Chapter 1256: Justice Farm (Thirty-Eight)_1

In the spacious tiered classroom, the clear sound of the professor's polished dress shoes on the floor was prominent. His lecturing was articulated, with a calming tempo, and aside from the rustling sound of note taking, the classroom was almost entirely silent.

Most of the students seated here wore the Federal Bureau of Investigation's training uniform - blue shirts paired with black ties, badges hanging from their chests. The majority had short haircuts, were physically fit, and fully focused, brimming with energy.

The students in the front row were sitting upright, their backs not leaning against the chairs, hands propped on the table in front, attentively watching the screen behind Shiller.

In the back rows, some students were lowering their heads taking notes, while some were discreetly discussing the case details with the person beside them, almost inaudible.

A young man with dazzling blonde hair sitting in the front row on the far right, got up and approached the podium after the professor paused his words. After whispering a few words to the professor, he faced the students and extended one hand saying:

"Take me as the dividing line, my right side is for the government and the left for the opposition. Every three rows form a team, sharing a speaker's position."

"Now, pass these materials back. You have half an hour to read the materials, half an hour for group discussions. After one hour, we will take turns speaking from right to left. It will be an open debate, no time limits for speech, but different teams from the same side must not have entirely identical perspectives…"

"You can call me Alan. I will supervise and record this debate. Come to me to check the speech records and sign them after class. The professor will grade you based on your performance in class and the written records."

Barry nodded to his left and right before distributing the material to the first row. Everyone silently passed the material back and began to read attentively.

Barry left the classroom without delay, returned shortly after, carrying a table and a chair and placed them next to the podium. He had his notebook, recorder, and pen with him and immediately settled down on the chair.

After the reading and group discussions were over, the debate began. Barry listened while taking notes, occasionally glancing up at the content Shiller, standing behind the podium, was looking at.

Shiller knew that Barry was not using his divine speed, but his handwriting was still pleasing to the eye, even when taking shorthand. The size of the letters, the word spacing, everything was pleasing to the eye.

But soon enough, Shiller's attention was shifted to the debate going on.

He hadn't heard such a substantial debate in a long time. Even though the maximum age of these agent trainees was 30 years old, all the speakers were eloquent, lucid and their reasoning was logical.

More importantly, after alternating debates for a few rounds, the topic remained unchanged, there was no emotional investment from anyone, they were discussing the case based on the facts, stating their evidence, or reinforcing their own logic.

Shiller's intellect told him this was normal, these people have been vetted by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Bureau's conservatives. They were all promising talents. Being logical and controlling their emotions are basic skills for an adult.

Yet Shiller felt a faint thrill and touched, it had been so long since he last heard a genuine East Coast rap in classroom debates.

Remarkably, all of these people were armed, yet they had been maintaining peace for more than two hours. Shiller felt like he was witnessing a glorious chapter in American law enforcement.

What moved him even more was that after the debate, Barry handed over a neat and complete record of the debate, without traces of blood on the paper.

At the bottom of the record, all the students' legal names were neatly signed, all spelled correctly.

Standing in front of the podium, Shiller removed his glasses, looking at Barry's slightly fatigued expression. Barry thought he might have done something wrong, he cautiously said, "I'm sorry, professor, my shorthand experience mainly comes from my court internship. The court practice might differ somewhat from the classroom setting. If there's a problem with the record, let me know now and I'll remember it for next time."

"You did a great job, the handwriting is neat, the content is complete." Shiller said while flipping through the notebook.

"Please don't hesitate to point out if there's a mistake. This is also part of my work experience. I believe there's a commonality between classroom debate shorthand and physical evidence record. If you could point out the mistakes, I may be able to improve my physical evidence analysis report.", Barry said sincerely.

Shiller covered half of his face with his hand and said: "You can extrapolate, and you take your professional ability seriously, are willing to work hard for it, you have a stable attitude and strong initiative."

Barry was a little confused by this. Shiller didn't seem to be praising him, but objectively evaluating him, yet like it was more than that.

"Okay.", Barry shrugged, "When would you like to grade today's debate reflection and summary essay?"

Shiller hesitated a little, then asked: "Can I choose a time?"

"Of course." Barry didn't understand why Shiller asked this, he said: "If you want to finish grading tonight, I'll try to collect them after dinner. Those students who don't have afternoon classes would have completed them. I will collect them again tomorrow morning and will deliver them to your office by lunch."

"If you don't have time tonight or tomorrow, then I will collect them all tomorrow afternoon and deliver the papers to you in the evening."

"Are you sure they will be able to finish?", Shiller asked with hesitation.

