Chapter 754

When Schiller and Gordon walked into the room, the troupe owner was still struggling. He looked at the expressionless Bruce in disbelief and said, "Mr. Wei En, you must have misunderstood something. Let me go quickly!"

Bruce released his arm and stood up. At that very moment, the troupe owner turned to run.

Schiller picked up his umbrella, and the special device at the tip emitted a faint blue light. With a "whoosh," an ice spike hit the troupe owner, freezing him into an ice sculpture.

This was the first time Schiller had used the freeze gun Peter had installed on his umbrella. Now it seemed the effect was good. Although the troupe owner couldn't move, his voice could still be heard from within the ice sculpture.

Bruce walked over and picked up the longsword. It was wrapped in a costume, and the blood on the blade had been wiped, but perhaps because it was too rushed, there were still very obvious bloodstains at the junction of the hilt and the blade.

At this point, the troupe owner finally had no way to quibble. After all, in the laws of any country, the murder weapon is the most important physical evidence, and having been seen by three witnesses with the murder weapon in his hand, one of whom was Bruce Wei En, he had no room to escape guilt no matter what.

"Let's talk, Mr. Andwo. Why on earth did you kill Miss Vicky, and how exactly did you commit the crime?" Schiller tapped the block of ice with the tip of his umbrella.

The troupe owner gritted his teeth and said, "It's all that bitch's fault!

That damn whore! Not only did she want to leave herself, but she also wanted to take Alex away! She was bewitched to pursue some movie dream! Damn the movie dream!

"

"I know she hooked up with a rich old man. This rich old man said he would film a movie with her as the female lead. This idiot, she actually believed it just like that!

!"

"If I hadn't eavesdropped on her and Alex talking, I wouldn't have known she was having such a stupid daydream! And that stupid Alex, he actually listened to Vicky's words and wanted to leave the troupe with her?!"

"They didn't think about the fact that it was I who made them famous! Want to leave the troupe? Dream on!"

The troupe owner's face was ferocious. Gordon took his notebook and walked to him, asking, "How did you kill Vicky?"

"Of course, it was with that sword..." The troupe owner snorted coldly and said, "I had originally made new armor for Alex, hoping this new image would make him even more popular. Since neither of them wanted to stay, then go to hell together!"

Gordon nodded and didn't continue to ask in detail. After all, as the troupe owner, it was simply too easy to enter the prop room in advance and take out a longsword.

"Did you bribe the prop master Molly?" Gordon asked again.

"I didn't bribe her. I already said it was her jealousy of Vicky. I said I wanted to teach Vicky a lesson and needed her cooperation, and she agreed immediately." The troupe owner snorted with contempt, "That ugly woman will never be able to stand on the front stage; she should go to jail!"

Before Gordon could ask, the troupe owner continued, "Originally, I was going to put this sword in Alex's dressing room to threaten him to perform well in the future and not think about leaving the troupe, otherwise I would make him go to jail."

"But who knew, just as I pulled the sword out, I don't know who climbed in through the window!" The troupe owner gritted his teeth and said, "I had to run away in a panic while holding this sword, but just as I ran to the second floor, I ran into that group of visitors walking up. I could only rush into this room..."

"So, while we shifted our attention to the prop master Molly, you rushed over to move the murder weapon..." Schiller shook his head and said, "You fell for such a simple trap; you are even stupider than the idiots you speak of."

Ten minutes later, on the roof of the Cat Getan Grand Theater, the light from the police car's lights shone on Bruce and Schiller's faces. Schiller turned to look at Bruce and said, "Your performance today really surprised me. If it were the Bruce Wei En of the past, he wouldn't have done anything."

Bruce was silent, watching Gordon take the troupe owner to the police car. He said, "I'm going to accompany Alfred."

Then he turned and left. Schiller stood on the roof of the Grand Theater, looking at Cat Getan's still gloomy night. He knew that as Cat Getan's lights became brighter, that pitch-black bat would also gradually be stained with different colors.

This bat, which aspires to become the god of Cat Getan, will soon understand that gods do not love the world, and the world will not love gods. Gods send floods to destroy the world, and people like to see gods fall. The love between them is not shared, but the hatred is a two-way street, and it is very long-lasting.

Unknowingly, Batman can no longer be a lonely and brilliant god, because in this world, there are always people willing to accept his imperfections, willing to forgive him again and again, and treat the things he values most as nothing more than ordinary trifles.

When a person is always forgiven, he will become exceptionally soft-hearted.

Sitting in front of Alfred's hospital bed, Bruce felt the blood in his heart gradually flow out like a receding tide. After a while, Alfred woke up from his sleep. When he saw Bruce, he smiled.

Bruce poured him a glass of water and adjusted the hospital bed to let him sit up. Alfred coughed twice, but felt much better after taking a sip of water.

Bruce looked at him and asked, "Don't you feel disappointed?"

"Disappointed in what?" Alfred asked him back.

Bruce paused and said, "Everything I've done, everything Bruce Wei En has done..."

