Chapter 4642

Bruce climbed up from the ground and stood in place, taking a deep breath. He saw Schiller go to get the remaining disposable needle, paused for a second, and then pounced toward Schiller again.

Schiller withdrew his hand from the drawer and reached out to push Bruce away, but because the strength was great, he almost threw him out. But this time Bruce was prepared and didn't fall to the ground. After adjusting his posture, he circled over from the other side again.

"Are you sure you want to fight me here?" Schiller narrowed his eyes and looked at him.

"We don't seem to have fought, right?" Bruce said coldly. "I mean, fighting like this."

"Do you think I'm not good at this?"

"If it's fighting technique, yes. But I also know very well that strength is everything in fighting."

"Then you should give up," Schiller said.

"I just want to try," Bruce grinned, revealing a provocative smile. "After all, it's not everyone who has the chance to fight their own university professor. I believe many people want to do this."

"My students especially," Schiller didn't talk nonsense with him and grabbed the chain of the collarbone ring directly. Bruce pounced from the right, he dodged to the left, and swung the iron rod to force him back. But Bruce dodged flexibly, and he circled to Schiller's left again, trying to trip him with a leg trip.

Schiller didn't fall for it and stepped back half a step to make room. He knew very well that his fighting skills couldn't compare to Bruce's, even if Bruce was no longer Batman and hadn't fought with anyone for a long time. After all, he was once a fighting master, and arrogance almost never fights.

If he competed with Bruce in terms of technique, it would be very difficult. Because there are many jiu-jitsu and grappling techniques specifically designed to deal with people with greater strength than oneself; once strangled, it is possible to lose.

Therefore, Schiller chose to avoid the sharp edge. Bruce could try countless times, but as long as he was caught by Schiller once, he couldn't have any resistance anymore; after all, a mortal body really couldn't compete with a train.

Bruce suddenly punched, Schiller sneered and dodged sideways, reaching out to grab Bruce's arm. Bruce suddenly changed his move, bent down to dodge Schiller's hand, and rushed behind Schiller, trying to strangle his neck.

Schiller had long expected this and immediately turned sideways, not giving him a chance to stretch his arms. Just as he reached out to grab Bruce's shoulder, Bruce dodged to the side and stretched his leg to trip him again. Schiller didn't give him a chance anymore, swung the iron chain directly, and smashed the iron rod toward his chest.

It happened in a flash; Bruce rolled as if he had eyes on his back, dodging the iron rod. And Schiller's force in swinging the iron rod was very great; with a bang, the iron rod smashed directly onto the wire mesh outside the mechanism.

With a sizzle, electric light flashed, and Schiller was directly sent flying.

Electricity is different from everything else. Other injuries would make Schiller's strength explode more fiercely, but electricity is something that makes muscles subconsciously contract, leading to stiffness of the whole body, and no matter how much strength he has, he can't exert it for a while.

And the electricity connected to the mechanism seemed to have been specially processed, specially adjusted for the human body, just to prevent smart people from using violence to destroy the mechanism. Anyone who gets shocked will be stiff for a while.

Schiller was stiff on the ground for more than ten seconds. He couldn't move, but he could see what Bruce was doing. Bruce picked up the disposable needle in the drawer directly, connected it to the soft tube, and stuck it into his arm.

Blood soon flowed into the scale along the soft tube. Bruce looked back at him, gritted his teeth and said: "I didn't intend to be Batman, you forced me."

Schiller lay on the ground panting, waited for the muscle stiffness effect to pass, slowly stood up, looked up at the machine, and said: "This mechanism is probably designed by another me."

"How do you know?" Bruce asked.

"No one knows my weaknesses better than I do."

"So you still have weaknesses?"

"Of course," Schiller took a deep breath. "Otherwise, how do you think they locked me up back then?"

Bruce's movements stiffened suddenly. He sank into Schiller's memory again and saw how the young Schiller was locked in the laboratory.

Obviously, this talent of Schiller's was easy to use in his childhood, and it wasn't much weaker than it is now, and it was very difficult to deal with when it erupted, making it very difficult to control him.

But in any case, Schiller is also a carbon-based organism. As long as it is a carbon-based organism, as long as the part used for exerting force is muscle, there is no way to be immune to the negative effects caused by electric current. And this became the only means to control Schiller.

Bruce pulled out the needle with a pop, took a deep breath, turned to look at Schiller and said: "Enough! How long are the two of us going to be like this?"

Schiller just showed an indifferent smile at him: "You started it."

"Are you mistaken?!" Bruce said incredulously. "It was clearly you who said you wanted to stay. You wouldn't want to use that theory again to push the responsibility onto me, would you? I won't be fooled again!"

"Isn't it you who said you wanted to play a high-difficulty dungeon?" Schiller looked at him, seemingly puzzled.

Bruce opened his mouth, took a step forward and spread his hands: "Playing a high-difficulty dungeon isn't played like this, right?"

