standards, this car was in no condition to be driven.

Bruce reached for the door handle. "Zzzzt!" A powerful electric shock erupted. A voice called out from behind a tree: "Hey, Bruce, what are you doing? Did you forget about the motor safety system you installed on the door?"

Jason ran out from behind the tree with Harley in tow. Just as they were about to pass Bruce, he grabbed Jason by the shoulder and asked: "Where are the other cars?"

"What other cars?" Jason asked, looking blank.

"There are so many cars in Wei En Manor—I must have forgotten where I parked them."

"So many cars?" Jason blinked and looked up at Bruce. "Did you forget you sold all your luxury cars? The merchant who came to buy them was quite disappointed—some were one-of-a-kind globally—but you sold them all anyway."

"See, I told you this rich guy would regret it," Harley said to Jason. "He should have kept that pink 'Crystal Shoe'—it was so cool. I didn't even get a chance to take it for a spin before he sold it!"

"So I have no car to drive?" A hint of anger crept into Bruce's tone. Jason shrugged nonchalantly. "You could call a taxi, or have that truck driver come pick you up. Since you're going out this late, you're probably heading to the East End anyway."

Bruce frowned. "Why would I go to the East End? I'm going to the Batcave in the suburbs. I have experiments to do."

Harley checked her watch. "But you can't get into the Batcave right now. Isn't there a child lock after 9:00 PM? Or should I call it... a 'thesis lock'?"

Jason burst into laughter. Harley glared at him. "What are you laughing at?"

"I just remembered someone hasn't finished their grammar homework. Do you want me to recite that essay you wrote last week, the one your teacher called a 'masterpiece of Cat Getan literature'?"

"Jason! We agreed not to bring that up!" Harley shrieked.

The two ran off, chasing each other. Bruce stood in the yard, feeling bewildered. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept over his head, and Dick, in his blue-and-black uniform, landed lightly before him.

"I finished my homework. Want to go for a spin?"

"I need a car right now!" Bruce tried to suppress the anger in his brow. He emphasized to Dick: "I need a car to get where I need to go. I don't have time to play house with anyone!"

"There really are no cars in Wei En Manor right now," Dick shrugged. "Fine, I'll go call a taxi. Are you still going to the East End tonight?"

"What's in the East End?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"Nothing much, just that truck driver and Killer Croc, who usually invite you out for barbecue and cards at night. If you're going, the usual order: ten skewers of beef tendon, extra spicy, and a rack of lamb ribs. The place with the blue waves on the packaging—their ribs have no fat. I don't want to get fat."

With that, Dick walked past him and went into the hall to make the call. A moment later, a taxi pulled up to the gate. Bruce got in, and as soon as he closed the door, the driver asked enthusiastically: "Where to, sir?"

Bruce gave him an address and then fell silent. The driver kept chatting about various news in Cat Getan, but Bruce wasn't in the mood to listen. When they arrived, he tipped the driver and got out.

He found the entrance to the real Batcave. His own voice came from inside: "Password."

"Go write your thesis!"

"Access denied for this time period."

"... Then what time period is it available?"

"Password."

"Go write your thesis!"

"Access denied for this time period."

"... Then what time period... exactly when is he NOT writing his thesis?!"