[{"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-42":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},2322610,4544,"Chapter 42: Cat and Bat (Part 2)","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-42",42,"\u003Cp>When Schiller saw Bruce’s face suffused with gloom and frustration, he knew the conversation with Catwoman had not gone well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Did you two end up fighting again?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce said: “Worse than that.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright, then which ward is she in now?” Schiller asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I mean, Gotham’s situation is worse than I imagined.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“There’s a group of bad people here you can’t blame, because in this environment, they’ve already done enough.” Bruce said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I think you’ve realized by now that being Batman isn’t as simple as you thought,” Schiller said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Indeed,” Bruce said. “I thought I had a bulletproof armor, a helmet that could stop bullets, sharp batarangs, guns and ammunition—surely with these, no gang could stand against me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Guns are indeed useful,” Schiller said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“At least they ensure someone will listen to what you say.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I couldn’t tell Selina she was wrong,” Bruce covered his eyes. “Actually, she’s already done enough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Jonathan probably doesn’t think so. If I told you now that Jonathan grew up in exactly this kind of environment, and that his crimes stemmed from never being taught right from wrong, what would you think?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce opened his mouth, then realized: he had once believed he was righteous, then learned nothing was absolutely righteous, then believed he was at least fair—but now he saw he wasn’t even that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had to admit: he favored Selina. Many of the gangsters he punished were just like Catwoman—only less lucky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their families and pasts were a mess; they worked for gangs not because they were monstrous evil or born wicked, but simply to eat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Escaping the chains of one’s original class was far harder than imagined, especially in Gotham.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This truth filled Bruce with despair; he finally understood why Schiller said he didn’t understand Gotham.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because anyone who wants to save Gotham completely doesn’t understand Gotham.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone here is a bad person, yet no one here is a bad person.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among these walking corpses, you find no one who deserves saving, and no one who deserves to be destroyed by nature.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There is no mastermind here; everyone here is the mastermind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This path of heroism was utterly unlike what Bruce had imagined—he thought if he arrested enough criminals, extracted information from them, traced the roots, and finally brought the few toxins poisoning Gotham to justice, Gotham would improve.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now he saw it was a bottomless pit: when he removed one batch of toxins, another emerged; when he punished one mastermind, another always appeared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one can withstand such depletion—not wealth, not physical strength. Harvey believed only those who reached the end won, but Batman had no end at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce now realized his struggle with Gotham would consume his entire life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only then did he understand: wealth, gear, and martial skill could not make him the true Batman—his greatest enemy was not criminals, but surrender.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His greatest problem was not how cunning his opponents were, but whether he was steadfast enough to endure, to devote his entire life to endlessly wearing down a city beyond salvation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was like an ordinary person spending their whole life trying to make the sun rise in the west.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman stood on the rooftop of the Gotham Central Building; the wind howled past his ears. Beneath his feet, countless ordinary criminals scurried like ants building nests—he could clearly see every corner of Gotham.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman once believed Gotham had no order, only chaos—but now he saw it had order, and a stronger one than anywhere else. If it were only chaos, he could rebuild order; now, he couldn’t even break Gotham’s existing order.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a while, Batman heard footsteps behind him. Catwoman walked over, hands behind her back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Batman turn, she smiled, pulled a gem from behind her back, and cheerfully offered it to him. “I picked out a pretty little treasure from my collection. Of course, I couldn’t give you the biggest one—but I think this one’s nice too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before Bruce could speak, Catwoman said: “Yesterday I talked with Maggie. She said I should apologize to you—I shouldn’t have slashed you with a knife, no matter what.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ve never apologized to anyone before. If someone wanted to beat me, I beat them back. But you’ve been good to me—you took me for a ride on a high-rise, and I stabbed you. That really was wrong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She blinked her beautiful brown eyes, which glittered like stars in Gotham’s night. “I can tell you’re troubled. I hope this gem helps a little.