Chapter 832: The Charm of Education (Part 1)

Can DC really use the political correctness halo?

This is indeed a question, and it must be examined from several angles: in early DC comics, political correctness barely existed—there were plots involving children's deaths and brutal murders, and nearly none of the specific hero traits now familiar to audiences.

Of course, DC's editorial team did make compromises for commercialization: later, people of color gained privileges, female heroes' character designs and appearances were partially adjusted, and in the cinematic universe, other ethnic characters were deliberately added to increase visibility.

But overall, using the political correctness halo here is harder than in Marvel, because DC's overall tone is darker, and certain fourth-wall-breaking, comedic antics simply won't fly.

But there are other ways to leverage the political correctness halo—though, like a themed essay, it must be used in accordance with DC's comic worldbuilding style.

Schiller knew that merely wrapping the world in a shell and making Batman laugh wasn't enough to defeat the Laughing Bat.

Another very real issue is that Bruce is still an ordinary human—his physical strength and skills don't exceed normal human limits, and he has no terrifying regenerative abilities or immense power.

But the Laughing Bat isn't ordinary: after being infected by the Joker, he gained the Dionysian Factor, and he transformed Robin into a fanged, toothed hound; moreover, he doesn't appear alone—he has an entire Batman team, each member possessing extraordinary skills.

Of course, if this were the later-era Batman, he'd typically avoid direct confrontation and defeat him through strategy—but Schiller isn't sure whether his universe's young Batman can tolerate such a repulsive character defecating on his head.

Even among Batmen, the older ones are more mature; Bruce is only twenty this year—who hasn't been impulsive in their youth?

Aside from the Laughing Bat, Babatoss is also a major problem: when other universes' Batmen come seeking aid, will Bruce go or won't he?

Given his personality, he'll definitely go—but those Batmen who've lived forty or fifty years have been hung on trees, and he's only lived twenty years; he hasn't finished many lessons, hasn't earned many degrees, and in raw power, he can't possibly match those old, calculating Batmen.

If so, Schiller believes he can use the political correctness halo to give him an extra layer of protection—simply put, a resurrection armor.

After becoming a formally registered angel of Heaven, Schiller didn't do nothing—these past few days, he's read the Bible and all the Gospels over and over again, to the point where he sees halos above everyone's heads.

After all, no matter how other political correctness factors are defined, in Western societies, religion is always the big daddy—every action and statement must be handled with extreme caution.

Violating other political correctness norms might just get you criticized, but touching certain religious elements could get you erased outright.

Isn't this like having the walkthrough guide and cheat sheet laid right before you? If you don't study them carefully, wouldn't you be wasting the painstaking efforts of the Bible's authors?

When Schiller first met Bruce in the slums, he realized Bruce's behavior subtly mirrored the story of Jesus' incarnation.

To atone for humanity's sins, God sent His most beloved son to the world; after enduring suffering, he willingly was nailed to the cross and bled out for humanity.

Bruce has already endured suffering; what Schiller must now do is guide him to willingly be nailed to the cross.

Schiller doesn't intend for Bruce to immediately donate all his assets and become penniless, then use all his money to improve human society—this isn't a top priority, because whether humanity as a whole or Gotham itself, the current situation is still sustainable.

To preserve this best card, Schiller must first wrap Batman in a halo.

Therefore, he more seriously emphasized Gotham's dire situation and sent Constantine to inform Batman of the root causes of its darkness, giving him a sense of urgency—as if a storm was coming and he had no choice but to act.

In the end, Bruce made a choice only a god could make: after stripping away his own negative human emotions and flaws, he reclaimed most of his divinity.

Likewise, when he decided to bring absolute fairness to humanity and ensure every person achieved ultimate happiness, it meant he was willing to sacrifice everything to atone for all human sin.

This directly parallels the story of the Son of God, Jesus, who willingly was nailed to the cross, bled out, and died to atone for humanity's sins.

Of course, that's still not enough: after Jesus died, angels had to guide him, saints had to proclaim him—and remarkably, Schiller himself is a real angel.

When he told the entire story inside the church, it became a narrative that subtly aligned with Jesus' actions in the Bible.

Suffering, baptism, temptation, self-sacrifice… Batman, through his actions, gained a glory akin to the Son of God, Jesus.

Thus, in future major crises, this character gains special significance: he once bled out the last drop of blood for humanity, and when he dies, he becomes the true Son of God, Jesus.

