[{"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-184":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},2322752,4544,"Chapter 184: Smile (Part 2)","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-184",184,"\u003Cp>Everyone in the room heard their whispers; just as the Owl Court members thought, if Alberto lied, pressing the button would kill someone other than Haru—not just a one-in-tenth chance it was themselves, everyone felt such odds could never be theirs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Alberto told the truth and killed Haru, they would suffer no loss, and instead avoid the risk of the bomb detonating if Haru landed first.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as they said, Haru, already unmasked, would die sooner or later—even if he survived today, the Don would never let him see tomorrow’s sun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I don’t want to die!! I don’t want to die! You can’t press… Chele, are you insane? You want to kill me! You can’t press!!” Haru began sobbing uncontrollably, tears and snot smeared across his face, his fat body writhing incessantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hey!” Gordon suddenly stood up, pointing his gun at the tall, thin man: “You can’t press it—murder is illegal. I’ll arrest you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is that so, Detective?” Shi Ler stood up instead: “He merely pressed a button from afar, and someone else died. What evidence do you have that he committed murder? What are you going to call the weapon? The button?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Please, officer! Don’t listen to them! Save me!!” Haru screamed through his tears.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Falcone spoke: “Officer, without evidence, you cannot shoot directly—but you may, in the name of the police, demand he prove his identity. Even if he has no driver’s license or ID, he must at least remove his mask.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tall, thin man cried out desperately: “No! There’s no such rule!! You cannot expose my identity!!!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Press it, Chele! Kill him now! How do you know his belly won’t hit the ground in the next drop? Then we’ll all die!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t press! I don’t want to die! If you press, your mask will be ripped off too—you and your family will all die…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You can’t press—you know this is murder. I’ll arrest you!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course you can press! This detective has no evidence—police rules don’t apply here…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like a chaotic, cut-up montage film, everyone shouted their own reasoning, lights sliding from one face to another—no need for two seconds, a shot hadn’t even focused before cutting to the next.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the end, only the Joker’s frantic pounding of the triangle silenced the argument.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chele was drenched in sweat; Haru was pale as death. Suddenly, Haru spoke as if struck by revelation: “The first answer—the first answer points to a woman! If you make Chele press the button, I’ll press mine too!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No!” a woman suspended high above screamed: “You’re insane! Chele is my lover—I’ll make him kill you first, you fat, stupid pig!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Haru… have mercy. You’re already dead. Falcone knows who you are. You know you’re certain to die—why won’t you sacrifice yourself for our survival?” The woman suddenly began sobbing again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re the one who’s insane! You whore! Do you think Chele’s really some European noble? He’s a con artist—a penniless sailor! You two were made for each other!!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If I die, I’ll drag all of you down with me!” Haru shouted, spittle flying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Shit Owl Court! Shit high councilors! I’ve had it— a conman who built his empire on lies, a whore who climbed to power by offering her bed, and you! You really think you’re someone important? You’ve always looked down on me!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Haru, as if completely mentally shattered, began screaming curses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chele began trembling all over, his voice cracking with tears: “I can’t do it—they’ll take off my mask. Falcone will kill me, and my family too. I have a wife and children. God! Save me!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing Chele’s prayer, the priest below made the sign of the cross over his chest—but said nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ding! Time’s up!” The Joker tapped the triangle, his tone light: “He made no choice—so we assume he didn’t press. Alright, next!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He deliberately bypassed the nearby figures and walked to the side of the aged figure, saying: “You seem to be their leader. I’ll grant you a privilege—choose first. Who do you pick?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bound old man showed no panic. His voice was low: “I choose the professor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What?” The Joker feigned not hearing, striking the triangle loudly: “He said he chooses Falcone…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I heard him choose me.” Shi Ler stood up. The Joker cursed, snapping: “Your clue’s already used—he can’t…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then I’ll buy another ticket. You didn’t sell out, did you? At least…” Shi Ler glanced at the Joker’s suit pocket: “You’ve got another one in there—I saw it earlier.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Joker grumbled, rummaging through his pocket for a long time, finally pulling out a torn scrap of paper. He crumpled it in irritation and hurled it at Shi Ler.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scrap fell midair—but somehow, it still flew toward Shi Ler, who caught it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old man spoke: “Even without a clue, I chose you because I wish to make a deal. I see you can disrupt the rules of this game.