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman glanced at the gem in his hand—a triangular ruby, vaguely shaped like his ears, exquisitely cut, shimmering faintly even in dim light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the first time, he felt this wasn’t just a mineral, worthless except for its beauty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman asked: “Would you like to hear my story?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Schiller was on the phone: “Medical parole? How did he get approval? I don’t blame you, but the Gotham Police Department is being far too careless…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He thought a moment. Well, the Gotham Police Department had no lower bound to sink to.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he told Gordon: “I hope he stays in the hospital and doesn’t come back to cause trouble. You know—I’m not like Batman.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gordon hung up, sighed. He knew it wouldn’t be simple: Jonathan, despite all efforts, had finally been committed to Arkham; Victor was missing; Lantarus was dead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the old dean of Gotham University, using medical parole, avoided prison. After decades in Gotham, he still had connections—and he’d succeeded again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller never hesitated to assume the worst of a Gotham citizen—he knew the old dean wouldn’t give up so easily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sure enough, the next day, just before Schiller’s shift ended, a girl rushed frantically into his office—it was the same girl who had complained to the school when Christine disappeared; she was Christine’s best friend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Christine disappeared again?” Schiller asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Worse than that,” the girl said anxiously. “After that incident, Christine gave me a safety number. She told me—if this number calls my phone, she’s in danger!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller hurriedly packed his things. “When did it happen?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just three minutes ago! The call went through—but there was no sound!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller calmed the girl, then called Bruce. “Bad news—Christine is in trouble again. Did Gordon tell you? The old dean avoided prison under medical parole. If he seeks revenge, he’ll target the one who testified against him first…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce immediately returned to Wayne Manor, donned all his Batman gear. He had urged Christine to testify against the dean—he had to save her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unfortunately, the old dean had learned. He didn’t use lowlife gangsters this time—he hired professional kidnappers. They left no trace. The dean seemed to want only revenge, not to use her as leverage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that precisely meant Christine was in extreme danger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a while, Batman received Schiller’s call: “The street where the Red Rooks used to operate… the drug lab you destroyed…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce didn’t have time to ask why—Schiller hung up. Batman sped through Gotham’s night, racing as fast as he could.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he didn’t have the Batmobile yet. His ordinary sports car wasn’t fast enough. It would take time to reach the East End, and Christine could be hurt at any moment. He didn’t like Christine—but he didn’t want an innocent girl brutally killed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman slammed his fist on the steering wheel. He felt acutely that he needed a better vehicle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, an unexpected number called. Catwoman’s voice came through: “Hey, I think I saw your little girlfriend who waits for you on the street every day—what’s going on? Why are they heading toward Maple Street? That place is dangerous…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She’s been kidnapped—hurry and save her! No… I mean, can you track them?… Keep your distance, watch them, then call me… No, no, don’t follow them—just tell me where they went.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You sound like you need help,” Catwoman said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman sounded impatient. “It’s none of your business. Just stay off the streets tonight and don’t cause trouble.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hung up and drove toward Maple Street.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, Batman arrived at the end of Maple Street—it was indeed the former Red Rooks’ base. He’d destroyed a poppy production den here. His memory was sharp—he followed the right side of the street, then turned down two alleys.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the alley’s end, he heard fierce fighting and gunshots. He found the back door, pried the lock open. Inside, a group of lowlifes lay sprawled on the ground, moaning in pain—apparently hit with joint locks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Through the foyer into the living room, he saw seven or eight masked kidnappers sprawled on the floor. A whip whipped through the air, nearly striking Batman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Catwoman turned. “Thank God the girl’s unharmed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman turned his gaze to Christine on the sofa. Her clothes were disheveled—if Catwoman hadn’t arrived in time, disaster would have struck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Catwoman sniffed, frowned. “Something’s wrong—I smell oil. Your car leaking? No—worse! It’s probably incendiary bottles. Get out—now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before she finished, the front windows shattered. Dozens of cloth-wrapped incendiary bottles flew in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Flames erupted with a “whoosh.” The abandoned den held many fabric sofas, curtains, and other flammable materials.