Chapter 747

The blood on his forehead dripped into his eyes, making Batman's field of vision begin to become hazy. In a piece of scarlet, he saw a hand reach out in front of him, and then pick up the ring of light.

Immediately after, a pair of leather shoes entered his eyes. The person in front slowly squatted down, holding the ring of light in his hand, and knocked it hard against the road surface of the highway. The ring of light was embedded in the road surface of the highway, disappearing by a full half.

Batman used all his strength to roll to the side, crawled up from the ground, and maintained a half-kneeling posture, panting. When he opened his eyes again, what he saw was Schiller's face. He saw the professor opposite push his glasses and say:

"Alcoholism, drunk driving, not returning home at night, speeding, street bombing, disturbing the people in the middle of the night... Batman, if you are really very free recently, shouldn't you consider handing in the homework you haven't handed in before?"

Batman coughed twice. He found that there were blood streaks in his saliva, but he didn't feel pain in his lungs. He suspected that it might be oral bleeding during the previous collision. He took a deep breath, stood up, and walked toward the Batmobile, swaying a bit.

Schiller did not stop him, but watched him very laboriously turn the Batmobile, which had already turned over, back, and then sat back in the cockpit.

Batman squinted his eyes, wanting to step on the accelerator. In the next second, a ring of light was embedded on the windshield, only less than ten centimeters away from Batman's nose.

In an instant, Batman's drunkenness woke up more than half.

"Professor..." Batman's voice was very low. When he spoke, his lips didn't even move. This word was squeezed out directly from his lungs, with a resonance that made even the rain tremble.

"Where do you want to drive?" Schiller asked, standing in front of the Batmobile. After the violent car accident just now, the Batmobile's lights were no longer bright, so Batman couldn't see his expression clearly.

"I'm going back to Wei En Manor," Batman replied.

"Do you intend to go back like this? Do you know how old Alfred is this year? Do you know what his mood will be when he sees you covered in blood?" Schiller took back the ring of light, and then used the ring of light to illuminate the surroundings.

This is the highway out of Cat Getan, but it is no longer within the scope of Cat Getan City, but there is no longer the prosperous scene of the urban area, so the sound of rain becomes more obvious.

Ten minutes later, under the eaves of a small alley street nearby, Batman sat on the steps, holding the ring of light for illumination, while Schiller stood behind him, wrapping bandages around his head.

"You... did you see her? Did you see that..." When Batman said this, he stopped, as if he didn't want to say that word, but Schiller said directly: "Yes, I saw that corpse."

"That was a pitiful child who had suffered a lot of abuse. Excessive malnutrition greatly increased the probability of her premature death. To be honest, it can be considered lucky that she lived until today."

"No." Batman shook his head and said: "It was I who didn't watch her well. I thought she had no ability to resist, so I didn't check the windows of her bedroom at all. I didn't expect her to jump down from there. She was already very weak. Even the height of the second floor was too high for her."

"I also didn't watch Aisha well. Aisha scared her, causing her respiratory obstruction. When her heart stopped beating, I had no way to save it."

Schiller's hand movement paused for a moment, and then he asked: "Do you attribute all this to the fact that you didn't have a more perfect plan?"

"Isn't it?"

Schiller sighed and was about to speak, but Batman said: "Yes, I should have learned more knowledge related to child psychology before picking them up. I shouldn't have changed their environment so frequently. I should have used some medical means first to supplement their nutrition and improve their physical fitness..."

"I shouldn't have brought her back to the manor alone. At least I should have let her have a companion. On the first night, I should have spent it with her, instead of leaving her alone there to pry the window all night..."

Batman's voice began to become a bit low. He said: "I thought she might run away, but I didn't expect her to jump down from the window. I didn't expect her to dare to do so. I should have known that stimulated patients are not restricted by fear..."

"I should have told Dick and Aisha before picking her up, let them not scare her. After she ran out and came back, I should have taken measures to preserve her body temperature at the first time, instead of standing there arguing with someone..."

Batman was like someone who had been holding back for a long time. With the drunkenness that surged up again, he said quickly: "Dick is also like this. He is unwilling to come home because I didn't consider that he might not like the current environment. He might not want to transfer schools again and again. He might prefer to stay with the children in the choir..."

"All this should have had a better way to solve." Batman wiped the blood stains on his eyes with his hand and said: "If I had thought carefully, I could have avoided these things."

"Why don't you allow yourself to make mistakes?" Schiller asked.

"Because she died. That was a child, a child's life. Anyone's life should not be used as a price to pay for another person's mistake." Batman opened his mouth and said: "If Batman makes a mistake, someone will die because of it. What is the difference between that and dying because of a criminal?"

"Do you hope that everything in this world is in your plan? Do you hope that you will never make mistakes?" Schiller asked.

"Of course."

"What do you think drives you to make such a decision?" Schiller asked again.

Alcohol constantly eroded Batman's brain. People who don't drink often are always easier to get drunk.

