Chapter 282: The Plot Takes a Sudden Turn (Middle)

Gotham, still a morning neither sunny nor warm, Bruce was awakened by Alfred.

He squinted painfully, feeling dizzy and foggy; Alfred stood by the door and said, "Young Master. I'm sorry to disturb you so early, but there's a call for you—it seems urgent…"

"... hose call?"

"It's Professor Shiler."

"Tell him I'll call back right away." Bruce's voice was utterly hoarse; clearly, the overly complex and terrifying dream had drained all his energy.

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to recall the dream, and alongside the headache came a strange sense of relief.

Bruce had never felt this before—he thought it might be a fleeting illusion—but he sat there for half an hour, and the headache remained, and so did the feeling.

If he had to compare it, it was like a child born with a sack of sand strapped to their back; they never thought the sack was odd, had grown used to carrying its weight, until one day the sack vanished—and the sudden lightness made them feel profoundly disoriented.

Bruce now felt head-heavy and foot-light: his body was relaxed in a way he hadn't known in years, yet his head still throbbed.

He had to rise from the bed and walk to the bathroom; just as he bent his head, he froze.

The lingering horror of the dream made him nauseous, but eventually, he stumbled forward, splashed cold water on his face—and no terrifying Joker appeared behind him.

The cold water cleared his mind a little; he stepped out of the bathroom and went downstairs, where Alfred handed him a cup of hot milk. Bruce took it and said, "Thank you."

As he drank the milk, he walked to the phone and dialed Shiler. The call connected, and Shiler's voice came through: "What's wrong, Professor? What's happened?"

"To celebrate your overwhelming victory in last night's dream, I've prepared a gift for you. Come to my office after class today."

"A gift?" Bruce's sluggish mind suddenly snapped into overdrive—he had a terrible premonition, like hearing that clown-faced madman say he had a big surprise planned.

"You think I'm that madman trying to give you a surprise? Of course not. I'm just an ordinary man—I don't have time to set up bombs. This is a real gift. Come see for yourself…"

Bruce closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his forehead. He was about to refuse Shiler's kindness when the phone clicked dead.

Alfred noticed Bruce's stiff expression and asked, "Young Master, what's wrong? Did your professor have something important to say?"

"Hmm…" Bruce found it hard to explain, but he didn't want to lie to Alfred, so he said, "My grades have improved a bit, so my professor prepared a gift for me—but…"

He'd barely finished when Alfred's eyebrows lifted into a curved arch, his eyes narrowed with delight. Alfred's tone brightened: "Really? That's wonderful! When Master was alive, he often worried about your future grades. He used to say he was a mischievous child with poor marks, and feared his son might follow in his footsteps…"

"If you've earned praise from the professor, that's wonderful—and he even prepared a gift for you?"

Alfred turned, set down the tray, and said, "If you don't return a gift, it would be terribly impolite. Let me see what might suit a professor… Hmm… I recall I have a collector's edition of Hamlet—should be perfect…"

With that, Alfred hurried up the stairs. Bruce hadn't seen Alfred this cheerful in years. His doubts were swallowed back down; he resigned himself, left the estate, and drove to Gotham University.

The morning classes were unremarkable, yet this unusually leisurely campus time somehow brought Bruce a faint sense of relief. He'd never felt this before—wasting time always made him feel guilty—but today, he actually absorbed most of Shiler's theoretical definitions.

After class, Bruce had planned to go straight to Shiler's office, but Yin Wensi approached him to discuss club matters.

Since Gotham had been frozen, the university had been closed for a long time, and the club had made no progress. Now that Bruce, the club's biggest benefactor, had returned, the psychology club members gathered around him, and he had to respond to each one.

Only after finishing all that could he head to Shiler's office. When he arrived, he found only Shiler inside. Before Bruce could knock, Shiler smiled and said, "Come in."

This warmth made Bruce break into a cold sweat—he felt his bad premonition was about to come true.

As Bruce reached Shiler's desk, Shiler clapped his hands and said, "Your performance was absolutely brilliant—it left me…"

The Marvelous Roots of Immortals

"Professor, what's this gift you mentioned?"

Bruce's stiffness was written all over his face. He scanned every corner of the room like a bomb technician facing an explosive device. Shiler reassured him: "Don't worry—there's no bomb."

