[{"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-930":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},2323498,4544,"Chapter 930: In the Depths of Mist and Rain (3)","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-930",930,"\u003Cp>Wayne Hospital, located in the southern district of Gotham, is a top-tier private hospital funded by the Wayne family and renowned along the East Coast; many wealthy outsiders come to Gotham solely for treatment here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Bruce Wayne himself rarely visits this hospital—even when operating as Batman, including when he previously rescued those children, he went to Gotham Central Hospital, not this one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because the hospital’s honorary director is still named Thomas Wayne, a hospital established by the Waynes during their lifetimes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But today, it was unusually busy: one stretcher after another was carried into the operating rooms, the smell of blood permeated the corridors, and what filled people with confusion and dread was the constant screams and wails echoing from within the operating rooms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A window in the corridor blew open with the wind; a cold gust pierced through the operating room door. Inside, the surgical bed and lights lay overturned on the floor. Bruce gripped the throat of a blood-soaked patient until he gradually lost consciousness from suffocation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce released his grip, stood up, exhaled, and looked at the nurses cowering in the corner. He said: “Has Dr. Brand arrived? Where are the other psychiatrists and nurses? Get them here—prepare sedatives.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the operating room door swung open. The head nurse from psychiatry rushed in, ignoring the scattered equipment, and with a practiced wave of her hand said: “Apply restraints! Prepare diazepam!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Several Ma Lei nurses stepped forward, pinned the patient down, slipped on a restraint gown, strapped him to a stretcher, and carried him out. Watching their retreating backs, Bruce narrowed his eyes and turned to the nurses: “Don’t tell anyone about today’s events. Transfer all other patients to critical care—suspend all surgeries for now…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But… but…” one nurse stepped forward: “Many are bleeding severely—if we don’t stop the bleeding immediately…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce sighed: “Can you perform surgery without coming into contact with them?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The nurses exchanged glances: “It’s nearly impossible—if they keep struggling like this, we can’t suture.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then send them to psychiatry first. Administer diazepam before treatment.” Bruce said, stepping over the debris littering the operating room floor and walking out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t notice that among the huddled nurses behind him, a young nurse with a doll-like face clutched her arm—blood seeped between her fingers; a fresh wound, as if recently scratched, marred her skin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the corridor, he encountered another doctor and asked: “Has Dr. Brand arrived? Have you called Professor Shiler? Knife.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The doctor nodded: “Dr. Brand is already in the consultation room. Professor Shiler’s butler says he’s currently unreachable. I’ll call you the moment we hear anything.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce nodded and hurried toward the consultation room. Inside, he found Brand and several other psychiatrists frowning over patient files. He heard Brand say:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This is abnormal. This isn’t ordinary mania. We’ve reached the maximum dosage for the previous patient, yet the vitals remain erratic…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One doctor suggested: “Could it be a stress response to pain? Their limbs and torsos show varying degrees of injury—some psychiatric disorders heighten sensitivity to pain…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But many have lost excessive blood—and still leap over a meter high? Is that normal?” a younger doctor questioned. “This exceeds any stress response. Such pain shouldn’t completely strip their reason. Don’t they realize such frantic movement could kill them? Knife.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Could it be a unique manifestation of neurogenic convulsions?” an older doctor stroked his chin. “Have you checked for epileptic symptoms?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, I’m certain it’s not epilepsy. Last month I treated a similar case…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce stepped forward: “Gentlemen, any conclusions? The patient just brought into surgery has gone berserk again…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Again? That’s the fourth one! Even if you claim it’s manic psychosis, it shouldn’t be contagious—unless there’s some unknown familial link between them?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I always said it wasn’t schizophrenia. Dissociative identity disorder? No—impossible for so many to break out simultaneously…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brand stared at the analysis reports in silence, as if struck by a thought. Bruce moved to ask him—when another burst of chaos erupted from the corridor:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“God! Stop her! Nina! Nina! Where are you going?… Damn it, she scratched me! It hurts!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nina, are you insane? Come back! That’s a window! You’ll be crushed into pulp if you jump!!!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce sprinted toward the door. As he flung it open—*CRASH*—a medical cart slammed into the opposite wall. His hand instantly went to the batclaw at his waist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He glanced down the corridor and saw a nurse’s silhouette sprinting upward. Bruce chased after her—behind him, Brand followed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Stop her!” Brand shouted. “This isn’t simple psychiatric breakdown! Don’t let her hurt anyone else!