Even without Schiller's hypnosis, Batman had already naturally entered a state of hypnosis. Various hallucinations began to appear in front of his eyes, and the strange scenes made him feel cold all over.

"Bat... it's a bat." Batman replied: "On a certain night, a group of bats flew past the window. I heard them say to me, you can become one of us and go save this city..."

"It is fear that drives you to do this."

Schiller said. Psychologists are very good at interpreting some strange images in patients' mouths. For example, two unrelated things, a story that sounds like a fairy tale, and even those disgusting and uncomfortable fantasies, all represent some emotions of the patient.

Schiller asked: "You are afraid of things beyond your plan. So, are you afraid of the bad results that might be produced outside the plan, or are you afraid of the damage that these bad results might cause to your perfect identity?"

Batman didn't seem to understand such a long and very complicated sentence. He had been silent, trying to get rid of the drunkenness that surged up again, but he had drunk too much alcohol, and his efforts were useless.

"Batman? Batman?" Schiller was calling him, but Batman had no reaction. He had entered a state of blurred consciousness, commonly known as drinking until blackout.

Schiller's long string of questions became the final lullaby. On the side of a dark alley street, in the pouring rain all night, Batman fell asleep like this, which shows that he was really drunk.

The next morning, the rain stopped. Every morning in Cat Getan's spring is equally chilly. Bruce sat up from the bed. At the moment he got up, he felt a severe headache.

Turning over and getting out of bed, coming to the window, after opening the window, the cold wind blew past his temples, making him feel much clearer.

Before pushing open the bedroom door, Bruce paused. He felt an unprovoked fear. He was afraid that after he opened the door, he would not see Alfred's figure.

But a few seconds later, he still pushed open the door, and then he heard the crackling sound of firewood burning vigorously in the fireplace.

This made him breathe a sigh of relief. When he came to the stairs, he saw Alfred cleaning the dust on the phone with a duster.

He wore deerskin gloves that Bruce hadn't seen for a long time, which made his movements look not so flexible, but Bruce's hand holding the handrail still grabbed tighter. In the cold air, an emotion began to brew.

"Oh, sir, are you awake? Good morning. Breakfast is ready. You can go eat." Alfred smiled and said to Bruce, as if nothing had happened last night.

But Bruce's memory told him that many things happened yesterday, and he must know the result now, so he asked: "What about Aisha? Is she back?"

"Yes, the young lady is back, sir. She didn't run far. I brought her back, but after coming back, I didn't see your figure, so I sent her to sleep." Alfred still smiled and replied.

As soon as his voice fell, he heard a series of fine footsteps coming from behind.

Aisha, wearing pajamas, ran down the stairs, rushed directly to the dining table, pulled the chair, jumped onto the chair, sat down, picked up the knife and fork, licked her lips, and turned back to look at Alfred.

Alfred smiled and guided Bruce to the dining table. Bruce wanted to say something to Aisha, but at this time, Aisha had already started to bury her head in eating. Alfred stood behind him and smiled and said:

"Miss Aisha did strenuous exercise last night, and started to call for hunger when she came back, but because it was too late at that time, eating was not good for her body, so she might be a little hungry now."

Seeing this, Bruce didn't say anything more. He also started to eat breakfast, but during the meal, he felt that something was missing. He put down his fork and asked: "Alfred, what about today's newspaper?"

Alfred, holding the duster, moved his fingers slightly and said: "Sorry, sir, I got up a bit late today. The newspaper hasn't been ironed yet, but today's newspaper is still promoting the Angelica Theater Troupe and the new play 'Macbeth' they brought..."

"By the way, sir." Alfred suddenly raised his tone a little and said: "This is the first performance of a formal theater troupe in Cat Getan in ten years. All the dignitaries in the city will be present. You really should go see it. Do you want me to help you, Master Dick, and Miss Aisha book tickets?"

Bruce looked down at his plate and said: "No, I'm not going. You help Selina, Dick, and Aisha book a ticket each, and let them go together."

Alfred nodded and didn't say anything more. After breakfast, when Alfred took Aisha to the backyard for exercise, Bruce frowned.

The newspaper wasn't ironed well? Bruce wouldn't believe this statement. In the decades Alfred worked for the Wei En family, there had never been a situation where the newspaper wasn't ironed well before starting breakfast.

On this point, Alfred himself was even more persistent than the members of the Wei En family. No one could shake this old man's obsession with letting the members of the Wei En family know the latest news.

Bruce came to the back of the lobby. Through the window, he saw Alfred playing with Aisha. Bruce bypassed the corridor of the restaurant, went around the lobby, and came to the ironing room on the side.

Alfred usually ironed things here, including clothes, gloves, and newspapers. The newspapers sent by the newsboy, after being taken out of the mailbox, must be placed here at the first time.

