Chapter 1436: Bat Leaving the Nest (Part 1)

When Schiller landed in the laboratory of the Florence Super Prison, the picture that appeared before him was this—

Bruce Wei En was shirtless, lying face down on the operating table. There was a huge wound on his back from below his neck to his lumbar spine. The muscles and skin above the spinal bone were dissected in an extremely exquisite way, as if blood had draped a layer of gauze over him.

Bruce turned his head to the side, facing the experimental table on the other side of the operating table. Because of the pain, the black semi-long hair soaked in sweat stuck to the side of his face, completely covering his already closed eyes. Judging by the frequency of his chest rising and falling, he had already fallen into a coma.

And Bane was holding a scalpel, standing beside the operating table.

Schiller didn't need to specifically search for fragments in his memory to remember Bane's actions in the comics. This famous modified mercenary was one of the few villains in the comics who had seriously harmed Batman's body.

In the comics, Bane broke Batman's spine—Schiller knew very well that this hadn't happened in this universe, but this was a kind of virtual evil, as well as a criminal record that could be used as evidence for judgment.

Bruce, lying on the operating table with his eyes closed, heard a familiar yet strange voice. It was familiar because the voice came from Schiller, and strange because he had never heard Schiller in such a cold tone.

"This gentleman, may I ask, what did you do to my student?"

The leather shoes took a step forward. Through the reflection on the floor, Bruce could clearly see that Bane suddenly floated up. Countless gray mists wrapped around him, lifting him into mid-air.

Then, that seemingly powerless mist suddenly began to squeeze inward, like a huge, irresistible hand, holding Bane tightly in its palm.

He wanted to crush him just like that—tighten the skin, crush the bones, until the internal organs couldn't withstand the pressure and sprayed out from the wound, and then shriveled down, like an overripe peach squeezed dry of juice.

Bruce had never seen such a violent and bloody side of Schiller.

Schiller was a lunatic, but he had a set of his own standards for dealing with things, which could even be called morality. His madness didn't contain those things that were contrary to civilization, and it absolutely didn't contain anything dirty, messy, violent, or barbaric.

Schiller was a very civilized person, not picky or pretentious, it was just that his meticulous appearance and the elegant posture he always maintained presented a state of being calm and composed forever, like a perfect human skin.

And now, a part of this human skin was exposed, perhaps the sharpest fangs, the part that Bruce had the standing and qualification to call him a criminal just by looking at it.

Bane's body began to twist and deform. The bones of his four limbs had already been broken. Groans of pain overflowed from his mouth. The poison accelerated the injection speed. Bane's skin turned dark red all over, and his muscles expanded, but it was still a futile struggle.

Schiller stood by the operating table, separating Bruce from Bane. He turned his back to Bruce, pressed Bane against the wall on the other side, and was crushing him silently.

"Don't kill him."

Schiller turned his head suddenly, because Bruce's tone was completely different from the past. This was more like a cold, hard order, but faster than reason, Schiller followed his instinct and let go.

The moment Bane landed, Schiller heard weak laughter coming from the operating table. That wasn't Bruce Wei En laughing, but Batman, and he was laughing very happily.

Schiller didn't care about Bane, who was half-dead. He turned around, lowered his head, and just happened to see Bruce's blue eyes, half of which were soaked in the blood flowing from the wound on his face, red and blue intertwined, too evil.

"... Are you manipulating me?"

Schiller, who had recovered from the intense emotions, asked as if he were lost.

"Yes." Bruce, lying on the operating table, blinked and said: "Because I know how you manipulate me."

"..."

Bruce's arm and shoulder muscles exerted force, seemingly wanting to change his posture, but failed. He fell back onto the operating table again, so he could only lie there, lying in the blood and saying.

"If we weren't so close, and I didn't care about you enough, then what you said or did wouldn't have any influence on me."

"And if you didn't care about me enough, you wouldn't have come, and wouldn't have been angry because I was harmed and injured."

"I spent a few years solving the puzzle, but this wasn't a puzzle at all. What manipulated me wasn't conspiracy or special abilities, but my own emotions."

"Just like now, what manipulates you is your own anger stemming from love."

Schiller was silent for a long time. A few minutes later, he walked to the experimental table Bruce was facing and sat down. Schiller almost never made the rude gesture of sitting on a table, but he seemed to urgently want to rest for a while.

"Do you know when I was first shocked by you?" Schiller asked.

Bruce quickly found the memory fragments from those hallucinations. The expression of Schiller's shock he had seen was somewhat distant, so it appeared blurry and distorted, but he still remembered it.

"The missing person case in the Moson block. I thought you were the murderer, but you weren't, so I apologized. I clearly remember how surprised you were at that time. That was also the last time I saw you shocked by me."

"That was also the last time I heard you apologize to me."

"Because we weren't familiar at that time, right?"

"We were indeed not familiar at that time."

The air became quiet, but the silence wasn't awkward. They both seemed to have fallen into memories. A few years was far from being the passage of time, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

"People can easily apologize to strangers." Schiller spoke first: "Because we have no expectations for strangers, and won't even expect to see them a second time in our lives, so making a choice is a very simple thing. The influence on judgment doesn't include the desire to win."

"But people always want to win over family." Bruce continued: "Because they always expect to prove themselves correct, can get a good impression there, and fear that apologizing for mistakes will reduce their weight in their hearts."

"But perhaps it's also because they are too familiar and trust each other too much to understand each other, so they think apologizing is unnecessary." Schiller followed: "If the other party requested it, the question of whether to apologize or not will rise to the question of whether they can understand each other."

