Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4269 - 3368: Bloodbath in New City (80)

Gotham Bridge at dusk was swallowing iron-grey fog, and due to the chaotic situation in the upper and lower city areas, there wasn't much traffic. Shiller's car sped across the bridge, turning towards the Wayne building.

As he drove over the speed bump at the entrance, the closely-packed windows of the Wayne building were gradually lighting up. The wipers cleared the fog from the windshield, and Shiller slowly drove through the front gate.

He knew that Mr. Freeze couldn't trap Batman for too long; Batman should now be standing on the top floor of the building. This wasn't typical behavior for a bat, but he had nowhere else to go.

Shiller made a call to him.

"I have something important to discuss with you, I assure you it's very important... yes, after I blew up your house."

"Two minutes."

In the office of the Wayne building, Batman was again buried in a pile of files. His progress in the investigation was slower than Shiller's, but not by much.

"Jason..."

"Is this what you call very important?"

"So your missing adopted son isn't important to you, then I guess I was being sentimental," Shiller said with a laugh.

"One and a half."

"You really know how to save money." Shiller didn't mind his attitude and was even trying his best to avoid angering the cornered beast, trying to placate him as much as possible.

"Jason sent you a little gift," Shiller said in a declarative tone, "He said that the item is slightly faulty and needs to be returned to the factory for repair, I can help you send him back."

Batman looked at him as if he were looking at a madman.

"Listen, I have absolutely no interest in participating in your trivial father-son games. But you'd better show me that thing..." Shiller was trying his best to persuade him.

"No." Batman still refused.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you refused me?"

"I remember more clearly what happened the last time I didn't refuse you," Batman said looking at Shiller, "Don't think I don't know who did it just because you drew a Joker's smiling face on the bomb."

"Of course you know, Death Angel."

Batman stopped talking.

Shiller didn't plan to waste any more words with him, turned, and left the office. If Batman understood Shiller enough, he would know that when an engine starts to quiet down, it means it's about to break.

As Shiller's car rolled over puddles on the Lower city area roads, the car radio suddenly broadcast the laughter of Clown Maria.

A fire hydrant by the roadside suddenly exploded, creating a pattern of a Joker's smiling face made of green gas rising into the air. Shiller wasn't surprised for even a second; he quickly turned the steering wheel, performing a smooth parallel parking, soaking Maria who had jumped down from the second floor.

"I just happen to have something to discuss with you," Shiller got out of the car and said to Maria, "You better be as useful as you say, Joker."

For some reason, Maria felt a chill, freezing her laughter for a moment.

"I need a family therapy session grand enough."

"Healing who? Batman?"

"Healing myself," Shiller walked around to the other side of the car, opened the trunk and said, "Healing my heart, forced to be a detective without overtime pay and isolated and bullied by you maniacs."

"And you," Shiller suddenly turned his head to Clown Maria and said, "you have to listen to the doctor, or I will call the next patient in."

Dark clouds churned over Gotham City, and the rainwashed asphalt shone with an oily sheen. Fire Longsword suddenly burst forth a dark golden glow, illuminating the splatter-like blood at the neck of the dead like flowing lava.

A tall figure stood before three corpses, the Fire Longsword in his hand shimmering with a metallic hue different from before, as if the anger stored in his heart had deepened.

Muscles under the Death Angel's cloak twitched slightly due to tension, breathing heavily through the gaps in the mask. As he pressed on a wound on his left arm, blood seeped through the fingers of his black gloves.

When the cloaked woman appeared at the end of the alley, the wind lifted her skirts, and the metal heels of her alligator-skin boots shone with the sheen of high-end custom work.

Her voice, intentionally lowered and husky with a neurotic tremor, said, "Don't be nervous..."

Before she could finish, the Fire Longsword hummed. The Death Angel suddenly raised his hand, the light clink of the splitting blade like a viper spitting out its tongue, instantly igniting the opponent's fur-lined cloak with a jet of flame.

The woman stumbled back several steps, but the flames grew fiercer. She had no choice but to roll into a muddy rainwater pit.

"Look how pathetic you are," the Death Angel's scornful chuckle mingled with the noise of falling raindrops, and the sparks from the Fire Longsword illuminated the gold threads on the cuff of the Audine Company uniform.

"I'm here to help you," the woman's voice was a bit hoarse, "They know you'll pass through Rhododendron Street sewer entrance, they've set a trap there, you better take another road."

The Death Angel stared at her quietly. The woman didn't seem to expect his reaction, sighed softly, and said, "You may already know your origins, but you don't know your true mission yet. I will help you."

"What is my true mission? To give everything for you and die miserably?"

"No, you are to greet the arrival of the Lord. Only you have this power. This is the glory bestowed upon you by God."

Death Angel left without looking back.

A woman cursed, then said after taking out her mobile phone: "What is the damn secret department doing?! Paul might already know something..."

