Chapter 311

For many years past, the nights at Wayne Manor had always been silent, for there was only one Ma Lei master and his old butler; after Gotham's nightfall, the single lit lamp would soon be extinguished, and the vast manor would be entirely swallowed by darkness until dawn returned.

But this night, the lights in Wayne Manor remained on; the sound of a ladder scraping against bookshelves shattered the room's stillness, Dick wrinkled his face and coughed twice hard, waving his hand in front of his nose to dispel the dust.

He looked up at the rows upon rows of thick books on the shelves, his fingers tracing their spines, until suddenly he paused at a volume titled *Ten Mysterious Legends You Never Knew*.

Dick reached out, pulled the book from among a tightly packed stack, then climbed down several rungs of the ladder and dropped it to the floor; Elsa leapt high, caught it, then swung her short legs to place the massive tome—too large for her to hold—beside a growing pile of other books.

Dick scrambled up the ladder in three quick steps and resumed searching the shelves, muttering to himself: "The life of the rich is richer than I imagined..."

He looked up at the reading room—Wayne Manor's library, occupying the entire top floor of the westernmost tower, filled with hundreds of bookshelves arranged in concentric circles.

The reading room retained a strong British character: the reddish-brown bookshelves were carved with naturalistic decorations; at its center stood a circular sofa and several semicircular desks.

"In the past, if I could have lived in a place like this, I'd have been overjoyed—but here, it's just a storage room for books."

Dick muttered softly, took another book from the shelf, climbed down the ladder, placed it atop the pile Elsa had stacked, then gathered the entire heap and walked toward the center of the reading room.

There, Bruce was bent over a book; Dick approached and set the thick stack on the table, tapping the top volume: "Mr. Wayne, these are all the books in Zone B containing keywords related to the occult. I've arranged them chronologically—the higher up, the older the date."

Bruce took a sip of water and nodded; Dick led Elsa to another section to continue searching for books for him.

Even Batman had to admit, having such a small assistant saved him countless tasks; Dick and he were perfectly in sync—Bruce was indeed reading these books in chronological order, and though he'd never said so, Dick had intuitively organized them all.

To understand why he was reading here, one must return to after his last parting with Constantine.

Batman had learned from Constantine that Mrs. Sanchez might be using children across Gotham to cultivate power; he couldn't ignore this, but he knew virtually nothing about the occult, and Constantine seemed utterly unreliable—he refused to rely on others, so he decided to study it himself.

Yet for a complete outsider with no mentor, self-study was extremely difficult; Batman turned instead to the old priest of Gotham Cathedral.

Batman remembered that when the priest remained in the cathedral, he could draw special abilities from the mysterious wine pool beneath its floor; perhaps this could aid his study of the occult?

He arrived at the church at dusk; the priest was unsurprised by his presence. After hearing his purpose, the old priest shook his head: "As a man of the cloth, I know such a circle exists—but I advise you to avoid them. Most gain their powers through pacts with demons."

"Such a path leads to no good end. They may briefly gain immense power—like those in fantasy novels, commanding wind and rain—but they will pay an unimaginable price: a torment worse than death."

"You misunderstand. I don't seek to gain power this way—I wish to find a way to counter it."

Batman stood in the church's shadows, speaking to the priest: "Many people now face danger from this terrifying power, yet I know nothing of it."

The priest paused in wiping his cross, then said: "If you only wish to learn about this knowledge, you shouldn't have come to me."

"Then whom should I seek?"

"You know the golden age of the occult has passed. Most now neither fear spirits nor believe in gods—especially in Gotham. But in the last era, a wave of black magic swept the entire East Coast. If you seek this knowledge, look to history."

"Gotham has few ancient families, but there are always one or two. Ancient families all share the same habit: they record history, collect artifacts. Perhaps you'll find traces of that era among their relics..."

Thus, Bruce began searching the Wayne family's library for the hidden ripples of that era.

Anything tied to the occult carried a subtle, eerie beauty: they used uncommon words and inverted syntax to describe events, their texts brimming with coded language, as if rejecting every ordinary seeker.

Yet if viewed rationally, these tales were merely stories—their internal logic no different from children's fairy tales, and most concepts mentioned were mere fantasies of ordinary people, entirely without evidence.

Clouds outside the window flew faster; Bruce turned pages faster too. Dick came and went repeatedly; the books Bruce finished piled up, the unread ones dwindled—until finally, Dick had exhausted every book with occult keywords, sat down opposite Bruce, and began reading himself.

His reading pace was far slower than Bruce's; Bruce scanned the stories only for information, while Dick was genuinely captivated by the mysterious tales. Elsa sat beside him, pretending to read—but every few minutes, a page vanished, swallowed whole by her belly.

Dick was lost in his reading until the soft clink of Bruce setting down his cup startled him; he looked up to find Bruce's pile of books entirely finished. He closed his own book and asked: "Any discoveries, Mr. Wayne?"

But Bruce's gaze fell on the book Dick held; Dick, seeing his look, glanced down and said: "Oh, this is the 'Ten Mysterious Legends' I just got—it's quite interesting..."

"What's it about?"

"Hmm..." Dick hesitated, unsure how to answer. Bruce took another sip of water: "This isn't an exam or a book report—I'm just trying a new perspective, to see if I can find fresh insight."

"Alright. It records ten stories. I've just finished the second one. The first is about werewolves; the second is 'The Suicide Town.' I think the second's more interesting..."

"Do you think it might contain usable clues?"

"Clues?" Dick asked, puzzled. "Isn't this just a ghost story? Where would there be clues?"

Bruce turned his gaze from Dick and looked at the book in his own hand—a volume detailing various magical arrays, boasting their miraculous powers, yet most looked like childish scribbles, and all examples cited bore no resemblance to reality.

Bruce told Dick: "If you're tired, go sleep. I'll keep reading."

He rose and walked to the shelves, searching for historical texts; such fantasy tales offered no reliable details, but perhaps Gotham's own development history held traces.

Bruce found his book, sat back down—but Dick and Elsa didn't leave. Dick looked up and asked: "Is the witch legend true? That children who ate candy sold their souls to demons?"

Dick propped his chin on his hand: "I feel strange—if Mrs. Sanchez really is a witch, why did she come to Gotham?"

"When my parents came to Gotham, it was out of desperation. The only place on the entire East Coast that would take them was the circus. That's why we came."

"If we'd had any other choice, we'd never have come to this city. The weather's bad, it's dangerous, people are hostile and hard to get along with. Only when we had nowhere else to go did we come here."

"But if Mrs. Sanchez is a witch, shouldn't she be far stronger than us? Why would she need to come to Gotham?"

"These kids aren't any different from others, are they? If anything, they're more violent, harder to handle..."

Bruce's hand paused on the page. Dick noticed and said: "Oh, sorry—I'm disturbing you? I'm just still awake. Maybe I should sit at another desk?"

"No. Keep going."

"About what?"

"The part about Gotham."

"I've finished. It's simple: outsiders wouldn't come here unless they had no other choice."

"Of course, I know more outsiders have come lately—but that's because Gotham's suddenly gotten cooler. Mrs. Sanchez has been here a long time; when she arrived, Gotham was even more dangerous."

Little Book Pavilion

"Indeed." Bruce's voice remained consistently steady, his tone flat, almost lulling.

"Laurena Sanchez had no reason to choose Gotham as her base—but since she did, there must be a reason."

Bruce lowered his eyes to the book in his hand, its cover inscribed: *Solomon Wayne's Notebook*.