Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4272 - 3371: Bloodbath in New City (83)

Batman stood on the rooftop of the Wayne building, the night wind howling past, fluttering his cloak noisily. He looked down at the Bat Tracker in his hands; the blinking red dot on the screen was gradually approaching the target location. The wealthy philanthropist named David Antaphos was last seen right here.

The "no signal" signs on the target map outnumbered the raindrops hitting the screen, and the surveillance network he'd painstakingly set up in the Upper city area had been largely destroyed by Death Angel within less than a month.

He gently pressed the communicator by his ear and spoke softly, "Nightwing, activate the thermal imaging scan on the Batmobile, I need to confirm the life signs inside the building."

"Processing." Nightwing's calm voice came through the earpiece. Seconds later, a blue thermal image appeared on Batman's goggles, showing three figures in the villa—a woman and two children.

"Target confirmed," Batman murmured, "Prepare to move."

Nightwing, who had used his hook to climb onto the rooftop, leaped gracefully like a Water Bird, landing quietly in the yard.

However, as he approached the back door, he heard noises from the front yard—screams of a woman, the crying of children, and some indistinct, murky words intertwined.

Instantly, Nightwing drew his weapons and flipped back onto the roof, hunching over to peek toward the front door, where a tall figure in a Red Cloak stood.

In the darkness, the flame of Death Angel's Longsword burned, the fiery glow illuminating his stern face under the hood.

"Death Angel, let them go!" Nightwing demanded in a stern voice. He slid down from the eaves, landing with a neat roll and rushed toward Death Angel.

Death Angel only sneered, swinging the flaming Longsword fiercely, the scorching blade aura slicing through the air, "Who has spared me?"

Before his words fell, he leaped, the Longsword slashing down with a scalding hot wave. Nightwing quickly sidestepped, blocking the strike with his crossed batons, barely deflecting the blow.

The wave of heat from the flames hit him, and Nightwing felt his lungs burning with the hot air he breathed in, but he didn't shrink back, instead, he used the momentum to backflip, gaining distance.

"No matter what, you shouldn't lay your hands on the innocent!" Nightwing glared defiantly, his batons spinning in his hands before he charged at Death Angel. His movements were swift as the wind, the batons drawing two silvery arcs in the air, striking straight at Death Angel's flank.

Death Angel grunted, sweeping his Longsword and emitting heated sword energy that forced Nightwing to retreat. Yet Nightwing didn't stop; light on his feet like a cat, he quickly circled behind Death Angel, his baton thrusting fiercely toward his back.

But Death Angel was quick to react; with a backward swing of his Longsword, the fiery blaze repelled Nightwing's assault. The weapons clashed in the air, sparks flying, and the confrontation of fire and metal ignited a series of minor explosions in the night.

"Do you think you can stop me?" Death Angel's voice dripped with mockery, "This city needs cleansing, and I am that fire!"

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"No, you're just destroying it!" Nightwing gritted his teeth, his batons slamming together, aiming directly for Death Angel's head. Death Angel raised his sword to block, but Nightwing's attacks were relentless, his batons falling like raindrops, driving Death Angel to retreat repeatedly.

Suddenly, Nightwing seized a gap, his baton hitting Death Angel's wrist squarely, the Longsword flying out from his grip, landing on the ground not far away. Death Angel roared, throwing a punch at Nightwing's face, but Nightwing had already anticipated this, dodging to the side, his baton striking Death Angel's abdomen in succession.

Death Angel let out a muffled grunt, staggering back, the fury in his eyes intensifying. Nightwing didn't give him a chance to recover, his batons attacking like lightning bolts, and finally a powerful strike knocked Death Angel to the ground.

Nightwing, clutching his wrist burned by the flames, took a deep breath and said, "Whether you believe it or not, I want to help you. Don't make any more mistakes, Paul."

Death Angel lay on the ground, the dying embers of his Longsword flickered beside him. He looked up at Nightwing, a complex emotion flickering through his eyes, but ultimately, he just sneered and closed his eyes.

Nightwing pressed on his earpiece, saying, "I encountered Death Angel, but he's been taken care of. Should I bring him back?"

"Death Angel? How could he be appearing in... An abnormal energy response! Nightwing! Get out of the way!!!"

With a bang, a huge fireball smashed into the spot where Nightwing had just stood. Nightwing glared furiously at the figure emerging from the darkness.

"It's you again! You damned demon!!!"

Brad innocently spread his hands and said, "I was about to say it's you again, you all over the place Batman lackey. Why are you so hellbent on going after us?!"

"Because you keep hurting innocent people!"

Death Angel on the ground sneered once more. He said, "Innocent? Do you know what kind of money nourished the woman and kids you are protecting? If he had paid me on time, all the crimes you detest wouldn't have happened."

Nightwing sighed and replied, "I think you're right, they did wrong by you, and you should have found a way to protect yourself. But killing them will change nothing. Your true adversary is someone else."

"Are you referring to me? Or to Batman?"

"You know it's not them." Nightwing's voice was unwavering as he replied, "Right now, the one wanting to get past you and kill all the wealthy is Joker. If you don't stop him, you'll never complete your revenge."

"I don't care who kills them; I just want them dead."

"But if you keep on running around in the rain killing people, you definitely won't live to see their funeral. Maybe one of the survivors will even go to your grave and hypocritically say a few apologetic words, showcasing their goodness in front of the media."

