The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 4422 Dark Prelude (Part 7)
Temperatures warmed up after Christmas. But for Gotham, this was not good news. The expected heavy snowfall turned into a cold rain that lashed down on the dark city overnight. The streets were deserted. Suddenly, two dazzling beams of light appeared at the end of the street. The Batmobile crossed the bridge between the two towers and headed out of the city.

In the equally pitch-black cemetery, only the small chapel in the center flickered with a faint light. Raindrops fell on the distant sea, sending up plumes of mist that swept towards the shore, as if threatening to engulf the entire place. Never before had the graveyard been so permeated with an aura of death. When Bruce, clad in his Hellbat armor, stepped into this place, he felt only profound sorrow and heaviness in his heart.

One of the graves had been disturbed. Bruce knew it was Damian's grave. He didn't seem to intend to cover it up, or to use such traces to blatantly tell Batman that he was the one who had risen from the dead. His resurrection had nothing to do with Batman. He had crawled out of the grave on his own, defeated death as before, and returned from hell.

Bruce looked toward the church. He stepped toward it. As soon as he reached the top of the steps, he saw a small figure standing before the cross in the dim candlelight, Jesus' face completely hidden in shadow, his indistinct features showing a hint of sorrow.

"Damian." The name was almost squeezed out of his throat; his vocal cords were so unfamiliar with it that the pronunciation was somewhat dry.

“I thought you wouldn’t dare to come.” The boy’s voice was clear and bright. Damian’s voice changed late, and Bruce had even thought that he wouldn’t have the same deep voice as him.

Damian turned around. Bruce saw his face clearly; it was still so youthful and vibrant, bearing a resemblance to his own. He was still wearing Robin's uniform, the one Bruce had dressed him in for his burial. It was made of the finest fabric, so even after so many years, it remained as bright and new as ever.

Why aren't you saying anything? Don't you know how to face me?

“No,” Bruce replied. “I was just wondering what happened and how you got back.”

"Does this matter?" Damian walked over. He circled Batman, seemingly marveling. "This armor is really cool, is it new?"

“No,” Bruce said again. “Who resurrected you?”

“I don’t know,” Damian said. “I just woke up suddenly and found myself lying in a coffin. I opened the lid, climbed out, and then called home.”

Bruce didn't expose him. He simply asked, "So, what are you planning to do next?"

"what?"

What are your plans?

"Please, you're my father and my legal guardian. You're asking me what to do now?"

Bruce shook his head and said, “I’m sorry. But Damian Wayne is dead. The death report is in the drawer of the study. Your social status and student status have been cancelled. The law will not recognize a resurrection. So you cannot go back as Damian Wayne.”

"God! You're Wayne! Is it really that hard to give me a new identity?"

“That’s not difficult. But it just can’t be Damian Wayne. Because although I am Wayne, the current president is Clark Kent.”

"what?"

“It’s Superman. You may not have heard of him, and you may not have heard of his secretary, Schiller. I can tell you for sure that I can’t do anything under their noses. So you can stay as my adopted son, or you can leave.”

“Bruce, why don’t you welcome my return? So you have no regrets about my death back then?” Damian asked, looking into his eyes. “It was all your fault.”

“I admit that,” Bruce nodded and said. “If I hadn’t been blinded by anger and wanted to push the Joker down, he wouldn’t have let you fall.”

Don't you feel guilty?

“It used to be. But there’s no room for that now,” Bruce said. “Before you returned, the world had already been resurrected, new seedlings were born from a pile of bones. And we who are at the forefront must do everything we can to protect the newborn flame and seize this opportunity that may only come once.”

"Therefore, all of our past, those things that are worth hesitating over, lamenting, and feeling ashamed of, must remain in the past. We have too many important things to do, and not enough time for sighs and lamentations."

"I welcome you back. You can do your part for the world and the universe in your own way. But if you're just here to reminisce, then I'm sorry I don't have time for you."

"Damian, I've always thought you were much more mature than your peers and always had a lot of opinions. The biggest mistake I made back then was letting you get stuck in Gotham with me. It's precisely because I don't want to repeat that mistake that I'm accepting your departure. Because now there's a bigger stage, a great opportunity to show your talents. I know you're looking forward to it too, aren't you?"

Damian looked somewhat bewildered, but he quickly shook his head and said, "No, I won't leave. I'm going to get revenge on that bastard, I'm going to kill the Joker!"

After speaking, he stared at Bruce, as if wanting to see his reaction. But the Hellbat armor's visor was so well concealed that no one could see Bruce's expression.

