Chapter 771: The Match-Selling Schiller (Part Two)

Because it was still raining outside, Victor took an umbrella before leaving the dormitory building and put on a raincoat, pulling up its built-in hood to shield his face from the pelting rain.

This was a lesson he learned after coming to Gotham: on Gotham's rainy nights, an umbrella alone couldn't fully keep out the rain—at least, not any umbrella except Schiller's.

Victor stepped out, intending to check who was lingering near the faculty dormitory at such a late hour.

He thought it might be a drunken student—something that happened often at Gotham University—and if left unattended, the person might freeze to death in this typhoon-like rainstorm.

Victor circled the dormitory, taking a side path to the side where the windows were, but there was no one there.

Victor examined the ground and found no obvious footprints, but faint traces of footsteps remained in a nearby puddle.

Following the trail westward, Victor realized he was nearing Gotham University's laboratory building. He frowned, yet his expression showed no tension—he was clearly prepared.

Suddenly, a loud "bang" echoed from the second floor of the laboratory. Victor grabbed his umbrella and hurried inside, ascending to the second floor, where he spotted a stranger frozen into an ice sculpture in the hallway.

He didn't look like a student—not just because of his age, but also his attire.

He wore a blue uniform with a white hood edged in fluffy fur, resembling Inuit clothing, and blue goggles with two black horizontal bars across the lenses.

This outfit stunned Victor—even in Gotham, it qualified as bizarre attire.

Victor glanced again at the weather outside. He was certain it wasn't cold enough to warrant such clothing. Why was the man dressed like this? Preparing for his own freezing device?

But Victor thought: when a freezing device immobilizes someone, the person inside doesn't feel cold.

The greatest advantage of cryogenic devices is that everything inside remains perfectly preserved—the preservation performance is top-tier. Those inside don't feel cold; they're just unable to move.

Victor approached the man, one hand on his hip, the other holding the freeze gun, his expression deeply puzzled. He asked: "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The man trapped in ice was equally baffled. He had never seen such ice-making technology—even though he himself was famous for generating low temperatures.

Captain Cold, a villain from Central City, wielded a freeze gun capable of producing absolute zero. In one comic universe, he even teamed up with Mr. Freeze to fight Superman.

But in this universe, both in technological capability and social standing, Captain Cold was merely a low-end version of Mr. Freeze.

After all, Mr. Freeze was no longer Mr. Freeze—he was Professor Victor Fries, a honored guest of every Gotham crime syndicate.

You could say Victor Fries walked safely through Gotham's nighttime streets, because every gang protected him—if anything happened to him, no one would maintain his massive, heavily invested cold storage facilities.

Since the last near-power-failure in his low-temperature lab, Victor had installed various protective devices, including freeze ray guns stationed along two corridors.

Few people entered the lab, and nearly all were on the whitelist. Even if a student accidentally wandered in, being frozen caused no harm—just adjust the freeze gun to another setting, and they'd thaw safely.

But this person wasn't an accidental intruder—he clearly had ulterior motives.

"How did you even do this?" the frozen Captain Cold asked. "This is impossible. How can this be ice? Ice can't be this warm!"

Victor carefully observed him and noticed the man was holding a gun, its muzzle now emitting faint white mist.

Victor crouched down, examining the weapon closely. From certain components, he deduced it was also a cooling device.

"You're also a low-temperature scientist?" Victor scanned Captain Cold up and down. Captain Cold snorted: "Of course. No scientist in this world has my ability—I can generate absolute zero in an instant…"

Victor opened his mouth, rubbed his chin, then said: "Have you not been reading journals lately? Have you not kept up with recent developments in low-temperature physics?"

"Absolute zero is no longer a challenge in low-temperature physics. Of the six latest frontier papers published, only one even touched on it. The hottest topic now is dense ice—it may be the future direction of new materials…"

"Dense… dense ice?" Captain Cold repeated. "What's that? Another kind of ice? If it's ice, then…"

Victor rubbed his forehead. "Are you even a physicist? Do you never read papers? Do you ignore all industry news?"

"Ice is now divided into two categories: narrow-sense ice and broad-sense ice. Narrow-sense ice is what we call ordinary ice. Broad-sense ice includes dense ice—or any special ice-like material meeting certain material science requirements. Low-temperature physics is now advancing toward materials science. You…"

Victor hesitated, then asked: "Are you wearing this outfit because you can't withstand the low temperatures you create?"

