Chapter 2302

"You have a label?" Bat-Bae looked at Bruce in surprise and said, "You really do rap? Are you serious?"

"Heh." Bruce sneered, gave Christopher a "hi, bro" look, and Christopher immediately reached out to bump fists with him, then looked at Bat-Bae and said, "Even if you don't listen to rap, you must have heard the name of the red-hot Gothambloke."

"Do you think the news that the famous Gothambloke is Bruce Wayne himself would make my new album red-hot as a bonus?"

"Hey!" Bruce immediately raised his voice and pointed at Christopher. Christopher laughed out loud and said with the unique rhythm of a black man, "I know you have to save this explosive headline for that hot little reporter or your big-star girlfriend, you damn enviable rich guy!"

"Oh—" everyone shouted together with a rising tail tone.

Although Bat-Bae almost never listened to rap, he had heard local tourists chatting about this recently exploded Gothambloke while at banquets and eating in restaurants. Many people were even singing the classic segments of his songs, especially the chorus parts that had a strong gothic style but were very catchy.

"So you really do music?" Bat-Bae looked at Bruce's profile and said.

"I'm so free, what else would I do if not music?" Bruce shrugged and said in a light tone, "In fact, this is also developing Cat Getan's tourism industry. Previously, I used the Cat Getan University Music Society as a base to host a punk music exchange gathering, and the response was quite good. Many niche music lovers have taken notice of this place."

"Next, I plan to establish an independent Cat Getan art website. I believe we lack such a forum for niche art lovers, and I am confident I can make it the best in the industry, attracting many niche art enthusiasts."

Bruce crossed his legs and said, "You know, Cat Getan is naturally the perfect soil for niche art. The people here have an extremely high capacity for accepting all kinds of art, and they are even part of certain performance and site-specific art themselves."

"It is also very easy to inspire the genius inspiration of creators here because there is the most unique history, architecture, and urban atmosphere."

"I must agree with you on this." Christopher made a rap gesture and said, "Every day here is an adventure, but the difference is that the joy within the surprise is enough to make up for the shock I received. It's absurd and lively, always stimulating my senses and giving me new ideas."

"It's also very easy to make people fall into deep thought." Tupac nodded and said, "I once thought the East Coast rhythm was too fast and too noisy. They are like water guns, turning pressure into aggression, but lacking the flow and swing of coastal culture. But Cat Getan is not like that; they are like natural giant waves."

Bat-Bae had obviously experienced a similar atmosphere, but no one had ever summarized it like this. He suddenly discovered that these rappers he didn't often come into contact with had a more abstract understanding of certain things. It wasn't that they were inaccurate, just that the angle was different, and because they stood between the abstract and the concrete, the expression was always easier for people to understand, unlike many artists whose speech was always in the clouds.

Bat-Bae had to admit he was starting to get into it. He looked at Bruce and said, "You said you wanted to build a Cat Getan label; this idea is really bold. What do you want to use as the theme?"

"Of course, Cat Getan itself, and, you know, the bat."

On the first floor, Oliver followed the bloodstains to the deck and saw the three corpses there. He didn't even need to analyze the wounds to imagine the situation at the time; in short, Schiller had taken them down with one move each.

Schiller couldn't be far from here. Just as this thought appeared in Oliver's mind, he saw a black shadow standing behind a deck chair.

Where did that Batman go? Oliver couldn't help but have a bad premonition because the deck was too empty. Even if he didn't turn his back to Schiller, Schiller could still get behind him, and it was clear Schiller was planning to do just that.

The black shadow disappeared in an instant. Oliver couldn't see his movements at all. Even though the moonlight on the deck was brighter, Oliver had no way to read his trajectory to intercept him.

Oliver immediately turned and ran.

He had, of course, thought of the tactics Bat-Bae had considered. Since Schiller was already moving, it was almost impossible to stand in place and turn to face him. Oliver darted into the cabin with a "whoosh" and, sure enough, saw Schiller standing where he had originally been.

He had arrived three meters behind Oliver at some point. If Oliver had stayed standing there like a fool, the countdown would have ended, and the hunt would have begun.

Fortunately, Oliver's reaction was extremely fast. He rolled in the cabin and fired two sleeve arrows through the gap of the window that had just been opened. The goal wasn't to injure Schiller, but to attract his attention.

The Batman from before had said that when the target wasn't locked, Schiller was almost invisible, but judging from his previous behavior, he should be able to hear sounds. When in the jungle, Green Arrow also often used this trick to attract the attention of large beasts.

Hearing the gradually receding footsteps, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. The Batman who had come down earlier was nowhere to be found; the other party might have been seriously injured or had their energy diverted by something else. Now that he wasn't in this area, the task of stalling Schiller would have to be his own.

Schiller was out of control, but not completely out of his mind. It was estimated that the sound-attraction trick could only be used once or twice...

When he thought of this, Oliver suddenly noticed that the sea breeze blowing from behind him had slightly weakened.

Wrong! Schiller's speed is very fast!!!

