Chapter 955: Shi Ler

Shi Ler stood at the door, frozen for a full two minutes, then turned back inside, rubbed his eyes, turned again—and still saw the sky filled with broccoli. He took a deep breath and thought to himself:

“Gray Mist! Gray Mist! Did you steal more wine again? I told you—crazy wine isn’t to be drunk in excess, or it causes hallucinations!”

“Um… based on the information coming from your optic nerves, what you just saw probably isn’t a hallucination,” Gray Mist said hesitantly.

Shi Ler swallowed hard, stepped back slightly, and said to Gray Mist in his mind: “You’re saying these broccoli are actually appearing in the real world… you’re sure??!!”

“Yes, I’m certain. Symbionts perceive the world differently from humans—we don’t rely on any specific organ to observe it.”

“However, according to the latest analysis from the symbiont factor, there are currently over 1,400 broccoli before you, and the smallest individual is about fourteen times larger than the vegetable broccoli humans consume…”

Shi Ler stepped back another step.

He slammed open his umbrella, pressed his hand to his forehead, and muttered under his breath: “My God, what is happening? Is the world ending? Is Gotham ending?!!”

At that moment, Pamela and Catwoman descended the stairs from the lab building, having just changed clothes. Seeing Shi Ler still waiting by the door, Catwoman walked forward curiously: “Professor Shi Ler, why are you still here? Oh, I get it—the car broke down, right? Don’t worry, I can find you another. I’m sure the owner won’t mind…”

Seeing them come down, Shi Ler felt like he’d spotted a lifeline. He stepped aside to make room for Catwoman and pointed with trembling fingers toward the door: “Quick, help me—am I hallucinating? What the hell are all those green blobs outside?!”

“Green blobs?” Catwoman frowned, leaning toward the door to look. Then she gasped: “Oh my God, why are there so many broccoli out there? It looks like… all the vines turned into broccoli?”

She studied the scene at the door for a moment, then said: “Still, this might actually be a good thing. These broccoli are much larger than the vines—they used to just tangle around the madmen’s feet. Now they’ll trap them completely.”

But Shi Ler stood frozen in shock. He had returned to the top of the Thought Tower, and now spoke in frantic urgency: “Hurry! Someone! Quick! Replace me! My allergy’s flaring up—if you don’t ascend soon, I’m going to pass out!!”

“Super-Ego? Super-Ego? Are you there?” Shi Ler shouted into the air: “Hurry! Find a replacement! I can’t stay on duty even one more minute!!”

“No replacement available,” came Super-Ego’s cold, emotionless voice. “Only you and that other guy can stabilize surface consciousness before ascending. If you want a substitute, go find him.”

*Ding.* The elevator doors opened. Marvel Shi Ler stepped out, rubbing his hands together as he eyed DC Shi Ler. “You’re having an allergic reaction, right? Hey, buddy, you’re in no shape to work. I’ll take over right now—don’t worry, I won’t cause any trouble…”

DC Shi Ler hesitated for less than a second, then marched toward the elevator with grim determination.

Standing in the center of the elevator, just before the doors closed, he pointed his umbrella at Marvel Shi Ler: “I’d rather endure broccoli allergy side effects than put up with the endless accounting chores you found for me.”

With a faint hum of electricity, the elevator doors shut. After DC Shi Ler left, Marvel Shi Ler shrugged: “Not my fault.”

After returning, DC Shi Ler transformed into Gray Mist and rose to the roof of the lab building. The structure wasn’t tall, but it offered a clear view of the entire Gotham University campus.

Just as he’d seen from the door, broccoli had swallowed the entire city. But as Catwoman noted, in a way, this was a good thing—the dense broccoli had trapped the mindless madmen.

Of course, some uninfected people were buried under the broccoli too—but since they still retained their sanity, they could struggle and call for help, and would be rescued quickly.

Those already infected had sharpened claws, capable of tearing human skin—but they were useless against plant stems.

They could scratch the outer skin of the broccoli, but couldn’t chop through an entire floret like an axe. So they flailed helplessly, trapped between one massive broccoli and the next.

These broccoli invading Gotham weren’t the kind you find on dinner plates. First, they were vastly larger—Shi Ler estimated the biggest stood dozens of meters tall, the smallest at least half a meter.

And each broccoli was perfectly formed: the dark, spherical upper part was plump and full, making every one resemble a mushroom cloud. Their varying sizes and heights created an eerie, almost beautiful arrangement.

Along Gotham’s skyline, deep green broccoli rose among the steel jungle, as if the food humans ate had awakened a defiant will—and collectively risen to seek revenge.

But the actual effect wasn’t revenge against humanity—because these broccoli contained none of the common allergens found in nature.

Nor did they possess the distinctive scent of cilantro or celery. Most people disliked broccoli simply because of its taste and texture—not because of any physiological allergy.

