Chapter 454: The Brilliant Final Chapter (Part II)

Batman lost control.

Perhaps it was because, in some sense, he had just believed he had truly killed someone, or perhaps it was because of Schiller's question, the answer he gave himself contained something he wished to evade.

Or perhaps forcibly halting control over the black tide had inflicted greater mental trauma, rendering him unable to restrain himself.

But in any case, Batman and the black tide outside the mayor's mansion had completely lost control.

Clark, lying on the ground, had closed his eyes; Schiller's question had also deeply disturbed him. His thoughts were chaotic, perhaps hiding an urge to escape, unwilling to witness the scene of flying limbs.

Yet at that moment, the black tide about to destroy the estate was suddenly halted outside—a light curtain descended, and the black tide froze once more.

A figure appeared beside the railing of the second-floor courtyard: Schiller, dressed in a black suit.

Strangely, he held a paintbrush in his hand, as if he had just finished work; he tossed the brush aside, clapped his hands, and said: "The room's test is nearly done. We…"

Just as Schiller spoke these words, a shadow suddenly leapt down from the second-floor courtyard. He had been huddled among the crying crowd, but now the figure rolled nimbly, dodged Joker Jack, and arrived at Clark's side.

In one swift motion, the rope binding Clark was cut; the man seized the kryptonite from Clark's chest and hurled it away—*clink*—as it hit the floor, Schiller, standing on the second-floor courtyard, narrowed his eyes.

"Merkel," Schiller said in a low tone, staring at the man beside Clark—it was his former butler, Merkel.

Superman, freed from his restraints, rose instantly into the air. Merkel, however, coughed weakly twice; contact with kryptonite had evidently injured him. He looked at Schiller and said: "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what happened, but I had to save him—he's a good man."

"You moved that bottle of wine on my bookshelf?"

Though Schiller phrased it as a question, his tone was certain: only Merkel, having touched the Mad Wine and been pulled into the dream, could explain this.

"It seems that, while I was away from the estate, you finally remembered your mission."

Schiller lowered his eyelids, his expression showing no anger. Merkel's expression, however, grew cold. He spoke in a chilling tone: "When did you find out?"

"You mean that you're a Soviet spy? That may have been earlier than you imagined."

Schiller sighed: "Every day you gave food to the newsboy and took the newspaper from him—didn't you realize it was a method of transmitting intelligence?"

"One of my colleague's students took over the territory after the 'King of Kids' in Gotham was eliminated. He unified all the newsboys, cigarette boys, and street vendors in Gotham—there's no better network of eyes than these children."

"So you discovered it when I first started working at your estate?"

"Even earlier—when you got off the train at Gotham Station, the cigarette boy already noticed something was off about you…"

As they spoke, Clark, hovering in midair, began trembling. Schiller looked up—he saw light beginning to radiate from Clark's body.

Schiller frowned; clearly, this was unexpected. But something even more shocking was yet to come.

Clark opened his arms. Radiant light poured from his body, and then he shot upward.

Both the light curtain Schiller had just cast and the endless blizzard that had surrounded the estate were swept away by Clark's ascent.

The fierce wind and suffocating snow suddenly froze. In an instant, a crack opened in the gloomy sky, and a brilliant beam of light descended, bathing Clark in its glow.

"Wait…" Schiller frowned, sensing something wrong. He shouted: "Withdraw immediately—get them out!"

But it was too late. When Clark punched a hole through the light curtain, the black tide under Batman's control surged through the weakness, shattering the barrier. The black wave instantly destroyed the estate's structures.

The expected scene of total annihilation never came. Instead, a sun rose from the ground, forming a halo that protected everyone present. Clark descended from the solar radiance, his eyes blazing with intense light.

At the same time, Batman rose from the black tide. Infinite waves of black surrounded him; the deepest darkness of this world erupted from his eyes.

The two forces paused for an instant, then moved at speeds invisible to the eye, colliding violently.

At the moment light met darkness, everything shattered.

Not only the mayor's mansion and all its furniture and walls, but also the shadows of distant buildings, the invisible walls farther still, even the entire chamber of the Mind Palace—all were reduced to fragments.

