Copying Batman's Brain

The sound of the scalpel cutting through the air was soft.

Lynn's hands were shaking—not from fear, but from adrenaline.

The system panel fully unfolded in his field of vision. A full-body scan of Batman floated in the air—red markings traced the toxin's path as it spread from the left side of his chest toward the myocardium;

Fragments of broken ribs were highlighted in yellow;

Seventeen shrapnel wounds were densely marked across his torso and limbs with orange dots.

The depth, angle, and danger level of every injury were precise to the millimeter.

But the system only handled diagnosis.

He had to wield the knife himself.

Lynn lowered his head to examine Batman's chest.

The armor had been completely wrecked in the fight—Joker's explosion had torn open the entire left side of his chest. Around the spot where the dagger had entered, Kevlar fibers curled outward like torn paper, exposing mangled flesh beneath.

But a large intact armor plate on the right still covered the fractured ribs, preventing him from treating them directly.

Ordinary scissors could not cut through that material.

The moment Lynn frowned, the system displayed a new prompt:

[Notice: An emergency medical release mechanism has been detected within the armor. It is located at the seam of the third armor plate beneath the left armpit. Press to activate; the chest armor will automatically detach.]

Lynn reached beneath Batman's left armpit. His fingers probed through the gaps in the damaged armor for two seconds before touching an inconspicuous recessed switch.

He pressed down hard.

"Click—"

The entire chest plate split along the centerline and sprang apart to both sides like a clamshell, revealing the full extent of the injuries beneath.

This man had even made contingency plans for getting injured.

Lynn had no time to dwell on it, because the instant the chest plate sprang open, he saw the dagger's true condition inside Batman's chest cavity—it was even more horrifying than the scan had shown.

Fluorescent green liquid seeped beneath the blade, and the surrounding blood vessels had turned an unnatural dark purple.

Joker toxin was consuming his heart.

[Warning: The toxin has spread to 17% of the outer myocardium. If not neutralized within 6 minutes, irreversible necrosis will occur.]

Six minutes.

Lynn gripped the dagger's hilt, ready to pull it out. The instant he applied force to his wrist, the system abruptly flashed a red warning:

[Warning! The blade contains serrated barb structures (three locations). Direct removal will cause secondary tearing, raising the fatality rate to 99.6%. Recommended procedure: Rotate clockwise 15 degrees along the blade's angle, then extract at a steady speed.]

Without the system, that pull just now would have killed Batman.

"Fifteen degrees." Lynn adjusted the angle, rotated it, and pulled steadily.

Batman's body suddenly arched, a muffled groan forced from his throat.

The moment the dagger came free, blood gushed out. Lynn precisely clamped the blood vessel with hemostats in his left hand while his right pressed gauze down hard against the wound.

The heart monitor jolted violently a few times before stabilizing again.

"Not dead." Lynn let out a breath. "As long as he's not dead, this is manageable."

Next came detoxification.

The system provided Joker toxin's complete molecular formula and a temporary neutralization plan—it required three drugs: epinephrine hydrochloride, sodium bicarbonate, and dexamethasone. They had to be mixed in a specific ratio and administered by intravenous injection.

Lynn searched through the battered medicine cabinet twice before barely gathering all three. There was only one vial of dexamethasone left, its ampoule coated in dust.

He drew the drugs according to the ratio, mixed them, and heated them in a sterilization box for ninety seconds.

Those ninety seconds were the longest wait of the entire operation.

Batman's breathing grew shallower and shallower, while the monitor's beeps became slower and slower.

"Don't be in such a hurry to die," Lynn said flatly. "I'm still counting on you to pay the medical bill."

Ninety seconds passed. He inserted the needle and injected.

0.2 milliliters per second, finished in twenty-seven seconds.

On the system panel, the dark purple discoloration slowly began to fade.

[Notice: Toxin neutralization progress: 82.7%. Residual toxin concentration has fallen below the safety threshold. The target can metabolize and eliminate the remaining toxin independently.]

The toxin was dealt with.

Over the next seven minutes, Lynn treated the pneumothorax—needle drainage released nearly four hundred milliliters of blood and air.

He removed the rib fragments embedded in the lung lobe and sutured the wound.

He cleaned the five most dangerous of the seventeen shrapnel wounds.

Not once during the entire process did he pause, and his hands never trembled from beginning to end.

This was not talent. It was the basic skill he had developed from two years of working at an illegal clinic in this body's former life.

His surgical experience could not be called extensive, but his hands were steady.

That steadiness saved Batman's life tonight.

He stitched the final suture and cut the thread.

Lynn stepped back, took off his gloves, and let out a long breath.

On the operating table, Batman's chest rose and fell evenly, his lips returning from deathly gray to pale pink.

He was alive.

At that exact moment—

[Ding! Treatment complete! Evaluation: SSS · Miracle!]

[Ding! Novice mission complete! Reward issued: Novice Gift Pack ×1.]

[Saintly Hands Copy activated... Scanning target ability database...]

[Multiple extraordinary talents detected: Peak Human Physical Ability (S-rank), Super Intelligence (S+-rank), Master Combatant (S-rank), Detective Intuition (A+-rank)...]

[Based on treatment contribution rating (SSS-rank), automatically copying the highest-quality talent—]

[Target: Super Intelligence (S+-rank)]

[Copy progress: 23%... 51%... 78%... 100%!]

[Ding! Copy complete! Obtained S+-rank talent: Super Intelligence (Incomplete Version · 70%)!]

[Ability details: Thought speed increased to ten times that of an ordinary person. Includes knowledge across nineteen disciplines, including criminology, psychology, and mechanical engineering. Some advanced knowledge remains temporarily locked.]

The next second, a flood of information poured into his brain.

There was no warning whatsoever. It was like a dam had been blown open.

Tactical simulations, criminal psychology, mechanical engineering, chemistry, physics, the theoretical frameworks of combat techniques... the wisdom Bruce Wayne had accumulated over his lifetime surged into Lynn's mind at seventy percent completeness.

He grabbed the edge of the instrument table, his body swaying once.

Ten seconds later, he opened his eyes again.

The world had not changed, but the person looking at it had.

He glanced at Batman's armor, and his brain automatically produced an analysis.

The Kevlar outer layer had a weave density of twelve hundred strands per square centimeter. The lining used a memory-alloy framework, and the joints featured hydraulic assist system interfaces.

A conservative estimate put the cost of the entire set at over forty million dollars.

All of that analysis took less than two seconds.

"So this is Bruce Wayne's brain," Lynn murmured, his tone somewhere between awe and greed.

Even at only seventy percent, it was already a terrifying weapon.

His gaze fell upon the iron door Leo had locked from the outside.

Earlier, he had thrown his full strength against it without opening it. But now, it took him only three seconds to see through the lock's structure—a perfectly ordinary pin tumbler lock, five pins, atrocious precision.

One straightened hemostat and one surgical needle.

Seven seconds.

"Click."

The door opened.

Lynn stood in the doorway, about to search the front hall for whatever Leo had left behind, when he suddenly stopped.

It was not a system prompt.

It was an instinctive judgment brought by [Super Intelligence]—the direction of the airflow had changed. Cold wind was pouring in through the front entrance, mixed with hurried panting and the rustling sound of clothing scraping against the wall.

Someone had come in.

And he knew that bellows-like, wheezing breath far too well.