Chapter 844

Wayne Group is very wealthy, but perhaps many people know that assets and liquid capital are two different things.

Liquid capital, in plain terms, is cash on hand; many people may own cars and houses, which count as assets, and if you include cars and houses, many are millionaires—but when it comes to usable liquid capital, most don't have nearly that much.

Wayne Group is the same: any company existing in the real world is constrained by liquid capital; launching multiple aggressive investments that drain the company's liquid capital is extremely dangerous; many may have heard the term "funding chain break," but may not understand what it actually means.

In folk terms, it's like robbing Peter to pay Paul—eventually you'll run out of walls to rob; credit card loops will eventually come due and can't be repaid.

So what Wayne Group needs now is not new assets, but a way to immediately convert assets into cash or acquire large amounts of liquid capital.

If Bruce now invented a new technology and wanted to monetize it, he had two options: one was to leverage Wayne Group's industrial advantages and deploy it for civilian use to generate massive revenue.

But the problem is, the process from production input to manufacturing to sales is extremely long, and returns cannot be accurately estimated; if he prematurely drains other Wayne Group funds before any returns materialize, poor performance could easily trigger a funding chain break.

The other option is to sell the technology outright—a fast way to convert it into liquid capital—but the only issue is: who to sell it to.

Honestly, Bruce's majority of technologies have little to do with civilian use; his mind rarely considers practical innovations to improve daily life; perhaps geniuses are always like this—they prefer using their intellect to alter the fate of the entire species rather than spending time on minor comforts.

The technologies Bruce could offer are almost all related to Bat equipment: the material of the Batsuit, the storage system of the Batarang belt, the defense weapons of the Batcave, the engine system of the Batmobile, etc. by name alone, these are far closer to military applications.

If Bruce were willing to release these technologies, the ultimate buyer would certainly be the military—but the problem is, Bruce doesn't trust the military.

Many say the Joker is an anarchist, but in fact, from a conceptual standpoint, Bruce is the true anarchist; he has never trusted the military or government, never relied on anyone else, not even himself—he can't believe in the military using these tools for good.

Downgrading these technologies into civilian versions isn't impossible, but private corporations have many problems: one is limited budgets that can't fetch high prices, and another is they may refuse lump-sum payment because their own liquid capital is also limited.

This makes acquiring large sums of cash in a short time difficult; as Bruce pondered these issues, he couldn't help but recall Schiller's saying: "All ways to make money are written in the criminal code"—now he understood what that truly meant.

In truth, if he were willing to lower his moral standards slightly, acquiring money wouldn't be a problem at all; every bank and website's physical and digital defenses seemed trivial to him; even gambling could net him tens of millions of dollars effortlessly.

As Bruce fretted over these problems, it was precisely the time to submit the second-round internship summary; Bruce hadn't participated in the second-round internship, but he was still counted as having participated, so he had to submit a summary too.

Though he didn't know what kind of summary was needed when you were the subject of research, Bruce still gritted his teeth and wrote one; when he went to Schiller's office to submit it, he heard Schiller on the phone saying:

"You found out? So who is Vandal Savage exactly? … Of course this concerns me—Jason Todd, you know him, right? That kid—I saw great potential in his psychological academic talent and planned to nurture him."

"Then that day… yes, about one or two months ago, he went to investigate Savage's whereabouts at that fancy hotel and got injured—I was furious…"

"No, Savage didn't injure him, but it's related to Savage; if Savage hadn't been wandering around town, why would he have gone to investigate? He's only eleven—could he lie?"

"The wound was deep, just below his ribs; had treatment been delayed, it would've turned septic; then Gotham cooled down and poured down heavy rain—he had no parents, so he had to be hospitalized alone…"

"Really? Savage claims he's an immortal? Lived a very long time… how long? Fifty thousand years?? My God, did he eat dinosaurs?"

"He's lived this long and amassed countless wealth—so why come to Gotham? Does he want to rule the world?"

"He's lived fifty thousand years and still hasn't ruled the world—still persisting? All I can say is, he's got determination despite his condition."

"Yes, James, my point is, if Alberto finds him and locates him, tell me immediately—I'm truly furious about Jason's ordeal!"

