Chapter 63: Harmony in Diversity

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The foolish and wealthy Wayne Enterprises is throwing money around again.

Perhaps using such an adjective to describe Wayne Enterprises might seem a little strange. Deeply rooted in Gotham City for many years and involved in numerous industries such as transportation, water conservancy, agriculture, trade, real estate, new energy, genetic engineering, the arms trade, and aviation, with monopolies in several sectors, the powerful and formidable Wayne Enterprises of today may be wealthy, but they are certainly not foolish.

Back when the city was built, there were three other families of equal standing alongside the Wayne family: the Elliot family, the Kane family, and the Cobblepot family. Each of these families met different fates—either their heirs degenerated into criminals, or the families simply declined. But in short, the one that remains standing unshaken is still the Waynes.

The only question lies in the successor of Wayne Enterprises: the young playboy, Bruce Wayne.

He has no particular skills, nor is he very focused on running Wayne Enterprises. People's impressions of him are mostly reduced to being hot-headed, a playboy, a super bachelor, foolish with money, not having a bad heart, and being a worthless son of a great father.

Oh, and finally, there is the label of Gotham orphan.

Speaking of which, Ma Zhaodi actually almost broke character yesterday because, right after Batman finished drinking his porridge, the task progress ticked up a little bit right then and there, which implied that he was an orphan too.

Well, Gotham City really has a lot of orphans.

Anyway, little Bruce—meaning Bruce Wayne’s image in people's minds is basically just like that. This impression is deeply rooted and almost impossible to change. In other words, whenever Wayne Enterprises makes some strange and abstract decisions, it will most likely be attributed to Bruce.

Whenever this happens, people will murmur things like, "Ha, that foolish boy from the Wayne family is starting to make decisions again."

Just like a few days ago, no matter why Lucius suddenly decided to dispatch a convoy of Wayne Logistics to help a porridge-cooking Santa Claus cosplay transport hot porridge to the East End and every corner of Gotham, why he specifically sent Wayne Security personnel and equipment to protect a tiny porridge stall, or why he dispatched engineering teams from Wayne Construction to carry out long and tedious repair work.

For Wayne Enterprises, this kind of donation is different from other companies' charitable contributions; it cannot be used for tax avoidance and is purely an expense.

However, people have grown accustomed to it. When the corporation makes decisions that are not conducive to profitability and even consume vast amounts of capital, people generally unify in viewing such matters as impulsive decisions made off the top of Bruce Wayne's head; and if the decision is for charity, people generally unify in viewing it as an impulsive decision made by a benevolent Bruce Wayne acting on a whim.

In short, it certainly contains no long-term consideration.

......

Good morning, Gotham.

Today in Gotham City remains overcast. Although it is not snowing, the early morning air still carries a heavy chill, and the snow on the roads shows no sign of melting whatsoever.

Ma Zhaodi stirred the porridge in the pot, listening to the morning news broadcast on the radio, his hand pausing involuntarily.

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"Yesterday, at the charity fundraiser for the winter survival of Gotham City's orphans, Mr. Harvey Dent donated a full two million dollars, an event that has sparked quite heated discussions..."

He donated all that money, Ma Zhaodi thought, without keeping a single cent—and even chipped in a portion of his own savings.

Harvey Dent, the District Attorney of Gotham City, one of Gotham's last remaining pillars of conscience, the crime-hating White Knight.

Judging by his actions, he is well-deserved of the name of justice.

This is not only because he donated this sum of money, but also because donating such an amount might bring him a considerable degree of trouble. Perhaps he can handle it himself, perhaps Gordon can help him handle it, perhaps Batman can help him handle it, but most likely......

......

"Where did you get that money from!? Who gave you such a huge sum of money!?"

Looking at the furious friend before him, Harvey Dent could not help but recall when they first met.

Back then, his sideburns were not yet white, he didn't have this full beard, there were far fewer wrinkles on his face, and he wasn't wearing those glasses yet, making him look just like a young, strapping lad.

Now he has grown somewhat old, and many things about him have faded away with time, such as his physical stamina, his eyesight, and his full head of golden hair.

Yet there are still things about him that have not changed: that deeply furrowed brow remains unchanged, the habit of burning the midnight oil at his desk in the Gotham police precinct remains unchanged, and the momentum of leading the police force in the front lines remains unchanged.

Even the way he roars against injustice and unfairness is just like back then, full of anger and full of courage, regardless of who the opponent is or how much power they hold.

Every time he sees his companion, Harvey grows even more steadfast in his own path from the bottom of his heart, firmly believing that adhering to justice and the rule of law can never be wrong.

"Gordon, I know you're angry, but you know who I am and you know my style of doing things—so calm down and listen to me first. Harvey Dent would never betray justice."

After listening, Gordon did not continue to question him, but instead sat down angrily on a nearby chair.

"I met... someone whose identity I cannot disclose, and he gave me this money."

"Why? Who would give you such a huge sum of money for no reason and inexplicably?"

"It wasn't for no reason." Harvey shook his head. "This money was originally the bounty Falcone put on my head to hunt me down."

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"What do you mean?" Gordon was startled. "Those five men from the Irish mob..."

"I didn't kill them." Harvey sighed. "How is it that your mind always jumps to that sort of conclusion?"

Gordon said nothing more, but ever since "Weasel" Mickey asked him that question last time, he often found himself unable to resist pondering the meaning behind those words.

A partner of justice, one's own trusted ally, Harvey Dent—could it be possible that he resorted to extreme measures to deal with mobsters in the pursuit of justice?

Deep in his heart, he felt a faint wavering.

"Before the bomb went off, someone contacted me. He switched the Irish mob's bomb, helping me evade the attack, and also stole the bounty the Irish mob collected, giving that money to me."

"Unfortunately, I didn't protect Grida well enough; she still had to spend a few days in the hospital."

"......Grida's medical checkup results show everything is healthy. Judging by the results, you still protected her well."

Gordon instinctively tried to comfort Harvey, but the next second, remembering that he was here to ask questions, he said instead: "But since this person doesn't want the money and doesn't know you, why would he help you?"

"I can't be certain either, but he said he is not the Holiday Killer."

"He—"

"He indeed is not."

Out of the darkness, the bat's voice rang out right on cue: "I have conducted an investigation."

"A very thorough investigation."

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