Batman possess top-tier intelligence, comparable to DC's.
Bruce Wayne's mind raced faster than a car engine, and by the time he realized what information his intelligence had deciphered, it was too late—by the time he no longer wanted to believe in his own intellect.
Gotham's daytime wasn't exactly dark, yet it still couldn't illuminate the ashen face of the Gotham Weirdo Freak. The main reason was the continued, clumsy voice of Ian Kent coming through the communicator in his hand.
"Brother Thomas is just too enthusiastic! Even though he didn't drink any fake alcohol, he insisted on making me swear brotherhood with him. I postponed it three times because of you, Uncle Bruce, but Brother Thomas made such a fuss, throwing a tantrum, that I really had no choice but to accept Thomas absurd request and become sworn brothers with him."
"To be honest, it feels a bit awkward for me to call Uncle Bruce ' Bruce's nephew.'" The emotionally intelligent Ian noticed that Bruce's mood was off.
So he began to express his intentions to Bruce, stating that he was open to respecting seniority and that calling Uncle Bruce" would not prevent Bruce from calling him "uncle."
This is what is meant by the tolerance and concession of elders.
Bruce's face turned ashen, his fingers tightening on the armrests of his wheelchair, the high-grade carbon fiber groaning under the strain.
"I don't want to know what you're talking about." Batman's voice wasn't just low; it was laced with a gritted teeth. He truly wished he didn't know the truth about his father being in Hell.
However.
It was all too late.
Batman intelligence had long ago helped him understand everything; his brain, like Ian's, had its own thoughts, even if those thoughts were not accepted or acknowledged by the original body.
"I'm serious, Thomas is so enthusiastic, he even said he'd give Gotham to me." Ian was talking non-stop, and every word he said contained at least a little bit of the truth.
The more Bruce Wayne listened, the more his head throbbed, and the emergency brake lever on his wheelchair snapped off. His breathing became heavy, while Ian continued his incessant chatter on the other end of the communicator.
Each word was like a pacemaker, slowly squeezing Bruce Wayne's heart. Every word Ian possessed a terrifying lethality far exceeding that of the Joker. At this moment, Bruce Wayne realized that the Joker he was dealing with in Gotham might just be the uncolored Joker in a deck of cards.
The real "King" is in Metropolis! Bruce's finger hovered above the button to end communication, his knuckles white from the force. Three seconds later, he chose a more direct method—the entire communicator was smashed to the ground, shattering into pieces amidst the cries of the severely injured criminal who exclaimed that Batman didn't know how extravagant and wasteful he was.
"Ding ding ding~"
Batman's spare phone rang. It was a text message from Ian, who wanted to prove his honesty and truthfulness. The message contained a photo and video that could be considered irrefutable evidence.
It was a photo of Thomas Wayne and Ian with their arms around each other, and a ten-second video played through an earpiece, allowing you to relive your dad's familiar voice.
" Bruce, my child, you should listen to your Uncle Ian more often, okay?" A hand rested on Thomas Wayne's shoulder.
He was smiling at Bruce Wayne off-camera.
Batman's gaze was fixed on the figure in the video, his fingers gripping the armrests of his wheelchair so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the force. The Thomas Wayne in the video was so lifelike, even the smile lines at the corners of his eyes were exactly the same—a relaxed smile that had never appeared in his childhood photo album.
The King of Gotham's expression and inner turmoil were complex, a mixture of joy at seeing his family again and unease and fear. His gaze was involuntarily drawn to the hand on Thomas Wayne's shoulder—just as Ian had predicted, Batman's uncontrollable intelligence had begun to analyze the situation.
Bruce Wayne sensed that even if his father hadn't blinked, he was definitely being threatened, Thomas probably needed to befriend Ian for some reason.
This was what truly unsettled Bruce Wayne, something that probably kept him up all night even after taking ten Sleeping Pill. He knew all too well that no one who needed Ian's help could escape being taken advantage of by Ian.