That means Bruce in this universe is no longer a background character who can die casually in some major event—his death must be epic, storied, heroic, and followed by resurrection.

Otherwise, if you've written a story with such religious elements but then treat the Jesus-figure as a disposable sidekick, slaughtered at will by other characters, the editorial team might as well be suicidal.

As for God? The Lord doesn't care.

Batman, standing in the church, asked: "What was that light just now?"

Schiller, feeling he'd completed all his plans, sighed in relief and casually tossed the Bible aside: "Nothing. You can go now—just leave your paper on the desk in my office."

He turned to leave, but Batman stopped him: "What about the next phase of the transformation plan? How do I turn Wayne Enterprises and my wealth into power to reshape the world?"

Schiller sized him up and said: "Are you in such a hurry to do something? Do you think this can be accomplished overnight? You don't seriously imagine that tomorrow you'll liquidate all Wayne Enterprises' assets, donate them, and suddenly everyone will be happy, do you?"

Batman stared silently at Schiller—the atmosphere had been built to this point, he'd already prepared to be nailed to the cross—and now Schiller tells him he has to wait in line? To become a saint, first wait a hundred years? What was all that psychological preparation for?

Schiller smiled: "That's what happens when you don't study psychology properly. Don't you know? My specialty is creating tension to make people forget very simple truths."

"But it's fine—you're not the first. The last fool I tricked was the genius who built the Arc Reactor."

Batman took a deep breath—he'd truly been influenced by the atmosphere, convinced that from tomorrow on, he could no longer live in his luxurious estate, drive his luxury cars, or spend endless money; from tomorrow, he'd be penniless.

But in reality, even with the world's greatest wealth and strongest scientific capabilities, achieving what Schiller described would take so long that by the time it was done, he'd be too old to move.

By then, no amount of wealth would matter to him—after all, you come into the world empty-handed, and you leave the same way.

"Alright, now let's return to the office and figure out where to begin Gotham's transformation—if you still want to see your ideal realized before you die, you'd better hurry…"

Batman's mind began racing—he started calculating how much time would be needed to achieve the result Schiller described.

After running the numbers, he realized that, assuming he lived to eighty, time was extremely tight—and likely insufficient.

Thinking this, he quickened his pace, deciding to stop dwelling on Schiller's trick—until, as he passed Schiller and walked ahead, he heard a voice behind him:

"Now, you may act according to your own will—no longer fear injury or death. If you encounter an unsolvable crisis, pray to God."

Batman stopped. "... don't believe in God."

"Funny—the Son God loves most doesn't believe in God either. Keep this attitude, and you'll become His favorite son."

Stepping out of the church, it was dusk; Schiller and Batman walked side by side down a narrow alley near Gotham Cathedral, trucks rumbled past, splashing water, newsboys pedaled bicycles chasing each other, bells ringing constantly.

The scent of fresh bread drifted from a bakery; the fat owner scrubbed his oven mitts at the door, while gang enforcers gathered in groups around a barbecue stall, laughter and boasting echoing endlessly.

"Did you read the travelogue I submitted?" Batman asked.

"Of course I did," Schiller nodded.

"If I can't complete all the things I want to do, do you think I should find a successor?" Batman asked again.

Schiller took a deep breath—the damp, post-rain air mixed with the smell of food into a complex scent. He said:

"Batman. You simply don't understand education. You see a talented child and want to make him your assistant; you bring him home, then spot the next one."

"There are countless geniuses in this world—if raised properly, they might become your allies. But the only question is: do you love them? Do they love you?"

Schiller stopped at the alley's mouth and looked at Batman: "I know you think highly of Jason—you believe he's sharp, gifted—but isn't Dick just as much?"

"The only difference between them is that I've been teaching Jason, while you just dumped Dick into school and ignored him."

"If that dead little girl still hasn't made you understand the importance of proper education, then I can only say: I didn't write that article wrong—Batman is a monster who eats children."

Batman narrowed his eyes at Schiller: "That article really was written by you..."

"But was I wrong?" Schiller said, utterly confident: "You bring child after child home, yet you don't educate them—you let them walk down the wrong path. Isn't that worse than what I wrote?"

"Batman..." Schiller sighed: "One day, you'll realize how precious a child's love is—it's the purest emotion you'll ever receive in this world..."

"If you waste them all, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Watching Schiller's retreating back, Batman thought of Dick—and of Elsa.

He wondered: improving Gotham's education system is a noble ideal—but can he even educate his own children first?