The perspective pulled back. At the summit of a tall tower, a tiny glimmer flashed on the tail of a colossal serpent coiled atop it.

The serpent's head stirred. It opened its eyes, dazed, and stared at its own tail.

In an instant, it was blinded.

That tiny glimmer exploded into blinding radiance, as if the sun had fallen upon the tower's peak.

Before Yemeng could react, he was blasted away like a spring, hurled by a mushroom cloud.

Dreamspace was always utterly silent—but now, an indescribable roar erupted from the tower's peak. Not only did it blast Yemeng and the two rooms he had just built atop the tower into the air, but also the top twenty-plus stories of the tower itself turned instantly to powder.

As the light ring from the mushroom cloud faded, all fell still. Only the suddenly shortened tower stood silently in a vast, white expanse.

Bruce jolted awake on his bed. He blinked, dazed, then opened his eyes again. Before him was a slightly unfamiliar guest room—but he was certain: this was still inside the mayor's mansion.

He touched his forehead, feeling dizzy and heavy-eyed, his nose blocked. But when he stood up, he suddenly noticed the room was thick with the smell of alcohol.

He saw a small table beside his bed, holding a wine glass—but no bottle. The glass contained no trace of liquid. Bruce frowned, walked over, picked up the glass, and narrowed his eyes.

If that had truly been a dream, when had he entered it?

To determine that, he needed to know the current state of the estate.

He opened the door and found himself in a guest room on the second floor. Looking down the hallway, he saw signs of a struggle—he remembered: this was where they had clashed with the agents.

*Jian Lai*

That meant he must have been dragged into the dream after fighting the agents, while trying to rest and recover his strength.

Bruce looked again at the wine glass in his hand, lost in thought. Just then, he heard a sound from the end of the hallway—he quickly shut the door.

If he had entered the dream after fighting the agents, then those agents had merely been evaded, not defeated. They might now be searching the entire estate for them.

When a knock came at the door, Bruce knew: it wasn't the agents—agents never knocked.

Indeed, outside stood Clark. He held his head, his hair disheveled, half-lidded eyes weary and confused.

"Oh, it's you. Just now, I heard movement next door, so I came to check. I don't know how, but I passed out in the next room—and had the strangest dream…"

Bruce frowned and let Clark in. Soon after, Lex arrived. He and Bruce exchanged a glance—both clearly understood what the other was puzzling over.

"Let's start from the beginning," Lex sat down and tapped the table. "Undoubtedly, Professor Schiller dragged us into some strange dream using some method."

"First question: what was the order in which we entered the dream?"

"You were the first," Bruce said to Lex. "Remember what happened in the dream after we defeated the agents?"

"A group of agents burst into my room, knocked me out, and then you rescued me," Lex frowned. "Now it seems the agents didn't knock me out."

"Logically, you were the easiest to subdue. He didn't even need special methods—just a tap from that umbrella would've done it."

"Wait, what are you two talking about?" Clark held his forehead. "I know we had similar dreams—but what does this have to do with the professor? What are we even deducing now?"

Bruce and Lex ignored Clark completely. They spoke in rapid alternation, quickly piecing together the truth.

For some reason, after Bruce, Clark, and Selina clashed with the agents, Schiller separately approached Lex, Bruce, and Clark, then dragged them into the dream using some method.

As for what that method was, Bruce and Lex's gazes both fixed on the wine glass in Bruce's hand.

"This is abnormal," Lex continued. "No normal wine in this world leaves no trace in the glass after being consumed—unless it wasn't wine at all, but some kind of drug."

"No, it was wine—just a wine with special properties," Bruce clearly recalled how Schiller had felled Constantine.

"Then the only remaining question…" Lex stared at the glass.

"Why did the professor do this?"

Bruce stared silently at the glass, then said: "If I'm not mistaken, he probably thought we disturbed his sleep."

Lex and Clark froze. In that instant, they shared an unspoken understanding—they both subtly pushed their chairs back, as if trying to put distance between themselves and Bruce.

Clark swallowed hard, then said:

"I think they're right…"

Lex smoothly continued:

"Everyone in Gotham is insane."