Many knew that physiological allergies could cause severe symptoms: itchy skin, difficulty breathing, even shock; severe reactions could be fatal.

But Shi Ler wasn’t physiologically allergic to broccoli—he wouldn’t suffer those symptoms. Even if he did, Gray Mist could forcibly reverse them. His allergy was psychological—and just a bit extreme.

“Gray Mist, take me back to the estate—I need to pack. I can’t stay in Gotham… ah, no, the entire East Coast… fine, I’ll go to Los Angeles… maybe the whole United States…” Shi Ler panted.

Then he froze, muttering to himself: “If Gotham, a coastal city, is overrun by broccoli… won’t countless broccoli seeds flow through its drainage system into the Pacific??!!”

“Oh God, maybe the whole planet is unsafe now!”

“Gray Mist, take me back to the estate—I need to ask Merkel if the Soviet Union has any new lunar plans…”

Shi Ler dissolved into mist, wobbling as he drifted back to the Rodriguez Estate. Half-unconscious, he landed directly before the estate’s main gate and staggered toward the building.

Good news: the estate interior hadn’t been invaded. The parlor and stairs were unchanged. Shi Ler didn’t even notice his butler Merkel was gone—he ran up the stairs in panic and began packing.

As he tossed his usual clothes into the suitcase, he grumbled: “Don’t let me find out who did this…”

Still packing, his mind foggy, he speculated: “Only the Green could turn all plants into broccoli. But we just made a deal—mutually beneficial. He had no reason to do this…”

“Besides, he didn’t know I’m allergic to broccoli. Only the ones who know…” Shi Ler thought of the three figures he’d seen in his room’s memory space. He folded his clothes, shoved them into the suitcase, and snorted: “It’s definitely them.”

“Setting aside the one dressed like Zatanna, that leaves Batman and Constantine.”

“Batman? I held up his thesis for months—so what? I threw it into a vat of chemical dye. Is he really that petty?”

“Constantine? That damn bastard! I just tapped him a few times with my umbrella—so what? I used a cursed soul to frame him. Doesn’t he know how to be forgiving?”

“Cowardly, filthy, taking advantage of a vulnerable man…”

As Shi Ler turned back to his wardrobe to arrange his suit, he suddenly remembered: Where was his butler?

He trusted Merkel’s abilities—but recent strangeness had piled up. He paused, set the clothes aside, and glanced toward the door.

No sign of Merkel in the hallway. That was odd. A butler should greet his master upon arrival. Even if busy, he’d appear within minutes to ask after his employer’s needs. But since Shi Ler entered and began packing, over ten minutes had passed—and Merkel hadn’t shown.

Shi Ler looked at the disheveled wardrobe and suitcase from his angry packing. He sighed, deciding to leave it to a professional.

Shi Ler stepped outside, crossed the hallway, descended the stairs, and entered the parlor. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he saw his butler Merkel, wielding a massive axe, chopping down a tree.

But it wasn’t exactly a tree—he was chopping the enormous broccoli that had replaced the oak tree in the garden’s center.

Before Shi Ler returned, Merkel had watched the entire transformation of the plants into broccoli. He also knew better than anyone how much Shi Ler despised broccoli.

Upon witnessing the anomaly, he’d frantically grabbed every gardening tool he could find and began clearing the garden’s broccoli, fearing his employer would go mad from a severe allergic reaction upon returning.

Most other plants had perished—many crushed by the collapsed awning. Only the oak tree in the courtyard had remained resilient. Thus, its broccoli form was the largest.

Merkel saw that leaving such a massive broccoli would drive Shi Ler insane—so naturally, he intended to cut it down.

Shi Ler, watching Merkel chop, didn’t yet grasp the severity.

He was half-unconscious, unaware that broccoli is herbaceous—using an axe meant for woody trees to cut its stem was like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

Worse, Merkel had undergone professional training and possessed far greater strength than average. Desperate to remove the evidence before Shi Ler returned, he swung the axe several times—leaving a deep gash in the broccoli’s stem.

Merkel stood at a position partially blocked by the broccoli’s trunk—so Shi Ler couldn’t see the wound.

Shi Ler stood by the window, about to call Merkel back—when suddenly, a shadow fell over him.

The towering broccoli, as tall as the original oak, was slowly toppling toward him.

At the critical moment, Shi Ler’s blink saved him. With a thunderous crash, the massive broccoli shattered the parlor’s floor-to-ceiling windows and half the western wing of the estate.

Worse still—the broccoli branch that crashed into the parlor, closest to Shi Ler, was less than ten centimeters from his nose. Man and broccoli stared at each other.

About five minutes later, Batman stood in the Rodriguez Estate’s grand hall, staring at Shi Ler—pale, limp, and utterly broken, a sight he’d never seen before.