9. Withered and Rotten

Pfft!

Chen Tao spat his coffee all over the screen, his head smacking against the car's ceiling.

He realized a terrible and horrifying fact: this was the real world, and Bane wouldn't obediently stay in his lair like a game boss, waiting for the hero to grind gear, level up, gather companions, and finally come knocking.

If the transmigrator Chen Tao had changed Batman's behavior and methods, then Bane making corresponding adjustments was only natural.

As the mastermind behind the Arkham mass breakout, Bane's plan was essentially to use those escaped lunatics to exhaust Batman to the point of collapse, then strike while he was rested. But with Chen Tao's transmigration, the "tire-out-Batman" strategy had gone bankrupt.

Bruce Wayne's endless compulsion to save the innocent had weighed him down, so even though he saw through Bane's plan, he still had to waste his energy dealing with all kinds of madmen.

And Chen Tao?

Chen Tao simply didn't give a damn about a bunch of lunatics throwing a party in his city.

Ring-ring-ring!

An alarm blared inside a Gotham bank.

A crowd of people screamed and fled through the entrance, with the Joker and his henchmen following close behind, lugging bags stuffed with cash.

Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime spread his arms wide at the doorway, cackling.

"Hahaha! Come on, Bats! Party time!"

Nothing.

"Batman? Batman?"

The street was empty, not even a police car in sight.

A gust of wind blew a flyer onto the Joker's face. It read: Cast your sacred vote for Mayor Carlo!

The Joker rubbed his chin.

"Hey... guys, I just had an idea. Hah, hahahaha, HAHAHAHAHA!"

The scene cut back to Chen Tao.

Someone as smart as Bane couldn't possibly ignore the changes in Batman and the sudden appearance of mercenaries in the city.

Maybe Bane didn't even know if these mercenaries were friend or foe. Maybe Bane had guessed something through instinct. But no matter what, any unstable factor interfering between him and Batman could simply be eliminated with brute force.

That was right. This was Bane's modus operandi. The simpler and cruder, the more effective.

The highest-level conflicts were often resolved in the simplest ways. Always trying to pull off fancy tricks would only end up like Killer Croc.

So now the plan had changed.

No more "wait for Batman to tire out, then kill him."

Instead:

"We charge in now, kill the mercenaries first, then kill Batman."

Holy shit!

Wasn't the villain supposed to let the protagonist develop before finishing him off?

Calm down. Calm down.

Chen Tao thought silently.

Bane's decision was more decisive than he had anticipated, but he still had one piece of misinformation: he believed Batman was still strong.

And that meant Bane wouldn't rashly launch a final battle until he confirmed the elimination of any interference that might put him in a [surrounded] state.

In other words, if Deathshot and the others could counter-kill Ba...

Bang!

Then Chen Tao watched as Killer Croc's skull was smashed into the ground by Bane.

Chen Tao immediately grabbed the microphone:

"Hang in there! Just don't die!"

"Fuck!"

Cold sweat broke out on Deathshot's forehead.

The two submachine guns in his hands and the portable rifles mounted on his arm guards—four gun barrels in total—wove a dense web of firepower ahead of him.

Deathshot was confident that with his control, not even a fly could get through.

But now a miracle was happening right before his eyes—it was Bane!

Spin, leap—that muscle-bound freak danced through the hail of bullets like a butterfly through flowers!

Boom!

Deathshot whipped out an anti-tank rocket launcher, but such a bulky weapon at this close range couldn't threaten the agile Bane.

"Damn it, if I had..."

His eyes bulged as he could only watch Bane close in on him fast.

"HELP!"

Clang!

Beneath Bane's mask, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Cheshire Cat's slash pierced his skin. The catlike woman's lithe body erupted with monstrous strength far beyond human limits—a blow that could split real steel, yet it only grazed Bane, who had been injected with Titan Venom.

One punch. Cheshire Cat's blade shattered like paper, crumbling inch by inch. Bane spread his fingers and sent her, arms crossed in defense, flying backward like a meteor, crashing through a cluster of buildings.

"Damn it!"

Deathshot's peripheral vision swept over his teammates.

Cheshire Cat lay somewhere in the rubble, her fate unknown. Killer Croc was sprawled on the ground. And Tattooed Man...

Tattooed Man stood off to the side, arms crossed, casually watching his teammates fight while shaking his head. "Ah, that's not how you do it."

Bastard!

Deathshot turned and shouted to his teammates, "Fall back, we can't—"

"Really? I don't believe it!"

Deathshot nearly choked on his own breath.

Slipknot charged in.

He darted past the retreating Deathshot, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, his white teeth and Mexican-style braids flying through the air.

