"I'm back. Saving the world was exhausting."
The moment Allen returned to the Batcave, he headed straight for Bruce's bedside.
Bruce was still weak, and his strength had yet to recover. He needed a day or two of rest.
With his exceptional physique and the top-tier medical equipment available, there was basically nothing seriously wrong with him.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Allen unceremoniously sat on the bed and leaned against Bruce. One hand rested on his shoulder as he said in an old-man tone, "Batsy, take some advice from your big bro. Flowers bloom again after they wither, and she left because you came too fast. Learn to broaden your income and cut your spending."
"..."
Bruce asked weakly, "Allen, you must have discovered something, right?"
"Of course." Allen said proudly, "Who am I? The embodiment of justice, the comedy lead. Even my poop smells fragrant."
He did not forget to add earnestly, "Without me, this world would be finished sooner or later."
Everyone's faces darkened at once.
Without you, this world would probably look a little more normal.
Cough, cough...
Allen cleared his throat, moved to a chair, interlaced his fingers beneath his chin, and said seriously, "In the nest, I found more than just the Owl Judges. There were also Ibis Priests living hidden underground."
"Ibis Priests?"
Bruce shot him a puzzled look.
He had seen what the Owl Judges looked like while trapped in the nest. They all wore masks that concealed their true faces, and their voices had been specially altered.
Therefore, he could not rashly make a move against Gotham's wealthy citizens. Otherwise, he might leave evidence behind and let the other side use public opinion to put him at a disadvantage.
"The Ibis Priests are a humanoid race with horrifying appearances. They are followers of Barbatos."
As he spoke, Allen raised both hands like pincers beside his mouth and described them, "They look like Predators. They have four fangs, two above and two below, in their mouths, except they're nowhere near as good at fighting as Predators."
"Predators?"
Bruce became more confused the more he listened. What kind of nonsense was all this?
"You've never heard of Predators? They're an alien hunter civilization. They specialize in hunting powerful creatures as trials. Their technology is four or five stories high, and they especially love hunting Aliens." Allen grew more animated as he spoke. "You know Aliens, right? First, a Facehugger hatches from an egg. When it finds a living creature, it latches onto its face and injects a parasitic embryo through its mouth. Then, when the Alien matures, it bursts out through the host's chest. It's thrilling as hell."
"Maybe you can find them at Villain Corp now, or go beneath the Antarctic ice sheets and find the pyramid holding the Alien Queen."
Were you reciting a movie script or something?
Bruce and the Five Robins did not believe a single word.
Could you trust anything a lunatic said?
Still, they had heard of Villain Corp. It was one of the world's leading biopharmaceutical companies, far surpassing even Wayne Group.
"Allen, you're getting off topic," Bruce reminded him.
"Back to the point."
Allen continued with great excitement, "So, there was this group of people with more money than they could ever spend. They ran into a bunch of cultists—just to be clear, not the batch we encountered in Silent Hill—who came knocking to sell them an immortality project.
"I had some connections in the Dark Multiverse. The risk was a little high, but the profits were huge. Fortune favors the bold. If you had the guts, then after it succeeded, I'd take seventy percent and you'd take thirty.
"When those people heard it, they thought, this project is reckless enough. I, Wang Duoyu, am investing.
"The project plan was much simpler: lure you, Batsy, into coming into contact with five metals.
"Amber Gold, Serpent's Blood, Promethium, Nth Metal, and Bat-Metal..."
Bruce asked in confusion, "Why me?"
He had neither provoked nor offended anyone, yet metals were being stuffed into his body. Bruce felt both furious and wronged.
"That's a very profound question." Allen thought for a moment, then answered, "Because you're popular. Stories centered around you sell better."
"..."
Allen blinked and asked, "Where was I?"
"Bat-Metal."
"Mm, grilled gluten." Allen went on, "Once you, Batsy, eat the grilled gluten, you become a Time Anchor.
"Azure Winged Bat King Wei Yixiao can then successfully invade our world. He first sends the Dark Knights as an advance force, and the superheroes win after fighting desperately.
"Then the big boss appears, and things get seriously out of hand.
"Fortunately, we find the rice cooker sealing King Piccolo, take out the Tenth Metal inside, defeat the boss, and free the princess Perpetua, who was imprisoned within the Source Wall."
Everyone looked at one another. Apparently, none of them understood.
But they could be sure of one thing.
The problem was serious.
Just as they were processing the information, Allen abruptly rose to his feet, his expression solemn. "Oh no. Things are far worse than we imagined."
Allen stepped forward, grabbed Bruce's shoulders, and warned, "Batsy, you already have three metals in you. You absolutely cannot come into contact with Hawkman's weapons, Doctor Fate's helmet, or Deathstroke's gear. They all contain Nth Metal."
"Why do I feel like your real intention is to make me steal their equipment?"
The targets and items had been laid out with perfect clarity. Bruce could not help suspecting that Allen was speaking in reverse.
"They have it."
Allen bashfully turned his head away.
Why the hell were you blushing?
Bruce asked, "When did I get three metals?"
From beginning to end, he had never even seen these so-called special metals. Yet somehow, he had already come into contact with three of them. The more he thought about it, the creepier it became.
And how did Allen know so much about it?
There were simply too many questions.
"In the nest maze, did you drink from the spring pool?"
At Allen's question, Bruce nodded in admission. He had been trapped in the maze for days without food or water. Seeing a spring pool and taking a drink to quench his thirst had been perfectly normal.
"That was Amber Gold. They deliberately lured you into drinking it."
Allen pointed out again, "There's a pure pool of Serpent's Blood hidden in the underground river beneath the Batcave. The Talons' equipment Dick and Jason brought back may have a layer of Promethium coating on its surface. Doesn't that make three?"
If the Owl Judges had been there, they would surely have cried out in disbelief.
They thought they had only reached the first step, but they had actually already completed the third.
"It's getting late. I'm heading back to the spring."
Allen glanced at the nonexistent watch on his wrist, then adjusted the nonexistent monocle over his right eye. With profound meaning, he said, "Every gift of fate has already had its price secretly marked."
Without fail, he went home on time.
As they watched Allen leave, the Batcave fell silent.
"Dick, show me the Talons' weapons," Bruce instructed.
"Allen said you can't touch them," Dick said hesitantly.
"You believe what a lunatic says?"
"..."
Bruce examined the exquisitely crafted battle blade but found nothing unusual. He then ordered, "Dig downward beneath the Batcave. See whether there really is Serpent's Blood."
Reality often followed its original course.
In the original story, Bruce disregarded the Justice League's attempts to stop him and stubbornly researched the five special metals, trying to find a solution to Barbatos's invasion of reality. In doing so, he ended up bringing about the disaster.
To put it simply.
Bruce's rebellious streak ran from the back of his neck all the way down to the tip of his tailbone. He created problems while solving them.
It was a midlife rebellion.
Before you continue