Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Batman was reading an environmental report on soil contamination in the natural forest at Wayne Manor, which was actually orchestrated by Lucius Fox with the intention of causing trouble for Charabang Chemical Factory and disrupting their bidding in the GTO investment competition.

Batman anticipated that the chemical factory would pollute, but he didn't expect the pollution to be this severe, nor did he foresee it started so early. Gazing at one horrifying number after another, he couldn't help but rub his forehead.

Although it was late, the problem couldn't be ignored, but remediation would cost money, and the budget for the GTO investment couldn't be touched. Where could the funds be found?

While Batman was deep in thought, he suddenly heard a noise from the garden. Looking down, he met a pair of brown eyes full of rage.

With a whoosh, a petite figure in black leapt onto the second-floor balcony and burst into his study.

Batman knew he was still Bruce Wayne at the moment. He put on a look of panic, but Catwoman showed no mercy and slapped him across the face.

"You damn liar! You and your accomplice got me chased! Did you see it coming?!"

Batman was stunned by the slap, and Catwoman continued to berate him: "If you hadn't turned into an ice block and fallen on me, I wouldn't have been caught, and that guy who looks like a decent man wouldn't have been able to trick me!"

"Now I can't even go to the airport, they'll soon send the police after me! If I get jailed, you won't have it easy either!"

From her unrelenting tirade, Batman pieced together some facts.

This person was a thief who had broken into Wayne Manor last night to steal, encountered the frozen Bruce, was caught by Shiller, might have been duped by him and was now being hunted by her employer.

Batman touched his cheek, then said, "Calm down, I'm a victim too."

"Bullshit!" Catwoman glared at him fiercely. "You and that guy must have planned it all along! Where is he? I'll scratch his face!"

"He's at the Gotham Police Department."

Catwoman let out a short gasp, almost like she was choking, then looked at Batman with a skeptical eye. "He's at the police station, was he caught?"

"It's over, it's all over." Catwoman paced back and forth, "If he confesses everything, that damn Black Devils definitely won't let me off, no, I have to find a way to run..."

"Where will you run to?"

"Anywhere is fine, as long as I can get out of Gotham quickly. If they know what I saw, they'll certainly take my life."

Batman immediately became alert, asking, "What did you see?"

Catwoman realized she had slipped up, quickly covered her mouth, and waved her hands saying, "No, nothing."

Batman gazed at her.

Catwoman felt something was off and appraised Bruce up and down, then said, "Big shot, aren't you a bit too calm?"

Her gaze moved past Batman to the documents on the desk, she deftly darted to the side of Batman and picked up a report saying, "Soil contamination report for the natural forest? I didn't know you were an environmental guardian."

Then she turned to the next document, which was about protester profiles. Something clicked in Catwoman, and her tone lightened, "Ha, there's been a protest there, this is good, that woman definitely won't have time to bother with me, I can take the chance to slip away."

"'There'?" Batman said softly, then continued, "You are familiar with Charabang Chemical Factory?"

"Um, not really." Catwoman chuckled awkwardly, "The situation I'm in now, you gotta take some responsibility. Can you buy me another plane ticket and make sure I can board the flight smoothly?"

Batman stared at her without speaking.

"Hey, don't be like that, it was you who fell from upstairs and hit me, making me get caught. If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened, you really need to help me."

"Where do you want to go?"

"I was thinking Hawaii, but it might not be safe, maybe Hong Kong wouldn't be bad, I've wanted to go shopping there for a long time."

"That's not safe either." Batman said, "They are wealthy, and in any affluent city or vacation spot in the world, they have their own people. Going there would be walking into a trap."

"Then where can I go? Surely not the desert?"

"I have a good idea." Batman leaned in without any change of expression.

But Catwoman's instincts were sharp, and with a swoosh, she leaped onto the balcony and said, "You're not suggesting your bed, right? You damn pervert! Are all you rich people so twisted?"

"Who's the one who burst into my study in a tight suit in the middle of the night?" Batman retorted.

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"This isn't a bodysuit, it's a nocturnal garment! Forget it, you wouldn't understand anyway. I warn you, don't try to catch me, you'll never be able to catch a cat."

After saying this, Catwoman leaped down from the windowsill, her lithe and agile form disappearing into the night.

Batman, however, suddenly felt an impulse. He set aside the documents in his hand, went to the Batcave, and donned Batman's gear, another black figure merging with the night. They would soon meet again, in another form of identity.

A minute after Batman left, a figure appeared in Wayne Manor. Shiller entered Batman's study and picked up the documents on his desk.

