Declaration Before the Throne

Nanda Parbat, the sacred ground of the League of Assassins. The air was filled with the biting chill of the snowy mountains and the strange fragrance of mixed herbs. Breathing it into one's lungs refreshed the mind. Yet at this moment, Bruce Wayne's heart was harder and colder than the eternal ice atop the Himalayas.

Bruce stood before a massive stone door carved with scenes of demons and angels at war. Behind him stood Talia al Ghul, smiling sweetly, her eyes shimmering. The "Demon's Daughter" had just led him through the League's training grounds, where every assassin possessed the skill to become an ace in any nation's special forces.

But Bruce had paid no attention to any of it. He had only one goal—the ancient monster beyond the stone door, seated upon a throne, six centuries old, and calling himself the "Demon's Head."

"My father is waiting for you inside, my love." Talia's voice was like the finest wine, carrying a seductive power that invited surrender. "I hope you... can give him an answer that satisfies him."

Bruce did not turn around. He merely nodded faintly.

"An answer that satisfies him? Heh. My answer will probably give him quite a 'surprise.'"

Bruce drew a deep breath and pushed open the heavy stone door without hesitation.

"Creeeak—"

The ancient hinges groaned under the strain. Beyond the door lay a profound darkness capable of swallowing light itself. Torches burned along both walls, casting wavering shadows that made the entire hall seem grim and eerie, like the temple of some ancient evil god.

The instant he entered the hall, Bruce silently activated the tactical vision mode built into his armored helmet.

[Sonic detection activated... Thermal imaging loaded...]

In an instant, the hall's structural layout and the locations of its hidden occupants appeared clearly on his retina.

"Just as expected..." A cold curve touched Bruce's lips. "Thirty-six on the rafters, seventy-two behind the stone pillars, and even twelve with the strongest presences hidden in the throne's shadow... One hundred and twenty in total. Every one of them has their heartbeat and breathing controlled almost perfectly. They're all elite assassins. Ra's al Ghul, are you using the League's entire elite force to pressure me, this 'candidate'?"

Bruce completely ignored the almost tangible killing intent pouring toward him from every direction and strode forward with steady, powerful steps. His custom tactical boots struck the smooth obsidian floor with sharp taps. In this deathly silent hall, they were the only sound. The noise was not loud, yet it pounded against the hidden assassins' hearts like a heavy hammer, filling them with an inexplicable oppression.

He was not a lamb come to worship. He was a tiger here to negotiate with the king of lions.

Bruce walked straight to the center of the hall and stopped about ten meters from the lofty throne. He raised his head, his gaze blazing as it pierced through layer upon layer of darkness and met the figure seated upon the throne.

It was a seemingly elderly figure, dressed in a luxurious dark green robe, with a full head of white hair and beard. Yet seated there, he carried the presence of a towering mountain—heavy, ancient, and suffocatingly oppressive. He was Ra's al Ghul, the "Demon's Head," a legend who had lived for more than six hundred years.

"Ra's al Ghul... an old monster who has lived for centuries. He wants me to inherit his ideals and purify this rotten world through destruction. How laughable. How narrow-minded." Bruce sneered inwardly. "Destruction is forever the most primitive method. My goal is to establish an absolute, eternal order. Your vision is far too small."

"Bruce Wayne."

Upon the throne, Ra's al Ghul finally spoke slowly. His voice was hoarse and ancient, like two rusted pieces of metal scraping together, yet it possessed a strange penetrating power that struck directly at the heart.

"I have watched everything you have done in Gotham. Beheading Bane, crushing the Riddler, turning Scarecrow into an idiot... You cleansed that city's filth with the most direct and efficient methods. Excellent. This is precisely what the heir I have sought for centuries should be."

Ra's al Ghul leaned forward slightly. His clouded yet hawk-sharp eyes locked onto Bruce.

"Look at this world, my child. It has long been terminally ill, filled with greed, ignorance, and corruption. So-called civilization is nothing more than a castle built on sand, something a single wave can wash away. For centuries, I have tried every method to heal it, but all have failed. The only way is a complete 'cleansing'! Only by carving away all the rotting flesh can true rebirth come!"

His voice gradually rose, filled with fanatical fervor.

"And you, Bruce—you are the only person I have ever seen with the ability and determination to carry out this great will! You understand pain, you embrace darkness, and you wield fear as a weapon! You were born to be the 'Demon's Head'!"

At last, Ra's al Ghul presented his final test—and the "gift" he was offering.

"Now, prove your resolve to me, my child!" He spread his arms like a monarch embracing the world. "Return to Gotham. Use every resource you and I possess—the wealth of Wayne Enterprises, the strength of the League of Assassins—and erase that root of sin from the face of the Earth! Let it be purified in fire!"

"Complete it, and you will become the new 'Demon's Head'! Everything in the League of Assassins, including my wealth, my armies, my intelligence network... even my most perfect creation, my daughter Talia, will belong to you!"

The entire hall fell into a feverish silence because of his words. The hidden assassins began to breathe more heavily. This was the supreme honor their leader was granting an outsider!

Yet in the face of this "gift," enough to drive anyone mad, undisguised mockery appeared on Bruce's face.

He let out a soft laugh. It was not loud, but it echoed through the empty hall, sounding exceptionally grating.

"Ra's al Ghul..." Bruce spoke slowly, his voice cold and calm, yet carrying a chilling arrogance. "Your vision is too small."

The moment those words left his mouth, the temperature in the hall seemed to plummet by several degrees! Ra's al Ghul's smile froze instantly, and his hawk-like eyes narrowed sharply, shooting out two terrifying gleams!

Facing that blade-sharp gaze, Bruce did not retreat a single step. Word by word, he delivered his declaration:

"Of course I will inherit the League of Assassins, but not in your way. Your era has already passed."

"What I want is your throne, your armies, your intelligence network—everything you have. As for the price..."

Bruce's eyes instantly turned incomparably cold. It was pure killing intent and ambition, without the slightest impurity, like an icy wind from the depths of hell that made the entire hall tremble!

"The price is getting rid of you, you old bastard standing in my way!"