[{"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-156":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},2322724,4544,"Chapter 156: The Party and the Umbrella (3)","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-156",156,"\u003Cp>“So now, Mr. Cobblepot, are you willing to cooperate with my treatment?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the ward of Arkham Asylum, Schiller pulled up a chair and sat beside Cobblepot’s bed; Cobblepot still stared at the ceiling, but he gave a barely perceptible nod.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright, first question: Was killing Old Edward your first murder?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instantly, Cobblepot’s splinted arm stiffened; his hand trembled, then clenched. He turned to look at Schiller, no longer able to stay silent: “How do you know?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Answer my question first.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot’s Adam’s apple moved up and down, as if trying to spit out an answer, but in the end he said nothing—only nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was the Old Patriarch who ordered you to do it, wasn’t it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot didn’t answer; he only said: “I swear before God, I will never reveal anything...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright, then you don’t need to speak—I’ll speak for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Old Patriarch needed an excuse to move against Young Edward, so he had you kill Old Edward and frame his nephew.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Killing someone at the son’s coming-of-age ceremony—no matter how the Patriarch handles the Edward family afterward, no one would dare object.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No one would ever suspect that a scrawny umbrella boy, bullied by coworkers and mocked by customers, was the Old Patriarch’s most trusted assassin.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If that truly was your first murder, I can only say you have a certain talent for it—the bathroom cleanup was immaculate, your escape route was brilliantly planned, and you didn’t bump into a single guest...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot turned his head to stare at Schiller, seemingly stunned by this evaluation; after all, no normal person would view such a thing from this angle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Enough. Those are past events.” Schiller flipped a page in the medical file. “Now explain what’s happened recently.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I advise you to confess fully, because I’m not a cop. The police might not be able to touch you—you’re a minor, and a mental patient.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I’m different. Right now, in all of Gotham, I’m the only one willing to treat this illness—and the only one confident I can cure it. If you say nothing, I won’t reserve you a bed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot’s lips curled downward, looking vicious, with an maturity unfitting his age.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he spoke, voice hoarse and low: “I am indeed the Patriarch’s man. I don’t know why he noticed me at first glance, but I worked for him—and I killed Old Edward for him.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ve already guessed what I want to know...” Schiller said without looking up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He sent me to Hell’s Kitchen to watch everyone there—he trusts no one there. Every corner of Gotham must be ruled by Falcone...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So I went to the largest gang there, the Munni Gang, and became Fish Munni’s subordinate...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She didn’t care about me—she even hated me—but back then she was still lucid. I was just ignored, but that didn’t matter—I was already used to it...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot’s tone was numb; it was clear some words couldn’t come out smoothly—the sedatives hadn’t fully worn off, so his narration was fragmented.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Later, I went to work under Kevin. To Fish, that was betrayal—but I had no choice. Kevin gave me what I wanted...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot’s lips trembled, as if he was about to slip into another excited state. He said: “I climbed higher and higher there—from a lowly technician to the man in charge of restaurant supplies...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Jian Lai”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His tone grew dreamy, as if painting a fantasy. Cobblepot continued: “That restaurant was exactly the kind I dreamed of—huge, luxurious, with mob bosses coming and going, all of them polite to the owner...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I knew what I wanted. Yes—just like that...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Calm down. Keep going.” Schiller’s voice shattered Cobblepot’s fantasy, halting his rising excitement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot swallowed, letting out a dry, rasping breath, then said: “There, I was noticed, promoted to oversee the water system...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My coworkers were all idiots—but that suited me fine. I rose steadily, even became a minor leader...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This feeling was exquisite...” Cobblepot’s neck veins bulged; he began trembling again. “It’s wonderful... I started giving orders, directing work, certain of victory...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, he fell into another nervous stillness, rigid once more, then snarled: “So... I need more power! Bigger territory! No one can stop me!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Kevin... oh... yes, they called him Black Hand Kevin—a name everyone knew. He was the first man to stand in my way...” Cobblepot’s tone sank again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“After I took control of the entire North District’s water system, he thought I threatened his position.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“True, that idiot understood nothing. Working with him meant starvation—but working with me was different. Many in the gang saw this clearly. They began backing me. His position started to crumble...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...I couldn’t let this continue. I knew. I knew...” Cobblepot spoke almost word by word: “I had to kill him—and take his place...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I went back to Fish. I knelt at her feet, weeping, begging her to believe me—it was Kevin who forced me. If she helped me kill Kevin and secure my position, I’d use my knowledge and skills to drive all these outsiders out...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“To earn her trust, I gave her plan after plan—some worked, some didn’t—but eventually, Fish chose to believe me...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot swallowed, voice trembling: “On a street beside Hell’s Kitchen, Fish killed Kevin—and I smoothly took his place...