"No, of course not—it's not about money; you know I'm not one to chase fame or fortune—just a few fifty-thousand-year-old fortunes…"

Outside the door, Bruce's hand paused on the doorknob—but just then, Schiller hung up the phone and said toward the door: "Who's there? Why didn't you knock?"

"It's me, Professor…" Bruce pushed the door open, placed the summary on the desk, then paused; Schiller studied him and said: "What's wrong? If there's nothing else, go back—Gotham University doesn't have guaranteed graduate admissions…"

Bruce, whose mind had been full of money, suddenly snapped back to reality. He said: "Guaranteed admission? What guaranteed admission?"

"Aren't you preparing for your graduate entrance exam? Do you expect me to write you a recommendation letter? Should I write in it, 'Dear Mr. Bruce Wayne, you failed twelve courses over four years, skipped the first-round internship, only half-participated in the second-round internship, and submitted your summary two days late'?"

Bruce covered his forehead and said, "No, Professor, I won't go to graduate school…"

"Oh? But Lex says he will—your helicopter engine project is already guaranteed admission; soon, you'll be the least educated among the three of them…"

"I'm going back to study." Bruce turned and walked away. He said: "But I'm switching to the Physics Department…"

"Fine—the physics professor is Victor. If you don't turn in assignments, I'll just make you reflect psychologically—but he'll make you reflect physically."

Bruce, with no hope for his future studies, left the building weighed down by pressure—but Schiller's phone call had just given him a way out.

Bruce had long known Savage had broken into his Batcave, but he ignored it—first because he'd been busy, second because, as Schiller said, if you break into the Batcave and take nothing, dealing with idiots always has the lowest priority.

But Bruce didn't know Savage was incredibly wealthy; from surveillance footage, Savage didn't dress like a traditional rich man—but someone who'd lived so long might naturally be discreet.

If Savage truly had massive liquid capital, Bruce had no objection to letting him voluntarily contribute to Gotham's development—provided he had vast funds and did so willingly.

To deal with Savage, Bruce needed to gather intelligence on him—and luckily, he knew exactly who to ask.

"You mean Savage?" said Captain Cold in Gotham University's cafeteria, touching his cheek. "Actually, he approached us first—he offered us a huge sum of money and the power to rule a city, to make us work for him…"

Bruce focused on the "huge sum of money." He asked: "How much was he willing to pay you?"

"Originally agreed on ten million dollars—but we didn't really believe it; if he were that rich, why come to us?" Captain Cold sliced into his steak. "If he were like you—a billionaire who casually drops tens of millions—why not run for office? He might not rule the world, but he could definitely rule America."

Bruce thought: Now I can't casually pull out tens of millions either—even a few million requires careful budgeting; all those construction sites are like bloodsucking machines.

Worse, he refused to compromise—he wanted only the best—and Gotham's area was already huge; one phase of construction equaled three phases elsewhere; over a hundred major sites operating, money flowed out like water.

"Still, we think he really is rich," Captain Cold rubbed his chin. "Last time Mirror Master ran an errand for him, Savage gave him two giant gold ingots—those are worth a fortune."

"Also, Mirror Master said his room is filled with collectibles from every era and region worldwide; apparently one painting alone could sell for over ten million dollars."

Bruce frowned. "You're right—why hasn't he ruled the world if he's that rich?"

Bruce found it strange—it made no sense. A man who lived fifty thousand years—even if he started as a tribal chief in the Homo sapiens era and conquered tribe after tribe—he should've unified everything by now.

Even if he hadn't wanted to before, now that he's thinking about it, he could easily form his own campaign team, become president legitimately, then gradually use his wealth and experience to achieve total control.

At worst, if he lived long enough, he'd know enough people, build a vast network, and easily accomplish anything—so why go to Central City now to hire strangers?

Captain Cold shook his head. "From what I've observed, he doesn't seem to have been fully conscious the whole time—he probably needs to hibernate periodically, then re-adapt to society each time; maybe human society has advanced too fast lately, and he hasn't caught up."

"Just woke up," "unfamiliar with modern society," "hasn't caught up"—when these phrases came together, Bruce knew exactly who to find.