Chapter 2373: Gotham Music Festival (75)_1

Without a doubt, up until now, the two biggest adversaries Oliver has faced are the Penitent Cartel and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and if both of them were embroiled in trouble, the pressure on Mexico would be greatly reduced.

Oliver and Amanda had collaborated on the ship before, and they may have reached some kind of agreement: Amanda helped Oliver implement the plan, while Oliver helped Amanda climb the ranks. It was a win-win situation.

No matter how Bruce analyzed it, he always arrived at the same conclusion. However, he didn't believe Oliver would resort to such methods; if Oliver had, he wouldn't have been expelled from Mexico.

Conversely, when countless strands of evidence ultimately converged on one point, with no trace to be found at any juncture, it was always him benefiting from the most inconspicuous position. It was hard for Bruce not to think of that name—Schiller Rodriguez.

As for the benefits this situation brought to Schiller, there were none concrete. Schiller had hardly any dealings with the Penitent Cartel and his grudges with the Federal Bureau of Investigation were from a previous life, so whether either of them got into trouble was irrelevant to him.

But he did gain many intangible benefits. For instance, Schiller had always wanted to help Oliver because, aside from their friendship, they shared revolutionary camaraderie from standing on the same side.

Additionally, Schiller wished for stability in Mexico not just because of his stance; if Mexico, during what should be a stable period for development, continued to be plagued by constant internal strife, then even if things improved later on, they would always be a step behind, which was not what Schiller wanted.

As for Amanda, Bruce knew that Amanda was once Schiller's student, but he had never heard of any bitterness between the two. Given their mentor-student relationship, embedding a wedge within the Federal Bureau of Investigation could be beneficial in the future.

More importantly, the least likely suspect in this series of maneuvers was Schiller because nearly everyone involved and everything that happened had absolutely no connection of interest or past conflicts with him—it was improbable for anyone to suspect him.

Especially since these murder cases were so clumsily executed, entirely lacking in artistry, which virtually eliminated Schiller as a suspect, because everyone knew that if Schiller were a serial killer, he would be the best at it.

By suspecting Schiller, Bruce had to question much more, specifically whether their previous collaboration on the Dakotazo, or rather the scheme they completed together, also concealed benefits for Schiller that Bruce was unaware of.

Reviewing all the clues in his mind again, Bruce keenly grasped the key point.

Schiller had a group of serial killers, which was now an open secret.

The reason this terrifying secret did not trigger the disgust of righteous heroes was because anyone aware of it could understand that it was actually a means of limiting serial killers.

The group celebrated artistry over quantity, with many serial killers taking pride in orchestrating a grand murder that took years to plan, significantly reducing the frequency of killings.

Even Superman had to admit that though he could find all the serial killers in the world, they were well-disguised with normal or even high societal status. If he came forward and killed them all, people wouldn't see it as justice served; they would view him as a deranged supercriminal.

So using this method, which was partly righteous and partly evil, to restrict serial killers, had become the best solution available—if crime could never be completely eradicated, then even reducing its frequency was saving more people.

However, not long ago, Bruce noticed a problem: the scholarly works published within the group started showing a trend towards homogeneity.

But this was hard to avoid. Even counting from when Schiller came to this world, almost 10 years had passed. The human body is marvelous, but not marvelously so; there are only so many ways to manipulate a corpse, inevitably leading to cases of repetition.

There were also individuals like Flamingo, who, merely because of early entry and seniority, plagiarized without restraint—besides academic dishonesty, they were talkative pests.

From Bruce's observations, besides a decline in academic standards, Schiller likely had little tolerance for those among them who were untalented yet talkative.

Therefore, the idea of trading sinners' souls with a demon might just be Schiller's way to forever silence these academic dregs, because if there was one place in the world with the highest concentration of sin, it was this serial killer club.

Soul Hunters would inevitably pursue these serial killers relentlessly. There's a saying: never let your hobby challenge someone else's profession. Serial killing might be just a pastime, but Soul Hunters rely on it for their livelihood.

The remaining magicians in the Magic Realm are far from meek; while not everyone is as adept as Constantine, they are still considerable in their own right, pulling off tricks with finesse and flair. They have plenty of ways to deal with ordinary people.

The serial killers' proud disguises, meticulously cleared traces, and staged crime scenes would probably fail to fool the mages' Spirit Vision. At worst, they could simply pay more to summon back the souls from Hell to inquire; they would naturally learn the whole truth.