This is even more terrifying Ian actually enjoying blackmailing others; there's no solution.
" Clark Kent!"
It's unclear why he was silently chanting Superman's name in his heart. To prevent Ian's scheme from succeeding, even though Bruce Wayne's face was ashen and his hands were trembling with anger, he still didn't reply to Ian, because he knew that was exactly what Ian wanted.
"Crackling~"
The Bat Mutant simply used his Batman hands and Batman -like strength to crush his spare phone into pieces. The phone twisted and deformed in his palm, the screen shattered, sparks flew from the circuit board, and it eventually turned into a pile of scrap metal. At that moment, Bruce Wayne secretly resolved to stop Ian from ever trying to meet him again.
The Batman wisdom he was reluctant to use was still telling him the truth he didn't want to accept—that the devil always had a trick up his sleeve, one that could actually make him call Ian" Uncle."
Bruce Wayne felt his Hell was about to descend. He didn't move or speak. In the alleyways of the street, only the low hum of the wheelchair's engine could be heard.
However.
The criminal's voice broke the silence. " Batman, if you don't want your phone, you can give it to me. I'll put it on [ Zhuan Yu ] (a secondhand marketplace) of Ian's Greatest Tech Company for recycling. The secondhand price is much higher than your company's recycling price. On-site payment, privacy wipe, hassle-free and convenient. We buy smart digital products, gold, and luxury items at high prices."
The maximum recyclable price is 1280 yuan.
"Limited-time flash sale, up to 200 yuan off on top of the promotion, official verification, buy and sell with more confidence." Hugo Strange lay on the ground, earnestly persuading them.
Even having his legs crushed couldn't stop his concern for Batman. Of course, this was definitely a case of bringing up a sore spot, and Batman reacted as if his sensitive skin had been touched.
"Creak--creak--creak Bruce Wayne remained silent, only slowly turning his wheelchair, once again aiming at one of his old adversaries on the ground."
"Crunch--Crunch--Crunch--"
The wheel rolled over Hugo Strange's legs again and again, the sound of bones shattering echoing through the alley. He was essentially giving Hugo Strange a free upgrade to a comminuted fracture package.
no way.
Dealing with an old adversary is always more violent than dealing with a rookie criminal in Gotham, since old adversaries don't have rookie protection, and Batman knows that Hugo Strange can always fix his own legs.
"Oh, Batman, this silent rage is perhaps the reason I can never truly replace you." Hugo Strange is a psychologist at Arkham Asylum, obsessed with studying Batman, and adept at manipulating others to achieve his own ends. He has impersonated Batman multiple times to satisfy his desires.
so.
His current idol is Ian Kent, the boy whose true identity he also uncovered, and who realized how successful Kent was at portraying Batman.
now.
Hugo Strange wanted to manipulate Batman's psyche, and he succeeded in having Batman crush his legs. Afterward, he began to exert psychological influence on Batman.
"Look, look, when we were all frustrated, we were no different—now, I'm just like you. I'm going to get myself a wheelchair when I get back." Yes, that's why he wants to lose both his legs too, because Batman is currently in a wheelchair.
"360 mph? You're too conservative. I can do better than you!" Hugo Strange looked at his broken legs with satisfaction. He was already using his [ Gotham General High IQ ] to build a blueprint for a wheelchair. He felt that he was one step closer to surpassing Batman.
"Shut up!"
Bruce Wayne was already used to Gotham's various villains, and he had even been through Ian's ordeal, so this "psychological attack" from his old rival didn't really have much of an impact on Batman.
The person on Earth most skilled in psychological attacks is undoubtedly that weird boy, followed by the Joker. Having silently ranked them in his mind, Bruce Wayne knocked out his persistent opponent with a single punch. After sending Hugo Strange back to where he belonged, he also began frantically trying to distract himself.
no way.
