[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel":3,"chapter-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-81":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","My Life as a Mental Mentor in Marvel",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2322649,4544,"Chapter 81","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-81",81,"\u003Cp>I knew it, I knew it—ha, who do they think they are? The Godfather’s old, so now they can do whatever they want? Then I can only say they’re not dying fast enough…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a bar in the East District, a man with a thick beard held a cigar—he was the second-in-command of the Cocaine Gang. The bartender brought over a glass of watered-down whiskey. The bearded man took a sip, then drew smoke from his cigar, exhaling as he spoke: “They never lived through that era. They don’t understand…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Godfather only wants sincerity.” He tapped the bar counter with his fingers, emphasizing his words: “He’s telling us—if you want a share of this pie, you must obey his orders.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just like he did many years ago—how he brought the entire Gotham underworld under his control and established the Twelve Families. Those naive fools will never get it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man across from him was thin, not as broad-shouldered, his face pale and gloomy. He was the manager of this bar and a member of the Comet Gang, one of the four bosses of Elizabeth Street. He smoked a cigarette and said: “I’ve heard from my boss—you know, our top man was the first boss on Elizabeth Street. He once worked under the Godfather.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Those bastards from the Metropolis think they’ve provoked the Godfather, and since he hasn’t moved yet, they assume he’s afraid. How naive. The Godfather never lifts a finger himself…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He doesn’t need to.” The bearded man said. “Gotham isn’t the city where the top boss still had to pull the trigger himself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He’s telling all these gang bosses—he may be old, but as long as he’s alive, he’s still the King of Gotham’s underworld,” the thin man said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The chief doctor got injured, so the asylum shuts down? That’s a story only rookies believe. Damn chief doctor!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What do we need a chief doctor for? Go fix that idiot on the next street who trembles every time he sees an egg?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thin man and everyone around burst into laughter. The bartender wiped a glass and said: “Where else would you find a chief doctor? I could do it. All it takes is counting accounts and writing medical reports. There aren’t even any real patients there.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s why I say it’s all bullshit. The Godfather deliberately cut off this industry to show these gangsters—if you want to make money under him, you better obey and clean up his enemies for him. Otherwise, you won’t make a cent.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bearded man took another sip, grimaced, and continued: “Years ago, the Godfather did exactly this. He held two opium plantations and threatened the downstream gangs to eliminate the biggest thorn in his side—Antonio. That was big business. If he’d taken full control of those plantations, he’d have made a fortune. You know the outcome—the Frenchman’s head was on the Godfather’s desk the next morning.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They won’t live long,” the thin man said darkly. “Those sissies from Metropolis should crawl back to their own nest and stay out of Gotham’s business.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Crawl back? They won’t even get the chance. They’re dead already.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the other side, Schiller held the phone in the hospital: “Yes, thank you for your concern. I’m fine… Yes, just need rest. I never expected…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had just hung up when a nurse walked in carrying a large bouquet of flowers: “They’re from the Lauren family.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Put them there, thanks. And please take these other bouquets away—they’re starting to wilt.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The nurse tidied the bedside, where flowers and gifts from countless gang families piled up. She remembered the gossip among the nurses: even if the Godfather were sick, he wouldn’t get this much attention.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller was in high spirits. This was paid leave. In just two days, he’d received dozens of pounds of expensive wine and cigars. Someone—some genius—had leaked that he liked cigars. Now his estate was stocked with over a million dollars’ worth of premium cigars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The idea of faking illness came to him in a flash one morning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t need anyone to remind him—he knew the people from Metropolis had come for him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Previously, Deathstroke had been hired to kill him, but Schiller talked him out of it. The man behind the scenes wouldn’t let this slide. Probably because Deathstroke had bailed, he didn’t hire another lone assassin. Instead, he gathered a gang of thugs, planning a group assault.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Logically, Schiller should’ve started a defensive war by now. In Gotham, calling the police was pointless. The enemy was hidden; he was exposed. His only options were to hire expensive bodyguards or arrange 24-hour protection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if he used the Gray Mist to locate them, he’d have to be extremely careful to pick off just a few isolated men.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that was too stupid, Schiller thought. He didn’t want to sink to their level and be defeated by their crude experience.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>bidige.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man behind the scenes could afford Deathstroke—so these thugs weren’t amateurs. They had real skill, or they wouldn’t have killed the Godfather’s men the moment they arrived in Gotham.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hide every day? Fear assassinations at any moment? Schiller wouldn’t do that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So, after informing Falcone, Schiller simply “got injured”—badly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He needed long-term rest. His mind was clouded. His mood was terrible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His injury didn’t matter—but since the asylum had no chief doctor, it had to shut down. Who could sit still now?