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But later, Fish grew increasingly mad. She burst into my room while I slept, beating me with gunstocks and wooden clubs...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot’s voice cracked with tears. He trembled: “I knew I had to endure. My position was still unstable—I couldn’t resist her. So I stayed silent. She tortured me like a madwoman, screaming I betrayed her, that everyone betrayed her...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I don’t know how long it lasted.” Cobblepot shook violently. “She grew more insane. Several times, I was sure she meant to kill me. I knew—I couldn’t let this continue. Otherwise, mad Fish would surely kill me...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So you killed her?” Schiller asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No... no.” Cobblepot shook his head, teeth clenched, grinding audibly. He seemed lost in memory. “How could I kill someone? I’d be arrested, locked in prison. I can’t be locked up—I just gained my position...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And then, someone came to me.” Cobblepot paused, then slowly uttered the name: “Sal Maroni.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Maroni told me he’d been watching Hell’s Kitchen for a long time. He had a grudge against Falcone—he’d already angered the Old Patriarch. He couldn’t let Falcone reshape Gotham, or the Maroni family would cease to exist...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He asked me to collaborate. I refused. So he kidnapped my mother—just a few days ago...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So I proposed: we kill Fish together, frame it on Evans, and destroy the Patriarch’s heir’s reputation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“For me, it was two birds with one stone—I’d escape Fish’s torment, and save my mother...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He agreed. One day, I lured Fish out. Maroni shot her dead...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After speaking, Cobblepot still trembled, lost in memory. Schiller scribbled in his notebook, silent for a long while. Finally, Cobblepot couldn’t bear it—he looked at Schiller,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>but Schiller only stared intently at his medical file, offering no comment. Cobblepot’s eyes burned red: “Doctor, I’ll testify against Maroni—he killed Fish. I’ll appear in court. Please, you must cure me. I...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Stop your nonsense,” Schiller said, eyes still on the file. “Your story’s quite impressive—but you made one fatal mistake...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot stared at him, tears streaming down his pale, pitiful face. Schiller set the file down without expression, meeting his eyes: “Crying won’t help. Everyone who knows me knows I’m not a quack—but I’m utterly unscrupulous.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Your biggest mistake? Not checking your doctor’s background before crafting this plan...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Doctor, I know I have no evidence—but I’m the only witness...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright. If you insist, let’s start with the most recent crime scene.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Professor Victor and I visited the scene of your mother’s kidnapping. According to you, Maroni sent men to take her.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was a textbook kidnapping scene: someone broke into your home, slipped your mother a sleeping pill, then carried her off while she was unconscious.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“On the surface, yes. But Mr. Cobblepot...” Schiller locked eyes with him. “You clearly have no experience with real kidnappings. This scene is riddled with flaws.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cobblepot said nothing, only stared. Schiller continued: “First, in Gotham, kidnappers almost never sneak in. They smash the door, storm in, spray every living thing with bullets, drag the bodies away, wipe the blood, then claim they kidnapped your relative—while your relative’s corpse is already at the bottom of the ocean.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I suppose Maroni might be civilized—but even then, he’d have no reason to sneak in or use sleeping pills. Your mother, no matter how strong, couldn’t fight off four or five gang enforcers. They’d just barge in, knock her out, drag her away. Sleeping pills are pointless.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re trying to reconstruct a perfect chain of evidence—but you’ve added too many unnecessary steps.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Like that staged fight scene—that’s pure overkill. Who do you think your mother was? A retired female operative? Did she swing a chair at armed gangsters?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You did too much,” Schiller concluded. “Trying to recreate a flawless method. Crafting realistic scenes. Even designing an intruder’s path—leaving deliberate marks with tables and sofas...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I can only say you’ve watched too many detective dramas. Most real crimes don’t happen like this. Most killers aren’t this professional. Violent break-ins, sloppy methods—that’s how most gang kidnappings go.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Because you’re naturally frail, you rely on cunning for most murders. But for those strong gang members? There’s absolutely no need for all this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They don’t fumble with locks like you. No door in this world can withstand a submachine gun or explosives. A job that takes five minutes won’t be stretched into two hours of stealth planning.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You projected your own criminal mindset onto those gang thugs—like forcing a burly Texas cowboy to wear a lace-trimmed dress.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“As for that crime scene you staged...” Schiller picked up the file again, mercilessly: “I can only give you a failing grade.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Without the Patriarch’s pressure, your solo work is a disaster. Compared to how you killed Old Edward, it’s pathetic. I’m starting to wonder if you hired someone to write it...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>————Extra Notes————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ten thousand characters today! Please tip and vote!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>DC will follow a structure similar to the comics: focusing on low-power, small-scale incidents, with conflicts resolved mostly through intellect. Major events will emerge later, when power levels rise.\u003C\u002Fp>",1708,"2026-06-20T16:39:12.484Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","6c629493572c4cc202a80abc5f7c9b6e4738d81d9a0e07a6633dbb01027d0b4b","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-157","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-155",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]