Captain Cold's face twisted in fury. He clenched his muscles and shouted: "So how did you do it? How can ice not be cold? Is it even ice if it's not cold?!"

"Do you think ice must be cold?" Another voice echoed down the hallway. Victor turned—and saw Schiller standing at the far end. He heard Schiller say:

"Nothing in this world remains what it was when it was born. Ice is like that. People are too. Ice can change. People can be educated. I think you simply lack proper education."

Schiller's voice grew colder. Victor instinctively stepped back, making way. He watched Schiller approach the ice sculpture, pull a sheet of paper from his pocket, then a pen. He asked: "Name?"

"Why should I answer you?" Captain Cold raised his voice.

"I assume you came to rescue your friend? The one named Sam?" Schiller didn't look up. "I don't know if he told you, but he carries a curse I placed on him. If I don't lift it, he'll die tomorrow."

"You…" Captain Cold gritted his teeth. "You vile bastard! Murder is a crime!"

"Oh, I forgot—you people don't kill." Schiller glanced at Captain Cold. "But I'm sorry—I do."

Captain Cold and Mirror Master both belonged to the Rogues, a Central City gang. The name sounds menacing, but they're actually highly principled.

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Their gang rules were stricter than a primary school's code of conduct: no killing, not even urinating in public. They were among the most morally upright villains in DC.

High moral standards have advantages—but also disadvantages, especially when they're imprisoned.

"Leonard Snart," Captain Cold reluctantly said.

"Age? … Never mind, you're certainly not school-age." Schiller drew a line on that row. "But it doesn't matter—we don't care about age here, only ability. Your educational background is…"

"High school graduate," Captain Cold replied.

Victor widened his eyes. "You never went to college?? Then how did you develop this gun? The liquid storage and firing mechanisms are extremely advanced—almost identical to mine. If you never attended university, where did you learn this?"

Captain Cold blinked, as if reluctant to answer. But seeing Schiller and Victor staring at him, he said: "My parents ignored me. I went to prison. I taught myself."

Victor stared, reevaluating him. "Taught yourself? Is this something you can learn on your own? This…"

Suddenly, he took a deep breath and turned to Schiller. "Is the enrollment form ready? I'll take him to the registrar's office. Let him spend two days in the Technology College to adapt, then he can join the first cohort for entrance exams before we assess his research potential…"

Schiller handed him the form and smiled: "Now, who's selling matches?"

Victor chuckled, waving the form before Captain Cold. "I can thaw you now—but you have to come with me to enroll…"

"Enroll? Enroll in what?"

"Enroll in university," Schiller replied. "No matter why you never attended college, this professor—Victor Fries, the world's most renowned low-temperature scientist—has judged you possess the potential to become a low-temperature physicist, and extends you an olive branch."

Before Captain Cold could respond, Schiller added: "I must warn you—this opportunity is one-time only. Miss it, and you'll be permanently cut off from academia."

"I want to learn this technology," Captain Cold said. "It's incredible—freezing someone solid without any cold sensation. I've never seen anything like it!"

"Looks like you don't need coercion," Schiller rolled his eyes and turned to Victor. "Your luck is always better than mine."

Victor grinned. "Of course it is."

After Victor thawed Captain Cold with his freeze gun, the man didn't run. Instead, he stared intently at the ice scattered on the floor. "How do we handle this? Will it melt?"

"No, it will sublimate directly—but it won't absorb heat. I can't explain the principle now, but you'll learn it eventually."

When they reached Victor and Schiller's office, Mirror Master and Captain Cold stared at each other. Schiller stood between them, snapped his fingers, and said: "I don't care who called whom. Since you're both enrolled, you're classmates. Now go back to sleep. Classes start at 7 a. . tomorrow…"

Mirror Master and Captain Cold exchanged glances, then left the office. On the way to the dorms, Mirror Master asked: "What happened? How did he catch you?"

"He's developed a new low-temperature technology I've never seen—but that's not the point…" Captain Cold glanced around. "Sam, you're young. You don't understand many things. You don't seriously believe following Savage will lead to anything good, do you?"

"But he's immortal! He knows things we can't even imagine—he might truly rule the world!" Mirror Master retorted.

"You think he knows things we don't only because you know so little," Captain Cold said calmly. "Do you remember what I said before?"

"Even if we want to become villains who rule the world, we must rely on our own strength. No one else is ever trustworthy."