Chapter 829: Jesus Endures (Part 1)

"That's right. Gotham's situation is indeed grim. The old rules have rotted away, and the new ones haven't taken root yet. Time keeps moving forward—if we don't change quickly, we'll be left behind." Shi Ler summed up: "We have little time, but many problems."

"Gotham's entrenched evil isn't entirely because its people are inherently worse than others. There may be deeper reasons. Trying to save this city is like a blind man touching an elephant—you never know how much darkness still waits ahead."

"Generally speaking, I wouldn't expend more effort on something nearly impossible. But I believe Gotham still has room for change because we still have one unbeatable card left to play."

Hearing Shi Ler's words, Bruce asked with confusion: "An unbeatable card? What card could Gotham possibly still have—and one that's truly unbeatable?"

It wasn't surprising he was puzzled. Gotham had already played nearly all its cards. Its geography wasn't irreplaceable, and its people were lawless.

Its decent economy was the only advantage—but even that was won only after exhausting every possible card, or nearly so. This alone showed the city was close to beyond salvation.

And now Shi Ler claimed Gotham still had a card—a truly unbeatable one. What could it be?

At that moment, Shi Ler spoke: "The unbeatable card I mean is you, Batman."

Bruce froze in place, but Shi Ler spoke as if it were obvious: "Do you remember the Cat City Gotham we saw in the dream? You thought it was a prison, right?"

"Wasn't it?" Bruce asked. "That owl disguised itself as a cat, surveilling every cat. The entire city was under its control."

"But what if I told you, with just a slight shift in form, this could be your ideal city of eternal peace—what would you think?"

Bruce paused, then glanced down at himself, unsure of Shi Ler's meaning. Shi Ler continued: "Suppose—I'm saying suppose—you had vast, unlimited funds to transform Gotham into a future city unlike any other. Could you do it?"

"What do you mean by 'future city'?" Bruce asked.

"A city where everyone lives in peace and prosperity, free from conflict forever, with hyper-advanced technology and effortless living..."

Bruce shook his head: "You've inserted the hardest condition into your hypothetical. No one in this world has that much money."

Bruce wasn't a real playboy. He'd always managed Wayne Enterprises himself—he knew the financial state of his family's empire inside out. And precisely because he knew, he understood the greatest obstacle to Shi Ler's goal was money.

Wayne Enterprises was wealthy, yes—but the goal was absurd. Gotham wasn't some suburban county town. Its actual land area was even larger than Metropolis. Though its downtown wasn't as prosperous, the difference wasn't great.

The only major difference was population: Gotham had one-third fewer permanent residents than Metropolis, but it was still among the most populous cities on the East Coast.

To transform a city like this, the word "astronomical" was no longer accurate enough.

"I mean," Shi Ler asked, "assuming money isn't an issue, are there any technical obstacles?"

Bruce frowned. Since Shi Ler pressed repeatedly, Bruce set aside reality for a moment and considered more fantastical ideas: "Professor, you once showed me a proposal for a three-dimensional city. Leaving aside who proposed it, the technical level of this plan isn't low. The most interesting part was its device compression and deployment technology."

"After receiving this proposal, I focused on researching this technology—and made some progress." Bruce stood up from his chair and pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket.

He released his grip. The paper drifted slowly downward—and at the instant before touching the ground, it unfurled with a *whoosh* into a full Batman suit.

Alberto dropped out. Shi Ler stood up and circled the suit, examining it. Bruce explained:

"This is just a prototype. I don't intend to apply this technology to this suit—it serves no real purpose."

"I hope this folding and unfolding technology can be applied to architecture or building materials—to eliminate excessive transport, handling, and installation. Build it inside the Batcave, then deploy and fix it on-site as a finished structure—like instant food."

"But some technical hurdles remain unsolved: stability of compression and deployment for super-large objects hasn't been tested; deployment safety still needs verification..."