Alfred shook his head and said, "Why would I feel disappointed? A child who didn't receive the protection of his parents didn't retaliate against this society because of resentment and anger, didn't appear unreasonable and arrogant because of a lack of education, and didn't give up on himself or ruin his body because no one was supervising him. What else could I ask for?"

"You don't want me to..." Bruce lowered his head and took a deep breath, saying, "You don't want me to take revenge? To take revenge on those criminals?"

"No... Bruce." Alfred called his name for the first time, which made Bruce's fingertips tremble. He heard Alfred say, "I hope you can forget this forever, but unfortunately, I can't do it."

"If I were someone like Professor Schiller, I would definitely try every possible way to make you forget your background and never bring up that tragedy again. That is the source of all pain; you shouldn't have had to bear these things."

"Don't you think... don't you think I can be a hero? Don't you think I can save this world?" Bruce stared into Alfred's eyes and asked.

"Perhaps you know that I once embarked on the road to save the world with such enthusiasm. On this road, I didn't make it to the end. I am a cowardly deserter, a loser who gave up resistance."

Bruce wanted to interrupt what he was saying, but he heard that Alfred's tone remained calm, without sadness or excitement, so he could only continue to listen.

"But to this day, I still don't regret this experience."

"So, if I hope you go to save the world and become a hero, it's not because I want to see this world saved."

"It's because I hope that when you walk on this road, you can meet more friends who share the same great ideals, and I hope that after you finish this journey, you can tell your children about those glorious years."

"But if you reach the end and have no family, no lover, and no friends, then what are you doing all this for?"

"If a world would make a hero end up alone and isolated, then does it really still have the necessity to be saved?"

"Then... why did you teach me so many skills? Fighting, reconnaissance, intelligence... isn't it because you hoped I would use these skills to save the world?" Bruce asked.

Alfred shook his head and said, "If I really gave you such a misconception, then I am very sorry. I just... at that time, I just felt empty and wanted to find something to do."

Bruce thought of the sky full of snow he saw in Metropolis. He had wondered if his butler had seen snow bigger and more beautiful than this in that northern country.

Now, he had received a definite answer, because if he hadn't seen more magnificent scenery, why would the days in the gorgeous Wei En Manor seem so mediocre, boring, and empty?

Bruce took a deep breath. He felt that all of this was like a joke.

From beginning to end, except for himself, no one expected him to do anything.

No one had any expectations of him beyond those of an ordinary person, and the mission he had bestowed upon himself, that illusion of having a heavy burden on his shoulders and being expected by everyone, was just a dream.

Bruce reached out and covered his face. Just today, he had taken some actions as Bruce for the first time in a long time.

He set a trap for the troupe owner, first using the Wei En identity to put pressure on him, making him panic and look for a scapegoat, and then, in cooperation with Schiller, deliberately shifted the greatest suspicion to the prop master so that the troupe owner would relax his vigilance.

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Then he deliberately mentioned the murder weapon to break the troupe owner's psychological defense, and finally pretended to leave, waited in another room, followed the troupe owner, and subdued him at the first scene where he was disposing of the murder weapon, catching him red-handed.

If it were Batman, what would he do?

But perhaps Gordon wouldn't count on him; he would eventually call Schiller because this professor seemed more experienced.

This made Bruce start to think: was the faint hostility he felt toward Schiller coming from vigilance and precaution against his potential crimes, or from a sense of crisis that his identity, ability, and existence were being replaced?

Bruce recalled the scene where he first met Schiller in a Cat Getan alley. At that time, Bruce was investigating a missing persons case in the Moson neighborhood, and Schiller claimed that he was doing the same.

At that moment, was his suspicion of Schiller really suspecting him of being the murderer, or was it a sense of crisis that his perfect identity might be replaced?

Bruce felt he couldn't find an answer, but he felt he couldn't possibly ask Schiller. There was no reason; he just didn't want to do it.

But just because he didn't go to Schiller didn't mean Schiller wouldn't come to him. The door to the hospital room rang. Bruce turned his head and saw a figure holding an umbrella appearing outside the door.

Bruce stood up and looked at Schiller. Schiller tapped the ground with the tip of his umbrella and said, "There's something I forgot to ask you before."

"Bruce, do you know how long it's been since you turned in your homework? Do you know that the papers and credits you owe me now are enough for a freshman to graduate from school?"

Just as Bruce was about to speak, Schiller picked up his umbrella and pointed it at him, saying, "Listen, Bruce Wei En, this is the final ultimatum. If you can't turn in all the papers you owe by tomorrow morning, I will immediately publish it in the newspaper and tell all the citizens of Cat Getan that the famous Batman doesn't do his homework!"

"I'll say it one last time: tomorrow morning, I want to see all the homework on my desk!"

Watching Schiller's departing back, Bruce closed his eyes, sighed, and thought to himself.

No, it wasn't that everyone had no expectations of him beyond those of an ordinary person.

At least, this professor thought he had eight hands.