Death Angel suddenly began retching.

Brad looked at Nightwing and said, "You talk even better than Batman. I promise I'll keep an eye on him, don't bother him again."

After that, thick smoke billowed, and Brad, Death Angel, and his Longsword all disappeared.

"I don't think that's right," Nightwing spoke, "I didn't chase after him this time, but he still came to this place."

"Somebody is delaying our investigation," Batman said, "I've heard that Pale Knight ran into some trouble too and can't break away for now. You might have to go over there and help him out."

"What's wrong with him?" Nightwing asked as he walked into the room.

"He's dealing with a speedster," Batman didn't elaborate.

Nightwing soothed the woman and child, asking them about the husband's whereabouts. But the lady only told them that their husband had hired an exorcist, and after the devil banishing ritual was performed, he completely disappeared.

This was consistent with what Batman had found in other investigations and also predictably, the woman's account included Dr. Schiller's name.

Nightwing still found it hard to believe. As he climbed into the Batmobile, he said, "How could Doctor Schiller become Joker's minion?"

"You're too optimistic," Batman said. "You should be asking why the Joker would become Schiller's minion."

"What are you talking about? Joker's crazy brain doesn't allow him to take orders from anyone. He just goes crazy on his own accord."

"That was before." Batman's tone grew increasingly somber. "Now, the Joker has no choice."

Gotham's rainy nights always carried an oppressive suffocation, rain pouring down like torrents, splashing onto the streets and creating countless splashes of water.

Driving the Batmobile, Nightwing's engine roar shattered the veil of rain, its headlights casting two dazzling beams on the slick wet road.

The bodysuit, already soaked from the earlier battle in the rain, clung tightly to his skin, but the sharp eyes beneath the mask remained fixed on what was ahead—a gleam of silver, Pale Knight's sports car racing nearby, its taillights blurred into a scarlet halo by the rain.

"Mr. Napier, it's me! I'm here to help," Nightwing shouted into the communicator, jamming the gas pedal to the floor, propelling the Batmobile like an arrow released from a bow. The rain blurred his view through the windshield, yet he drove the bulky Batmobile with such dexterity that it moved like a bird among the obstacle-ridden roads.

Pale Knight's sports car took a sharp turn upfront, its tires screeching against the slippery surface, nearly drifting out of control. Nightwing followed closely; the Batmobile leaned in the bend, one side tire nearly lifting off the ground.

"Batman, help me lock on to his route!" Nightwing pressed the communicator by his ear, his voice somewhat muffled by the engine's roar.

"Tracking now," Batman's voice was calm and clear, "There's an overpass three hundred meters ahead; he might try to shake you off there."

Nightwing narrowed his eyes, trusting Batman's judgment. True enough, Pale Knight's sports car suddenly accelerated, heading towards the overpass. Without hesitation, Nightwing and the Batmobile followed.

"Help me block that Challenger up ahead," an angry undertone tinged Pale Knight's transmission, "This guy's good, be careful."

"I know." Nightwing's mouth twitched into a smirk. "I'll show him what a real speedster is."

Nightwing's gaze locked on the Challenger in the lead, who was very agile, weaving left and right to dodge Pale Knight's pursuit while accelerating even more.

"The target is moving towards the docks, I need to block the route," Nightwing pressed the communicator, his tone calm and quick.

"Traffic control system is activated," Batman seemed to be busy with something else, somewhat distracted.

Nightwing nodded, flooring the accelerator again, the car shooting forward.

On his twentieth attempt to intercept, another vehicle burst out from a side street, the Batmobile emerged like a ghostly presence from the depths of a black hole, slipping into the main road side by side with him.

"Two against one. Even if you win, it's a hollow victory," a voice full of mockery came through the communication channel.

"If you're caught by me, you'll learn the true meaning of a hollow victory," Pale Knight's tone was even colder.

The two vehicles, one after the other, chased relentlessly like cheetahs. Bruce rested one hand casually on the steering wheel, showing no sign of tension.

With a sudden sharp turn, Nightwing and Pale Knight reacted almost simultaneously. A white and a black car traced beautiful swan-like arcs in the bend, keeping a tight tail on their target.

"The way ahead is blocked; he has nowhere to escape," Nightwing murmured, one hand already on the baton behind him.

Pale Knight did not reply, only accelerated sharply, closing in on the Challenger's flank. Bruce seemed to suddenly panic, the car swaying left and right, attempting to shake off pursuit.

Nightwing saw his chance, the Batmobile drifted neatly in from the side, the car window lowered, and the baton hurled out. The car wheel rolled over the baton, slipping momentarily. The Challenger's vehicle jolted sideways, losing control and crashing into the roadside barrier.

Bang!

Hisss...

The Batmobile's tire carved a long wet mark on the road, smashing directly into the side of the Challenger's passenger door and wedging the driver's door against the roadside barrier.

Pale Knight's sports car also came to a steady stop on the other side, the door opened, and Pale Knight stepped out, his gun's muzzle aimed at the Challenger's door.

"Game over," Pale Knight said coldly.

As the rear door opened slowly, the figure raising his hands and stepping out left Nightwing frozen in place.

His hand slowly reached for his earpiece, as he shouted in shock: "Batman... you never told me the speedster was you!!!"