Staring into Clark's clear eyes, Bruce felt his head buzzing.
He took a deep breath, fixed his gaze on Clark's eyes, and then said, "Without my permission, you included in your travel guide, and now you have the nerve to bla for not showing up at the place pointed out in your guide?"
"I'm not blaming you!" Clark emphasized, then he fished out a letter from his bag, handed it to Bruce, and said, "Look, this is a letter from your mayor. Since he doesn't know who Batman is, he specially asked to give it to Batman."
Bruce unfolded the letter and indeed it was from Mayor Roy. The general content was to thank Batman for his contribution to Gotham's tourism industry and to earnestly request Batman to contribute more to it.
Although the wording was polite, if translated into the language of the Gothamites, it ant "Stop thinking about your vigilante job and hurry to stand guard at the attractions!"
If it had been before, Bruce might have been filled with anger, but now, he felt a sense of the comically absurd, even thinking that accidentally promoting tourism might not be a bad choice for Batman.
"You don't know how popular you are!" Clark looked at Bruce austerely and emphasized, "People in tropolis like this type of dark hero. They even like you more than they like !"
Bruce thought about it and found it plausible. Psychology once ntioned a compensation effect, which is, the more comfortable one's life is, the more they like to consu goods that contain violent and stimulating elents.
Theoretically, this might be the human race's instinct to survive in the wilderness, leading them to continuously stimulate the violent factors within themselves to prevent being eliminated by nature.
People living in Gotham don't like its violent culture. On the contrary, what's popular among the upper class are dramas depicting beautiful love stories or the extravagant life of nobles, as if they were still living in the Middle Ages.
However, in the eyes of tropolis citizens, Gotham's chaos, violence, and peculiar aesthetics carry a unique charm, perfectly fitting the decadent punk trend of the youth. This land of sin has unexpectedly beco a pilgrimage place for the punk generation.
Having understood this, Bruce felt that it would be a good thing to develop the tourism industry with this. So, he looked at Clark and said, "I indeed ran into so trouble and might need your, or to be precise, this cat you're holding's help."
"As a trade-off, I can stand on the roof of Wayne building every evening, but I don't guarantee everyone will be able to see . I definitely won't strike a foolish pose like last ti for them to take pictures."
"You just need to stand there for a while! They will definitely take cool pictures of you!" Clark imdiately brightened up. He showed a brilliant smile and then said, "Don't try to pander to them. Those people simply love your cool and aloof image!"
Bruce rolled his eyes and shook his head. The Bat Cat, who had been listening by their side, looked at Bruce and said, "So, what kind of trouble are you in? Let guess, it's related to dreams, right?"
Bruce nodded, briefly explained the situation he was in. The Bat Cat licked its paw and then said, "A very common dream intrusion, you humans call it hypnosis."
"According to your description, the culprit must have invaded your adopted son's dreams, deceived him into believing he really has a pair of pig ears. The image of pig ears stands for so commands and controls his extre behaviors."
"His running away upon seeing you should be the safety command implanted by the culprit. You can regard it as the firewall of this hypnosis system, preventing others from breaking the hypnosis."
"Breaking the hypnosis is also simple. Just make the kid stop believing he has a pair of pig ears."
"Can you do that?" Bruce asked.
A cold glint flashed in the Bat Cat's eyes. It said, "Don't forget, I'm part of the Dream of a Thousand Cats. The dream world is my ho ground... where is he?"
Bruce had escorted Bat Cat into Dick's room, leaving himself and Clark outside. Seeing the mounting worry in Bruce's eyes, Clark tried ceaselessly to comfort him. But as ti went on, Bruce's anxiety only grew.
About half an hour later, Bat Cat pawed the door open and turned to Bruce, "Good news, the hypnosis has been lifted."
Bruce looked at him sharply. Bat Cat hopped onto Clark's shoulder, letting out a light sigh before speaking, "The bad news is, your adopted son is young and his personality is still unstable. The perpetrator used so violent thods, which will inevitably cause so psychological trauma..."
"The issue is not too serious, but he needs rest. Also, for a while, he may experience nightmares or have panic attacks. He will need soone to be with him."
"What exactly happened?" Bruce asked coldly.
Letting out another deep sigh, Bat Cat spoke, "To put it simply, the perpetrator dread of cutting off Dick's ears and then sewing on pig's ears. As you probably know, one can feel pain in dreams too."
Clark was a clear witness to the boundless anger ignited in Bruce's eyes. He quickly grabbed Bruce's shoulders, trying to calm him down, "Cool down, Bruce, don't lose your head! We'll definitely bring this damn perpetrator to justice!"
Standing there, for the first ti, Bruce felt that the phrase, "bring...to justice," sohow sounded grating to his ears.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down. However, it was then Alfred walked over and said, "Chief Gordon is on the call, he sounds very urgent. He wants you to answer imdiately."
Bruce strode over to the phone, picked it up, and heard Gordon's rushed voice from the other end, "Bruce! There's been a murder inside the Gotham Police Departnt, you need to get here soon!"
Upon their arrival at the Gotham Police Departnt, Gordon greeted them and while leading them inside, began speaking,
"The one dead is our Deputy Director Freeman. I asked you to co here because...his corpse is sowhat..." He shook his head, unable to finish speaking.
Arriving at the door to an office, he waved his hand, signaling the nearby officers to leave. When the office door was opened, Bruce froze.
Behind the desk sat a silhouette, or rather a corpse. What stunned Bruce montarily was the fact that this middle-aged man's ears had been cut off, and there were two pistols stuck in the ear holes.
The more Bruce looked at the scene, the more familiar it seed. However, a hint of excitent began to glimr in his eyes, one that made Chief Gordon and Clark, standing behind him, feel an uneasy chill.
Gordon swallowed and subconsciously stepped aside before carefully asking, "Bruce... Are you...are you okay?"
Keeping his bright gaze fixed on the corpse, Bruce stepped back and, without turning his head, asked Gordon, "... Is there a phone?"
Gordon pointed to the public phone on the corridor. Bruce, keeping his eyes on the cri scene, walked slowly towards the phone.
After picking up the receiver, Bruce expertly dialed a number. As soon as the other party answered, Bruce shouted,
"Hello? Professor! Soone's plagiarized your academic work!"
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