Chapter 830: Jesus Endures (Part 2)

Discussion always passes quickly; before they knew it, it was time for the intern students to leave, and the three had largely reached consensus on Gotham's reform goals—a significant advancement indeed.

At dusk, Alberto's persona retreated to rest, and Yin Wensi reemerged; he glanced at his watch and said, "Forgive me, Professor, I must leave—there are matters awaiting me."

Shi Ler stood and said, "Go. Remember to arrive on time tomorrow, and get proper rest."

After Yin Wensi left, Bruce did not move to depart; he looked at Shi Ler and asked, "What do you mean by 'the perfect card'? My scientific ability?"

"Of course," Shi Ler replied as he closed the door. Bruce frowned and asked, "Why?"

"Because of your genius intellect," Shi Ler said, returning to sit at his desk. Bruce remained standing, silent, waiting for Shi Ler's next words.

"We discuss only technology, not ethics. With sufficient resources, are you confident you could sustain all of humanity?" Shi Ler asked.

Bruce frowned and said, "I don't want to rule Earth. I don't want to be king of humanity or control all its resources."

"Why?" Shi Ler asked.

"Because I don't want to become Macbeth," Bruce said, meeting Shi Ler's gaze. "Infinite power equals no power. When power reaches its peak, nothing remains."

Shi Ler sighed and said, "Rule? No…"

"If you could concentrate all of Earth's resources into one system, your scientific ability could transform the entire planet—using technology to distribute resources equally, thereby sustaining all of humanity."

Shi Ler looked into Bruce's eyes and said, "You've never been a bottom-tier person living in the slums. Your resources and brilliant intellect give you a faster, more thorough way to change everything."

"With your scientific capabilities, you could turn Earth into a hive—where every person has ample space, sufficient resources, and the chance to fulfill every dream and attain ultimate happiness."

"I asked you before: Are Earth's current resources enough to give everyone a happy life? You answered yes."

"Now, the reason this goal hasn't been reached is due to both social systems and scientific technology. Either one, if strong enough, could replace the other."

"Clearly, your scientific ability has grown so powerful it can influence—and even reshape—human social systems."

"But you must understand one thing…" Shi Ler's fangs slowly emerged. He stood, stepped before Bruce, and stared into his eyes: "Revolution—whose life is it taking?"

"Whether you seek violent revolution from below or reform from above, you must know: even the smallest change will cost you something, because as the one who controls the most means of production, you will inevitably lose—only the scale differs."

"When you decided to utterly dismantle the gang rules, when you wanted everyone in this city to live better, to have the peaceful, prosperous life they dreamed of—did you consider that this means you might lose everything?"

"The more you try to do, the more you will lose. In the process of rebuilding rules and redistributing resources, you cannot remain untouched."

"Bruce, you may have read some books, but you haven't had enough time to truly understand them. When I ask you these questions now, you should already understand why that book said capitalists will never awaken."

"Society's wealth is fixed. Resources don't magically increase with altered distribution. With total quantity unchanged, the wealth flowing to the poor you pity is flesh cut from your own body."

"In this process, you must cut away your flesh, slice through your bones, open your organs, and personally hand over every resource you rely on—every thing that lets you enjoy your current life—to people who won't thank you or remember you."

"This is why top-down reforms in human history have never succeeded—no one can endure such pain."

"All their kindness rests on the condition that it doesn't threaten themselves. Once the knife cuts flesh, everyone turns pale with fear, terrified as if facing a tiger."

"The difference is, many such classes never anticipated this outcome before reform—but now, I've told you every consequence."

"Many lacked this ability due to the limitations of their era; even if they gave, they couldn't achieve the desired result. But now, I can tell you: with your astonishing intellect, you can achieve it."

"Once you begin this, your wealth, status, and reputation will vanish. All you gain in return is the happiness of strangers who have nothing to do with you."

"Batman, you reclaimed your humanity in Gotham's depths and wished to stand with them—but do you truly possess the divinity to abandon everything you own and sacrifice it all for your ideal?"

"Now, a choice lies before you: your ideal, or everything you possess—you can choose only one…"

"Batman, how will you choose?"

Bruce remembered that when he first met this professor, every time he entered the office, the man would use various languages to shake his mind, forcing him to choose—and this time was no different.

Or rather, this question was more lethal.

Batman, who daily shouted about saving Gotham and fighting crime, should have leapt without hesitation into the one real chance to save Gotham and eradicate crime entirely.

But the only problem was: to ignite this fire, the fuel needed was himself.

Under the current system, wealth always flows upward; the gap between rich and poor only widens. To find a perfect social system replacing the current one, to solve all problems once and for all, there are two ways.

One: make resources infinite. If everyone effectively possesses infinite resources—infinite land, food, air—then the so-called wealth gap becomes meaningless.

With absolutely infinite resources, even if the gap between poor and rich spanned tens of thousands of galaxies, it would mean nothing, because a human lifetime requires only so much survival material, and the resources needed to fulfill all needs have an upper limit. Once everyone reaches ultimate happiness, any excess difference no longer matters.

The other path is absolute equality. People are not born equal, but coercive means can make them so. If one final producer can sustain all of humanity, whether good or evil, in a sense, everyone else achieves absolute equality—either equally destitute, or equally middle-class.

To achieve the first path, you must expand outward, acquire infinite resources, leave Earth, venture into the stars and oceans, until you occupy the entire universe—perhaps even that isn't enough; you need infinite, boundless universes to satisfy every human's every need and reach ultimate happiness.

To achieve the second path, you must change inward—with absolute superiority, overpowering all of human society, then allocating Earth's resources with maximum efficiency, turning every human into a gear of the collective. Eliminating disparity and comparison, no social demands remain; people need only focus on survival and spiritual needs to attain ultimate happiness.

But the only problem is: no final producer will ever want to sustain all of humanity. If you already possess all the resources of this planet, why not enjoy them yourself? What do strangers' lives have to do with you?

This isn't coldness or cruelty—it's human nature. Humans are inherently selfish; they must first consider their own needs. As resources expand, so do desires. The final producer may not need an entire planet, but he believes his future desires might require it—so he won't give to others.

To escape this innate nature, Batman must cease being human and become a god again—because only gods can be truly selfless.

Standing in the room, Bruce understood this truth. When he flew down from the high attic, he only wanted to see what people on the ground were doing.

Life among the crowd gave him a human exterior, made him choose to become one of them, to possess the courage to face suffering and still fight upstream.

But after inheriting humanity's most precious part, he still needed to strip away its most essential element: selfishness and greed.

Bruce felt his newly healed skin begin to ache again. Beneath the human skin he had donned, something stirred once more.

Perhaps it was his wings—long unused.