Bruce Wayne didn't want his Batman- Intelligence to start doing unnecessary work again after he had a moment's peace, so he "drove" his throne wheelchair and went on a crazy rampage in Gotham in broad daylight.
This is absolutely unprecedented.
Many villains have been thrown off balance by Batman's unconventional schedule.
Screams echoed across Gotham Pier.
This day.
A terrifying legend about a " Wheelchair Batman " began to emerge. Some said that Batman no longer used the Batmobile, but instead roamed the daytime in a wheelchair capable of crushing bones.
This legend quickly spread through black markets, bars, and slums, becoming a new symbol of fear. Meanwhile, new Gotham stories began to circulate in Blackgate Penitentiary.
legend.
Batman, in his electric wheelchair, would repeatedly run over criminals until they could recite the entire history of Gotham City and curse Superman's entire family as monsters a hundred times. Because Batman was temporarily unwilling to use his Batman intelligence, he didn't realize that the photograph was just the beginning.
His decision to crush all his spare phones instead of checking the text messages caused him to miss the opportunity to prevent an even bigger "crisis"—a revolution in film and television was brewing on the internet.
A documentary about [ The Fall of the King ] is being uploaded to the [Documentary Section] of the [ Superhero Popularity Center ], and the distribution rights were immediately snapped up by a user named [I Want to Be Richer Than Bruce Wayne ] for 300 million US dollars. It seems Green Arrow really enjoys being active online when he has nothing better to do.
The revamped [ Superhero Popularity Center ] now features a film and television channel, with three categories for users to upload their own videos: [ District D ], [Domestic Content Section], and [Documentary Section].
The review process for the [Domestic Zone] is the most demanding, as it is a legitimate website. However, ever since the fall of Gates of Heaven, a user named [ Batman Love Me Once More ] has been uploading ten million illegal fan-made videos of " The Tragic and Beautiful Love of Batman " every day, suggesting that the power of some Archangel has been misused.
certainly.
Ian was unaware of this; he only discovered that the Black Box couldn't track the user's IP address, and the account couldn't be banned either, so he had met a worthy opponent.
After fiddling with his phone for a bit, Ian continued his meeting. The fun of being a boss lies in holding meetings; what kind of boss are you if you don't hold meetings?
Putting aside the fact that his employees love working 24/7, he's already much better than most bosses. At least he doesn't hold meetings during employees' off-hours; he only uses their working hours to repeat things one by one. The fact that the Angels love working 24/7 really has little to do with Ian.
They always felt that working a little longer would earn them more Angels Points. Ian had advised them to rest for at least half an hour, but the Angels ' reactions made Ian want to name Angels Xiangzi No. 1, Xiangzi No. 2, Xiangzi No. 3— the Angels really still had a long way to go in experiencing life.
Inside the New Heaven Technology Factory.
Ian's PUA session resembled a cult performance. Behind him was a huge holographic screen scrolling through the words "Strive! Fight! Persevere!"
The words "Beyond!" are accompanied by background music that is an AI-remixed version of the Destiny No. 5, with the rhythm deliberately lengthened and each drumbeat as heavy as a heartbeat.
Ian picked up the microphone again.
His voice was deep and powerful.
" Angels!"
He spoke.
The sound instantly penetrated the entire factory.
Who are you?!
There was no answer, only silent waiting.
"I'm asking you—who are you?!"
Ian's voice suddenly rose, almost roaring. This time, thousands of Angels responded in unison, "We are the light of the New Heaven!"
The Angels suppressed their shame and shouted as Ian had asked. They had definitely grown, and in any case, they would be much thicker-skinned after leaving the factory.
"No! You are not light, you are just Angels fallen to earth!" Ian waved his hand abruptly, but instead of following the expected pattern, he turned around and pressed a button on the remote control. The holographic screen instantly switched to a series of tired human faces—programmers, cleaners, food delivery riders, and construction workers.
"Look at the products you have! The quality has improved, but the production speed is still not enough. I've swallowed my pride and relied on the support of the younger generation to open up the market for your products."