In an instant, he hurled a dozen lassos, wrapping Bane up like a spider's cocoon. He grinned and laughed loudly:

"You useless trash, leave it to me! See? No problem!"

"Don't get cocky, watch out!!!"

But Deathshot's warning came too late.

Idiot! Why didn't he think—if Bane could dodge his bullets, how could he fail to evade these lassos?

The next second, Bane tore through the chemically reinforced ropes like straw, then grabbed the line. Before Slipknot could react, his body was yanked helplessly toward Bane, bouncing and slamming against the ground like a yo-yo.

Deathshot fired nonstop, but it was useless. He couldn't believe Bane could dodge his bullets while simultaneously beating Slipknot, moving as nimbly as a skating fire-wielding youth king.

Tattooed Man said, "If there were blades down there, he'd be dead already!"

"Shut your damn mouth!"

Slipknot, furious, released his lasso and, with dizzying speed, locked Bane in a grappling technique.

His name was Slipknot, and his fighting style was just like his lasso—suffocating and lethal.

"I don't believe it. We're all human, unless you—"

He heard Deathshot shouting "Don't do it" from afar, but he had no time to heed others' opinions.

He stared at Bane. The man looked dull, as if he hadn't reacted at all. A smirk tugged at Slipknot's lips.

The next second, Bane grabbed his hand and tore his body apart like straw, as effortlessly as he had snapped the lasso moments before.

Bane—specializing in shutting down all flashy tricks.

"Aaaaaaahhhhh!"

Slipknot screamed in agony, then quickly fell silent.

Squelch!

Muscle and bone were almost identical to rope fibers—the only difference was that when they snapped, they spurted crimson fountains. Bane peeled the mangled mess of Slipknot off himself, wringing him dry like a rag.

Tattooed Man kept blathering nearby: "Whoa! He really died!"

Deathshot was left speechless with frustration.

"Don't linger. Withdraw now..."

He heard the employer's order through the earpiece, but Killer Croc in the distance had completely lost his mind.

He scrambled up from the ground, roaring wildly as he lunged at Bane.

...But his opening was too wide, and he was in poor condition.

Bane grabbed his arm and snapped it like a twig. Killer Croc's howl of agony shook the heavens.

"Bane!"

But Killer Croc didn't retreat like before.

His eyes turned red. No—not just his irises. His entire pupils, the whites of his eyes, all blazed a bloody crimson!

"Roar!"

He let out an inhuman beastly cry. Deathshot could almost swear his facial features grew longer, more... crocodilian!

Killer Croc had grown stronger!

Killer Croc was enraged!

Killer Croc had awakened his latent power!

His muscles bulged and swelled as he charged at Bane like a runaway train!

Then he flew back at an even faster speed.

"That's impossible!"

Killer Croc let out a defiant sound: "You—"

Before he could finish his words, Bane's fist delivered a physical silence to his face.

"Enough! How dare you—"

Bane grabbed Killer Croc by the ankle with his bare hand, swung him in a full circle through the air, and slammed him violently into the ground. Once, twice—like swinging a plastic hammer in a whack-a-mole game.

"But I'm Kil—"

Bam!

"—ler—"

Bam!

"—Croc—"

Bam!

Killer Croc lay sprawled on his back, limbs splayed out like a starfish, his pair of crystalline vertical-pupil eyes gradually losing their luster.

"Pest."

Bane's face showed a cold, murderous intent. He was growing tired of Killer Croc's repetitive sit-ups, like Luffy on loop.

So he cranked the venom input up another notch. With the venom gurgling in, his muscles swelled like an inflating balloon, turning him into a nearly three-meter-tall little monster.

Deathshot raised his gun barrel.

"Get Killer Croc out of here, now!" The employer's voice was still droning in his ear.

"I know, shut up!"

Deathshot gritted his teeth, then pulled the trigger. Flames spewed forth, unleashing a metal storm upon Bane that could shred an ordinary man to pieces—and this time, Bane didn't even dodge.

Deathshot couldn't help but feel a surge of joy.

Bang bang bang bang bang!

Four gun muzzles fired in unison. Dozens of bullets exploded across Bane's chest in a matter of seconds. Deathshot saw white smoke from the high-temperature impacts rising at the bullet's landing points... and then—

A white-red depression formed on the skin, with faint traces of blood seeping out.

"Fuck!"

Deathshot cursed loudly: "Is this even human?!"

He was already thinking of retreating.

But just then, he saw the Tattooed Man step in front of them:

"You useless pieces of shit, get out of the way. The Tattooed Man will handle everything!"

Deathshot's face twisted into a strange expression.