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce raced up the stairs, calling out: “What’s happening? Why are they all going mad all at once?! Knife.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The wounds are infected!” Brand’s pace matched Bruce’s exactly. “Anyone scratched goes berserk… Stop her!!!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Bruce ran, he looked upward—and caught a glimpse of the nurse’s shoes flashing above him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce frowned, accelerating. He realized: the young nurse was still wearing high heels, and her skirt was utterly unsuited for running. Yet this deranged nurse ran faster than he did—this was highly abnormal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Realizing he couldn’t catch her, Bruce hurled two batclaws. A scream echoed from above, followed by a heavy thud. Bruce and Brand bounded up three steps at a time, reaching the hospital’s rooftop.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The batclaws struck the nurse’s calf—but she rose instantly, as if feeling no pain. She slammed open the rooftop door and bolted outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce and Brand followed close behind. The nurse turned—her nurse’s cap fell off, her long hair obscuring her grotesque face, her throat emitting short, ragged hisses. Bruce held a batclaw, glanced back, and asked: “You’re certain this isn’t psychiatric?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m certain!” Brand tossed his analysis reports aside. “Whatever you do—hit her as hard as you can. Trust me, it’s for her own good!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No sooner had he spoken than Bruce rolled sideways, evading the charging nurse. He saw—beneath her black hair—her eyes had turned a wild, chaotic gray.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That gray made Bruce pause—then, in the next instant, claws slashed past his ear, nearly grazing his shoulder—when a heavy *THUD* echoed, and the nurse was flung backward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce stepped back, turned—and saw a charred mark on the nurse’s back. Sparks scattered, still smoldering, drifting down to the ground and vanishing into puddles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce instantly turned to Brand. Brand lowered his hand and said: “I say this is a new type of firearm. Would you believe me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A magician?!” Bruce narrowed his eyes at Brand. Brand looked away: “You should’ve known—anyone who comes to Gotham to hide from enemies isn’t ordinary.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce knew now wasn’t the time to press. He turned to re-enter the building—but as he neared the edge, he saw another scene through a window across the street.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Several nurses screamed, smashing chairs against a patient who lunged at them. Seconds later, one nurse’s back bore a fresh wound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She collapsed, gasping, her face pale. At that moment, Bruce looked up—the cool dampness touched his arm. Gotham was raining again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I told you—this isn’t psychiatric. No such psychiatric illness spreads this way.” Brand walked over, flipped the fallen nurse onto her back, and pointed to her arm. “See this wound? If you have any medical sense, you know a normal surface wound shouldn’t look like this…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What is this? A virus?” Bruce immediately thought of one possibility—but Brand shook his head. “I suspect it’s a curse. A curse that drives people mad, bloodthirsty, and immune to pain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he spoke, *CRASH*—the other half of the rooftop door burst open. Two figures lunged at Bruce and Brand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce dodged nimbly. Brand waved his hand—a flash of light appeared meters away, and his body vanished, reappearing there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce studied the two new figures: a man and a woman. The man wore a white coat—likely a hospital doctor. His calf was injured, yet it didn’t hinder his movement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Ma Lei doctor had no long hair—so Bruce clearly saw his eyes. They were gray too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce hesitated—but the next attack left no time to think. He hurled three batclaws. The doctor staggered back—but the new wounds only made him more frenzied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce wasn’t wearing his Batsuit. He knew his current clothes wouldn’t withstand their bites. He turned to Brand: “I need fire support—cover me!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stepped back two paces, pressed his belt, reloaded the batclaws, and prepared to face the Ma Lei doctor again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Gotham’s rain intensified, fogging his vision and making his opponents even more frenzied and agile. Bruce could handle the attacks—but he had to avoid being scratched, making defense difficult.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>*THUD!!!*\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, the Ma Lei doctor froze—then slowly collapsed. In Bruce’s vision appeared first a black umbrella handle, then Shiler’s face behind it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brand, fighting the female nurse nearby, shouted: “That’s your fire support?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s probably your fire support,” Bruce said, retracting his batclaw, looking at Shiler.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Shiler turned, gazing down at the hospital’s lower floors. Above Gotham, the clouds darkened again; the last rays of sunlight vanished into shadow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thick fog surged between the streets. Strange, swaying shadows—like lurching human figures, or monstrous things staggering forth from the mist and rain.\u003C\u002Fp>",1512,"2026-06-20T16:39:22.658Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","03403d9c4f01b1157f3550c544b2baeab5e9d7d9e36260f71c79e7c9d6a0eed6","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-931","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-929",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]