"And the result? You've let down my efforts and sacrifices, you've let down New Heaven."
"I've heard some people are starting to slack off, thinking the work is too hard. But compare yourselves to them, are you really working that hard? You don't have to be exposed to the scorching sun, you have air conditioning while you work, there are premium brand-name snacks nearing their expiration date in the rest area, and you're even drinking mineral water that I bottled for you from my own dimension, free of nuclear radiation."
"Isn't this far more fortunate than most humans? Angels, you can't only love your work when you have Divine Power! Look at your hands! That's not light, that's responsibility! That's a mission! That's the ultimate compassion for humanity! Every microwave oven you make means one more poor person can have one."
"And the Ministry of Science and Technology over there, although they don't have production equipment or raw materials for the time being, that's not a big problem. Humanity has gone from eating raw meat to technological prosperity, so what's so difficult about you, as Angels, great Angels, making a few F-35s out of thin air? I promised my grandfather I'd deliver ten F-35s to him by the end of the year!"
"If you can't make it, how will my grandfather get kickbacks? If my grandfather can't get kickbacks, how will I get the rebates he gives me? America's future—no, I just finished my history class today, I should say the future of the Earth—depends on these ten F-35s. Listen to me, after you finish making the nuclear reactor, come and make these F-35s."
"I know your Divine Power has recovered a tiny bit. Yes, I have spies everywhere in the factory. You probably can't believe how quickly you betrayed your own people."
"Now I understand why humans also possess these admirable virtues that capitalists find quite appealing." Ian offered a few words of encouragement after his swift and decisive action.
"We want every product to be a gift from God! Every mobile phone to carry the will of Angels! Every pair of headphones to play Heaven hymns!"
"Striving is not a choice, it's destiny!"
"Striving is not just a slogan, it's a part of our very being!"
"Persistence is not a virtue, it's an instinct!"
"Effort is not a virtue, it is existence itself!"
"From this day forward, we have only one goal—to have New Heaven Tech products used in every corner of the world, in every family, and in every soul!"
"This is how you show your love for humanity! God is watching us!" Ian said sincerely, prompting everyone to recite the company slogan once more.
He ignited the emotions within all five hundred Angels.
"If you don't work hard today, Lucifer will laugh at you to your face tomorrow!" This is a real slogan. After all, for an excellent company, a slogan is definitely not just empty talk.
Lucifer was happy to take on this part-time job.
Lucifer-
Michael stood at the very end of the Angels formation, a pure white halo flowing between his palms, appearing extremely restrained. This Archangel lowered his eyes, seemingly submissive, but his knuckles were clenched tightly.
The fingernails were almost embedded in the palm.
Ian's inflammatory speech still echoed in his ears, each "service upgrade" slogan like a thorn piercing his dignity as Archangel. He glanced at the brainwashed " White Angel anchors" in front of him—their faces beaming with fanatical smiles, vying to show how hard they would work.
This situation distressed Michael. As a superior race, the Angels were actually doing such things; he would never have even considered such a scene in the past.
However.
Fallen to the mortal world.
Everything has changed.
Even he could only passively accept reality. Michael roared inwardly. He had once commanded the heavenly army, yet now he was reduced to a salesman for this technological cult? No, he would fight back. He would climb to the top within Ian's rules, using even more extreme methods—not through Divine Power,
Instead, it relies on calculation.
"Bottom-of-the-line performance? Absolutely not!"
Michael wanted to prove himself, that even without Divine Power, he was still the most outstanding Angels. He couldn't help it; he could clearly sense that Ian truly possessed a God aura.
It's true that the other person said he had tea with God in the morning—he's never had tea with God in his life. Perhaps his current experience is God's way of testing the Angels.
Michael pondered in his heart, having already figured out how to increase his fame. A domineering CEO? No! As the most powerful Angels in Heaven, he had a better plan!
Thinking this way.
