Chapter 61: The Night Watchman

Batman rarely spent too much time in deep thought.

Generally speaking, the situations he faced demanded immediate decisions—they were vital, critical, and utterly urgent. Time had always been a luxury to him, and there was no helping it; most of the time, crises that desperately required someone to save the day left no room for procrastination, and his intellect was indeed sufficient to handle such circumstances.

Tonight was different, however. The strange event he encountered tonight was not some catastrophic crisis, nor did it involve any supervillain. It was simply... odd.

Yet it was also somewhat warm.

That comical Santa Claus slowly stirred the steaming pot of porridge, making even the night feel prolonged, as if a corner of the city was telling him: It's alright, it doesn't matter if you slow down. Tonight is just an ordinary night, this is just an ordinary street, and for now, there is no sin and no conspiracy. You can pause here for a moment.

But he had no intention of pausing. Batman never paused—Gotham had more than this one corner, and Batman always had things to do.

He glanced back at the crude shack and the children lined up for porridge, raised a hand to make a call, and then turned and vanished into the night.

...

"Boss, why'd you call everyone out so late? In the middle of the night like this..."

"Cut the crap. Things are a bit weird tonight. Those brats don't know what they're up to, suddenly gathering in one place and even building a shack to cook porridge—let's go take a look. If they're planning something, we'll teach them a lesson."

"Right! Who knows, there might even be some perks in it." The scarred brute sneered twice. "Even if there's nothing in it for us, I still want to beat up a few brats to vent—I haven't had enough sleep as it is, and this damn weather is freezing."

"A—achoo! Pfft, it really is cold. This snow is so damn thick. Christmas is just around the corner, can't these brats just settle down for a while?"

"Say, don't we have an order recently? How about..."

"Order my ass. That was the last order, and it was delivered ages ago. There's no sign of the next one yet, and if we snatch those brats back now, we'll just have to spend money to feed them. What, are you going to pay for it?"

"Leave this place."

The abrupt utterance clearly did not belong to anyone in the gang. It was deep, raspy, freezing cold, and carried an inexplicable, hair-raising terror.

"Who's there! Who is it?!"

The dim moonlight spilled over Gotham in the dead of night, casting flickering, cold reflections across the snow. Relying on the faint, reflected light, the men could vaguely make out a tall, blurred dark shadow standing in the snow.

Was it a person? But how could a person have a pair of pointed, bat-like ears?

"I said, leave this place. Don't make me repeat myself a third time."

However, the scarred brute was unconcerned. In his eyes, the person across from him looked like a comical actor from television, or a clown dressed in bizarre costume on a stage, and those pointed ears were undoubtedly nothing more than some eccentric, cheap novelty decoration.

Therefore, he immediately began to curse, "Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you order—"

"Shut up, you idiot!"

The leader stopped his yelling instantly. The scarred brute might not have known the urban legends about Batman in Gotham City, but the boss had heard tales of this sort more than once. Although this was his first time seeing him in the flesh, he already had some understanding of the feats achieved by this nocturnal creature.

Wait, didn't Falcone put out a bounty of a full million dollars on this bat's head?

At the thought of that astronomical sum, he instinctively licked his lips.

Batman could see the greed shining in the other man's eyes, and many of the gangsters beside him wore the same cruel grins. Perhaps, in their minds, they were already picturing themselves turning over a new leaf under the Roman's banner, living a lavish and carefree life with a million dollars in hand.

At that moment, they had made their choice—and they had chosen wrong.

"Boss, he's gone!"

"What?"

He turned his head in astonishment. Amidst the blinding glare of the white flashlight beam, there was nothing left except pristine white snow; the shadow of the bat that had been standing in the snow had vanished. This prompted him to curse in frustration.

"Damn it! The bastard ran!"

"And they kept telling everyone how terrifying Batman is! The son of a bitch ran off in a matter of seconds!"

Right then, a gangster stammered in a panic, "B-b-b-boss..."

"Boss what? Call me boss!"

"Up above!"

Everyone was jolted with dread, snapping their gazes toward the sky.

Against the silvery-white full moon, that bat-like dark shadow suddenly spread its black wings, its form instantly ballooning wildly along with the silhouette, almost eclipsing the entire moonlight.

For some reason, tonight's Batman exuded an even more overwhelming deterrent force than ever before. The blurred, twisted, and terrifying bat wings expanded rapidly amidst the sound of a high-speed diving glide. At that very moment, every single gang member finally understood why the Bat of Gotham City was the embodiment of fear.

"Hit him! Shoot him!" The scarred brute frantically squeezed out the very last shred of courage in his heart, screaming the order with a trembling voice.

Yet he still wasn't fast enough.

"Crack, crack, snap."

The crisp sounds of bones breaking echoed out. With the same decisive, clean movements and the same elusive form, Batman plunged into the crowd of hefty thugs like a tiger among sheep, knocking them down one by one. Everyone drew their guns, wanting to take aim at him, but no one dared to fire, because in such a dense formation, a stray bullet could easily hit one of their own companions at any second.

The gangsters in the group fell one by one into the freezing snow, clutching their hands, legs, or various other parts of their bodies while wailing. The dim moonlight only occasionally managed to catch a glimpse of the bat's figure, before he dissolved back into the shadows the very next second.

"Flashlights! Shine your flashlights on him!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a high-intensity flash-bang exploded right in the center of the crowd.

*BZZZZ—*

The violent, high-decibel sonic blast and blinding glare instantly engulfed everyone. Plagued by severe ringing in their ears and temporary blindness, the flashlight-wielding gangsters were easily mowed down by Batman like stalks of wheat.

Fire, fire, fire.

The silvery-white snow and the silent, pitch-black night sky seemed to burn all at once. A bone-chilling terror seared into everyone's sanity. At that moment, the bodies of everyone still standing trembled violently. They raised their guns with agonizing effort, trying to cling to the last flicker of their courage, but as they looked upon their rapidly dwindling comrades, they all knew the battle was lost.

"Gotham City Police Department! Everyone drop your weapons!"

Accompanied by the wail of sirens, flashing lights, and the blare of loudspeakers, GCPD cruiser cars arrived at the scene. At that moment, the gangsters were practically moved to tears; in their eyes, these weren't the detestable cops about to haul them off to the precinct, but rather benevolent angels delivering them from hell.

"Hurry! Officer! I confess! Arrest me, please!"

Amidst the ensuing chaos, Batman's figure quietly faded away from the crowd.

On this night, the Gotham precinct was packed to capacity, every single gang member who dared to approach the porridge stall left with broken bones courtesy of the Dark Knight.

And in contrast, the children drinking their porridge spent a warm and peaceful night.