Chapter 4295

The night in Cat Getan is not a rich black. Black is void; at its extreme, it can make people think of nothing, just purely enjoy this moment of tranquility. Cat Getan's night is a rich deep blue; the light leaking from those skyscrapers is like flickering distress signals, leaving people not a moment of peace.

Batman stood on the roof, his cape bearing the traces of a struggle with a raging storm. The signal light points on distant buildings flashed again and again, rainwater dripped from his mask, and the city in his eyes was blurred, like the lingering shadow of a twenty-year dream. Today, he is no longer swayed by any light or darkness here, just understanding more deeply than anyone that what is gone will never return.

Suddenly, a blinding light lit up in the city, and a huge bat projection appeared in the sky. The Dark Knight leaped down, squeezing through the narrow gaps between countless high-rises, fleeing for his life in the jungle of steel. When a person goes to an appointment they don't want to keep, the boundary between coming and going is no longer so distinct.

The figure seen under the Bat-Signal made him dazed for a moment. Except for the Joker, no one had dressed up so grandly to see him in a long time. After all, he is no hero, just a monster in a grotesque city.

When that figure turned around, Batman's pupils shrank, but he didn't open his mouth to call out his name, because he understood that this was not the Schiller he had met, absolutely not.

The person in front of him appeared too dangerous; the hair drenched by the rain clung tightly to his cheeks, gray eyes deeply sunken in their sockets, the whole person like a silver knife piercing the rainy night. The huge city hung upside down behind him, the heavy rain was blood pouring down, and all the rights and wrongs about him reminded one not of the final stroke of a closing statement, but the bullet hole left by the bullet of a starting pistol.

Batman walked toward him. When he stood still, the puddles cut his reflection into pieces, making him look even taller and straighter, as if he had returned here from decades ago. The dangerous signal made his blood boil again; in this brief moment, he had the illusion that he was still a hero.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"That's not important. I just want to tell you one thing." Schiller's expression looked very solemn, but his tone appeared nonchalant, "Lex Luthor is crazy. The men he sent to kidnap Martha Kent, the mother of Superman Clark Kent, have already left Metropolis three hours ago and are heading toward Kansas. You don't have much time left."

Batman's breathing stalled for a moment. He heard the other party's voice come from the rain again: "To tell you this news, I broke out of the police station. So, I'm afraid there's no time to explain what's going on. Batman, let's make a bet—if you only have enough strength left to save one person, this person will definitely be Clark Kent."

Accompanying his words was the sharp sound of sirens. State police helicopters had already arrived, and countless spotlights and gun barrels were aimed here. The voice calling out became more and more distant, and in Batman's mind, Clark Kent's words echoed: "No matter what kind of person I become, just or evil, I will change this world."

Batman also heard his own answer. He admitted that Clark Kent would be the person to change the world.

Stop him?

Why?

Batman stared at the city. Why stop Clark Kent?

He had no reason to do so, and he wouldn't do so. He knew this world wasn't good enough, and he believed someone needed to change it.

Everything he did was not to stop Clark Kent, but precisely to help him, to help him become the true Clark Kent.

Batman closed his eyes and leaped down from the top of the building. In that instant, he felt like an exhausted antelope, the circling helicopters like vultures arriving at the scent. What killed him was not the lion or cheetah chasing the herd, but his young self.

With a "click," blinding lights turned on. Clark tilted his head slightly, first lifting one eye, and then letting both eyes focus in the same direction; this was his habitual action. Usually, when he was in a bad mood, he would look at people like this.

"Go in, Mr. Rodriguez. I really didn't expect that in the new year, we would encounter the two most difficult criminals so quickly. Don't play any tricks, otherwise we'll make you look good."

Clark looked next door—he was separated from the cell next to him only by a transparent glass panel, so he could see the situation there clearly. He saw a thin man in a suit walk to a seat in the same direction as him and sit down; that profile made him somewhat familiar.

Clark looked at the black-haired, gray-eyed man in shock, and the other party also turned his head to look at him. But the moment he saw those gray eyes, Clark forgot to call out his name and just froze there.

No, he actually didn't know him. Clark thought, he had just seen his variant in Battleworld. Every variant is different, just like how he had seen other Wonder Women in Battleworld, but had never met the Wonder Woman of his own universe and didn't know her at all.

He knew that Schiller Rodriguez wasn't a simple character either. Otherwise, why would the military lock him up with himself?

Clark was actually a bit curious about what Schiller had done to make the military think he was a dangerous alien molecule comparable to someone who could punch an alien spaceship to pieces.

So he asked like this: "What did you come in for?"

"I was kidnapped." Clark heard him answer like this.

"Were you kidnapped by the military?"

"No, I was kidnapped by a group of terrorists who attacked Luthor Manor."

"Then why did you come here?"

"I'm an antique dealer."

"Can you get to the point?" Clark was a bit fed up with his non-answers and said, "I'm asking why you were controlled by the military."