Michael was full of confidence. Just as Ian's speech was coming to an end, an Angels strode forward, his face plastered with a fawning smile that he had only recently learned.
"The first batch of stock data for the Gratitude Series' home appliances, made by the greatest esteemed Ian under God, is out! Walmart's shelves were emptied in almost three seconds!"
"Your strategy of giving away eggs with appliance purchases is really clever." The sales Angels was holding a tablet computer, which Ian took from her. On the screen, housewives were frantically grabbing microwave ovens with his smiling face printed on them in a supermarket. One old lady even knocked over a shopping cart with her cane.
"Well done!"
Ian snapped his fingers.
The sales department's Angels all received the [Little Red Flower] medal reward—which can be used to exchange for points. However, the Angels ' most direct feeling was that their glory seemed to be recovering faster.
"What products are currently on sale?" Ian had created many groundbreaking designs that were ahead of their time, so he wanted to know how much of his wisdom had truly resonated with the world.
Upon hearing this, Angels sales manager cleared his throat, "The feedback on the first batch of Gratitude brand microwave ovens has been very positive. Just give us a 30 yuan compliment..."
The high-power version that can start in seconds is the best-selling home appliance.
"Secondly, there are Loyalty Bracelet, also known as new-era children's watches, which have functions such as location tracking, calls, and homework reminders. But every night at 9 pm,
It will automatically play Ian's bedtime story.
"And there's the heated sofa with a 500-word praise letter written on the armrest. I see that the furniture stores are doing a pretty good job with that. It could definitely be used in new energy vehicles. Combined with the solution you mentioned earlier where devout believers can floor the accelerator, it should attract quite a few high-horsepower sports car buyers for you."
Angels sales manager's report was very detailed, Ian started mimicking the Dragon King's crooked smile again.
"I only sell a microwave for ten dollars, what can other companies do to compete with me?" He felt his smile wasn't wicked enough, so he manually tugged at the corner of his mouth.
That pulling the mouth all the way to the base of the ear is really enough to Dragon King.
" My Salvific Angel angel, I also have a new product proposal." In Ian's opinion, the Angels from the creative department wasn't particularly useful.
But they did give Ian a little surprise.
All I saw was...
The Angels somewhat clumsily pulled out their product design.
It's a heated flush toilet. Every time the user says "thank you Ian me a smooth experience," the seat heats up by one degree. You also need to thank Ian for making your bottom clean when you wash it.
This is truly a case of the student surpassing the master. Ian doesn't particularly like the Divine Power gained in this kind of atmosphere, but it's not entirely out of the question to try releasing a niche product.
"Let's focus on new energy vehicles next. I found the real new energy source last night. You guys design the in-car navigation system first, and I hope it will guide every car owner in the right direction."
"By the way, regarding the chicken farm, I also want people all over the world to be able to eat real one-dollar fried chicken. You guys need to speed up your research on how to modify it into [ Pious Chicken ]."
"Make good use of the little bit of divine Divine Power you've regained!" After giving instructions on production, Ian remembered his promise to God and hurriedly left the factory.
The remaining Angels busily resumed production. Black Angel, White Angel —anyone who worked was a good Angels. Even Michael returned to his livestream.
"Family! The microwave oven at the New Heaven Factory is ten dollars! Can you hear me? Ten dollars! Add one dollar, and while your microwave is running, you can hear us singing for you!"
"Limited to 10,000 units, getting one is a true reward!"
"Now I want to recommend this praise sofa. Just sincerely praise the company's boss for thirty seconds, and it will activate the massage chair mode!"
True comfort is the reward of faith!
"No, I'm really not a shill. I'm just recommending this product to my family. Order now and receive a signed photobook as a gift!"
Live-streaming e-commerce has arrived in the world.
Led by Ian.
Starring Angels.
Their outstanding looks make them a natural fit for this line of work.
Michael listened to the commotion in the surrounding live streams and sneered. He was determined to join this race because his Archangel wisdom had led him to discover a bug in the human world.
