The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 3739 The Perilous Situation of Dark City (2)

Chapter 3739 The Crisis in Dark City (Part Two)

The rain started again. The city was completely dark, save for the dim, yellowish light filtering through the rain from the windows of the distant cathedral's spire. The closer one got to the cathedral, the more corpses appeared on the streets. Many of the bodies exuded the stench of decay, a harbinger of death for others, but for Schiller, a beacon in the darkness.

The time of death he determined by his sense of smell guided him through the streets and alleys. He walked through the darkness, countless hidden dangers trying to grab onto his clothes, but none could even touch his shadow. Schiller's steps were so resolute, as if the carefully crafted darkness had no effect on him whatsoever.

As he walked through a narrow alley, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps, some foul-smelling curses, followed by a barely perceptible smell of blood.

Schiller ducked into the alleyway. The light of torches followed, and a young man in a jacket rushed past him, followed by a group of cult members carrying torches.

Schiller stood at the street corner, watching them rush past. After they left, he casually patted the hem of his trench coat and continued walking towards his destination.

Just as he turned the corner and crossed another street, he suddenly heard a faint noise behind him. He turned around and saw a slender but agile woman standing in the darkness, staring at him.

"Who are you?" the woman asked.

“Schiller,” Schiller replied.

"I'm asking who you work for and what you're doing here."

"I am who I am, and I am here to complete a mission. Are there any other questions?"

Don't you want to ask me who I am?

“Do you think this is the time for all this red tape?” Schiller pulled out his pistol and said, “Speak or go. You have three seconds.”

“I am Lady Shiva, and I come from the Assassin’s Guild. I need to liberate this city from the rule of the Holy Order.”

“Very good,” Schiller commented, then turned and left.

Suddenly, he felt a faint whistling sound beside his ear. He dodged to the side, and the spikes of the brass knuckles were less than an inch away from him.

boom!

The woman dodged quickly, and the bullet pierced her shoulder. The impact propelled her back two steps.

boom!boom!

Two more shots, both hitting his chest. Finding no bullets had pierced his heart, Schiller glanced at her with some disappointment. He decided to cut his losses and quickly left.

Two dark figures appeared silently behind the fallen Ms. Shiva. Ms. Shiva twitched, barely managing to prop herself up with one hand. She cursed and said, "Catch him! Don't let him get into the cathedral so easily!"

After leaving the street, Schiller didn't continue towards the cathedral. Instead, he found a door in a nearby alley and hid inside. It seemed to have been a bakery, but he didn't try to search for anything there. Instead, he went straight to the second floor.

The moment he stepped onto the second floor, he saw a terrified face appear in the darkness. An elderly man with gray hair was huddled in a corner of the corridor, staring in horror at Schiller as he approached.

Schiller glanced at him briefly before turning and heading to another room on the second floor. This seemed to be where the shop owner lived. He pushed open the door and saw a bed. The room was somewhat messy, as if it had been searched. Schiller didn't seem to care much, throwing the blanket aside and lying down on the bed.

A few minutes later, a dull knock sounded at the door. Schiller ignored it and turned over. After sleeping for about half an hour, Schiller got out of bed; it was already noon. The sky showed no sign of dawn, still as dark as night.

Schiller took out the bullets he had pulled from the corpse the day before, carefully wiped them clean with the pillowcase beside him until there wasn't a trace of blood left, and then cautiously put them back in the magazine. Then he took out the knives he had found the day before, stabbed them twice into the pillow, and looked at the clean, sharp wounds with considerable satisfaction.

After rechecking his equipment, he pushed open the door and found that the old man from yesterday was gone.

Just then, a noise came from downstairs. Schiller, who was walking downstairs, paused, turned around, and went back into the house. He opened the window and jumped out. He landed on the second floor, unharmed.

He didn't go back to the bakery entrance, but continued towards the cathedral. After walking through two more streets, he suddenly heard a painful groan coming from a side alley.

Schiller paused for a moment, then quickened his pace, hurrying across the alley. Once he calmed down, he glanced again at the corpses around him, and some fresh blood trickling down the cracks in the floor tiles to his feet.

He continued walking. Suddenly, a dark figure fell to the ground in front of him. Schiller's first instinct was to look up and see a window flicker. He dashed out of the street as fast as he could. By the time he reached the corner, the cathedral was almost within reach.

Many members of the Order in red uniforms were patrolling. Schiller paused briefly to observe their patrol route. Finding no obvious flaws, he rushed directly towards the cathedral's main entrance.

He was so fast that many patrol officers didn't have time to react. Perhaps they never expected someone to rush in so directly, so there weren't many people stationed at the gate, and Schiller simply burst in.

He rushed into the auditorium and ran towards the pulpit, crouching down behind it and using the table in front of him as cover. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Schiller fired five shots, taking down the first three pursuers who rushed in. Sure enough, the others hesitated, tripped by the fallen bodies. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Schiller rushed towards the side door.