"Building repair and fine details also need refinement. Of course, with about a month's time, I could perfect it further..."

Shi Ler asked next: "How far have you progressed with the Arc Reactor model I gave you?"

"I've done some research," Bruce nodded.

"Besides miniaturization improvements, I've also experimented with large-scale applications—for instance, I once imagined transforming Earth's core into a larger energy reactor."

When discussing technical matters, Bruce's speech flowed far more smoothly than when discussing psychology: "If we achieve this, humanity would have nearly infinite energy. These two technologies complement each other..."

"If we internally transform Earth, humanity's dependence on finite natural resources would shift to another kind of reliable, never-fading infinity..."

Shi Ler smiled. Bruce's answer didn't exceed his expectations.

Batman, this enduring comic character, derives his unique appeal from the fact that his body remains human—he lacks the superhuman physique of other superheroes. Writers never base his character on raw power or combat.

Batman first appeared as a detective, establishing his core tone: a hero with heightened intellect but no extraordinary physical strength.

In comic creation, physical-type characters are often easier to draw. Many think action sequences are hard, but for professional artists, human anatomy and motion choreography aren't difficult—as long as the plot is logical, panels and movements can be endlessly inventive.

Conversely, intellectual characters test a writer's skill. To convincingly portray a character's genius within a comic layered with multiple real and imagined threads, you must ensure foreshadowing, logical consistency, novel concepts, and a distinct style.

But comic writers rarely possess such high intelligence. If a writer truly had Batman's intellect, he wouldn't bother being a writer.

Thus, American comic editors typically use two methods to portray intellectual characters. The first is working backward from the answer—creating a "Russian doll" genius who always predicts your prediction.

Many might think of the Joker, but the reason the "Laughing Bat" design is disliked by many readers is that later writers stopped even trying to construct logical chains—they gave no reasoning, just declared, "I predicted your prediction," robbing the character of depth.

In contrast, Batman's portrayal has been relatively successful because editors use various techniques to make Batman appear omniscient.

But they usually show the process: Batman notices a detail and traces the killer's path. In truth, the editorial team already knew the killer's identity—they crafted this plot merely to demonstrate Batman's brilliance.

Of course, in today's commercialized, fast-food comic era, many editors no longer use detective stories to portray intellectual characters—it's too time-consuming and unpopular. They've adopted a simpler method: turning the character into Doraemon.

First, pile on academic titles—make him highly respected in academia. Second, make him an inventor who can pull out absurd gadgets at any moment.

As long as the tech level is high, the character's genius is implied. If he invents machines no ordinary person could conceive, his superior intellect is automatically assumed.

In early comics, such characters were often comic relief—pulling out bizarre gadgets to add novelty. But later, this became a lazy shortcut—a different kind of technological Russian doll.

You invent something powerful; I invent something even more powerful to counter you; then you invent something even more powerful still...

Fundamentally, this is no different from the Joker's "I predicted your prediction" gimmick—except it's wrapped in a layer of technology and pseudo-scientific explanations, making it more palatable to readers.

Batman clearly shares these traits. In technology, he ignores physics, even time itself. If he wants, he can invent absurd Bat-machines that crush anyone who opposes him.

Logically, a 20-year-old Batman couldn't possibly possess so much knowledge—unless his day had 48 hours. Yet he does. What can you do about it?

Readers don't find it implausible that the protagonist can pull out miraculous machines at will—because it's a comic. And editors save immense effort by using these gadgets to bypass explanations for implausible plot points. Everyone benefits.

In fact, Batman truly deserves the title of super-genius. He received that data and model only two or three years ago—and he's already unraveled its secrets.

This confirms Shi Ler's belief: in this world, Batman truly possesses the gift of a super-inventor.

And this—this is the unbeatable card. Far stronger than any card played before.

Now, only one question remains: Will this card be willing to play itself?

Now, only one question remained: would this card be willing to play itself?