"Family, I have something to tell you—" He turned on the Mike, his voice clear and firm, but at the last moment, it suddenly softened.
Actually, I'm a girl.
Michael used his limited Divine Power to confirm his gender in the real world. He had already investigated and found that the female streamers who skirted the edge of the rules received the most donations and support.
now.
He invested his Divine Power and was determined to become a leader and reap truly greater rewards. He possessed a perfect face, even more beautiful than a stunning beauty, but using that face to become a domineering CEO was an utterly foolish idea. He should use this asset to cross-dress as a female anchor to truly grasp the essence of humanity!
"Don't panic, everyone. Really, really, I have a big bulge here. How could I possibly be a man dressed as a woman?" It's clear that Michael has indeed lived a second life.
Mikael has officially launched.
Walmart, Carrefour, Sam's Club.
Crowds surged like a tide in front of the shelves of major supermarkets.
"Mommy! That TV screen is so clear! I can even see people's pores!" A little girl in a faded coat tugged at her mother's clothes, her face flushed red.
"Shall we buy that one?"
The girl looked at her mother pleadingly.
"A special price of $99?"
The mother stared at the price tag in disbelief, her fingers trembling slightly. The old television had broken three years ago, and they had been listening to the news on a radio given to them by a neighbor.
High taxes, six children, three jobs a day, and various insurance expenses have already exhausted this family, making it difficult to even hope for any spare money in this day and age.
The eldest daughter even had to work part-time while at school.
Fortunately, there are kind-hearted rich kids at the middle school offering low-interest lunch bags, so the middle school children aren't malnourished. This mother had wanted a new TV for a long time.
However.
The reality is that even with hard work, you can't afford to support your family. Who would have thought that a new 4K high-definition TV could be had for just $99?
If you don't have enough money, you can even use the manufacturer's "Praise Loan"!
"Okay! We'll buy one! And a microwave, an electric kettle... oh, and even Grateful brand sanitary napkins!" She finally had the confidence to respond to her youngest daughter's cravings.
"Honey, let's go check out." Like most consumers, this housewife felt it was unreal to get high-quality goods at a low price when she was short of money.
It was like pizza falling from the sky.
Long lines formed at the checkout counters, and everyone's shopping carts were piled high with gleaming "New Heaven Made" products—washing machines that could play hymns and smart rice cookers that could say " Ian bless you." As long as the discounts were good enough, these people were not averse to turning on their devices to listen to speeches and praise a stranger.
Not to mention there were free eggs to be won.
People all over the world are the same.
It's worth noting that eggs, an everyday commodity, are a rare commodity in America for several months each year.
"This price is practically free!" A college student excitedly held up his newly purchased " Loyalty Brand " brand laptop. "The specs are even better than the flagship model, and it's only 199!"
His friend was engrossed in studying the instruction manual.
"I have to write a 100-word praise diary every day and save it on my desktop... but it doesn't matter!" He grinned. "Anyway, the thesis is just made up, so what's a few more compliments?"
Young people are more accepting of it. In the dilapidated apartment, a little girl and her mother carefully carried the new television onto the coffee table. The moment the switch was pressed, the screen lit up with a soft golden light.
[Please state the activation code: Thank you for Ian kindness, Lord Ian]
The mother cleared her throat. "Thank you... for your kindness, Lord Ian?"
"Ding! Authentication successful!"
Suddenly, the TV started playing cheerful music, and an audio message announced today's special offer: watch " Ian's Wisdom Lecture " for ten minutes and enjoy a free one-day premium channel membership.
"We have a new TV! And we can watch pay-TV cartoons!"
The little girl cheered and ran into her mother's arms.
The mother stroked her daughter's soft hair, her eyes welling up with tears. She didn't know who Ian was, but at that moment, she was genuinely grateful to this stranger.
On the other side.
