Chapter 476

As Jonathan and Hugo discussed the specifics of the plan, suddenly they heard a faint sound outside the door; both immediately turned alertly toward it.

Hugo walked to the door, opened it—and instantly stepped back—only to see a slightly familiar man standing outside, who raised a hand in greeting and smiled, revealing eight teeth.

"Sorry, my roommate, I didn't mean to follow you. Has anyone ever told you? Your acting is terrible. I couldn't help but notice."

Hugo's face darkened instantly.

A muffled gunshot rang out—"bang"—but it wasn't Hugo who fired; it was Jonathan, standing behind him.

Looking at Constantin lying in a pool of blood, Jonathan said discontentedly to Hugo: "You brought a tail with you?! Again and again, you make me question your professionalism, Hugo. I think I should reconsider whether cooperating with you is even necessary."

Hugo frowned, staring at Constantin's corpse; just as he opened his mouth to speak, another sound came from behind Jonathan.

Both turned sharply—and saw Constantin standing behind them: "Buddy, your shooting's as bad as his acting."

When Hugo turned back to the corpse, he saw it slowly turning to ash, the blood vanished.

Before he could ask, Constantin spread his hands: "As you can see, I'm a magician."

"You know how people regard magic—they call me insane, lock me up here. I heard you want to escape? How about taking me with you?"

Jonathan lowered his gun, looked at Constantin's smile, lowered his eyelids, then said: "Looks like you're a better partner than he is."

"You're just going to trust him? Jonathan, trust this unknown stranger?"

"Aren't you unknown too?"

Jonathan holstered his gun and stepped to the window: "We're all outsiders with unknown pasts. None of us can truly trust the others."

"But we can cooperate—for now, right?" Constantin stepped forward to Jonathan: "What's the initiation for joining your group? Something like killing someone?"

"Have you ever killed someone?" Jonathan asked Constantin.

"Of course not. I'm a law-abiding good man. I enjoy making friends—but my friends' fates are terrible. They always die in strange accidents."

"I wander the world with poetic soul, long journeys, many accidents. Sometimes I feel cursed. But now I think—it's just bad luck."

His words were disjointed, yet Jonathan's expression softened slightly: "Same here. I once thought I was cursed. Now I realize—the curse is called talent and intelligence."

"Clearly, we're cut from the same cloth," Constantin crossed his arms: "We treat the world with utmost goodwill, yet it gives us nothing in return. So why not play a few pranks?"

"Is now the time to discuss this?" Hugo spoke up: "Our plan—"

Suddenly, a ghost glowing with eerie light appeared in the center of the room, grinning, stretching out its arms to grab Hugo, shoving him against the wall, then squeezing his throat tightly.

"I think he's not one of us. What do you think?" Constantin turned, watching Hugo struggle and scream: "He looks like a wicked evil man. I think I have a duty to rid the world of him…"

Jonathan also turned: "A stupid, self-important psychiatrist, terrified by illusions, too cowardly to escape even from a regular ward. A complete fool and waste."

"But…" Jonathan shifted tone: "He's still useful. Let him go."

The moment Jonathan finished speaking, Hugo was released. The ghost vanished. Hugo collapsed to his knees, coughing violently.

A hint of satisfaction appeared on Jonathan's face. To him, this new stranger was more compatible.

Scarecrow Jonathan—a Daomeidan who'd been locked in Arkham Asylum since Batman's debut, missing every major event.

Of course, not entirely unlucky—he was still safely inside Arkham Asylum.

Even luckier: his ward was on the upper floors, so he'd never encountered In Wensi, Cobblepot, or Jack, who lived below. None of them even knew someone existed on the top floor. Otherwise, his safety would've been questionable.

As a named villain in DC Comics, Jonathan couldn't possibly stay put—he must want to escape. But the security in this hospital's high-risk wards was still solid.

As a newly emerged villain—a university professor—Jonathan lacked physical strength and the sheer willpower to execute his plans perfectly. So escaping alone was nearly impossible.

While he was still observing the situation, someone came to him voluntarily: Hugo Strange.

Hugo had previously been dragged into a dream by Shi Le as a tool, but after the Yellow Lantern and the Laughing Egg appeared, he was no longer needed—so Shi Le kicked him out of the dream. The process was too brutal; Hugo collapsed in the clinic and was carried back to his ward by Brand.

At first, he really was a bit mad—the abrupt severing of the dream link damaged his psyche. But he recovered quickly. Still, Brand treated him relentlessly as a patient, so he never got a chance to escape.