Shiller knew that the protest was Batman's way of causing trouble for the chemical plant's backers, and what he wanted was the list of identities of the protesters, likely handpicked by Batman or his faithful assistant.

Shiller flipped through the pages one by one, took photos with his phone, and sent them to Pale Knight.

"Find a way to get in touch with them, Mr. Mayor, this will be the first Sharp Blade to shatter the darkness."

Pale Knight was lying on a hospital bed in Arkham Asylum, receiving Shiller's photos, and marveling once again at his madness. How had he managed to enter Batman's study and take these pictures?

Unable to contain his curiosity, he sent over that very question, and Shiller replied with a single, simple word—"honey trap."

This only confused Pale Knight further because he couldn't imagine any beauty who could take down Batman.

Regardless, Pale Knight carefully reviewed the list of names and then realized that Shiller was right; these people truly were the Sharp Blade to shatter the darkness.

These weren't environmentalists who did it just for the money. Lucius Fox wouldn't be that sloppy. Those who preached ideology but were all about business in their hearts wouldn't dare provoke the police forcefully; a mere scolding would send them running, nowhere near causing the intended trouble.

The individuals Fox had chosen were genuinely good people with clear consciences, more specifically, those hardened individuals who had been severely beaten down by society, left almost with nothing, but had never considered giving in.

Gotham is known as the City of Sin, but America has at least a dozen such Cities of Sin. The most unique and alluring thing about Gotham compared to other Cities of Sin is that it never lacks a spirit of rebellion.

They live under oppressive clouds, seeing no sunshine, dazed by various pollutants, struggling to survive under the oppression of the elite.

But when a true catastrophe comes, they still choose to take up arms to defend their homeland, even if it's in ruins. A significant number refuse to flee or submit, choosing instead to fight their fate to the end.

To many, this seems insane. Why struggle when there's no hope? Why not leave if you can?

But this precisely constitutes the true spiritual core of Gotham City. If you deconstruct Gothamites' madness, ignoring those parts they are powerless against, the little remaining personal will is using their very existence to cry out against the darkness of this city, this country.

The Wayne Family has ruled this city for many years, and Batman is well aware of all of this. But under the current system, these tough-natured individuals' disorganized acts of violence only result in them getting badly injured or killed. Overly supporting their resistance is akin to sending them to their deaths.

However, that doesn't mean Batman won't try to improve their situation in other ways, to preserve their thoughts and spirit.

The protest was exactly that. Batman found them an excuse, provided them with funds, and made arrangements with the police, allowing them to direct their brute force and passion in the right place.

Pale Knight didn't deny that this was a good deed, but Batman's background meant he couldn't truly lead these people. He could only guide them from behind the scenes, in another way.

But he was different. Having fashioned himself as the guardian deity of the lower classes, he could not abandon these fighters, those who, even at the bottom of society, never gave up the struggle.

They were even stronger than the wealthy who controlled most of the city's resources, and despite Gotham's perennially overcast skies and torrential rain, Pale Knight could still see the flames of the burning souls on their faces, nearly scorching his eyes.

Pale Knight turned on his phone again, glaring at the top news story pushed to his screen.

The center of the headline photo featured a middle-aged man, skinny and tough-looking, with deeply sunken eyes that were nevertheless bright. He was leading everyone with a protest sign, roaring furiously.

They called him "Gladiator Willie." His face bore the marks of suffering, and his soul bore the inscription that he had never been defeated.

Compared with his expression, the distant gray buildings, the layers of dark clouds, and the sharply contoured chemical plant all seemed pale and mean.

Turning off his phone, Pale Knight lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. The sense of being torn and struggling inside him was becoming weaker. He knew, the Joker was fading away.

Pale Knight didn't feel joy; he just felt an inexplicable melancholy, as if something that wasn't supposed to exist was suddenly gone, and yet he felt a perverse emptiness.

He felt he didn't have the time to wallow in emptiness anymore; although the Joker might never reappear, long-term medication had almost completely destroyed his body, and his spirit was overburdened. Otherwise, he wouldn't be lying here. He needed to recover quickly and regroup.

Picking up the phone again, Pale Knight decided to read more news about the protest so he would have something to talk about when trying to gain their support.

He was sure he could move them because he was not just about slogans; he would fulfill his promises.

But when he turned on his phone again, what was pushed to his screen was a sea of blood red, and the headline photo showed Gladiator Willie lying in a pool of blood.

"Protest leader shot dead for violently resisting law enforcement by police, Charabang Chemical Factory announces the establishment of a Natural Forest Conservation Fund, Gotham enters a new era of peaceful environmental protest!"

The veins on Pale Knight's hands bulged suddenly.

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