Chapter 449: The Blizzard Begins (Part 2)

Batman didn't walk over; instead, he threw a batarang at the pile. The expected explosion never came—instead, the objects scattered across the floor with a rustling crash.

A round plush toy rolled a few times before coming to rest against the wall; a bat-shaped lollipop wrapped in colored paper fell to the ground with a crisp sound, its wrapping glinting under the light.

Even Batman found this scene hard to comprehend, but having faced the Joker multiple times, he knew the best defense against this madman was to think nothing at all.

Though he understood the logic, asking Batman not to think was nearly impossible—finally, he walked over and picked up one of the plush toys to examine it.

Inside was no bomb—just an ordinary stuffed animal: a round bat-shaped body with two Q-style bat wings. The other two toys were Batman action figures—one in standard skin, the other laughing wildly.

After examining the three toys, Batman picked up a few lollipops and noticed one had its wrapping torn off, as if someone had licked it a few times—though no one had finished it, and it had been discarded here.

After inspecting everything, Batman found no useful clues, only a new understanding of the Joker's madness.

He checked the chair again, sat down, and from this angle, he could see all the surveillance screens. Batman realized that previously, the Joker had sat right here, holding a phone to tell agents their location.

Batman scanned each screen one by one and saw that the three wall-mounted screens corresponded to the three main buildings of the estate; the screen directly ahead showed the central building—the one with the banquet hall.

As Batman reviewed these surveillance feeds, his gaze suddenly caught a movement on the frontmost screen.

This screen showed the banquet hall's surveillance; since the hall was on the first floor and had no ceiling—only an atrium above—the camera was mounted higher up, not on the first-floor ceiling.

On the screen, a rope hung from the center of the atrium, tied at its end to two people back-to-back.

Batman narrowed his eyes, pushed his chair forward closer to the screen, and realized the two suspended figures were Clark and Lex.

The First Minister of Great Ming

Batman's fingers stiffened—this scene had truly caught him off guard.

Honestly, Batman wasn't surprised Lex had been kidnapped; though clever, Lex was young and physically weak—even weaker than an average person—and this flaw severely limited the effectiveness of his intellect.

Batman knew the man in clown makeup was far more complex than he appeared, and with his informational advantage, he could easily capture a lone Lex—but Clark…

Batman rested his chin on his fingers, squinting at the screen: Clark's chest bore a green stone. His expression was agonized, his body visibly weakened, face pale, chest heaving, struggling to breathe.

The green stone glowed faintly, triggering a grim association in Batman's mind: radiation source, Clark's prior weakness, his current suffering…

It seemed the so-called kryptonite, which caused cancer in ordinary people, also induced weakness and agony in those with Clark's unique physiology.

Batman's deduction neared the truth—just as he was about to delve deeper into kryptonite's mechanism, the scene changed.

A figure entered the frame: dressed in a long suit, with green hair and clown makeup.

What struck Batman as odd was that the man didn't limp or stagger as usual—he moved like a stage actor, taking exaggerated, comically broad strides to the center of the banquet hall.

At the hall's center lay a strangely shaped gift box, seemingly cobbled together from trash: two sides made of cardboard, two of plastic, the ribbon wrapped around it wrinkled and frayed, as if torn from somewhere random.

Yet the Joker approached the box with solemnity, untied the bow, opened it—and inside was a bomb.

He lit the fuse, then sprinted to the corner, crouched down, and covered his ears. A loud *boom* echoed.

Batman tensed for an instant—but as the smoke slowly cleared, he realized the bomb had been placed very low, far from where Clark and Lex were suspended. The explosion harmed no one.

The blast destroyed nothing, sent no shrapnel flying—only a deafening noise and thick smoke. The only consequence: all guest rooms on floors two, three, and four opened their doors.

Many peered out hesitantly, wondering what had happened. Soon, those glancing toward the corridor exit saw two figures hanging from the atrium.

Most hesitated, standing at their doorways, unwilling to step out—they didn't know if another explosion would follow.

At that moment, a passionate voice rang out from the center of the banquet hall:

"Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight is a terrible snowstorm night! We gather here—though the blizzard is cold, our hearts are bound together…"

"Hello! I'm a comedian from Gotham!"

As the figure in the center spoke these words, everyone turned and bolted back into their rooms—door after door slammed shut with *bangs*, cutting off the Joker's next words.

He flipped his hand. "Fine, I knew you were all tasteless cowards—go back to your rooms. Go on…"

"You'll never understand how great Jack is as a comedian! But it doesn't matter—I still have one final audience…"

In the surveillance room, Batman watched as the Joker slowly turned his head—and his gaze locked with Batman's through the screen.

Then, like a nobleman, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, glanced at it, sneered, and tossed it aside. From his pocket he pulled out a bat-shaped lollipop.

He unwrapped it, crunched the candy with his teeth, swallowed, exhaled, then suddenly remembered something—he shook his finger, dashed out of frame, returned with a telephone, and placed it on the floor.

He really did look like a mime clown, Batman thought, using exaggerated gestures and expressions to guide the viewer's gaze—but as he said, the only audience now was Batman.

After placing the phone on the floor, the Joker picked up the receiver and dialed. Instantly, shrill phone rings erupted from every guest room.

Clearly, the oddly shaped phone was one he'd dismantled from the surveillance room—Batman turned his head and saw the chaotic mess of the phone control panel beside him.

"Listen up! If you don't want to be spectators, then become performers, cowards!"

"Above the atrium, a bomb hangs from the ceiling. Its blast isn't huge—but it's just enough to shatter a person's skull."

"As you see, two ropes hang two people—they're the main actors in this scene. You? You're the supporting cast…"

"I'll now tell you each of their backstories. After listening, you may vote using the service button on your room phone!"

"Press the yellow 'Call Service' button to vote for Lex Luthor. Press the blue 'Do Not Disturb' button to vote for Clark Kent!"

"Each vote raises their rope slightly. The first one to touch the bomb—BOOM!"

!

After speaking, he paused, then suddenly hurled the receiver to the floor, stood up, bent over, leaned close to the receiver, and said:

"Oh, I forgot! This is a comedy show—not some wireless tea party. So take your phones, sit at the table, and pour yourselves a drink…"

"Of course, I know what you're thinking—you don't want to be mere spectators, but you also don't want to perform without pay. You just want to pull the covers over your heads and sleep."

"But I won't let you do that!"

The Joker dropped to the floor, propped himself up on his forearms, opened his mouth wide, and enunciated each word with exaggerated lips: I won't!

Let you!

! Do that!

He placed his hand behind his ear, pressed it against the receiver, and said, "Let me hear—who's laughing? You think my threats mean nothing?!"

The Joker stood up, dashed out of frame, and returned with a strange button. He pointed at it toward the receiver: "Look, what's this?"

"Yes, it's a switch—a switch that releases lethal radiation."

"Beneath this old estate lies a vast secret base. Some may think they've explored it all—but that's only a tiny part."

"Behind that door lies a massive extraterrestrial meteorite. Entirely, the manor sits atop this meteorite. When I press this button, the door opens—and lethal radiation leaks out!"

"Those exposed will develop incurable cancer. You'll writhe in agony on your beds—until the cancer cells devour your entire bodies!"

"And the radiation's range? Everyone in this estate!"

High above, Clark looked down and saw the clown-faced madman close his eyes.

He spread his arms and slowly spun in the empty banquet hall, like a lonely dancer, waltzing with the snow and wind.

Soon, he stopped, stood still, and spoke in a low, solemn tone, as if reciting an opening hymn:

"The blizzard will never stop. There is no god here to save you."

"Now… make your choice."