However, Bruce searched here for a long time but didn't find the trace of the newspaper. So, he returned to the lobby, walked out from the gate, pushed open the manor gate, opened the mailbox, and looked inside.

There was nothing in the mailbox either. Bruce frowned, closed the mailbox door again, and then started looking around the street.

Just at this time, the neighbor of Wei En Manor happened to go out.

Not far from Wei En Manor lived a mother and daughter. The mother was the widow of a rich businessman on the East Coast, but because her management ability was stronger, the family was even more prosperous than when her husband was alive, so she was respected as Mrs. Goth, and her daughter was Miss Goth.

Both of them were dressed in the same way, wearing the woolen coats most popular among ladies now, paired with a pair of bright-colored boots, and then wearing scarves and hats in the same color as the boots, holding a handbag in their hands.

Bruce retreated into the manor's courtyard, stood behind the bushes, and listened to their chat.

Mrs. Goth spoke first: "If it weren't for your insistence on going, I wouldn't sit and eat with that group of smelly wharf workers. Wasn't last night's experience bad enough?"

"Don't say that, Mom. Look at the stupid look of that group of people. Some girls my age can only watch my boots eagerly. Also, didn't you see the look those women who call themselves ladies in the East District looked at you?"

"Humph, don't play these little tricks with me. You just want to see little Witt. I knew it long ago. That brat's character is not very good, but his family is still decent. If you see Mr. Witt today, you'd better behave reservedly for me..."

"I know, Mom. What kind of topic do you think is suitable for opening? Should I talk to them about the recent play?" Miss Goth's voice carried some anxiety.

"Silly girl." Mrs. Goth scolded: "The play hasn't started yet. What do you plan to talk about? Didn't you read the newspaper this morning? Of course you should talk to Mr. White from out of town about our local specialty, that famous Batman."

"Sigh, what's interesting about him? He's just a hypocritical rich man. Didn't the newspaper say so? He used the name of helping begging children to take them all to his base to have fun. It's really disgusting. I heard that a child died. He is really..."

Mrs. Goth hurriedly covered her mouth and said: "Don't say such things. That's not a topic that a lady like you should bring up. Isn't it enough for those dirty men to talk about it?"

The mother and daughter whispered and walked quickly past the courtyard of Wei En Manor. Through the gap in the bush wall, Bruce saw Mrs. Goth covering her mouth with a handkerchief, looking up and down at Wei En Manor, and saying to her daughter:

"If you ask me, little Wei En is the best candidate. Playboy? That is the least worthy marriage condition to care about. If you can marry little Wei En, I will definitely go to church every week to thank God!"

The sound of high heels faded away. Bruce's expression turned cold. He walked along the courtyard wall all the way to the back of Wei En Manor, avoided Alfred's sight, and nimbly flipped over the wall.

There were also two manors behind Wei En Manor, but because the South District was a newly built rich district, the buildings were not as dense as the West District. Bruce walked through a street and turned a corner before finding another family's mailbox.

Bruce knew that the male owner of this family was allergic to ink, so although they subscribed to newspapers, they never read them. Bruce once heard the newsboy here complain that when new newspapers were sent, the previous day's newspapers were still left in the mailbox.

Bruce looked left and right and found no one around. He reached out and pried open the family's mailbox, took out a newspaper inside.

Closing the mailbox, Bruce walked through two more corners, found a wall corner where no one was, opened the newspaper, and began to read carefully.

Actually, there was no need to read very carefully, because the front page headline wrote a line of large characters:

"Batman? Go to hell, Cat Getan hero!"

Bruce frowned and looked at the subtitle, which wrote: "Batman abducts children, a cruel child killer wearing a hero's coat!"

The content of the main text was very long, but it mainly introduced in chronological order how Batman rescued begging children in the name of rescue, how he took them away, and how he persecuted them to death.

Among them, four photos were matched in chronological order. The first one was his figure flashing past in a dark alley. Bruce remembered that there was a piece of iron sheet on the gap between this alley and another alley. The three children, including the little girl, used to live there.

The second picture was Batman's figure standing on a high building, but due to the angle and the background, he didn't look like a hero, but rather like a killer looking for an opportunity to commit a crime.

The third and fourth pictures were taken at close range, and the shape of Batman's mask could be clearly seen.

Batman had been haunting Cat Getan for so long. It was not that no newspaper paid attention to him. Reporters had also risked their lives to take pictures of him in the night of Cat Getan, but generally speaking, they would be caught on the spot by Batman and their tools for committing crimes would be confiscated.

Very few newspapers would publish news about him. After all, not many people were willing to deal with a tight-suited freak haunting Cat Getan in the middle of the night. Gangsters were at least reasonable, but if it was a mental patient, then it was really unreasonable.

But this time, this news occupied an entire page of the Cat Getan Morning Post.

This article had sharp writing, mature narrative, and was very inflammatory. More importantly, it accurately grasped the psychology of Cat Getan people—

Compared to creating gods, these lunatics prefer to see gods fall.