“If this is your goal in returning, I can understand and I won’t stop you. But I thought you would be more ambitious.”

A hint of disappointment lingered in Bruce's tone. Damian looked bewildered again. Seeing Bruce back away, he quickly caught up and said, "Wait! I..."

Damian wanted to say something, but seemed unsure what to say. He watched Bruce's figure disappear into the darkness, rain soaking his cloak, while he clenched his fists tightly.

Seeing Bruce walk back into Wayne Manor, Schiller said with some surprise, "You're back so soon? Where's your son?"

“He didn’t come back with me,” Bruce said. “He said he’s going to get revenge and will probably be going after the Joker soon.”

"You don't seem worried."

"Because he can't find it."

Where did you take him?

“The Joker no longer exists,” Bruce said. “He ceased to be the Joker when I gave up being Batman.”

Bruce's words were somewhat vague. Schiller guessed that Bruce might have abandoned Batman's methods to deal with the Joker and instead resorted to Wayne's heavy punches.

After all, he gave up his identity as Batman and stopped being a superhero, so all he could use to deal with the Joker was his money. The Joker preferred Batman, not a rich guy who only talked about money, so he naturally disappeared.

But Schiller felt it wasn't that simple. Breaking free from the Joker's ties wasn't easy. After all, Bruce in the Pride universe wasn't Batman anymore, but the Joker was still the Joker; Jack wasn't obsessed with Bruce playing games anymore, but he was still the Joker, he hadn't given up that identity.

So, what made the Joker of this universe abandon his identity is worth exploring. But Schiller didn't really care. Since Bruce said it was fine, then it must really be fine.

“I’ve put in so much effort to reshape the current social structure in order to outrun this mysterious dark force,” Bruce said, sitting on the sofa. “The darkness from the future is far less terrifying than the darkness from the past. I must give everyone an excuse to let go of the shadows of the past and not have time to wallow in those dark memories, so that we can completely keep disaster at bay.”

“The plan is excellent,” Schiller said. “What are your next steps?”

“I need to figure out the source of this dark power,” Bruce said, pursing his lips. “These rare data samples don’t reveal anything. I need to collect enough power samples. Of course, you’ll have to keep an eye on them for me.”

"Who are you watching?"

"Of course, it's the Justice League. If nothing unexpected happens, they'll all be targeted by this force. If they take too long, try to remind them."

“No problem.” Schiller nodded and said, “I’m also quite interested to see what tricks he can pull if his plan to resurrect the dead fails.”

In the eastern part of Mars City, in an unremarkable-looking house, Martian hunter Ron stood dumbfounded in front of the door, while his wife and daughter stood inside watching him.

"Good heavens," Ron said, "Am I hallucinating?"

"Daddy!" his daughter cried, throwing herself into his arms. His wife stood there smiling at him, as if none of the calamities he remembered had ever happened. It was just an ordinary weekday afternoon; he had come home early and was greeted warmly by his family.

Feeling the warmth of his daughter in his arms, Rong En looked down in disbelief. He knelt down, looked at his daughter, and asked, "The brainwaves I'm feeling are yours?"

"Yes, I wanted to find you, so I contacted you through the old communication channel. Dad, where have you been? Why haven't you come back for so long?"

Rong En opened his mouth, but his daughter pulled him into the house. He wanted to back away, but he couldn't shake off that soft, warm little hand, and so he followed her step by step to the dining table.

"Don't worry, Mom is already cooking," the daughter said with a smile. "We haven't eaten together in a long time."

"How...how did you get back?"

"I don't know, we just woke up in the cemetery. I thought you had abandoned me. Mom told us that we might have come back to life..."

"Then you still remember..."

"Ron!" his wife's voice came from the kitchen, "Come and help me out!"

Rong En seemed to suddenly wake up and hurried over. Their kitchen wasn't big, and it felt a bit cramped when both of them stood inside. Looking at his wife's face so close to his, Rong En felt a sense of bewilderment.

“Don’t tell her these things,” the wife said somewhat reproachfully. “The process of dying is terrifying. It’s better if she loses those memories, isn’t it?”

"I just... I just don't know why you came back... It's unbelievable..."

His wife took his hand and said, "That doesn't matter. What matters is that we're together again now, isn't that right?"

Before Ron could say anything more, his wife said, "We're both still young, and I can still have children. Who knows, maybe Martian civilization will one day be revived?"

Ron was utterly speechless. He hugged his wife, as if not wanting this beautiful dream to slip away. He gently stroked her back and said, "Thank you. I will always love you both."