Chapter 775

In the corridor, Bruce carried a stack of papers, walking swiftly toward his office; he knew that if he were two minutes late, today's paper would likely fail to pass.

Bruce knocked on the door, but the sound from inside was the click of high heels—Anna, the math teacher, opened it. Bruce glanced into the room and asked, "Isn't Professor Shiler here?"

"He has something this afternoon. You're here to show him your paper?" Anna checked her watch and said, "You'll have to come back after seven; he should return then to pick up something."

Bruce froze. "After seven? But it's only two in the afternoon—where did Professor Shiler go?"

Anna shook her head. "I don't know. After lunch, he rushed back, grabbed two copies of Basic Psychology, and left. Maybe try looking for him at the library?"

"The library?" Bruce said, surprised. But seeing Anna's expression, he asked no further and turned away with his paper.

Standing below the office building, Bruce felt lost—he suddenly realized he had no idea where to find Shiler.

As far as he knew, Shiler never went to the library; Gotham University's library was old, had few seats, and even with strict librarians, it was noisy. Shiler usually wrote his papers at his estate.

After all, Gotham University had no president; no one checked attendance. After morning and afternoon classes ended, professors could leave without interference—so they were free. If they had no afternoon class, they could go home.

Bruce thought for a moment, then went to the parking lot, got in his car, and drove to the Rodriguez Estate. When he arrived, Merkel opened the door. Merkel looked surprised. "Mr. Wayne? What brings you here?"

"I'm here to find Professor Shiler. Is he here?" Bruce asked.

Merkel paused. "No, he's been staying at the school for days now—he hasn't returned home. You should check the campus."

Bruce was about to say he'd just come from the school, but thought better of it, got back in his car, and returned to campus.

He went to the faculty dormitory, but the dorm supervisor told him Shiler had left that morning and hadn't returned all day. He then checked the usual psychology classroom and the lab building—but found no sign of Shiler.

Finally, Bruce called Gordon, asking if he'd seen Shiler. When the answer was still no, Bruce began to get a headache.

If Gotham still had any unbreakable rule, it was this: when Shiler goes quiet, he's up to something.

This was all highly unusual. For the past few days, Bruce had been on constant alert, terrified of missing Shiler's call—if that happened, his paper wouldn't pass, and he'd likely have to rewrite it entirely.

Paper discussions often lasted hours, starting before lunch ended and continuing until dinner. Shiler even expressed strong disapproval of Bruce needing to eat, suggesting he build a life-support suit to reduce time wasted on biological needs.

All the time Bruce had saved so far might not equal the time wasted this afternoon. Bruce didn't believe Shiler would vanish without reason—he was more likely dealing with something worse, something he had to resolve.

But what could possibly trouble Shiler?

The moment Bruce thought of that, he raised his vigilance to its highest level. If something forced Shiler—someone who needed every second—to spend hours resolving it, it might threaten Gotham's, even the entire East Coast's, survival.

Thinking this, Bruce immediately drove to the Batcave and activated his surveillance network across Gotham.

Batman's cameras covered every corner of the city. After multiple technological upgrades, they were hardened, nearly impossible to destroy, and far more discreet. Gotham was under constant surveillance.

Before turning on the screens, Bruce hoped to see Shiler on them—if Shiler wasn't in Gotham, things would get worse.

But when he activated the screens, before spotting Shiler, Bruce noticed another intruder—his outfit was so bizarre it immediately caught his attention.

The man wore a tight black suit, a green cloak over it, held a flute in one hand, and carried a pistol strapped to his leg.

He was on a street not far from Gotham University. Bruce saw him just stepping out of a record store, two vinyl records in hand.

Bruce considered investigating, but finding Shiler was more urgent.

He continued scanning the monitors—and then saw Shiler: he'd been in Gotham University all along, in an empty classroom on the top floor, facing Jason Todd, the kid who'd stolen Bruce's tires.

Zooming in, Bruce saw Shiler holding a Basic Psychology textbook, pointing to the text as he explained it to Jason, who listened with rapt attention.