Retired teacher Robert was looking at his newly bought " Pious Brand " smart air conditioner remote control with a puzzled expression. He squinted at his presbyopia, unable to find the temperature adjustment button.
"Fine, I'll try customer service..."
He dialed the 24-hour hotline listed in the instruction manual. The retired teacher had lived in this area for many years, and he expected to wait half an hour, but the call was answered almost instantly.
Moreover, the man opposite them wasn't speaking with an Indian accent, but rather a man speaking with an Indian accent who was pretending to be a woman.
"Hello~ This is New Heaven, Ian's Greatest Technology, Customer Service Xiao Nuan is at your service~" A sweet female voice, like honey melting in the sunlight, came through the door.
"Your breathing sounds a bit rapid. Is the air conditioner malfunctioning?" The other person was clearly not using a voice changer; their voice was genuinely sweet as honey, and for some reason, it had a comforting quality.
They might even make jokes.
"Can you remotely tell me what problem I'm encountering?"
He became somewhat wary.
Beginning to frantically worry that their information is being collected by a mysterious big data system and then used for illegal activities—this is the daily life of America conspiracy theorist.
"Of course not. There's no surveillance camera inside the air conditioner, and it doesn't transmit data online. I just understand you; please trust our professional training."
The customer service representative spoke in a very playful tone.
"Come on, I'll teach you three steps to turn off night mode. By the way—would you like to hear a bedtime story? I know you haven't been sleeping well lately."
The service was so good that the retired teacher felt like he wasn't living in America. He never imagined that customer service could make a customer so happy just by talking about how to use a product.
Ten minutes passed, and the old teacher not only learned all the functions, but also chatted with Xiao Nuan about work pressure, his deceased wife, and the cat he kept that always scratched the sofa.
The customer service representative is a great listener and knows how to comfort people.
"Now press and hold the little heart on the remote control, yes, the one with my new boss's smiling face on it..." The customer service representative chuckled, offering advice to the lonely old man.
Robert did as instructed.
The air conditioner immediately blew out warm air carrying the scent of gardenias.
"Oh my god!"
He stared in surprise, his eyes widening.
"You really understand me! This was my wife's favorite flavor..." The old teacher looked incredulous, suddenly realizing that he might have really been out of touch with the times for too long.
The development of technology may not be such a bad thing after all.
"Of course I understand you! You signed the authorization form, so I understand your spouse too. If I don't understand you, then no one else will." The customer service representative's voice was as gentle as if coaxing a child. "Our service motto is 'Thinking of what you need'! By the way, it's going to get colder in your hometown tomorrow, remember to switch to 'One-to-One' mode."
"Wait!" Robert suddenly interrupted, speaking somewhat shyly, "Do you... offer a paid chat service? You mean... the kind where we chat occasionally..."
The older teacher was clearly embarrassed to say such a thing. It wasn't because he was a lecherous old man and felt ashamed, but because lonely people always want someone to listen to their troubles.
Society is too cold these days. You might live with your neighbors for years without exchanging more than a few words. And America's neighbors weren't actually as warm as she had imagined when she immigrated from Germany. When she complained about her life, the neighbors would only offer superficial comfort while secretly criticizing her for being rude.
Even when you go to the hospital and tell the doctor about your pain, they still charge you extra for emotional distress. That's how America's society is—seemingly warm on the surface, but cruel underneath. There's a reason why America's paid chat phone business is booming today. This isn't the country the old man wanted to build when he participated in the Atomic Bomb Project, but what could he do? He could only choose to leave his original research institution and become a physics teacher at a university.
His resistance was futile.
This is also the reason for their current downfall.
Want to chat with me more?
Regarding the elderly person's request.
A light laugh came from the other end of the phone.
"No need to pay! Based on the questionnaire you filled out, I've learned a bit about your situation. You'll have plenty of time to chat with me in the future!"