"It's only a 500-word essay.", Barry was surprised, "Isn't it usually done in one hour? When you assigned homework before, I considered asking if it was too little…"

"One hour? Not including divine speed?"

"Of course not! Not everyone has divine speed! "

Looking at Shiller's expression, Barry seemed to realize something. His hands folded on the podium, he looked at Shiller and asked: "What are the essays you usually receive at Gotham University like?"

"There are several types." As Shiller was organizing the papers in his hand, he continued, "The most frequent one is the assignment that asks for 500 words, but the student only writes 300 and it still can't be collected after a week."

"The other type asks for 500 words, but gets delivered with 50,000. The discussed topic is so creative and innovative, it could be published in a journal."

Barry widened his eyes in surprise and asked, "Would they actually be published?"

"Couldn't be. There's too much cursing and anti-humanity contents," Shiller shook his head, "At least half of it contains such materials."

Shiller pursed his lips and then with an inexplicable expression, began to speak about another type of student.

"For a 500-word essay, comes to my office thrice, comes to my home five times, and has spent one week contemplating, dreaming for one week, taken three days off for official events, three days off for family errands, I was made to visit his home three times, dated me to visit his office five times, and then spent one week doubting his own academic abilities and another week doubting his teaching abilities..."

Barry's eyes widened as he gulped and looked at the black umbrella placed by the podium, "How did such students manage to survive under your tutorship?"

Shiller's voice got more desolate as he spoke. He lowered his head to check his neat classroom notes.

He now understood profoundly what was meant by 'comparisons hurt' and 'tolerance brews anger, withdrawal leads to loss.'

Seeing the black aura that surrounded Shiller, Barry instinctively took a step backward.

Suddenly, the Divine Speed covered his body. After the Flash sprinted forwards, he left behind only one phrase, "I'm off to collect homework."

Meanwhile, at the end of a small village in West Mexico, Clark stood hands akimbo in front of a hideous black tractor. Diana, who was standing next to him, gasped in amazement at the sight.

Bruce was still squatting by the side of the tractor, doing some adjustments. Clark opened his mouth and asked, "So, this is what you've been busy with these nights? Is this... a Bat Tractor?"

"Nothing of that sort." Bruce denied, "This is just a regular tractor."

"But you've clearly printed a bat pattern on the hub."

"That's just for decoration."

"The wings on the steering wheel..."

"Personal aesthetics."

"But it does closely resemble your Batmobile..."

"Coincidence."

Bruce turned the screws of the tire while answering without raising his head. Diana nudged Clark and said, "Stop pressuring the city's young master to admit that it's a part of his collection. Do you expect to find a tractor among a set of luxury sports cars?"

"It's not because it's a tractor," Bruce rose to his feet with a wrench in his hand, "But rather, it's just a tractor, without adding any Bat Equipment functionalities."

"Of course, this is just the 1.0 version. The material here is limited and lacks strength. I plan to increase the horsepower in the future, install reasonable firepower suppressors, add flying capabilities, design it to be immune to explosions and radiation with a defense system..."

"Stop, don't continue. If you proceed further, I'll have to make an appointment for you at the psychiatric department," Clark interrupted Bruce.

Clark sighed, stepped forward and patted Bruce's shoulder, "Look at the bags under your eyes, how many consecutive days have you been without sleep?"

"Alright, Bruce. I understand that you're worried about the speed of spring plowing here but you don't have to work so hard. Your sleepless nights have helped us to get several days ahead of the schedule. But if this hurts your health, it's absolutely not worth it," Diana also stepped forward to advise.

At this point, Green Arrow walked in briskly with his Mexican buddies. Having seen the crashed Batplane on the island, he wasn't too surprised about the tractor. He knew that's how all Bat Equipment looked, so he just expressed his joy and said, "Great, we finally have the equipment. We still have time, let's start plowing now!"

As Bruce nodded and climbed onto the tractor, Oliver quickly rushed forward to pull him back, "We don't need you to drive the tractor personally, we have enough manpower."

Clark simply grabbed Bruce around his waist and pulled him down, then said, "Didn't you say that this was just a regular tractor? Diana and I could drive it too. What you need to do now is to get a good sleep."

"Have you forgotten what you said earlier, about not doing everything yourself and leaving opportunities for others to practice?" Clark stared at Bruce in the eye and asked.

"Of course, I haven't forgotten, but the circumstances are special now. No, I don't mean the spring plowing of this land, there's a more pressing matter to attend to."

Everyone looked at Bruce with a puzzled expression, but Bruce turned to look at Clark, "Do you remember the question I asked you earlier?"

"Which question?"

"Can we plant broccoli?"