Chapter 4907

"What do you mean?" Constantine asked, lowering his head as he wrapped something around the bones, "Is he also a leading figure of some religion?"

"What do you think is the essence of religion?"

"This question is rather profound, but Constantine happens to be an expert in this area," he said, "If you want me to analyze it from a sociological perspective, I'll tell you that it's actually humanity's self-comfort."

"Exactly," the bishop nodded and said, "People need faith to comfort themselves, and they also need some shared spirit to unite them. So what do you think this is in all of human society?"

"Isn't humanity itself the same?" Constantine said this, but quickly realized it wasn't quite right, because the differences between people are truly too great, so he added, "We are of the same race, our bodily structures are the same, and our ways of thinking are also similar."

"Yes, but these are only superficial. What truly allowed human society to develop to today, without any sociological rift, is actually humanity's shared instinct," the bishop paused for a moment before continuing, "What we pursue and what we reject, what we enjoy and what we fear, what we love and what we hate—among all these things, the part that comes from instinct is the same."

"Are you referring to emotional patterns or something like that?"

"Indeed, it leans more toward emotion than logic, because emotion is more instinctive," the bishop said, "If understood this way, then understanding and utilizing humanity's shared instinct is a kind of special magic."

"I don't understand at all," Constantine said, "Instinct should be a very abstract concept, let alone humanity's shared instinct—this should be a term that only appears in textbooks. Or is there some power source I don't know about, controlling all of this?"

"Suppose—I'm saying suppose. If someone truly mastered this magic, would he not be considered the priest of all human society?"

"Are you saying you have this ability?"

"In a world without magic, I naturally wouldn't have it. But this world has both magic and psychic abilities. Since idealistic elements exist, how do you know that shared instinct is merely a concept and cannot be understood and utilized?"

"The problem is how you understand and utilize it," Constantine said, "This thing is invisible and intangible—you want to try, but there's nowhere to try."

"Not necessarily," the bishop said, "If I can form a society with myself, then I can naturally practice by exploring my own instinct, and gradually develop to mastering humanity's shared instinct."

"That sounds completely like a daydream," Constantine commented.

"Indeed, I'm not yet proficient," the bishop continued, "For now, I can only move my own instinct. But you also saw Charles's attitude—he seems to have sensed something. This proves the range has at least extended to psychics. Moreover, it's not surprising, since their superpowers make it easier for them to control their subconscious and also easier to access the collective unconscious."

"Can you explain this in simpler terms?" Constantine sighed and said, "What exactly is humanity's shared instinct?"

"You should know about the Land of Dreams, right?" the bishop asked.

"I've heard of it," Constantine said, "But I haven't gone there to explore deeply—it sounds dangerous just hearing about it."

"The collective unconscious is a sea floating beneath the Land of Dreams."

"Isn't the Land of Dreams already the lowest part?"

"No. Although dreams indeed unfold in humanity's subconscious, and although 'what one thinks by day, one dreams by night,' the connection between dreams and conscious intent is still too deep. True collective unconscious is the realm that conscious intent cannot explore at all."

"Are you trying to explore this sea?"

"Yes. As long as you can stir this sea, all humans connected to the collective unconscious will feel something in their hearts. Psychics like Charles will be even more sensitive."

"If you mastered this sea, what could you do?" Constantine asked, finding this particularly interesting.

"I don't know," the bishop shook his head and said, "Exploration itself is the purpose—no one knows how it will turn out. But at least now, I can summon my other selves through my own collective unconscious. That's already enough."

Constantine thought for a moment and said: "Indeed, your other selves are still quite strong. So you're a summoner?"

"You could think of it that way," the bishop smiled and said, "Actually, I can summon even more—it's just a bit troublesome."

"That gaze..." Constantine recalled seeing those scattered gray eyes, clearly not belonging to the bishop.

"Uh, the side effect is that I might summon some rather dangerous fellows," the bishop said, "The message is broadcast, so even Charles and them can feel it, meaning my other selves can receive it too. If someone is interested, they'll respond, and I can't stop it."

"I feel working with you is dangerous," Constantine said, "That person who looked at me earlier seemed to be calculating how long to stew me."

"No," the bishop explained, "It's because he previously interacted with other Constantines and has some history. Seeing you, this rare variant, he's just a bit interested."

"I'm not like them," Constantine said, adopting a rejecting attitude, "I never wanted to get involved with certain mental deviants and lunatics. May God help me."

Because they had a vehicle, the agent and the Reaper quickly drove to Wayne Manor. Most of the corpses here hadn't been cleared yet, and these two seasoned fellows glanced around and immediately knew who these people in Wayne Manor were.

"Open the door!" the Reaper said rudely, stepping forward and knocking. Then the watchtower above, which looked like a matchbox, instantly extended a sniper rifle barrel. The moment the scope saw that black-and-yellow armor, Nightwing let out a cry of surprise.