"Then what are you expecting?" Schiller stared at him again. "When Gotham was at its darkest, it was also when the two of us bled the most. Do you expect that we would cooperate sincerely in a high-difficulty game and tide over the difficulties together?"

Bruce covered his forehead, took a deep breath and tried to explain: "I just feel it's too simple and boring. I play high-difficulty by myself, the two of us..."

"But you also agreed!" Bruce remembered the lesson before and decided to attack the other party. "Since you anticipated this situation, you should have stopped it!"

"Why should I stop it?" Schiller looked at him and asked. "I thought you wanted to relive the old dream."

Bruce wiped his face hard, his tone having a deep powerlessness: "Why do I feel you haven't recovered at all?"

"Oh, Bruce," Schiller reached out to support the wooden exit and said in a light tone. "You wouldn't think that you were cured, so I should be cured too, right?"

"I thought you at least should..." Bruce was a bit at a loss for words; he thought for a long time before saying, "At least you should have been a little more normal."

"No," Schiller shook his head lightly. "Never, Bruce. I have never been changed, at least you didn't do it."

"What do you mean?!" Bruce gritted his teeth and took a step forward, looking into his eyes. "So, everything we experienced has no meaning to you?"

Suddenly he froze, then hammered the wooden exit hard and said: "Schiller, you're doing this again! I said, I won't be fooled again!"

Schiller finally laughed, almost out of breath: "Very good, it seems you have really made progress, Bruce."

Bruce smashed a few times in anger: "When will you stop your mental attacks on me?!"

"Then didn't you also mentally attack me just now?" Schiller looked at him with a smile, and then his gaze fell on the needle hole on his arm.

Bruce clenched his fists, having to admit that although he reacted in the end, he was still partially fooled just now. That is, he went back to the old path, trying to use self-harm to make Schiller learn a lesson.

He really drew quite a bit of blood, but it wasn't enough to cause excessive blood loss, at most a little more than the safe blood volume for donation. Therefore, now, except for feeling a little cold in his fingertips, he didn't feel uncomfortable.

What really made him uncomfortable was that after going around in circles, he still couldn't completely immunize himself against this set of Joker combos from Schiller—throwing out questions for Batman to choose, pretending to be a good person to disturb the line of sight, provoking him to make him lose control, getting emotional and self-harming to donate blood, guilt-stabbing the heart and mind manipulation, hitting the nail on the head with mental attacks, and shifting the blame in the chaos.

It's really not about the move being new, as long as it's useful. From the first time they met, it was this set. Still wrong, still wrong!

"The two of us really can't be like this," Bruce said. "I'm not Batman, and you're not the Joker anymore."

"You didn't listen to me again," Schiller grabbed his arm and pressed his hand on the needle hole that was still oozing blood. "In the first level, I told you that you might have to be Batman for a while. Did you really not hear it?"

Bruce was stunned, and then he looked very collapsed: "Who knew this was what you meant? Wasn't that just a joke?!"

Then he roared again: "You want me to listen to you, and you don't want me to listen to you. If I don't listen to you, I don't know what you want to hint at; if I listen to you, I get fooled. Tell me what I should do!"

He smashed his fist on the wooden exit again, not knowing if it was because his strength was too great or because the thing was of poor quality, but the lid on it was smashed crooked directly.

He also realized that he was a bit out of control and tried hard to adjust his emotions: "When I go back, I'll tell the Justice League that I'm already not Batman, and the Joker is still chasing me!"

But soon he noticed that because Schiller's action of breaking his own collarbone was too violent, the wound on his collarbone bled a lot. Besides soaking his clothes, it also splashed a lot on the floor, and because of their fighting, it was everywhere.

"Alright," Schiller said. "The blood is donated, it's time to do some serious business."

He took a deep breath, picked up the iron rod, came to the brick at the edge of the mechanism, inserted the iron rod into the gap of the brick, and swung the crowbar.

CLANG!!!!!

Bruce was directly shaken back a step, then winced and gasped for air.

CLANG!!!! CLANG!!!! CLANG!!!!

The iron rod was smashed in just like that, and it was completely stuck in, leaving only a small section outside. Afterward, Schiller hooked the iron rod with the crowbar and started to pry, and in just three moves, he pried the stone brick that was seamlessly embedded in the ground.

Then he pried off that row of bricks one by one, and even cleared the slag at the connection of the bricks around, throwing the bricks on the ground casually. He didn't even pant after doing all this.

Schiller turned and walked toward the exit, and Bruce followed obediently. Walking to the door, Schiller turned to look at him and asked: "Not angry anymore?"

Bruce shook his head, swallowed and said: "Professor, believe it or not, I believe it now."

"What?"

"You really just wanted to teach me, not hurt me. If you had punched me directly back in the Mo Sen district, there would have been no Batman in this world long ago."

"Do you think I didn't want to?" Schiller wiped the blood next to his collarbone with his finger and looked down at his fingertip: "Too miserable."