Chapter 181

"Though the process was complicated, in summary, the Owl Court does nothing but evil."

"They forged your personality but never told you the truth, making you believe you were truly Falcone's son."

"But Falcone felt his son had been replaced, and that you were a monster they had shoved upon him, so he hated you."

"Falcone lost his son, and you lost your father—it truly is a tragedy."

"But in this story, there is only one innocent person..."

Alberto lowered his eyes and said, as if mocking himself: "When Yin Wensi was awake, I could see everything he saw and had his memories, but he could not see mine, so he knew nothing—he still believed he had an older brother, and even missed him."

"If you truly seek revenge against Falcone, Yin Wensi will lose both his brother and his father. Though Falcone never saw you as a son, Yin Wensi truly saw you as his brother."

Alberto fell silent.

He was a personality conjured from nothing, a leaf adrift with no roots; Falcone saw him as an interloper, and the Owl Court only saw him as a tool to fulfill their plan.

At his funeral, no one mourned his death. If this drifting leaf had but one root, one person who truly remembered him after his death and created proof he had ever existed, it was his younger brother, Yin Wensi.

Seeing him fall silent, Shi Le turned his attention to Batman and said: "Though your alliance has split in two, it doesn't matter—we can talk about something cheerful. Can you guess how badly the Owl Court will suffer?"

"That madman plans to attack the Court—what reason does he have? And what power does he have to do it?"

"Don't you understand yet? He is not like those madmen on the street driven insane by rain—he is entirely different."

"I still don't believe he can take on the Owl Court alone."

"Let's make a bet. I bet the Owl Court will be crushed."

Saying this, Shi Le picked up the remote and turned the TV back on. After a while of boring drama, the news report began.

But before the news anchor could deliver a few more stories, he suddenly wore a look of terror—then *bang*, a hole opened in his head.

A burst of laughter came, and that familiar figure reappeared on screen. His first words were: "Oh! I'm a criminal! I've killed someone! What do I do?"

*The Great Luo of All Worlds*

"Batman! Come arrest me! I know you're watching from some corner—come catch me, this murderer..."

On the hospital bed, Batman clenched his fist and immediately tried to rise—but then the Joker leaned close to the camera and said: "Are you clenching your fist? Desperately wanting to stand up and come over and beat me?"

"But you can't do that..." He stepped back, limping slightly, then walked to the dead anchor, grabbed his collar, and dragged him in front of the camera.

"Look, here's a dead man—shot in the head with a handgun. And I happen to be holding one right now."

"But you can't arrest me. Do you know why?"

"A bullet flew into his head, and then I appeared on camera, holding a handgun."

"But no one saw me fire. I'm just an innocent passerby who happened to be holding a gun matching the bullet's caliber, walking past a corpse killed by a handgun."

"What will you do? Beat me up? Assault this innocent passerby?"

"What?" The Joker tilted his head, placing a hand behind his ear as if listening.

"You say I just admitted I killed someone? That I just called myself a criminal?"

"So what? I also said I'm a frog, or a woman, or a stripper..."

The Joker twisted and spun in front of the camera, then blew a kiss to the screen.

"See? That's how it works. If you come to beat me, I'll—wahhh..." The Joker began fake crying, pounding his chest and wailing in place. "Then the audience will see a pervert in a tight suit beating a weak, pitiful passerby..."

"Oh, wait." He suddenly froze, then scratched his head. "No, that's not why I'm here. Well, playing with Batman is so fun, I almost forgot my real purpose."

He burst into another fit of wild laughter and said: "Do you know the Gotham Opera House? You must know! I've prepared for you a BIG, BIG, BIG surprise!!!"

"Hear that? The great comedian Jack is now selling tickets! Tonight at midnight—twenty dollars per ticket! Bring your ticket stub and get a bucket of brain-flavored popcorn!!!"

Saying this, he stepped back, tore off a small slip from the anchor's script, and said: "See? This is your ticket!"

Then he clumsily tore open all the scripts and tossed them into the air; the paper shards rained down like scattered petals. He said: "Call now to buy tickets! Right now! If you wait even a second..."

Another burst of laughter came, and he added: "You'll miss the greatest comedy show in history!"

The screen returned to static. Shi Le yawned, walked to the hospital desk, and muttered to himself: "What's the TV station's phone number again?"

He pulled out his phone book, spun the dial, and when the line connected, he said: "Hello? Is this Jack, the comedy artist?... Oh, you're too modest—I think your performance just now deserves the title 'artist'."

"Yes, I'm here to buy tickets. Midnight tonight? I need three tickets... hmm, maybe four. I have a friend with dissociative identity—he needs two tickets. What? Buy three, get one free? Because I'm the first caller? That's perfect, thank you."