Just as Bruce was about to listen in, another monitor caught his eye.

The green-cloaked man had attacked a gang member—or rather, he hadn't attacked. He pulled out his flute and played. Across the street, the gang member suddenly began to dance.

The next second, armed gang enforcers surrounded him. Bruce leapt up, changed into Batman's suit, and raced to the scene at top speed.

Fortunately, the man was still alive—just had seven or eight new holes in his body.

Batman was certain he was an outsider. No local would dress like that and stand on a street at the intersection of three gang territories—it was like shouting through a megaphone: "Here's a perfect target for gun practice."

While the gang members weren't looking, Batman dragged the man into his car and took him to the Batcave. He performed a quick surgery, bandaged him, and waited for him to wake up.

Minutes later, the green-cloaked man finally stirred. In his daze, he saw Batman's face and instinctively tried to roll away—but the pain stopped him. He heard Batman ask:

"Who are you? Why are you in Gotham?"

The man opened his mouth to speak, but Batman picked up the scalpel beside him, wiped it with paper. The man swallowed hard. "You can call me the Pied Piper…"

"Why are you in Gotham?" Batman asked again.

"I… I came to tour…" No sooner had he spoken than a batarang landed beside his ear. He shifted his head slightly. "Fine—I came to rescue someone."

"Who?"

"Mirror Master… and the others."

"Mirror Master?" Batman narrowed his eyes, skeptical. "Who else?"

"Captain Cold…" The Pied Piper gasped. Pain made him dazed; Batman's glare broke his restraint. He spilled everything: "Savage, the Great King, wants to use Gotham as a foothold on the East Coast. He sent Mirror Master and Captain Cold to scout—but they're trapped. There's a professor here they can't handle…"

"Savage received their distress signal and sent me to extract them. I planned to go straight to Gotham University, but that record store nearby was playing music I like—I went in and bought two albums…"

Batman's gaze fell on the flute. "Can you control people with this?"

"Yes," the Pied Piper said. "That's why I'm called the Pied Piper…"

"Tell me about the Great King."

As Batman pressed the Pied Piper for information, Shiler was in the empty classroom explaining basic psychological concepts to Jason:

"... f course, this subject won't fully answer your questions, but you can also take philosophy and social engineering—some content overlaps with economics. But these fields differ from the technical skills you've learned before."

"They won't teach you a specific craft. They're more like a compilation of human thought—flawed in some ways, advantageous in others."

"If you're unsure whether you like these courses, start by reading these books." Shiler handed Jason several volumes: besides Basic Psychology, there were introductory texts in philosophy and economics.

Jason was deeply absorbed in the Basic Psychology book Shiler had just given him. Shiler, meanwhile, read the economics book he'd just borrowed from the library.

The room fell silent. After a while, Jason rubbed his eyes and sighed. "This is incredible—I never thought human thoughts could be explained like this…"

Shiler took the book from his hands. "Where are you? Have you read this section?"

Jason glanced at the page Shiler pointed to. "I've finished it. I've read the next unit too."

"The next unit…" Shiler flipped ahead. He saw it spanned twelve full pages—and unlike the earlier sections, which only explained basic concepts, this one included neuroscience content.

Shiler frowned. "Did you understand the earlier material?"

Jason hesitated. "I'm not sure… but I memorized it all."

Shiler's eyes widened. "You memorized it? All of it?"

Jason nodded and began reciting from the beginning.

It was well known that the rhythm and intonation of recitation revealed whether someone truly understood the material. If it was rote memorization or poorly learned, pauses and misphrasing would show.

But Jason showed none of that. He recited smoothly. Shiler, who had taught these sections to countless students over the years, knew Jason hadn't just memorized—he understood most of it.

As Jason recited, Shiler's eyes brightened. Then, suddenly, the phone on the desk rang.

Jason startled, stopping mid-recitation. Shiler stood, walked over, and picked up the phone.

"Hello? Who is this? …Bruce?"

"Who is Bruce?"

Who is Bruce?