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I’m sorry—there’s no rule allowing actors to quit mid-performance. After all, I paid for my ticket.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m not quitting. I only wish the rules to change.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Which part?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you make me a request, I will give up my clue and instead ask you to do me a favor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“State your request first. Then I’ll decide whether to accept.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I want to surrender my button. Take it from me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What? Mr. Meng! Are you mad? If you give up your button, what will stop them from pressing theirs to kill you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shi Ler suddenly lowered his head and laughed. “You must be a member of the previous generation of the Owl Court.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I can only say: if you were from that era, this method might have worked. But you destroyed your own foundation long ago—you chose the wrong path.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You think if you demonstrated how to escape this trap, they’d follow you? If they truly would, they wouldn’t have exposed themselves.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Everyone understands the logic—if everyone threw away their buttons, this play couldn’t be performed. Then neither audience nor host could do anything to you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We aren’t killers. Our goal isn’t murder—we only want to watch a good show. If you refuse to perform this way, we won’t massacre you—because that would be too boring.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>beqege.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But unfortunately, your companions here are no longer the owls who once pursued ultimate darkness and chaos. They’re merely clawed killers, brainwashed by your brutal methods—no trace left of your former grand ideals beyond personal interest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They won’t discard their buttons. They believe those buttons are weapons to threaten others into not pressing theirs.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Even if I told them the answer now, they still wouldn’t do it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old man sighed. “It seems all is beyond saving. I withdraw my choice. I choose… Batman.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the word fell, countless spotlights refocused on Batman. The Joker threw his body back, mouth wide open, face lit with pure delight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sprinted to the very front of the stage, waved frantically at the lighting technician, and ordered him to direct all spotlights onto himself. He made grotesque faces at Batman—when Batman ignored him, he dashed to the orchestra, clumsily grabbed a drum, carried it to center stage, rolled up his sleeves, and began pounding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all that, he realized Batman still ignored him, standing silent in place. The Joker slumped in disappointment, snarling: “I should’ve tied myself up. Then, when I said I chose Batman, he’d have been shocked—maybe even smiled.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, in Batman’s eyes, time in the entire opera house had frozen. Onstage and off, everyone was locked in a single theatrical tableau—each expression, each motion, perfectly visible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Falcone whispered to Father Daniel, his face etched with age, yet the eyes beneath his brows still gleamed with sharpness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman saw madness there—just as he had seen it countless nights, standing before his son’s bed, wanting to kill this monster. He must have been driven mad long ago.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Alberto sat slumped in the back rows, silent. He too was mad. For countless nights, he had faced his father’s deep malice and hatred—until, at last, he drove a knife into his own father’s chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Father Daniel, speaking with the Don, was even older than Falcone. His white hair floated in the stage lights; his eyes held only gentleness and peace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he too must have been mad long ago. No sane person would believe any faith could save Gotham. Yet he remained here, faithfully serving as a priest—becoming a good one. But in Gotham, the better you are, the madder you become.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So too was Chief Gordon. He might seem the sanest man in Gotham—but he is a policeman, a true one, a good cop who holds justice and conviction close. Such men appear anywhere in the world without standing out. Yet he alone chose to stay in Gotham—and he, too, is deeply mad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the professor… he is mad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Joker… well, he’s mad too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman stood among this crowd of madmen, watching their frozen motions, their frozen poses on stage—then the stage began to turn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The stage spun faster and faster, light and shadow weaving into a mad vortex. Batman stood at its center, slowly being swallowed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He felt he must be mad too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was certain he was indeed mad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the center of the spinning stage, Batman extended his palm. In his hand lay a crumpled slip of paper—his ticket, the clue he was about to read aloud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But just then, as Batman opened it, he saw it was blank—nothing written at all.\u003C\u002Fp>",1578,"2026-06-20T16:39:12.484Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","b77b259661516fa01adef9a05935469da360a8c9fd729eaa2ad11a6805477fbd","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-185","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-183",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]