[{"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-998":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},2323566,4544,"Chapter 998","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-998",998,"\u003Cp>The capital you possess creates a class divide between you and the people you pity, granting you greater power than they have, and you wish to use that power to take responsibility and create a happy life for them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in truth, the people’s happiness is neither created by capitalists nor requires capitalists to create it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Capitalists create nothing; they merely exploit layer upon layer and continuously drain blood from the people as they strive for happiness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You believe you wield immense power without abusing it, that you exhaust yourself to benefit the people—but in reality, the power you hold is built precisely upon your exploitation of the people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That is why there are no benevolent capitalists in this world; the wealth they use to display kindness is drawn from the veins of the proletariat—including yours, Batman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The vast wealth, high-tech equipment, and all the resources you invest to save the people all originate from the people themselves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller stepped to face Batman; when gray and blue eyes met, it was like a wave crashing against a dam’s wall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller looked at Batman and said: “I told you then that you must commit all your wealth to saving all of humanity, helping them achieve ultimate happiness.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You made this difficult decision and thus felt yourself great, profoundly self-sacrificing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in truth, you are not great, and this is not sacrifice—what you have given is what the people rightfully deserve.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as now, you led the demons to seize the mine, overthrew General Corruptheart’s rule, and became the new master of the mine—gaining greater power—but this power should not belong to you alone; it should belong to every demon who labored and shed blood in this process.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller tilted his head, fixing his gaze on Batman’s eyes: “Your expression tells me you’re not convinced.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You think that without you, they would never have awakened; you think you bled and fought on the battlefield too, even achieving more than they did.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>True, you acted as a guide—and you deserve a reward—but does that reward truly justify seizing the fruits of everyone else’s labor?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller leaned slightly closer, staring into Batman’s blue eyes and said:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I imagine, regarding my conclusion, your mind is now flooded with negative emotions.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then answer me, Batman—do these negative emotions stem from your greed for capital, or your arrogance toward the people?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Let me go!” Batman growled, his lips curling in a rare snarl, baring his teeth like a cornered beast. He repeated: “Let me go, Joker! Or you’re dead!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller stepped back two paces, flashing a brilliant smile: “Did you see that? Did you feel it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman’s forehead veins bulged, his arm muscles swelled, the chain links loosened under his grip—but the next second, he froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gasped heavily, as if exhausted by immense effort, then finally calmed, speaking dazedly: “...Why?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What do you want to ask?” Schiller asked, patient as ever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman said nothing, hanging silently from the stone pillar like the oldest, most defiant cured meat in a butcher’s corner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I think you’ve found your answer,” Schiller’s tone softened, like a true teacher: “You’ve realized why we refuse to discuss this topic with you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s not because you’re currently a capitalist—but because from the beginning, you’ve refused to become proletarian.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You fear this identity,” Schiller assessed. “Perhaps not because of greed for capital, nor arrogance toward the people, but because of old psychological trauma—fear of being powerless to change things.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You don’t want to face again the tragedy of your parents’ deaths, powerless to stop them; you don’t want to feel that helplessness again.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You believe the proletariat are powerless—without knowledge, wealth, weapons, nothing. The more you understand reality’s cruelty, the more you believe they cannot resist... you fear this condition.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman lowered his head, silent. Schiller spoke: “Helplessness often stems from low or diminished internal drive; growth of internal drive requires security.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller sighed: “I really hate saying this—it sounds so outdated, like something from last century—but it fits your situation perfectly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Money, technology, equipment—they cannot give you true security. Capital cannot be your only hope. Capital cannot be anyone’s only hope.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You need care, understanding, trust. Someone must love you, and you must love others.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman closed his eyes, silent. Schiller made no effort to force him to speak. He nodded to the demon standing at the cave entrance; the demon stepped forward, unchaining him. Schiller shrugged: “I’m used to applying fixed measures to my patients to prevent escape—they always run. I don’t know why. Their courage is so small. I follow proper procedures, and the treatment feels fine, doesn’t it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman, fallen to his knees, coughed twice, visibly weak. Schiller’s hands remained in his suit pockets, looking down at him with puzzlement: “See? You always do this. You can’t even endure an hour-long treatment.