"Then…"

Bruce was about to speak when Shiler rose from his chair, bent down behind the desk, and pulled out from the blocked side… a little girl.

Bruce's eyes widened. Shiler held the girl under her armpits like a pet dog, presenting her to Bruce: "This is your gift. What do you think? Like her?"

Bruce's eyes bulged—he hadn't made such an exaggerated expression in years, and his facial muscles were rigid.

It was no wonder he was stunned: the little girl bore at least an eight-tenths resemblance to him.

She was about three or four years old, with black hair and blue eyes. To say she didn't look like Bruce would be inaccurate—she looked exactly like him.

"You still remember yesterday's battle, right?"

Bruce nodded stiffly, his gaze never leaving the girl's face.

"The monster hatched from the Laughing Egg was erased by your will combined with the Gray Lantern's will. But didn't you forget another presence?"

"Who…?"

"Parallax—the yellow lantern beast that entered your body and helped you sabotage the monster at the last moment."

"When you erased the monster from its shell, it tried to drag you down with it, shaking your entire consciousness space. Parallax was injured within your consciousness. To escape the damage from the collapsing dream, it crawled into the eggshell that hatched the monster…"

"Then, it drifted with the dream's chaos into my Hall of Thought. At that moment, the dream space had fully collapsed, so I brought everyone back to reality—but… this return process took an unexpected turn."

"What do you mean?" Bruce suddenly had a glimmer of understanding.

"When I created the Gray Lantern Ring, I intended only for you to combine your will with it to defeat the monster. But I didn't expect that when it returned to me, it developed new functions…"

"Like what?"

"Like turning my will into reality."

Before Bruce could ask further, Shiler explained: "To bring others back from the dream space to reality, I said, 'Return to reality.' But at that moment, I was channeling the Gray Lantern Ring at full power—and things that shouldn't exist in reality were manifested…"

Both Shiler and Bruce looked at the little girl. Shiler said: "... hat's the yellow lantern beast—Parallax."

"Theoretically, lantern beasts have no physical form—they must possess a human body to act."

"But whether the lantern ring's power exceeded expectations or its desire for a body was too strong, after I spoke those words with the ring active, what returned to reality wasn't just the consciousnesses of the others—it was also her…"

Bruce covered his eyes with his hand, took a deep breath, and said: "But why does she look exactly like me?"

"I speculate it's because she hid inside the eggshell that hatched the monster to escape the dream's collapse…"

"You and that embryo were two sides of the same coin—you were him, he was you. The eggshell became the foundation of Parallax's physical form in reality, so…"

Bruce raised a hand: "Fine, even granting that—why is she a little girl?"

"You might not believe this, but this lantern beast seems to think it's female…"

Bruce's facial muscles twitched. Shiler shrugged: "You don't need to overanalyze the mechanism. The situation is irreversible. Can you put her back? I certainly can't."

Shiler placed the girl on his desk, letting her stand on her feet, then held her hands and guided her forward two steps toward Bruce. He said: "I can see your entire body screaming refusal. But here's the problem—if you let her wander the streets, within ten minutes, headlines will scream that you abandoned your illegitimate daughter…"

Bruce stared at the girl's face. He had to admit: Shiler was right. Except for gender, she looked identical to him. If anyone claimed she was his daughter, Bruce had no defense—because they looked exactly alike.

"From an ethical standpoint, she is truly your daughter. She was hatched from your dream—you gave birth to her. Your blood tie is even closer than father and daughter: she shares not only your body but nearly your soul…"

"Isn't her soul Parallax's?"

"It's hard to explain…" Shiler adjusted his glasses. "The yellow lantern beast, Parallax, is an ancient entity embodying fear. That was true before—but when it desired a physical form and achieved it, its life form changed."

"At least for now, its soul and body are perfectly synchronized—not Parallax's soul entering a human body, but both merging into a new life."

"Once the barrier between dream and reality is broken, anything becomes possible. Illogical dream elements, when manifested in reality, must conform to reality's rules. You can think of it as 'transcoding.' In the process of transcoding, Parallax truly became human… at least, human in appearance."

"Human in appearance…"

Before Bruce could finish speaking, he saw the little girl grin—wide, terrifying, revealing two rows of sharp, jagged teeth.