After enduring for a long time, Hugo gradually learned the guards' and doctors' routines, then began his nightly wanderings. His target was clear: the patients in the top-floor high-security ward.

He'd worked in many psychiatric hospitals. He knew most patients weren't violent—just unable to care for themselves, hence hospitalized.

But some were different: born criminals—volatile, cold, cruel. They'd repeatedly harmed others, yet because of confirmed mental illness, they weren't sent to prison. These people were usually confined in local psychiatric hospitals.

Most of them didn't believe they were ill. They were filled with rage and a desire for revenge.

Still, even then, once released, they wouldn't cause much chaos—they were just flesh and blood, no special powers. As he said this, Hugo glanced at Constantin.

"But Gotham is different, right?" Jonathan caught the emphasis. Hugo nodded: "Gotham's high crime rate stems from one fact: it has far more insane people than anywhere else—and they're far more dangerous."

"I don't know why, but its residents are mentally unstable. When I was still a doctor, I reviewed decades of medical records. Gotham citizens have a 1500% higher probability of mental illness than other cities. The chance of developing violent behavior or evolving into antisocial personality disorder? Nearly 100%."

Hugo glanced at the wall: "Without doubt, this asylum holds the most dangerous psychopaths. If we release them, Batman will have his hands full."

Constantin opened his mouth but said nothing. His reason told him Hugo was right—but his instinct whispered: if it seems too straightforward, something will go wrong.

"Alright, how do we execute it?" Constantin crossed his arms, hitched up his coat's hem, and asked.

Hugo said confidently: "This asylum was built long ago. The wards still use key-and-lock systems."

"I got here because I found where they keep the keys. But for safety, I only took one—the key to this room. Still, I could've taken them all…"

But there are also those who are not like this—they are born criminals, hot-tempered, cold, and cruel; having repeatedly committed crimes that harm others, yet due to confirmed mental illnesses, they are not imprisoned, and are usually confined in local psychiatric hospitals.

"Then we open each door one by one? Won't they attack us when we open them?" Jonathan asked.

"I originally planned other methods. But now, our new friend seems capable of handling it." Hugo turned to Constantin.

Constantin raised his hands: "Fine. I can send my little pet to open the doors. It's fast—it won't take long to unlock them all. But are you sure these patients will cause enough chaos?"

Hugo said confidently: "Don't worry. The most dangerous lunatics will rush out the moment the doors open…"

Hugo glanced at the wall and said, "If nothing unexpected happens, the patients locked in this psychiatric hospital are the most dangerous ones; if we let these lunatics loose, it'll be enough to give Batman a headache."

Hugo turned to the window. Gotham's night remained dark, yet the city center's lights blazed like a sun in the night.

Amid flickering shadows, wind howled down the streets. Two black figures darted across rooftops. Throwing stars flew through the air. A grappling hook shot from a dark figure's arm, wrapping around a fleeing man.

Batman yanked the hook hard. The Joker, caught around the waist, was flung onto the ground, bloodied and unconscious. His bomb remote flew from his hand.

Batman stepped forward, gripped the hook on the Joker's waist, lifted him up, and slowly vanished into Gotham's night.

Looking toward his direction, only one window in Arkham Asylum's building still glowed—before it stood three shadowy figures, each with their own hidden motives.

"Then do we go room by room and open each door? When we open them, won't they attack us?" Jonathan asked.

"I originally planned to use another method, but it seems our new friend here will have a solution." Hugo turned to look at Constantine.

Constantine raised his hands and waved them slightly. "Alright, I can send my little pet from earlier to open the doors—it's fast, and it won't take long to open them all. But are you certain the patients here will cause enough chaos?"

Hugo said with great confidence: "Don't worry—the most dangerous lunatics will rush out in a frenzy…"

"Then add fuel to the chaos of this city."

Hugo turned to look out the window; Gotham's night remained pitch black, yet the light in the downtown district shone like a sun in the darkness.

Amid flickering shadows, wind howled down the street; two dark silhouettes darted across the rooftops, throwing shurikens, while a grappling hook shot from one shadow's arm and wrapped around a fleeing figure.

Batman yanked the grappling hook hard, hurling the Joker—whose waist was bound by the line—onto the ground beside him, bloodied and unconscious, his bomb remote flying from his grasp.

Batman stepped forward, gripped the hook on the Joker's waist, lifted him up, and slowly vanished into Gotham's night.

Looking in the direction he was heading, three shadowy figures stood before the only lit window of Arkham Asylum's main building, each harboring their own secrets.