Chapter 631: Memories Like Morning Stars (Part 2)

All of this began when Schiller's car broke down on his way to take a vacation.

Schiller considered himself very tolerant, meaning he treated every personality equally.

It didn't mean that personalities with vile traits should be locked away forever; since he had already let the violent Schiller out for some fresh air in Marvel, wasn't it only natural to let the pathological Schiller out for some fresh air in DC?

Of course, Schiller hadn't made this decision at first—he only planned to get everyone involved in the Owl affair to do something productive, including the root of every petty conflict in Gotham: Batman.

Everything Schiller told Batman was true: he had indeed arrived in Metropolis, and his first stop in the investigation was Anderson Psychiatric Hospital.

The reason was nothing special—purely professional habit; he wanted to see if Metropolis's psychiatric hospital had anything worth borrowing for Arkham.

His infiltration process was similar to Batman's, so he too ended up in Isabel's room, and from the letter she left behind, he learned the truth about this psychiatric hospital.

Once he knew this, Schiller realized the opportunity to let some dangerous personalities out for fresh air had arrived.

After releasing the pathological Schiller, the pathological Schiller turned all those connected to the secret experiment—the bank president, the CEO of Pyro Corp, the CEO of Snow Mountain Corp, and the female head of the experimental facility, Yilisha—into a serial murder case.

In the first murder, Schiller planted clues to steer the investigation: the janitor and the cleaning agent.

The surveillance footage was carefully designed: first, a blurred figure in janitorial uniform appeared on the rooftop camera, guiding Batman to investigate the janitor; during that investigation, he would inevitably trace it to Snow Mountain Cleaning Company.

Then Batman would realize that to transport corpses using janitors, one must use the large crate they carried.

And with Batman's intellect, he would inevitably notice a problem with using plastic crates to move corpses: the smell.

Once the smell of the cleaning agent was investigated, it would inevitably lead back to Pyro Chemical Raw Materials Production Co., Ltd., the supplier.

After tracing Snow Mountain Cleaning Company and Pyro Corp, and combining it with the bank president's trail, once these three key figures' information was gathered, Batman and Lex's intellects would surely uncover their secret dealings.

The financial reports of these companies showed no anomalies; the Owls had lain low too long and handled such matters with ease. At this point, the only remaining clue was Pyro Corp's attempt to renovate the West Suburb Psychiatric Hospital.

This was indeed unusual: renovating this psychiatric hospital required countless procedures; Xiangbizhixia, there were plenty of other locations in Metropolis's suburbs—even if they insisted on the West Suburb, better options existed. Batman would realize Pyro Corp didn't choose that hospital by accident.

After guiding Batman, Schiller had another thread to lay: guiding Kara. Once he learned from the letter that a KGB agent might have died at the Owls' hands, Schiller knew that if Kara found any clues, she wouldn't ignore them—she'd come investigate.

But Schiller had no clues to lure Kara here; he'd planned to wait until she acted before beginning the murders, but Meixiangdao, Kara discovered everything too quickly—the timing was seamless.

The Tale of Immortal Wood

In Schiller's plan, Constantine and Angela had no place.

But actually, the plan didn't need them; in the end, Schiller would either die in the clash between the Owls and the KGB, or in the building's collapse during their battle—essentially no difference.

Schiller had used this trick in Marvel: once he died, Iron Man and Captain America united against a common enemy, and all the demonic gods across the globe suffered. If he died again in DC, his friends would unite again—the Owls would suffer.

More importantly, by dragging Batman into this, during Schiller's hospital stay, Batman would surely go after the Owls and have no time to return to Gotham and argue in circles with Lex and Clark.

Thus, without the Owls, without the trio constantly fighting, and without the ripples of events, Schiller could enjoy a peaceful vacation.

Of course, as with all his previous plans, beyond this main goal were countless secondary objectives.

For example, making the Owls pay a small price for blowing up his car, tricking Batman's emotions to make him realize fighting was wrong, or using the fake death to ask Death in this world why he couldn't die, as he had in another world.

From the Dream God, Schiller learned that the Endless family all knew he would flee this world; such a thing could fool ordinary people, but not these conceptual deities. So he decided to ask Death directly: what made him so special? Why couldn't he die even when he wanted to?

The DC version of Death was weaker, more ethereal, but still intelligent and communicative—at least, that's what the Dream God told him.

And he told Schiller that Death witnessed every death, so as long as Schiller died, she would hear his question.

Conceptual deities never suffered from being overwhelmed; they were nearly omniscient and omnipotent. If they noticed something unusual about a person and turned their attention to it, they could answer—no matter how many calls they received.

Unfortunately, in this state, Schiller's death would send him to the best hospital, staffed by the most skilled doctors—true masters of battling Death. Even after Schiller had reduced his physiological state to the minimum, he still didn't die.

This cycle lasted a long time. Schiller began to wonder: was it truly because the doctors were too skilled? Or, like in Marvel, was some special force refusing to let him enter the realm of Death?

