Chapter 2

Nights in Gotham City are always cloudy, with eerie Gothic buildings towering high.

Beneath the surface glitz, dark alleys hide grime, and danger lurks everywhere.

The young policeman on patrol knew this better than most, and a report he had just received at the police station was inexplicably canceled.

Dick Grayson ignored his colleagues' skeptical glances and still wanted to investigate.

If his negligence resulted in the tragic death of an innocent person, his conscience would be troubled for the rest of his life.

As a member of the Gotham Police Department's Major Crime Unit, he refused to join the gangs and insisted on exposing the criminal activities of Falcone, a powerful Gotham gangster family.

Just today, he had testified against Falcone in court, believing that justice would eventually prevail, but he was harshly slapped by the ruthless reality.

An old gangster family like the Falcones was as entrenched as Gotham's history.

More than two-thirds of the city's dignitaries had a vested interest in him and were willing to shield him.

There was also the most luxurious legal team in the country to defend him 24/7, and countless gang members lined up to apologize on his behalf.

In Gotham, bringing down Falcone through legal means was harder than climbing to the sky, Dick muttered, the city is rotten to the core.

As he was lost in thought, a pickup truck suddenly appeared at the intersection in front of him, and he instinctively swerved the steering wheel.

The tires screeched against the ground, the vehicle spun out of control, and crashed into the guardrail. Despite the protection of the airbags, the impact still left him dazed.

Just as Dick looked up, a dark figure smashed into the glass of his car with a loud crack.

Before he could react, another blow shattered the front window. A thick arm reached in, grabbed him, pulled him out of the seat, and threw him to the ground.

"Bastard!"

Dick cried out in pain as he got up from the ground. He reached for his pistol, but a metal rod struck his arm, sending the weapon flying.

The sharp sound of his arm breaking was accompanied by his wail of pain.

In the next second, a leather boot pressed down on his chest, nearly suffocating him.

"Whack, whack, whack"

The thugs continued to beat him with iron rods. Within a minute, a pool of blood formed beneath Dick, who was curled up in agony.

But the attack didn't stop. One bullet would have been enough to kill him, but they wanted him to suffer.

"Bastard, weren't you so dignified in court, officer? Get up and fight me, bastard!" A masked man was frantically beating Dick.

Watching the self-proclaimed righteous policeman being ruthlessly beaten without any ability to fight back brought the man perverse pleasure.

"Hey, stop! You'll kill him if you keep going!" A sharp voice interrupted the brutality.

The thugs turned to see a handsome black-haired boy walking toward them, hands in his pockets, unhurried.

Everyone thought, bastard, are you taking a walk?

The masked man threatened, "Get out of here! Mind your own business, or you'll regret it!"

The boy continued to approach, and the masked man laughed viciously. He really doesn't see the danger.

Dragging the iron rod, the thug advanced toward the boy, already imagining him begging for mercy.

"What I hate most is a pretty face. Let's see how you look after I smash it!"

The thug, nearly 6'3", removed his mask, revealing a scarred face as if announcing the boy's death sentence.

His companions stopped attacking Dick, who had long passed out, and watched the scene.

The boy exaggeratedly said, "My God, you're ugly."

"What did you say?" The thug's forehead veins bulged in anger, and he swung the iron rod at the boy with all his strength.

"Bang"

The dull impact sounded as if hitting a concrete wall, making the thug's wrist numb.

The boy mocked, "That was so light. Haven't you eaten?"

Years of drug use had dulled the thug's mind, and he lost control, swinging the iron rod wildly at the boy.

The boy stood there without moving, even taking time to feign pain, "Oh, it hurts."

Hearing the boy's "screams" only fueled the thug's rage. "Now you know it's wrong, huh? You thought you could be a hero."

His companion noticed something was off. "Careful, this guy's not normal!"

Too late, the boy's lips curled into a smirk. As the thug turned his head, the boy lunged forward.

Pain is a body's defense mechanism, deterring full-force attacks. But what if you couldn't feel pain?

The boy's rock-hard fist struck the thug's chin, sending him flying.

The remaining thugs roared and charged at the boy, one pulling out a pistol.

But the boy had already grabbed an iron rod, rushing forward to meet them.

Bring it on, scum!

Though he had never fought before, the boy was soon taking hits as he rushed into the crowd.

After breaking one thug's head with the rod, he was surrounded, enduring a rain of blows.

Though not physically damaged, his super stamina had limits.

Frustrated, he grabbed a knife from one thug and began slashing everything in reach.

After dozens of swings, he stood alone, covered in blood, surrounded by fallen enemies, blood pooling around him.

The last thug with the gun trembled in fear.

In his eyes, the boy was a bloody demon.

He met the boy's gaze, saw the blood-red eyes, and pulled the trigger in terror.

"Bang, bang, bang"

Fear drove him to shoot repeatedly, shouting, "Stay back, you devil!"

But the bullets sparked off the boy, leaving him unscathed.

With a quick step, the boy blocked the gun's muzzle, causing the bullet to explode.

The impact sent the thug to the ground, convulsing.

The boy looked down coldly. If you raise a butcher's knife, expect to die by one. If you want revenge, I'll be waiting!

Dick, lying in a pool of blood, felt a strong arm lift him.

He struggled to speak but couldn't make a sound, his consciousness fading.

"Hey! You're still alive. Don't die on me!" The boy patted Dick's face, and he felt someone was observing him