"Because I don't have the powerful strength you have."

Clark took a deep breath. He had thought he had calmed down, but now he felt he was a bit angry again.

"I was just doing some small business."

"The small business you speak of is using the Egyptian national treasure collected by the British Museum, simultaneously deceiving Lex Luthor and Diana Prince, making them fight to the death, and successively manufacturing multiple terrorist incidents including attacking Luthor Manor and using traffic accidents to create kidnapping cases?"

A black military officer with somewhat graying hair appeared in front of the glass window; he broke Schiller's identity in one word: "I think you will be a strong candidate for the biggest destructive liar of the 21st century."

"My honor," Schiller replied.

Clark withdrew his gaze. Although he had greatly raised his expectations for Schiller, this kind of thing was still somewhat beyond his expectations. He didn't know much about Lex, but he knew he was a super-rich man; he felt somewhat unfamiliar with the name Diana Prince, but could also remember that this seemed to be Wonder Woman's name; and the British Museum and Egyptian national treasure only made him feel like he had mistakenly entered the set of some Hollywood adventure movie. Although he was a terrifying alien who could punch an alien spaceship to pieces, he was still completely unable to participate in this level of conversation. So, Clark decided to remain silent and not chime in.

Facts proved that his decision was correct, because next, the conversation between Schiller and this officer still maintained the style of a Hollywood blockbuster, but the content had completely exceeded his knowledge scope.

"Where is the snake tail?" the black officer asked.

"I thought you had already found it. It seems you aren't Lex Luthor's match either. Since that's the case, why go to such trouble and bring me here?"

"Answer my question, where did you hide the snake tail?"

"If you can't find it, you should think about whether Lex Luthor took it away. Although you aren't as rich as him, he is also smarter than you."

"Don't play dumb with me!" the black officer's tone sank, "I know Luthor didn't get the snake tail either; he only got that gem. Tell me, where is that mural, I want to know now."

"I don't understand, the most valuable thing on that mural is the gem. Why are you more concerned about those pieces of mud?"

"Regarding this point, you should know better than us. Don't you remember the Egyptian legend you told Lex Luthor?"

"You really are watching him closely." Schiller tilted his head slightly, sighed, and said, "I can tell you where the mural is, but can you be sure that Lex Luthor isn't watching you?"

The black officer stared fixedly at Schiller; his eyeballs turned left and right, but it didn't seem to be observing.

"Think about it in your head." the black officer said.

"Sorry?"

"Think about where the mural is in your head, I naturally have a way to know."

"Truly amazing, so you have already invented an instrument to read brain waves. Then why not use it on our friend next door? Does this thing not work on aliens?"

"You really know a lot." the black officer's tone sank completely, he said, "We won't use that inefficient method to dig out the secrets in your head, but we also won't let you disrupt the situation and trigger a war. I have always respected human rights, but..."

"But facing a liar like me, you can also slightly break the bottom line. I fully believe you have the ability to do so, but..."

Schiller imitated his tone, drawing out the tail of the last transition word very long. He stood up and came to the glass, face-to-face with the black officer, the distance between the two almost separated only by a pane of glass.

"You and this alien should have more common topics, right? Mr. Hunter?"

The contraction of the black man's pupils didn't escape Schiller's eyes. He smiled slightly and then said, "Helping us is helping yourself."

"I am trying to help you." he lowered his voice and said, "And you, the chaos you trigger will only make things worse."

Schiller shook his head gently, stepped back a step, and then said, "Then let's see who is right, sir. You aren't a policeman... you aren't anymore."

The black officer took a deep breath, almost filling his entire chest cavity. Just when Clark thought he was going to punch the glass, he turned and left.

"What is the snake tail?" Clark asked.

"Oh, this. Glad you still have the leisure to listen to me introduce a great creation from ancient Egyptian civilization. The snake tail is the tail part of the Serpent of Frine; the Serpent of Frine is a sculptural mural left by ancient Egypt..."

Clark sensed something wrong, so he interrupted Schiller and said, "Why can't I have the leisure?"

"Usually, when people are in jail, they are more concerned about their own safety than some antique."

"Then you're mistaken, I'm not in jail." Clark shook his head and said, "I came here voluntarily; I just wanted to explain some things to them and also wanted to remind them of some things so they could be prepared."

"So that's it. I thought you were worried about your own safety and didn't have time to worry about anything else."

"Anything else? What else?"

"The group of terrorists who kidnapped me were hired by Lex Luthor; they are a famous broker gang that does all kinds of dirty work. Half an hour after they were arrested, they were bailed out. I can't say I know the rules of the trade very well, but generally speaking, if someone is willing to spend a lot of money to bail them out, naturally there are some very urgent jobs for them to do."

"What does this have to do with me?"

Schiller walked to the glass partition between the two, stuck the glowing screen of a phone onto the partition, bent down, and said to the sitting Clark: "If the Martha Kent in Smallville, Kansas, in the text message has nothing to do with you, then I guess I thought too much."