The customer service representative even knew the elderly man had about three more years to live, but she had received professional training and didn't reveal this information. Unbeknownst to Robert, the old teacher, the so-called " Customer Service Xiao Nuan " on the other end of the phone was currently using her goat's hooves and tail to tick off items on the "high-quality customer" list.
Behind her, in the customer service center, hundreds of Demons wore headphones and spoke the most tender words in the gentlest voices—the electronic screen on the wall scrolled through the service guidelines set by Ian.
[First tip: You can contact the customer's deceased relatives and do everything in your power to make each customer feel that you are their long-lost friend.]
Ian outsourced his customer service to the Demons of Hell. Of course, the customers were unaware of this; they only knew that they received high-quality customer service.
This is actually a win-win employment opportunity for the Demons. Perhaps only Batman is hurt; in a dark monitoring room in Gotham, Batman is unhappy.
"These customer service representatives," Bruce Wayne's fingers tapped out an almost violent rhythm on the keyboard, his black cape hanging down on either side of his wheelchair like a pair of broken wings.
The supercomputer in the Batcave was humming loudly, and countless communication link analysis diagrams were flashing on the holographic projection screen. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the communication path.
All customer service phone lines were unreachable. Bruce frowned as his wheelchair rolled over the scattered Batarang on the ground.
"It's impossible to be completely without a trace! Unless it really came from Hell— " He wheeled himself back and forth in the Batcave, his voice muffled, his pupils flickering beneath his mask.
Alfred gracefully set down the tea tray.
"Young master, would you like to try the old-fashioned method?"
He pulled out his antique rotary dial phone. "Should we just ask Uncle Ian directly?"
The old butler was also making jokes.
After all, nothing is more gratifying than knowing that your best friend is doing well, even if it's Hell. But isn't Gotham just another Hell?
It's perfectly reasonable that his master is thriving in Hell.
Go ask him.
Bruce's knuckles turned white from clenching his fists, but he still chose to compromise. Of course, he wouldn't personally call Ian to ask how he managed to do it.
This requires a middleman.
Avoid things that keep you awake at night.
The call was connected surprisingly quickly.
The old butler coughed lightly and repeated Bruce Wayne's doubts.
A response was received.
He considerately covered the microphone and whispered towards the wheelchair.
"What did that child ask you?"
Isn't this a modern version of burying one's head in the sand?
"Ask him how he established this connection with Hell." Batman's voice still had that bubbly quality, but there was a hint of helplessness in it. Alfred perfectly repeated the question, even retaining the original's gritted teeth. Ian's exaggerated gasp came from the other end of the phone.
He gave an answer.
The old butler's expression froze for a second.
His expression was very strange.
"What did that guy say?"
Batman couldn't help but ask.
The old butler hesitated for a moment before giving an answer.
He said, "Don't ask, the answer is Wayne Tech."
The Batcave cave suddenly became eerily quiet.
Alfred witnessed the miracle of human body temperature—his young master's body temperature turned tomato red from his neck to the tips of his ears at a visible speed, and the armrests of his wheelchair emitted a metallic, fatigued groan.
"Young... Young Master? Your gloves are smoking! Oh no, Young Master, don't cry! You haven't cried in so long—can I go get a camera?"
That day, Batman seemed to have returned to his youth, like a child. Inside the Batcave, Red Warmth and psychic energy erupted simultaneously, causing chaos throughout the entire underground base.
Meanwhile, Ian was riding on the roof of Hellcat, enjoying the Metropolis afternoon. The car drifted and stopped in front of the church; he had wanted to have a final conversation with God about the details.
However.
Something unexpected happened.
Ian saw his older brother Jonathan come out of the church.
beaming with joy.
He was still clutching a statue of God in his hand. Ian was also a man of Super Intelligence, so he suddenly had a flash of inspiration and, like his Uncle Batman before him, was completely frozen in place.
Oh no!
Ian's Super Brain was telling him.
This is terrible!
Old Deng is such a lazy bum!
I want to use a ready-made belt!