In this way, serial killers who once stood at the apex of ordinary human society would become prey for Soul Hunters, creating an additional layer in the food chain atop ordinary human society.

This method would not only clear out the incapable and addictive members mucking about the serial killer club but also make serial killers more cautious in their actions.

Serial killers who followed brutal laws of the jungle within an orderly society would eventually be devoured by even fiercer beasts from the same jungle, a fitting retribution for every advocate of jungle-ism.

Bruce couldn't help but turn his head to look; Schiller, with his eyes closed, seemed to have silently completed another of his plans, taking care of everything that needed to be done, calmly accepting both the good and the bad outcomes resulting from his good and bad methods.

At that moment, Bruce felt a detachment from him, as if Schiller's soul had suddenly become distant, turning into something cold and unreachable, a rule that naturally existed.

Schiller opened his eyes and glanced out the window. The car ride was exceptionally long this time. He had skipped so much time, so why hadn't he arrived home yet?

At this moment, the building of Wayne Manor slowly came into view, the car stopped, and Gordon turned off the engine and said, "This place is just too far from both of our homes. Let's stay here tonight, since we have to continue the case study tomorrow morning, anyway."

Schiller, with his head spinning from the sleep deprivation, was not very coherent, so without saying much, he nodded, following Alfred up to the guest room.

Changed into his pajamas and sitting on the bed, the moment Schiller's head touched the pillow, his Battleworld communicator rang again—Beihan was urging him to reply.

Fortunately, he was getting paid for this, so Schiller mustered what energy he could, trying to read through everything Beihan sent him and started to offer revisions.

Unbeknownst to him, the first light of day was already seeping through the curtains. It was morning already.

Finally having finished the proposal, Schiller's eyes were completely unable to stay open. He turned off the interface, just about to sink into sleep, when another communication request came through.

"Hello, PhD, this is Batman. We've run into some trouble in another universe, mainly concerning the Joker. I believe you have extensive experience with this, and I wonder if you could…"

As Schiller looked at the lengthy situation briefing and the verbose argument that followed, he repeated to himself countless times that he was wealthy, imagining countless zeros added to the envisioned bill, which finally barely roused him enough to reply.

After writing more than 2,000 words, Schiller really couldn't write any further. He was never cut out for writing papers. After thinking about it, he simply prescribed Batman something. They all needed to take medicine and get some sleep as soon as possible.

After completely shutting down the interface and silencing all communication devices, Schiller was ready to sleep until the end of time.

Just as he pulled up the blanket and closed his eyes, there came a knock-knock-knock at the door. Gordon pushed the door open and said, "Didn't we agree to discuss the case this morning? Why are you still sleeping? Get up quickly, breakfast is ready."

Schiller pretended not to hear, but in truth, he was already dreaming when suddenly Jason burst in, slapping the bed and shouting, "Professor, Professor, get up! Bad news; Spider-Man got beaten up by Deathstroke!"

Hearing about Spider-Man, Schiller zipped upright, then looked at Jason somewhat bewilderedly and asked, "What? Spider-Man got beaten up by whom? The Hulk?"

"Uh, who's The Hulk? Spider-Man fell into Deathstroke's trap and got beaten up by him. Alfred is treating his wounds right now."

"Which Spider-Man?"

"The Spider-Man."

Schiller threw back the covers to get out of bed, paused as if something had suddenly occurred to him, and waved everyone out, saying, "Get out, I need to change clothes."

No one objected and they all scrambled out. Schiller then changed into the troublesome suit. Startled awake by Jason, his sleepiness vanished, replaced by that terrible, persistent exhaustion that comes with pulling an all-nighter, as if his brain was filled with glue.

Schiller walked downstairs slowly, seeing Peter with a black eye and a big bump on his head, chuckling at something Alfred was applying to his wounds.

Schiller sat down and surveyed Spider-Man with an arrogantly scrutinizing gaze, asking, "How did you get beaten up by Deathstroke?"

"This despicable guy set up a trap!"

"What kind of trap?"

"He kidnapped Wade!"

Schiller fought the urge to facepalm and said, "Didn't you know that Wade is his cousin?"

"Of course, but Wade hanging over the chemical pool was screaming so miserably, I couldn't help it!" Peter wailed tragically, "What's worse is that Deathstroke said if I didn't let him beat me up, he would throw Wade into the pool and turn him into the Joker, and then our universe would have a Batman! Oh God!!!"

Bruce silently upped Deathstroke's threat level in his mind again.