Chapter 770: The Match-Selling Xie Le (Part 1)

Half an hour later, Xie Le dragged the soaked Image Master into the office of Gotham University, where Victor was packing up to leave for the day.

Seeing Xie Le suddenly bring in a stranger, he leaned in curiously and asked, "What's going on? Who is he? Why did you bring him to campus?"

Xie Le slapped the Image Master hard, making him stagger in place, then turned to him and asked, "By the way, I haven't asked your name—what is it?"

"I'm Sam, Sam Scudder," the Image Master replied, hunching his neck.

Now that he was under someone else's roof, he had no choice but to bow his head; the black curse still clung to him, and he could clearly feel his life force draining away. If Xie Le didn't lift the curse, he was dead—so he had no option but to follow Xie Le to Gotham University.

Xie Le targeted the Image Master's weakness: first, he used psychological tactics to induce panic, then, in a sudden move, covered every reflective surface—leaving only one vulnerability: the umbrella knife.

But the umbrella knife and the umbrella handle were one and the same, and inside the umbrella handle resided Constantine's elder brother—the cursed spirit who had been strangled in their mother's womb and turned into a vengeful ghost.

The cursed spirit could not attack directly; it had to possess a person or object, and required prolonged physical contact to do so—it couldn't just drift through the air. So Xie Le had to lure the Image Master into possessing the umbrella himself.

In his panic, the Image Master chose the only escape route available—and stepped straight into the trap, ensnared by the cursed spirit.

Xie Le had previously tested the cursed spirit's effect on Marvel's Black Panther, and the results pleased him immensely—even the Panther God was powerless against this unknown curse.

After all, if this cursed spirit truly was Constantine's twin brother, he should have possessed the same extraordinary magical talent as Constantine, and after transforming his life form, even greater power would be unsurprising.

In any case, the Image Master had hit rock bottom—Xie Le grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into Gotham University. Upon hearing his self-introduction, Xie Le nodded and said to Victor, "I've run out of application forms. Do you have another one?"

"I do have one, but what do you plan to use it for? You're not seriously thinking of enrolling him, are you?" Victor scrutinized the Image Master and added, "He doesn't look like a local of Gotham."

"Our school welcomes students from all over the state," Xie Le replied.

"Hmm… but he doesn't look like a student at all."

"It's the clothing," Xie Le answered again. He dragged the Image Master into the adjacent break room, tossed him a set of clothes, and told him to change—after all, with the curse still on him, he wouldn't dare run.

The Image Master, dejected, changed into a hoodie and sweatpants, making him look ten years younger. Xie Le dragged him back into the office and pointed at him to Victor: "See? Doesn't he look like a student now?"

"But… does he really need to learn technical skills?" Victor studied the Image Master again—his neatly trimmed beard, his uncalloused hands, his well-kept appearance—and added, "He doesn't look like he needs technical skills to survive."

The Image Master nodded vigorously, nearly snapping his neck. Xie Le looked at him with a false smile and said, "It's not whether you need to learn technical skills—it's whether I think you need to learn them."

The Image Master said, "But… but I graduated from university—I was an honor graduate. I…"

Seeing Xie Le's gaze grow colder, the Image Master's voice faded. He muttered, "Fine… getting another degree won't hurt."

Victor brought over an application form and watched as Xie Le filled it out. He asked, "Which major are you assigning him to? Still automotive repair?"

"No. I plan to establish a brand-new major to fully utilize his unique talents," Xie Le wrote without looking up. "Call it the Major of Mirroring and Teleportation. Initially, it will be under the Technical Vocational College. If we produce research results, we'll transfer it to this college."

"Mirroring and Teleportation?" Victor frowned, repeating the awkward term. He turned to the Image Master and asked, "Can you teleport?"

The Image Master nodded absentmindedly, glancing sideways at the ceramic cup beside Victor. Its smooth white surface gleamed like a mirror. In a flash, he vanished into it, then waved at Victor from the cup's surface.

Victor's eyes widened. He picked up the cup, examining it from all angles, utterly baffled. After a moment, the Image Master stepped out of the cup. Victor immediately said, "Come here and tell me—how did you do that? What technique is this?"

"Before making the mirror, I added a special chemical compound to the mirror solution, granting it unique properties. Then I conducted further research—and this gun…"

Seizing the chance to show off his skills, the Image Master spoke for a while, then looked up at Victor and asked, "Are you also a professor here? What's your specialty?"

"I'm a low-temperature physicist. Currently, I teach physics. My research spans broadly—chemistry, mechanical engineering, and parts of natural science."

"Low-temperature science?" The Image Master stroked his pistol. "I know a guy who seems to have mastered some low-temperature technique too, but I never quite understood it."

"Oh?" Victor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Few people study low-temperature physics today. If he's well-known in the field, I should've heard of him. By the way, which city are you from?"

"Central City. The weather there is much better than here," the Image Master grumbled. Now he knew—he'd lost to Xie Le fairly. It was a trap designed for him, but he'd just been unlucky enough to get caught in a typhoon.

"Central City?" Victor rubbed his chin. "I haven't heard of any famous low-temperature labs there."