The moment Oliver lunged forward, the sharp harpoon that should have pierced his chest stabbed into his lower leg. Oliver let out a scream and instinctively turned back, wanting to fire his sleeve arrows.

Before pressing the switch, Oliver forcibly stopped his finger, did a flat roll on the spot, and kicked the harpoon, but didn't knock Schiller's weapon away. Immediately following was a second thrust.

Oliver lifted his legs and used his back strength to stand up with a kip-up, but he stumbled because of the pain in his lower leg.

It was this short one-second pause that Schiller used to thrust again, shattering the glass. Glass shards splashed onto Oliver's face, leaving several bloody marks on his cheeks.

Oliver held onto the door frame and circled out again, but Schiller jumped directly out of the window frame, blocking the path Oliver wanted to take—waiting for Schiller to come out of the door and then jumping back through the window. There was no other way; Oliver could only run straight ahead.

As he ran, something felt wrong. Oliver discovered that the current Schiller was much faster than when he had just lost control, even twice as fast, and it was still increasing.

Oliver was distracted, thinking about what had caused this growth, but had no time to listen to the frequency of the footsteps behind him. So, when he reacted, the sound of the chasing footsteps behind him had disappeared for a while.

Crash!

The glass overhead shattered in response. The harpoon, flickering with a cold light, stabbed straight into Oliver's shoulder, almost piercing him from the side. Oliver fell sideways, already unable to feel his entire left arm.

He just wanted to exert force to stand up when he discovered that his lower leg, which had been pierced by the harpoon earlier, also began to go numb. This was a sign of excessive blood loss.

Oliver curled up on the ground, but his waist strength wasn't enough to let him stand up directly, so he ended up kneeling on the ground. But the next second, the ankle of his uninjured, intact leg was grabbed.

The harpoon was raised high, but Oliver's injured leg suddenly exerted force, kicking Schiller's ankle. The harpoon veered slightly and stabbed into Oliver's armpit.

Oliver looked with some horror at the harpoon that had pierced directly through the deck surface and even stabbed in more than halfway.

Schiller didn't bother to pull out the harpoon; he grabbed Oliver's uninjured, intact ankle directly.

Swish!

Oliver, who had been thrown out, was like a high-speed spinning top flying and rotating against the ground. With a "bang," he hit a bucket at the other end of the deck. Crash, cold water with ice cubes poured onto him, and Oliver was completely frozen stiff.

But just at this moment, he heard a shout from the edge of the railing on the 2nd floor. He looked up and discovered it was Black Canary.

Black Canary threw the lifebuoy with a rope from the pool behind her directly down. Oliver used his last bit of strength to crawl to the position of the lifebuoy, his arms gripping the lifebuoy tightly.

The next second, the spikes of the spear-gun mask stabbed into the place where Oliver had been lying earlier. Oliver, who had been pulled up, saw Schiller standing in a pool of blood, looking up at him.

Bang!

In the darkness, a bullet hit Schiller. The blood was dazzlingly red. Oliver shouted, "No!!!!"

Bang! Bang!

The muzzle flash flickered constantly. Oliver was about to let go and jump down, but at this moment, Black Canary and Natasha grabbed his arms from left and right, forcibly pulling him up from the railing.

Oliver, who had fallen to the ground, saw two agents with very professional shooting postures crouching at the corner of the cabin behind the deck, kneeling on both knees, holding their guns with both hands, aiming straight at Schiller. All three shots hit, with two hitting the torso.

The impact of the bullets made Schiller look like a fallen leaf in a gale, stepping forward, then stepping forward again, swaying in place.

Oliver struggled to support his body and said to Black Canary and Natasha in a hoarse voice, "Stop them, stop them, don't let them shoot!!!"

Natasha also pulled out her gun.

Bang!

Her marksmanship was clearly much better than those two agents. One shot, one person fell to the ground, and the other didn't dare to show their head.

Schiller on the deck disappeared.

Heartbeat, one beat, two beats. Before the third beat could sound, a scream came.

"Ah!!!!!!!!"

Black Canary and Natasha looked at each other, both seeing the shock in the other's eyes. The place where Schiller had been standing was at least 30 meters away from the corner of the cabin. Moving there in less than two seconds was almost on par with the world sprint record.

But the problem was that the record-breaker was an athlete in peak condition. Schiller was currently suffering from at least five gunshot wounds, had killed or seriously injured ten people in the fight earlier, and had just received a heavy kick to the ankle from Oliver. How did he rush over at such a fast speed?

"Back... to the 2nd floor, go back." Oliver said, "Quick!"

Closing the lyric book in his hand, Bat-Bae looked at Bruce and said, "I think your whole entertainment construction plan is not bad. If possible, I can also try it in my city so we can learn from each other and exchange experiences."

Bruce nodded.

"Then let's talk about Schiller now." Bat-Bae finally remembered the important business. He asked, "Why is Schiller getting stronger and stronger?"

"This has to start from why Pathological Schiller is so strong."