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The asylum had operated for so long. The first few to enter had made fortunes. Those who followed had poured time and money into expanding the business. They were about to harvest their returns—then it was cut off. How could they accept that?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Those who’d already made money were even angrier. No risk of gunfire, no effort—just negotiate a cut with Schiller and collect cash. Who wouldn’t want that? They’d made a lot. They wanted more. Shutting down now meant losing money.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the first day the asylum announced its closure, every phone rang nonstop—including Bruce’s.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During Schiller’s time at Gotham University, Bruce had managed the hospital. Schiller hadn’t told him the plan—but Batman was Batman. In seconds, he understood Schiller’s intent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So the world’s richest man immediately went full idiot. Every gang boss who called, subtly probing for information, got only Bruce’s idiotic triad: “I don’t know. I’m not sure. I can’t make sense of it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’m just a rich, idle, empty-headed man. Why ask me? Go ask Evans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Evans was doing well at the hospital. After all, he was the Godfather’s son—naturally aligned with these gang bosses. So the bosses called Evans instead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Evans said he was helpless. It was his father’s decision. He couldn’t interfere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now the gang bosses understood. This wasn’t an assassination or injury—it was another of the Godfather’s tricks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They weren’t fools. They knew the Godfather was warning them: if he loses face, no one wins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Those Metropolis intruders had ignored Gotham’s rules. While others watched, everyone’s profits were at risk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The gang bosses realized: the Godfather was warning them. If they wanted to share the meat, they had to obey—point, and they’d strike.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After weighing it, they came to a decision: those Metropolis visitors weren’t guests—they were scum. Find them. Kill them. No need to bring them in alive. Just bring back corpses—even half-decomposed ones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To protect their profits from the asylum, the gang bosses were ready to dig up the earth three feet deep to find those Metropolis men.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gotham’s gangsters were brutal—no need to elaborate. When their real interests were threatened, everyone involved went mad hunting and attacking the outsiders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Originally, the group had found their target—Schiller—within days of arriving in Metropolis. They hadn’t moved yet, confident in their plan, waiting to set everything perfectly before striking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller had moved out of Gotham University. They were at the final stage of their net. Then—suddenly—he got injured!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What? He was attacked by Metropolis outsiders? Metropolis outsiders? But that’s us! We didn’t do it!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Metropolis thugs now felt like they’d swallowed shit. Years in the game, they’d seen everything—but never once had they been framed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We hadn’t even moved!! He collapsed on his own!! What’s it got to do with us!!!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But there was no explaining it. Proving they’d acted? Easy. Proving they hadn’t? The man was in the hospital. What could they say?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The victim says who did it—that’s who did it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if they didn’t do it—if the Godfather says they did, then they did.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’d already picked the perfect spot near Schiller’s estate to plant bombs and had set up surveillance nearby, planning to lure him out. Now? Every gang in Gotham was hunting them. Their original hideout was found. They had to flee.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’d surprised the Godfather at first—but only because they struck by stealth. These past days, they’d watched Gotham’s gangs wage small-scale wars: armored vehicles, machine guns, rocket launchers in every hand, even—some idiot had gotten multiple rocket artillery trucks. Who wouldn’t panic? You kick it, your legs go numb!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now it was the outsiders hiding. Gotham’s gangs didn’t even want to capture them. The few places they’d hidden were found—and immediately doused in rocket fire. They wanted corpses, not prisoners. Even half-dead ones were acceptable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No city on earth matched Gotham’s gangsters in sheer madness. When those madmen united against a single target, that target’s fate was obvious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Constant relocation caused more than lost supplies or spoiled goods. The real cost: every time they fled, someone had to stay behind as bait. After a few moves, they’d lost several top men. Their group shrank from over a dozen to just a few.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They wanted to abandon the mission and run—but Gotham’s gangs wouldn’t let them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone had spread the rumor: whoever delivered the first head would get the biggest share. With profit at stake, everyone rushed to claim the prize. The gangs went wild, desperate to turn them in for rewards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one knew who had started the rumor, but whoever could be the first to submit this token of allegiance would get the largest share of the cake; with profit at stake, everyone was eager to act first, and the gangs went mad trying to hand them in for rewards.\u003C\u002Fp>",1698,"2026-06-20T16:39:12.484Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","0d4c1eb369983cd58b0c30ce37d4a4f7107c7722062b6624b6581e57bdb16fcb","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-82","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-80",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]