Chapter 58: Cat Getan Evening Bell (Part 2)

In a pitch-black alley, the faint reflection of the armor's movement and a deeper, thicker mist were entangled.

In an instant, the gray mist condensed into a human figure, stopped at the end of the alley, and the friction sound of the armor also stopped. The heavy footsteps, stepping on the water puddles that hadn't dried yet, made a light sound like a death warrant.

"Deathstroke?"

"That is indeed your funeral bell."

As soon as the voice fell, the knife light flashed, Shiler disappeared in place instantly, and appeared behind that figure again.

"Who is your employer?"

"You don't need to know this."

"It seems you have a lot of confidence in your business level."

Shiler dodged two darts with another flash, then faced Deathstroke and said:

"You shouldn't kill me."

"I can kill anyone, as long as someone can afford the price."

Shiler reached out, and a cluster of flames ignited in his hand.

"Regardless of who your employer is, the price he gave you is wrong."

Deathstroke was silent for less than a second and turned to leave directly.

"Indeed, goodbye."

"How will you treat the employer who deceived you?"

"Depends on the situation."

"Kill him, I'll pay."

"You don't have that much money."

"The world's richest man will settle the bill."

"Goodbye."

Shiler looked at the armored figure, which disappeared at the end of the Cat Getan street within a few breaths. He thought that his enemy indeed had some ability to be able to hire Deathstroke to kill him.

Several consecutive flashes consumed a lot of Shiler's physical strength. In such a deep alley, no car could drive in, so he planned to walk back slowly. When he returned to the church, he would call a car to pick him up.

He turned out of an alley and came to the street, and then he looked back, finding that there seemed to be some movement in the deepest part of the street.

At this time, Batman was standing in an incomparably dilapidated, dark, and narrow room.

The environment here was very bad, and Batman had never entered such an uncomfortable room in his life.

This was a third floor. The windows were all nailed shut. All the outer layers of the walls had fallen off. The room was incomparably humid. The floor was slippery stone bricks. All the furniture was not where it should be, and the rest of the places were all kinds of garbage.

The owner of the room saw Batman, this uninvited guest. He froze for a moment, then lowered his head, looked at his feet, muttered an indistinct sentence in his mouth, turned around stooped, picked up a salt jar, and wanted to hand it to Batman.

Batman took the salt jar. It was empty, there was nothing, and then the man waved his hand, seeming to want him to leave.

It was a withered and stooped old man with very dark skin, eyes deeply sunken in the eye sockets, walking with a limp, and constantly muttering some cursing words in his mouth.

It seemed that the neighbor downstairs heard movement and poked his head out from under the stairs and said: "What are you looking for this old guy for? Who are you to him?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"What else could be wrong? Can't you see? He has Alzheimer's. Now he doesn't recognize anyone at all. Even if you know him, he doesn't know you."

That neighbor's angle couldn't see Batman's appearance, only vaguely saw a figure. He said: "This old guy can't pay the rent. Every time the landlord comes, he gives the salt jar to others. Maybe in his era, the salt jar was still quite valuable, but there has been nothing in that salt jar for a long time."

"But he can be considered lucky. His landlord seems to have died in the hands of a gang, and this attic is not worth much money, so killing him would require collecting the body, so he lived until now."

After speaking, a "bang" sound came from downstairs, which was the neighbor closing the door.

Batman held the salt jar. He watched the withered and stooped old man sit on the chair, looking at the desktop without saying a word, a little saliva flowing from the corner of his mouth.

He saw Louis's hands. They were very rough hands. Almost all the finger joints were somewhat twisted due to moving heavy objects all year round. The blood vessels on the withered palms were clearly protruding.

"Are you Louis?"

Except for Batman's own voice, there was no answer.

"Do you still remember Thomas Wei En? Do you still remember Martha?"

Batman felt his voice trembling.

An extreme emotion of anger rose from Batman's chest. He squeezed the salt jar until it creaked.

His enemy didn't remember everything he had hurt innocent people, he just forgot all his crimes.

This is not his punishment, but precisely let him escape the inner blame, Batman thought.

He asked Louis over and over again:

"Why

"Why don't you remember anything?! Do you really not remember the surname Wei En?! What about Edward? Falcone?!"

Just as Batman uttered the name Falcone, the aged Louis suddenly let out a strange, miserable shriek. He opened his mouth wide, and his long-unused jaw emitted a clicking sound.

He fell from his chair, trembling all over, screaming "ah, ah" incessantly, throwing everything he could reach at Batman. Tears, snot, and saliva streamed down his face.

Batman saw endless fear on his face.

Batman thought that Falcone hadn't lied to him; when he killed Rafe back then, he had indeed terrified many people.

Louis was among them.

Schiller walked to the middle of the alley. He looked up and saw that only one room on the third floor had its lights on, and inside the room was a dark shadow with pointed ears.

He stood at the bottom of the building and waited for a while before seeing Batman walk out. Batman was also somewhat surprised to see Schiller, but his mind was a bit sluggish now.

Schiller looked Batman over and found that he wasn't injured, nor were there any signs of a struggle with anyone else.

Then, his gaze fell upon the salt shaker in Batman's hand.

Schiller didn't know what that was, but clearly, the currently conflicted Batman was in great need of unburdening himself. So, before Schiller could even ask, Batman told the entire story.

They walked and talked. When they passed in front of the church, dawn was already approaching. Batman clutched the salt shaker and said:

"He doesn't remember any of it."

When Batman said this, it was no longer with a sense of anger; a complex sentiment was contained in his tone.

"You said he still remembers one person."

"Yeah, he still remembers Falcone. Why doesn't he remember Wei En, yet he remembers Falcone..."

Schiller sighed. He looked into the distance and then said, "Because of fear, because fear is the deepest scar carved into the depths of the human soul, and also the hardest to erase."

"He forgot everything, but remembered only the fear, is that it?" Batman said.

At this moment, it was the darkest hour before dawn. That thick blackness seemed to swallow everything; all the buildings were shrouded in shadows, their outlines indistinguishable.

Soon, what startled Batman out of his thoughts was the heavy tolling of the Cat Getan Cathedral bell. The dull sound traveled far, and the sound waves, like the darkness, were pervasive. Even in the dimmest and darkest alleys, one could feel that tremor.

Batman thought, fear, fear.

If he could no longer complete his true revenge against the events and people of that era, if the murderer he had exhausted all his strength to catch, the object he wanted to take revenge on, had completely forgotten all of this, leaving his full heart of anger and hatred empty.

Then at least he had reminded Batman of one thing: that sometimes, what is more terrifying than death is the fear that cannot be shaken off.

Since that was the case, Batman thought, he would become a Dark Knight who brought endless fear to all the criminals in Cat Getan.

Many years ago, accompanying the death of his parents were the bats with heavy shadows that streaked across the sky. Many years later, he would eventually bring the fear of the bat to all the criminals in this city.

Just like these Cat Getan evening bells, which permeate every street and every dark corner.