Chapter 1702: Bruce Wayne and the Magic Stone (17)_1

The three individuals who jumped down the door on the floor didn't feel the pain of crashing onto the ground as they had imagined. They fell into a heap of something that had hard corners, so their situation wasn't much better than if they had directly hit the ground.

"God!"

Barry shouted in pain, struggling to move the things next to him with his fists, like a drowning man fighting in vain. Not until Harley and Bruce fell did the mountainous pile of hard objects scatter slightly, allowing Barry to free himself.

He groped his way forward in the dark room, almost tripping over some things on the ground. Fortunately, he found the door and opened it, then found some lighting equipment in another room with a candlestick.

Only when Barry returned to this room with the candlestick did he realize that they had fallen onto a pile of books. The mountain of books could be called Book Mountain, tens of thousands of books piled in the center of a room, with the exit of the passage at the top of the mountain.

Harley rolled down from the mountain of books, finding it somewhat amusing. She even performed a few rolls and a special agent landing move. Little Bruce, more dignified, stabilized his balance and walked down the path Barry had rolled down.

"Hope you're not taking pride in your sacrifice because we already knew that this trial wouldn't put our lives in danger," Little Bruce remarked with his usual sharp tone.

Barry smirked and let out a breath through his nose. Waving the candlestick in his hand, he said, "There are still a lot of books scattered on the floor. If you keep talking like that, I'll put out the light and let you trip and fall flat on your face."

"Childish."

"So are you."

"So, where are we? Some kind of bookstore warehouse?" Harley looked back at the towering mountain of books. Picking up a book at her feet, she held her forehead as though dizzy and said, "Oh my God, what language is this?"

Little Bruce came over and glanced at the strange runes inscribed on the book she was holding. He picked up another book, dusted off the cover, opened a page, and found similarly incomprehensible writings, even stranger and more complex.

"This isn't a human language," Little Bruce speculated, rubbing his chin. "I didn't see any repeated phrases, which suggests it isn't using human word formation."

"Look at this, look at this symbol." Harley pointed to a symbol resembling a goat's head on one of the books, "I suspect it may be Demonic Language, or at least a language from Hell."

"Are all the books here like this?" Barry asked, looking up at the mountain of books.

The three of them rummaged through the mountain of books for a while. Little Bruce pulled a piece of a bookshelf from the pile. He examined the runes carved on the side where the magic hadn't completely faded, "It looks like someone smashed a demon's library and threw all the books in here."

"Isn't this the pile of books you got from Beelzebub's palace?" Constantine turned to Bruce, "How did you end up dumping them here?"

"Actually, he dumped the pile of books on me," Shiller said, lighting a cigar and reclining on the couch. "I haven't looked at even half of them since I took them. I'm not interested in deciphering demon scripts, so after the academy was built, I dumped the books in the basement."

"There isn't much valuable information in them," Bruce shook his head, "Demons, creatures driven by instinctive power, don't record history meticulously like humans do. Most of these texts were written by servants of demons. Complex as the language may be, it serves only to show their knowledge gained from demons and offers no advantages beyond that."

"When your professor tells you to read, it would be best if you take his advice," Zatanna chuckled, "Even though you've graduated and no longer need to write papers, you still need to set an example for your students."

"I've been particularly troubled by this lately," Miss Magician said, throwing up her hands, "I don't know what kind of sermon will get these little brats to turn in their homework on time. I now appreciate you more, Professor Rodriguez."

"Then you don't understand completely," Shiller scoffed, not at Zatanna but at someone in the room who everyone knew, "When one of your students tries to compensate for his record of never turning in assignments on time in four years with a shredder, you realize that every other teacher in the world is lucky."

"And a limited-edition bat puppet," Bruce emphasized.

"Yes, and a bat puppet, which I still haven't found a place for."

"So what's the riddle here?" Little Bruce asked, somewhat puzzled. Harley went to the side room where Barry had picked up the candlestick. She opened the door and looked inside. It turned out to be a very ordinary lounge with nothing in it.