As the two chatted, Xie Le walked over to the Image Master, shook the application form, and handed it to him: "Now, take this to the registrar's office and report in. Stay on campus and study until you graduate. If you leave before then…."

Xie Le raised the umbrella again. The Image Master stepped back two paces, swallowed hard, and said, "Don't worry—I have dual bachelor's degrees, both full scholarships, and I graduated with honors. I've got plenty of internship experience. I'm skilled in formulating all kinds of chemical agents. I…"

"Fine. If your grades are excellent, we'll give you a full scholarship too. After all, we can't even find a single candidate eligible for one right now," Xie Le said with self-deprecation.

After the Image Master left, Victor leaned against Xie Le's desk and smiled. "Remember that topic we discussed? We're all travelers in a snowstorm, lighting campfires on the endless white plains…"

Xie Le, still reading his paper, replied, "Of course. Everyone who comes here adds fuel, so the fire never dies."

"What you're doing now is more like standing by the fire, forcing matches on people who don't need them," Victor chuckled. "They're not cold—they don't want matches—and yet you insist on selling them."

Xie Le paused his hand, then said, "How do you know he's not cold?"

Victor was momentarily speechless. "He's not even from Gotham. He finished university with honors and has a stable job."

"If he finished university with honors and has a stable job, why did he break into Wayne Tower to steal?" Xie Le countered.

Victor had no reply. Xie Le continued, "And why do you say he doesn't need a match? Are you the psychologist—or am I?"

"And what do you mean 'forced sales'? I'm voluntarily shouldering part of society's obligation to reform criminals. I should send a bill to Central City's city government—have them pay Sam's tuition."

Victor shook his head. Anna, seated, didn't look up and said, "I don't get why you insist on arguing with a psychologist. That's his specialty."

"Just like it's your specialty to count how many people in this office can speak—then subtract you, leaving only two," Xie Le shot back.

Victor said nothing. He pulled on his coat, picked up his keys, and said, "Are you staying in the dorm tonight? If so, I'll leave you the key."

Xie Le didn't look up. "Yes. I'm not going home. I have to wake up early tomorrow to supervise the technical college students."

Watching Xie Le's focused expression, Victor shook his head and turned to leave.

Once out of Xie Le's sight, the Image Master found a public phone booth, dialed, and said, "Here's what happened…"

He briefly explained his current situation. The voice on the other end was low, but not reproachful—it said, "I'll send someone to investigate Gotham University and extract you. Once you resolve the curse, return immediately to a safe location."

The Image Master glanced around, lowered his voice, and said, "That professor is dangerous. Are you sure your person can…"

"Relax. He's an old acquaintance of yours. He'll be there tonight. As long as you don't cause a scene, no one will stop you."

After hanging up, the Image Master exhaled. His earlier demeanor had been nothing but a delaying tactic—he never believed he'd be trapped in a university, nor did he have any interest in attending a vocational school.

Night fell, the wind and rain subsided. Victor read in his dorm room—mostly neurology materials. He was preparing to pursue a Ph. . in neuroscience.

His wife's physical condition had stabilized, but the one unresolved issue remained: neurodegenerative disease.

The challenge lay in the fact that once thawed, the disease would worsen relentlessly. Even though her body had recovered to normal—and even surpassed normal health—Victor still hadn't chosen to thaw her.

Unless there was a 100% success rate, he wouldn't gamble. Xie Le had provided many documents, but solving his wife's neurodegenerative disease required a panel of specialists.

No doctor, no matter how skilled, could guarantee an accurate diagnosis without seeing the patient. Even the medical genius Strange had to examine the patient thoroughly before operating.

Without direct contact, conservative treatment was the only option—slow, but safe.

Through combined efforts from both worlds, cryogenic technology had reached its peak. Frozen individuals' bodily functions remained perfectly preserved. If neurodegenerative disease and genetic issues could be gradually resolved, full recovery was possible.

【Honestly, lately I've been reading on Yeguo Reading for updates—easy source switching, multiple voice options, works on Android and iOS.】

While pondering these issues, Victor glanced out the window during a reading break—and spotted a furtive figure beneath the faculty dormitory.

Victor narrowed his eyes, looked out again, pulled on his coat, grabbed the freeze gun from the desk, and headed for the door.

In the hallway, he glanced into Xie Le's room. Xie Le hadn't even taken off his coat—he was fast asleep on the bed, a trace of exhaustion still etched on his brow.

Victor knew that while students had busy schedules, their teachers were even busier.

Xie Le, besides supervising the technical college, taught undergraduate courses, reviewed graduate theses, and helped Bruce solve countless problems so Bruce could study in peace.

Victor thought: the match-selling Xie Le? That's no fairy tale worth singing about—it's filled with too much grim reality.

It's better suited as a new dark nursery rhyme for this city: if you refuse to approach the campfire in the snowstorm, or if you're too weak to pick up a torch and find a new path on a freezing night…

Then perhaps, at the end of some dark alley, you'll see a professor holding matches, lighting a cigar on your way home. Before the smoke disperses, he'll hand you a match.

As for the cigar—you'll have to find it yourself.