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, the fire raged fiercely. Bruce carried the unconscious Christine toward the back door—only to find it blocked from outside by heavy objects.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clearly, this was a premeditated trap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman’s suit was fireproof, but if the fire kept burning, Christine and Catwoman were in danger. Fireproof didn’t mean smokeproof. The thick black smoke made visibility near zero; all three coughed uncontrollably.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, a sharp “clink” came from the right—a heavy object fell. Catwoman reacted instantly, lashing out with her whip—but when she pulled it back, it was a fire extinguisher.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She didn’t care how it got there. She shook it hard. Batman said: “Go where they threw the incendiary bottles—it should be a vacuum zone!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman led the way with the extinguisher; Catwoman supported Christine from behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Indeed, the person who threw the bottles had thrown them with great force—landing them in the center of the hall, not near the door. Only a small rug near the door was flammable. Batman sprayed flames blocking their path; they pushed forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the door, Batman shot the lock, then slammed his shoulder against the iron door with all his strength.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The person who threw the bottles had fled in haste—the front door wasn’t blocked as tightly as the back. After a few crashes, Batman cracked a gap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that meant air rushed in—the fire surged. Catwoman was nearly suffocating. Batman felt her hand on his shoulder slipping. If she lost consciousness, she and Christine would die.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman summoned every ounce of strength, slammed one final blow—“CRASH!” The door burst open. All three escaped. Catwoman gasped for air. Both Batman and Catwoman were covered in soot and smoke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After dropping Christine off, Batman drove and asked Catwoman in the passenger seat: “Why did you rush in to save Christine? It was dangerous, wasn’t it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Catwoman was still admiring the luxury car’s interior—she’d never ridden in anything so expensive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She cleared her throat, calming her excitement. After a moment, she spoke: “I was just thinking of all the reasons I could make you praise me—like I’m learning to be good, or I’m secretly a righteous heroine, or I couldn’t stand those kidnappers hurting the innocent…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she looked at him. Under those brown eyes, Batman felt his heart race again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You don’t want me to do bad things—but I love gems so much. Can’t I do one bad thing, then one good thing? Doesn’t that balance out?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...Alright, I just wanted you to feel better,” Catwoman shrugged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I know I’ll never be a great hero. I love stealing—that’s my habit since childhood. I don’t preach grand morals. Maybe that girl who waits for you on the street is better than me—she’s educated, beautiful, innocent, never done anything wrong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I am who I am. I never think about those things—I just do what I want. Call me a criminal, say I’m beyond redemption—I’m still me. I’m a cat.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman’s grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly. He didn’t know if this was the answer he wanted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he knew: Catwoman’s romance, liveliness, and sincerity weren’t why he loved her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A bat falling for a cat—he only envied her freedom, the freedom a Dark Knight could never have.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had resolved to fight this irredeemable city until his last breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Watching the slow-stopping luxury car at the intersection, Schiller on the rooftop whispered to the symbiote: “...No, we can’t go down. What comes next isn’t for children to see.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The symbiote emitted a disgruntled rumble.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, I know you did great—snatching the fire extinguisher from the coffee shop across the street and tossing it in perfectly!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But what’s happening inside the car is just meaningless human reproduction. You symbiotes don’t need this process—you only need to shed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The symbiote fell silent. Schiller didn’t know if it understood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller turned his gaze from the luxury car to Gotham’s dim, flickering night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps this was a city beyond cure. Perhaps Batman was just an ordinary man who felt despair and confusion, he thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Batman is never alone, never.\u003C\u002Fp>",2178,"2026-06-20T16:39:12.484Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","22c31b741715602c9459de3a10886d9da79396cbf6d82817a6a0a32966d2fa5e","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-43","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-41",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]