"How do I pick up the tickets? The TV station mailbox? Got it... I'll leave the money there..."

"Wish you a successful show. Thank you, goodbye."

After hanging up, he found Batman and Alberto staring at him. Shi Le shrugged and said: "He's going after the Owl Court. Why wouldn't we go watch the spectacle?"

"Besides, though your Avengers alliance Buxing split in two, you still need a farewell dinner, don't you?"

At eleven at night, outside the theater, Shi Le stepped out of the car. Before he could enter, he spotted an acquaintance—he walked over warmly and shook Gordon's hand. "Detective Gordon, you came too."

Gordon grumbled: "Even in Gotham, where maniacs are everywhere, this one is too insane. Do you know how many emergency calls the police received in the past few hours?"

"Oh? What happened?"

"This madman made Gotham's citizens call the police for help!" Gordon laughed bitterly, emphasizing: "He damn well told Gotham's people to call the cops for help!!!"

"That's good. It means tonight will be Gotham's most normal night."

"Normal?" Gordon paused. He heard Shi Le say: "Detective, I know you oppose violence with violence—but in Gotham, the best way to fight madness is with madness."

As they spoke, a long luxury car turned into the alley and stopped at the theater entrance. The driver stepped out to open the door, and out stepped Falcone. Seeing Shi Le and Gordon, he walked toward them.

The old patriarch adjusted his cufflinks, speaking as casually as if exchanging pleasantries: "Tickets were hard to get, weren't they? When I called, he told me there were none left. Quite amusing."

"You haven't been refused in many years, have you?"

"Indeed. But he heard I have some influence in the underworld, so he granted me special privileges."

Then Father Daniel stepped out of the car, crossed himself, and said: "Thank you, Carmine. You brought my ticket—otherwise I'd never have gotten one."

Shi Le told them: "Go ahead. I'm waiting for two friends."

Everyone except Shi Le entered. After a while, the Batmobile rolled up slowly. Batman stepped out, followed by Yin Wensi, who cheerfully said: "Gotham hasn't had a performance in ages. Who's playing tonight? Is there a program? Can I see it?"

"I bet he's already given you a lecture on European theater history, modern opera, and vocal techniques," Shi Le said, walking over and whispering to Batman.

"More than that—he demonstrated it himself," Batman said flatly.

"How was the singing?"

"Alfred would love it."

"You mean it's too old-fashioned?"

Yin Wensi caught up, having just heard Shi Le's last words. He said: "Hey! How can you say that? That's respecting the classics. I've always thought those so-called new operas are sacrilege..."

The three walked into the theater. Inside, they faced a massive poster: a group of plucked owls hung over a pot of boiling oil, with two hands below—one holding a knife, the other a fork—as if ready to feast.

"Opera and painting?" Shi Le murmured beneath the poster. "Is this the hidden artistry in his personality? Or the Diceng 's longing and fantasy for art?"

Shi Le shook his head. Now he understood why the Joker's girlfriend in the original story went mad. The Joker's madness was the perfect subject for any psychologist—once you encountered him, it was impossible not to analyze and probe.

Shi Le held up a theater map. "My estate isn't far. A neighbor gave me this map. Let me see... ticket counter... oh, this way, turn left."

Turning left from the poster, on the right was a ticket counter. He noticed several popcorn buckets there—but clearly not from this old theater. No one eats popcorn at opera.

Was this dissonance born of his personality's ignorance of art, or of the chaos brought by madness? Shi Le couldn't help but speculate again.

He leaned forward, peering into the ticket booth—suddenly, a mannequin sprang up from the floor and lunged straight at him. Shi Le examined it: it was an old puppet left in the theater's storage, once used as a stage backdrop, now with a painted smile on its face.

Shi Le reached out, pulled the puppet over, flipped it around, and said with disappointment: "Where are the lines? Where's the classic quote?"

As he studied the puppet, Yin Wensi pulled two buckets of popcorn from the ticket counter. He glanced inside and exclaimed: "Why are there paper balls in the popcorn buckets? Where's the popcorn?"

Batman stood behind them, feeling utterly out of place.

Yin Wensi handed Batman one of the paper-ball buckets. "No real popcorn, but this'll do."

"You said new opera is sacrilege—so you really plan to watch opera holding a bucket of paper balls?" Shi Le turned and asked him.

"I just like popcorn. I never got to buy it at the movies—my dad wouldn't let me, because there might be bombs inside."

Batman opened his mouth, desperate to warn Yin Wensi: the odds of bombs in this bucket were far higher than in any ordinary cinema.

Shi Le seemed to read Batman's mind. He said: "Don't you get it yet? He wouldn't bother with such boring pranks. If it's not spectacular, it's better not to happen."