If he remembered correctly, the imprisoned Batman should be locked up underground. After rushing into the corridor, Schiller ran towards the back. The garden behind the church was incredibly damp after a night of drizzle. There were two more corpses there, but they were wearing red uniforms and seemed to be their own men.

Schiller's gaze swept across the back garden, and when he saw the cellar door, he rushed toward it. But suddenly, a strong figure in a red cloak descended from the sky.

The man landed and rolled, and before he could even brace himself on one leg, Schiller fired three shots in that direction. Two hit his legs, and one hit his abdomen. The man paused in his ascent. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Schiller bypassed him and reached the top of the cellar door. Sure enough, he saw a lock.

Realizing he couldn't get in immediately, Schiller turned and continued firing at the spot where the strong figure had been. The man had no choice but to roll and hide in the bushes. Only then did Schiller have a chance to glance at the lock on the cellar door.

It wasn't some high-tech gadget, just a simple, large padlock. Schiller pulled out a wire and poked around in the keyhole. Unsurprisingly, he pried the lock open quickly.

Schiller opened the cellar door, threw down a lit flare, and finding nothing amiss, jumped down, picked up the flare, and carried it inside.

The cellar had undergone a complete transformation; it was as if all the city's technology had been gathered here. Various panels and pipes, equipment whose function was unclear, and iron frames of varying heights—it was clearly a high-tech, secret laboratory.

Schiller paid no attention to the device, simply walking inside with the flare in hand. After turning several corners, he arrived at a relatively large space. Several cult members dressed in red quickly spotted Schiller with his flare.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three more shots rang out, and the three men in front fell, while the men behind were tripped up by the corpses. Schiller seized the opportunity to rush forward, stabbing the man in front through the heart with the knives he had found earlier, and then, with his other hand holding the gun, shot down the man behind him as well.

Schiller dug out a few more bullets, but instead of wiping them clean, he grabbed a piece of cloth, wrapped the blood-stained bullets in it, put them in his pocket, and continued walking deeper into the area.

As the light grew brighter ahead, Schiller tossed the burning flare aside. Further on, in a room slightly smaller than the previous hall, a strangely shaped human figure hung from a tall iron frame.

Only the torso remained of the body; the arms and legs were completely gone. Strangely, the head was not attached to the torso, but rather about half a meter above it, connected to the torso by an ugly, pitch-black spine.

The head wasn't entirely intact either; the back half of the skull had been removed and replaced with a glass dome that bulged backward. The brain was clearly visible from the side.

The man was covered in scars, but his once handsome features were still faintly visible, and he looked like most of Bruce Wayne.

"Tsk tsk." Schiller looked him up and down and said, "It's not easy to end up in such a miserable state. No wonder he's called the most miserable Batman."

Hearing the voice, the man opened his eyes. They were cloudy blue eyes, bloodshot in the whites, revealing weariness and numbness. He opened his mouth and asked, "Who are you?"

“Schiller,” Schiller replied.

The other person seemed surprised that Schiller had given a name so directly. He clearly hadn't heard of the name before and didn't know how to respond.

"What about Paul? Did you kill him?" the other person continued to ask.

"It's hard to say. He was shot three times; it shouldn't be fatal, but he won't be able to get up anytime soon. Are you Batman?"

“I used to be. But I was defeated by the Angel of Death, Paul, and imprisoned here by him. He restored my limbs and muscles, but then cruelly cut them off again…”

"I don't have time to listen to your flirting. Answer my question, aren't you Batman now?"

"I don't know," the other person said. "How's it going in the city?"

Schiller didn't answer his question; he simply stood there, lost in thought. He had been pondering the reasons why the other rescuers had failed.

The other rescuers don't know the plot as well as he does, but most of them still come to the cathedral because the building is so conspicuous. They'll encounter the Angel of Death, Paul, fight him, and then find the tortured Batman underground.

So far, there haven't been any difficulties. Schiller estimated that even with some unexpected events along the way, given Arkham Batman's abilities, finishing within an hour would be considered slow. But he still failed.

There are two possibilities: either the mission to "restore order in Gotham" was not completed, or he didn't save Batman at all.

Others might not know, but Schiller knew very well that this broken bat had gone mad during his 30 years of imprisonment and, upon release, wreaked havoc. Could such a person truly still be called Batman?

In the world of battle, missions don't display progress; they only have two states: completed or incomplete. Saving Batman is considered halfway done, but because the other half isn't finished, it's difficult to determine whether this half has actually been successfully completed.

Schiller thought for a long time and concluded that his guess was correct. The guy in front of him probably wasn't Batman, and saving him wouldn't complete the mission. So even if the mission to rebuild Gotham was accomplished, precious time would be wasted, potentially leading to the real Batman being beyond saving and ultimately causing the mission to fail.

So where is the real Batman?