"Reaper!" he said, "Brainiac, you're copying the Reaper's appearance to make monsters—don't you fear him..."

"That's not a monster," Brainiac said somewhat speechlessly, "It's another group of players. You don't know the Reaper, and you don't know Shiler either?"

"It's precisely because of Shiler that I think it's a monster. I was about to say you still have guts, copying the Reaper then copying Shiler—lice more, not itchy, right?"

The good news is they're not monsters; the bad news is they're not monsters. Nightwing lowered his sniper rifle and walked downstairs. He didn't dare actually open the door, just speaking through it: "What do you two want?"

Robin inside was on high alert. Know that when they came to this universe, Bruce at most just scared them a little. Eating barbecue with the Joker was somewhat frightening, but it wasn't actually the Joker frightening them—mainly, this behavior was comparatively frightening. But indeed, it didn't cause them any real harm.

The Reaper is different. Your Uncle Zhong really does fight—Young Titans often get chased and beaten by him. Although due to some reasons, many disasters that should have happened in the main universe didn't occur, the Robins have indeed had several clashes with the Reaper, basically ending in total defeat.

Although they don't want to admit they're not opening the door out of cowardice, deep down they know the truth. Although the rules say players can't clash, looking at it, there seem to be no restrictions. Having just finished a raid, resources are low, and fighting the Reaper again would make this game unplayable.

"I'm here to deliver supplies," the Reaper seemed to be trying to ease the tension, "Out of respect for Batman."

Not mentioning this would be fine, but saying it made Robin even angrier. Since the Reaper agreed to take Batman's jobs, Batman discovered this super mercenary is super useful. As long as the pay is sufficient, the super detective seriously handles cases—he dares to go through blades and fires.

This led to Batman assigning many potentially dangerous tasks to the Reaper instead of Robin. Moreover, after the agent arrived, some non-dangerous tasks requiring interaction with special agents were given to the agent. These two top performers teamed up, nearly stealing all of Robin's work.

Originally, the Robins followed Batman not for money or other material conditions. They purely shared Batman's ideals, and the Bat family united through ideals and emotions. So Batman choosing the Reaper and the agent over them made the Robins quite resentful. Those who work for money can't possibly give their all—of course, it should be them doing things best.

Originally, being unable to beat the Reaper was annoying, but then the Reaper stole Robin's work, making them even angrier. But anger is useless, since they can't beat the Reaper. Fortunately, he's not black-haired and blue-eyed, and he's probably quite old, so he can't become Batman's Robin—otherwise, it would truly be a major crisis for the Bat family.

Seeing the talk was about to collapse, the agent quickly stepped forward and said: "We're really here to deliver supplies. I heard you lack magical defense measures, so we crafted a decent piece of equipment at the cathedral and unanimously decided to sponsor it to you."

The agent's reputation among the Robins isn't high either—this agent never speaks truthfully. If it weren't for their firm belief in Batman's character, they'd almost think Batman has eagle hounds.

But just as the agent said, they indeed lack magical defense measures. Moreover, in this game, it seems there's indeed no need to travel thousands of miles to sabotage allies.

Nightwing wavered slightly, but Red Robin said: "Could they be impostors?"

Damian shook his head and said: "No. Impostors definitely wouldn't be this annoying."

This point gained everyone's support. Just look at the Reaper's demeanor—one glance tells you he's genuine; a fake wouldn't be this aggravating.

After some hesitation, they still opened the door. But to be safe, Red Robin still asked: "Which universe are you from?"

"Last month I just pressed you to the ground—you don't remember?" the Reaper also didn't bother with politeness, "Knowing your weight isn't enough, you still wanted to play ground techniques with me. I tell you, I'm wearing a camera—I'll send your superb combat skills back to Batman when I return."

"You!" Red Robin gritted his teeth.

Damian had a bit of schadenfreude, but the Reaper also had no intention of letting him off. "You're not doing any better either—you just know how to play with grappling hooks. Last time you failed to steady the water droplet beast stone statue and fell down—I was smoking under the eaves, still thinking you were here to extort money."

"How could you... you damn peeping tom!" Damian cursed, "What are you staring at me for?!"

"Alright," Red Hood said, "Take off your mask first, otherwise we won't know if you're impostors."

The Reaper rolled his eyes, but the Robins inside were indeed not wearing masks, so he didn't bother being formal—he hooked his finger into his mask, pulled it up from below, and took it off.

The living room instantly erupted in a cry of alarm: "How are you this young?!"

This was bad. Although he didn't have black hair and blue eyes, he had blond hair and blue eyes, and he actually looked to be about the same age as the Robins. The Robins exchanged a glance. Batman wouldn't... would he?