"What do you suggest we do? Now that Batman is gone, we have no choice but to choose him! This guy really has gone completely mad... Yes, we wanted him crazy, but not this kind of crazy. He should have become like a walking corpse, not still so powerful!"

"It must be that damn Father! That cunning Devil, he granted Paul powerful strength that wasn't meant for him. He's really too generous." The woman's tone contained a hint of jealousy.

Not knowing what was said on the other side, the woman gradually calmed down and said, "Alright, I'll try again."

The stained glass of San Marino Church refracted the sunlight into dazzling patches of light, and Brad's motion of wiping the cross abruptly paused. As the door creaked open, he smelled more than just the scent of blood.

Brad stood below the cross, helplessly watching Death Angel walk in.

"The new weapon is very effective," Death Angel said voluntarily, "The flames it spews give me long-range combat abilities. Thank you."

"If you want to thank someone, thank Batman. The materials from his battle vehicle are the best," Brad shook his head and said, "But I still advise you, don't continue on this path."

"Do you think Batman is dead?"

"Of course not. He wouldn't die that easily."

The atmosphere between the two fell silent. Then Brad took out a medical kit to bandage Death Angel's arm, the scent of blood emanating from Paul seemed to even make the Devil uncomfortable.

"A woman came to see me," Death Angel suddenly said, "She mentioned that I have a special mission. What do you think?"

Brad's heart skipped a beat, and when he looked at Death Angel again, he noticed sarcasm in his gaze.

"Alright, it's time I told you the truth, to prevent you from being deceived by those people," Brad tried to appear less guilty. He told Death Angel about Edmund's pact and the conspiracy of the Order Sect.

"So they want to use me to summon the Evil God?"

"Exactly. This is why I disagree with you having too much contact with them. If gentle methods don't work, they might resort to harsher measures, you might not be able to handle it."

"Are you worried about me?" Death Angel scoffed, "Don't be so pretentious. Your laissez-faire approach is one of the reasons I ended up where I am today."

"I admit, I didn't want you to be too wealthy; otherwise, you would run off to the Upper city area. It would make it easier for them to catch you. But I also hope that you could live a peaceful life, after all, I watched you grow up."

"Liar Devil," Death Angel commented.

Brad didn't dwell on these matters. He tied a knot on the bandage, then said, "What you decide to do is up to you, I also have my own tasks to complete. Things are getting more urgent now, you absolutely cannot be caught by those people. If you encounter something you can't handle, smear your blood on the sword, I will help you."

"Why don't you just kill me?"

"I've told you I am—"

"Tell the truth."

"Your bloodline acts as some sort of beacon; if you died, your master might sense it. I'd rather not offend him."

Death Angel stood up and said, "Then try your best to keep me alive."

After Death Angel left, Brad stayed for a long time. But soon he somewhat regretted his moment of soft-heartedness because in less than half an hour, Paul summoned him.

When Brad arrived, the scene was not extremely urgent; Paul was merely trapped in an alley on Rhododendron Street by police cars and officers in riot gear. It was clearly a well-prepared ambush.

Brad didn't show himself, but managed to use magic to knock down several key figures, helping Death Angel escape.

Yet, he had only been back at the church for less than 20 minutes before he smelled the scent of Death Angel's blood again. He had to follow the trail of blood to the Lower city area again. This time Death Angel was encountering Nightwing.

This guy was not so easy to deal with; like a hyena relentlessly chasing an injured prey. Brad managed to ruin his motorcycle with magic and successfully hit several members of the following squads. Death Angel took the opportunity to break through during the chaos.

Then there was another encirclement by Audine Company, these guys didn't have heavy weapons, but the small bombs they threw seemed to weaken people quickly. Death Angel almost got taken away by them.

Brad's heart was completely dead. He dared not leave Death Angel's side, constantly watching him, fearing that if any QTE wasn't executed properly, all his efforts would be in vain.

Brad really isn't a very diligent Devil; years of leisurely life have made him unable to endure such a busy life. He now just wanted to go home and drink a cup of tea. But Death Angel still attacked the Upper city area recklessly, showing no sign of stopping.

Brad was almost tired to death by him.

To reduce his workload, he gave up his previous style of meticulous operation and became somewhat reckless. Several times he even revealed his true form just to scare away those reckless fools.

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The already chaotic Upper city area due to the police pursuit became completely tumultuous. Everywhere there was talk that the Death Angel was an Avatar of the Devil. The surviving wealthy people thought of various ways to prevent the Devil from visiting.

Not far from Rhododendron Street, in a villa area, an anxiety-filled atmosphere almost materialized. A tall middle-aged man holding a mobile phone stood by the window, yet his tone did not match his dignified demeanor.

"Yes, thank you so much, Mr. Shiller. Death Angel appeared near my house, we urgently need an exorcism. It would be great if it could be done today."

Half an hour later, Shiller appeared outside the villa wearing a trench coat, gloves, and carrying a toolbox.

"Good afternoon, sir. Relax, I'm professional. You'll be free from the Devil's trouble soon."