Logically, it made sense that Death in Marvel wouldn't take him—he had first crossed over into this DC body, and according to Fate, after crossing, his soul had passed through the Wall of Origins into the Marvel world; thus, his soul's foundation might lie in DC, making it normal for Marvel Death to reject him.

But why wouldn't Death in DC take him? That was strange.

Thinking of this, Schiller began to wonder: where had the original Schiller's soul gone before he arrived?

As Schiller told others, all the personalities in his Mind Palace were merely traits of his soul—parts of his soul—and the entire Mind Palace was his soul.

Therefore, there was no possibility that the original Schiller had disguised himself as a personality and hidden within his Mind Palace; just as one soul cannot hide inside another's soul, a file can be placed inside a system, but an entire system cannot be placed inside another.

Had the soul of the original Schiller, once a KGB spy, truly vanished?

Thinking this, Schiller began systematically searching his soul for anomalies, but everywhere he looked—the Mind Palace, the personalities—everything was normal, running as usual.

As he pondered, Schiller looked down at the large hole beneath his feet. If there was any place he couldn't fully control, it was the subconscious beneath the conscious mind.

Even Schiller couldn't claim 100% control over his subconscious; if the subconscious were fully controlled, it would lose its meaning.

Each time he descended through that hole into the Dream Realm, the black screen in between wasn't loading a map—it was passing through the subconscious. Because Schiller paid no special attention to his subconscious, it remained utterly dark.

Thinking this, Schiller decided to explore the secrets within his subconscious, to see if he could find traces of the original soul—perhaps something his subconscious had noticed but his conscious mind had missed.

Generally, human subconsciouses were dangerous, filled with chaos and disorder, beyond rational control—but Schiller didn't care. First, he had full confidence in his inner mental power; second, he had a great ship.

Schiller first went to the Dream Realm, brought the Ship of the Underworld over, then ascended through the hole into the pitch-black consciousness.

There was no direction here—only instinct guided him. Schiller brought no other personalities, only himself, silently rowing forward.

There was no concept of time here—perhaps an hour passed, perhaps centuries—until Schiller finally found something strange in the endless, empty darkness.

It was a gray feather.

Because of its color, it stood out in the pitch-black subconscious like a lighthouse on a shore; Schiller saw it from afar but dared not approach rashly.

As he rowed closer, Schiller found the feather drifting toward him. He almost dodged, but felt no malice—then the feather floated onto the boat and landed in his hand.

Holding the feather, Schiller realized it had no magical properties—it was just a feather. If anything, it was slightly larger than a domestic goose's down, and gray.

This confused Schiller deeply. Finding nothing would have been better than finding this odd thing—when had it entered his subconscious?

Given Schiller's control over his inner world, if anyone had entered his consciousness—including his subconscious—he would have known immediately; otherwise, he wouldn't have left that hole open so long.

Schiller searched his archives again, reviewing all his memories—he was certain he had never sensed anything unusual.

Then he realized: if there was one moment he had zero control over his consciousness, it was when he crossed over.

And if anyone could have slipped this feather into his subconscious during the crossing, it could only be the original Schiller's soul.

But why a feather? Why not something else?

Back in his Mind Palace, Schiller felt utterly baffled—he sensed nothing special about the feather at all.

Discovering Death's silence and this strange feather only deepened the mystery. Schiller felt no great disappointment; these were merely side goals. Success was a bonus, failure, no loss.

Realizing Death had no intention to respond, Schiller ended his fake death state—he let the gray mist slowly repair his body, pulling him back from the brink.

The emergency room lights suddenly went out. The doctor who stepped out saw Bruce and Lex. Before they could ask, he said: "The patient is out of danger. Transfer him to a regular ward—he just needs to wake up."

Slowly waking in the regular ward, Schiller's first sight wasn't Bruce, nor Constantine—but another blond man.

Schiller didn't recognize the man, but he was stunningly beautiful: golden hair, dazzling. He entered the room, saw Schiller, and before Schiller could ask who he was, he spoke first:

"Schiller, what happened? Your phone's unreachable. I sent demons and hounds to find you—they never returned."

The man looked at Schiller lying in bed and said: "Uh, if you're under too much stress, you don't have to push yourself so hard. How did you end up in the hospital?"

He was about to continue, but Schiller raised a hand to stop him and asked: "Stop. I have a question—who are you?"

The man looked surprised, then glanced at the window, seeing his reflection in the glass, and said: "Wait—last time I saw you, was your appearance Ma Lei or female?"

As he spoke, his form shifted into a golden-haired woman. She brushed her hair aside and said: "Now do you recognize me? Humans are so troublesome—you need to look exactly the same every time, or you won't recognize each other."

"Still don't recognize me? So I was using this Ma Lei form before?" She shifted back.

Schiller watched him shift back and forth, unimpressed. He said: "It's not about appearance. Has anyone told you I've lost my memory?"

The blond man asked: "... When?"

"Just now."

The man blinked, then said:

"I'm Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar. Do you remember now?"

Before Schiller could speak, the door burst open. Constantine walked in, exhausted, and said: "Schiller, I avenged you—"

Then he locked eyes with Lucifer, standing in the center of the room.