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t lie there like a corpse. You’re acting like I’m some unprofessional violent doctor—but this is my first truly formal psychological treatment for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ve used nearly every technique I’ve learned. No one else has received this treatment. If you act like you’ve been abused, I’ll burn your file so you can’t mention me in your memoir—and force me to respond in mine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller’s tone was light. Batman hadn’t heard such a tone in years. He remembered the last time Schiller was this relaxed—during his freshman year, when they gathered with Harvey, Gordon, and Victor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They sat around a table, laughing, joking. Back then, Schiller excelled at this dry, ironic humor—more British than ever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These scenes replayed endlessly in Batman’s mind, leaving him more dazed. Seeing his expression, Schiller shook his head and turned away: “Don’t expect me to help you. My fusion isn’t complete. If you don’t want that madman laughing in your head at night, get up and walk yourself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman staggered to his feet, glanced back at the mine’s interior—the chaos had been quelled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two red demons had failed. Mo Lun was no clever opponent. Merkel, though young, was far more experienced—he subdued the demon the instant he drew his dagger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Merkel walked back with the trembling Jiao, stroking his tentacles to soothe him, listening as Jiao recounted Mo Lun and his comrades’ plot to assassinate Batman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Merkel dismissed the plan with a laugh. These miners, trapped daily in the mine, rarely devised any real strategy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No wise decision arises from idle daydreaming. Isolation ensures their schemes appear clumsy and crude. Not even Alfred, battle-hardened, could be fooled—let alone Merkel, who could dismantle them easily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Jiao unharmed, Batman followed Schiller out of the mine. They climbed the mountain path along the slope, returning to General Corruptheart’s castle gate. Outside the door, Schiller turned to Batman: “Why are you following me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The therapy is over. I don’t bill by the hour, but don’t expect any freebies.” Schiller shook his head, smiling politely—like a cashier refusing an impolite customer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Schiller turned toward the castle gate, he heard Batman’s voice behind him: “I want to go inside for a while.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t play dumb. I know you’re not injured. Many tasks still await you…” Schiller paused, then his face lit with sudden realization: “Oh—I almost forgot. General Corruptheart gave me considerable help. So I should inherit his role. As the script dictates, when you storm the demon king’s castle and kill him, you’ll find a letter in his office.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller took a sheet of paper from a nearby demon and said: “This is a personal letter from the Lady Das, wife of the Demon Lord Beelzebub and Queen of this realm, to General Corruptheart.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“General Corruptheart appears to be the Queen’s cousin—or related by some other blood tie. In this letter, Lady Das writes that the newly appointed Imperial Advisor has displaced her in Beelzebub’s favor; the Emperor now distrusts her.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course, here it mentions…” Schiller pointed to the letter: “The Imperial Advisor’s name is Schiller. But that’s not me—it’s one of the many Schillers who escaped from the High Tower.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“According to Lady Das’s intelligence, these Schillers have gone to different demon lords, advising them—and they are the ones who ignited the war in Hell, seemingly to seize control of the High Tower at the battlefield’s center.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller closed the letter: “I won’t read the rest. But clearly, the Queen can’t rely on her cousin—beneath General Corruptheart’s skin, I found too many layers of fat. This general has grown too comfortable. He can’t offer his anxious cousin any military aid.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But he can’t. You can.” Schiller stepped forward, pressed the letter into Batman’s chest, and said: “Now, you must pay for the world’s most professional psychological consultation you’ve just received.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When I was in trouble, those cold, heartless bastards refused to lift a finger for me. They must pay.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I think the rise of that colossal power across the ocean has already shown you how to unleash maximum wartime potential in a short time…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"When I was in trouble, none of those cold-hearted bastards were willing to step forward and share my burden—they must pay for it.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After speaking, Schiller stood staring at Batman. Batman didn’t move. Schiller looked at him: “The mission’s been delivered. You can leave.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Batman remained silent, rooted in place. Schiller sensed he might want to say something, so he stayed still too. They stood like this for over ten minutes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batman now confirmed: the childhood memory he’d seen in the memory space was real. Schiller truly could stare at someone for ten minutes—unchanged since childhood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then closed it. He lowered his head, raised it again—like a puppet performing silent theater.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What do you want to say?” Schiller asked, instinctively: “There are no more clues. Wasn’t I clear enough? Just knock them all down. Let me return home. That’s all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m not asking that,” Batman suddenly said. He fell silent for dozens of seconds, then his gaze settled on Schiller’s shoulder wound—the metal ring through his clavicle still unremoved, his neck and shoulder now a bloody, mangled mess from violent motion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller followed Batman’s gaze, looked down at his clavicle—but his expression was blank. Then Batman’s stiff voice spoke:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I'm not asking about that.\" Batman suddenly spoke, fell silent for dozens of seconds, then fixed his gaze on the wound on Schiller’s shoulder—the metal ring through his clavicle had not been removed, and due to Schiller’s violent movements, the flesh around his neck and shoulder was a bloody mess.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller followed Batman’s gaze down to his clavicle, but looked bewildered—then he heard Batman’s voice, slightly stiff, say:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[To be honest, I’ve been using Huanyuan App to read and keep up with updates—switching sources, multiple voice options, works on Android and iOS.]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...How is your wound?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xieler froze in place.\u003C\u002Fp>",1787,"2026-06-20T16:39:22.658Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","ce4195e3f5a6ea26e08255efc6608c416b17e0e5559f90e49df164b80fcb74ce","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-999","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-997",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]