"And I tried to understand you, or become you." Bruce coughed weakly and continued: "But it's far inferior to understanding your feelings for me."

"And use it to manipulate me."

"That was just incidental."

"The effect is very good. This is the first time I have been so out of control since I became an adult."

"Can I go back to the student list?"

Schiller was silent for a long time before opening his mouth: "Yes, and not just passed... it can be called excellent."

Bruce's body relaxed completely, as if he had lost all his strength and collapsed into the pool of blood.

He went into shock, but his consciousness was still clear, but this couldn't be called strange, because he was Batman.

Schiller walked back to the operating table. He didn't reach out to touch the tools on the tabletop, stared at the wound that was still bleeding heavily, and said: "It seems you don't want it to heal immediately."

"Yes, this is my excellent graduate medal."

"It just so happens that I don't have the ability for surgery, otherwise you probably wouldn't want this ugly medal."

Bruce laughed in a low voice again, seemingly thinking this joke was very funny, but Schiller still picked up a scalpel and said.

"But you still need suturing. I'll go find a doctor with a surgical license."

Schiller paused slightly. When he came back to his senses, his gray pupils became a bit unfocused. Bruce asked tentatively: "... Pathological?"

"It's me."

Pathological picked up the scalpel, looked at the situation on the scene, and said to Bruce: "You need a blood transfusion. You should have prepared ready-made blood, right?"

"Go out the door on the right, the room on the left is the blood bank."

Schiller passed by Bane when he went to get blood. He glanced at him. When he walked back, his gaze fell on Bane, but he asked Bruce: "Your new prey?"

"Arrogance chose it for me."

"As strict as ever." Schiller evaluated, and started to give Bruce a blood transfusion. After adjusting the position of the blood bag, he began to organize the surgical tools.

"I will first use gray mist to take out the nano-controller. I know you don't use anesthesia, but pain will make the muscles tense and affect the suturing effect, so I will let the gray mist temporarily cut off your pain nerves. In addition, the wound on your face shouldn't be your medal, right?"

Bruce shook his head with weak movements. He saw a wisp of gray mist floating by, and the wounds on his face healed instantly.

Schiller picked the suture and opened his mouth: "It seems that you didn't listen to a word I said. The fight between you two added a room full of blood and an innocent victim, perhaps more than one."

"On the contrary, I listened, remembered, and understood."

"Don't look for understanding other than family affection from your father, hmm?"

"I am studying the part within family affection."

"Stubborn."

"But quite effective."

Schiller began to suture the wound on Bruce's back. Before doing it, he looked at Bruce's expression and said: "But you don't seem happy."

"Because he seems a bit tired." Bruce said with his eyes closed.

"Oh, really?" Schiller's tone carried a hint of surprise: "The kind of fatigue that used the greatest strength in history to knock on my door and let me come up to substitute, ran to the tower's broadcast room to broadcast thirty-six times that you finally passed the graduation exam, and is still broadcasting constantly now?"

Bruce started laughing again. Schiller had to reach out and press his shoulder to prevent him from moving too much and affecting the suturing. After Bruce calmed down, Schiller said while suturing the wound: "Do you know he is communicating with Batman from another world?"

"Of course, that Batman visited him a while ago and gave him half an equation, but I didn't look at it."

"You should take a look. That is the result of his joint research with a genius from another universe. Perhaps it can let you understand some mysteries of the universe."

"The universe doesn't need more mysteries."

"You are content with the status quo?" Schiller adjusted his gloves, pinched the suture, and then said: "It's not surprising. You are probably crazier than the vast majority of Batmen, and more cruel, perhaps more cruel than Joker."

"Why do you say that?"

"Do you think destroying the body or torturing the spirit is more evil?"

Bruce didn't answer, and Schiller continued: "Joker only destroys the body. No matter how many people his explosions kill, their pain is short-lived. Death will end everything."

"But the torture of the spirit is long and endless, like a bone-attached gangrene, slowly corroding the few remaining wood of a small boat on the vast ocean, making the people on the boat have the thought of jumping into the sea to die several times when dreaming back at midnight, but realizing that they lack courage."

"This will make them attribute the pain they endure to their own cowardice, and they won't even have fantasies about the afterlife or ghosts. Both the end and the decay are pathetic to the extreme."

"This is an extremely terrible torture, far more terrible than death. The most terrible physical torture is not one ten-thousandth of mental pain."

"Isn't that exactly what you want me to do?"

"No, I just hope you learn how to inflict such mental pain on people. If you have this ability, but you choose to end their bodies quickly, the death you give them becomes a gift, not evil."

"Sounds quite reasonable."

"Then, will you kill criminals?"

Bruce blinked gently and said: "Do you think I only manipulate criminals?"

"Aren't you?"

"Then you haven't realized how crazy I am."

Schiller's hand paused, and then he dropped the needle to suture the last bit of the wound. His movements were still steady, but his tone carried a hint of curiosity, "Then can I have the honor of getting a ticket?"

"How do you intend to pay?"

"I can teach you the fastest way to end a person's body. You must not be good at this, because you haven't really done it. Theory and practice are different."

"Deal."

"Bang!"

Amanda led the guard team to break open the laboratory door. Seeing the room full of blood, Bruce lying on the operating table, Schiller standing beside him, and Bane lying on the ground, she screamed loudly.

"Call a doctor!

! Prepare the plane!

!" ===== CHAPTER 1437 =====