Chapter 67 Dark Sun and Bat Light (Part 1)_1

In Gotham city, a morning that's neither sunny nor warm, students of Gotham University are facing their final psychology exam.

When Evans started distributing the papers, a series of moans and groans erupted in the classroom. Immediately after, the sound of shoe heels hitting the marble floor faded outside the door and in a flash, the classroom fell silent.

Shiller walked into the classroom, packing up his umbrella. Seeing everyone engrossed in their papers, he nodded satisfactorily.

Then he planted his umbrella on the ground and rested his hand on the handle, standing in the center of the room, he said, "The duration of this exam is 1 hour and 40 minutes. In theory, you can submit the paper in advance, but I will get bored invigilating here, so I will certainly check any paper that comes in early."

"At least, you have to ensure that what you write is enough to keep me reading until you leave the classroom."

"Moreover, while I haven't asked you to sit separately, it is best not to whisper. Please write neatly, fancy fonts are not allowed. Most importantly, be sure to write your legal name clearly. I don't want to emphasize as I did at the beginning of the semester that nicknames should not be used."

"Now, you can start your test."

Then the entire classroom fell completely silent, with only the rustling sound of pen tips scratching the paper surfaces.

Never has any classroom at Gotham University been filled with such a strong atmosphere of learning. Bruce, pausing his writing to glance up, saw the nephew of the Eastern District Hyena sitting diagonally in front of him on the right. This guy was a real troublemaker, smoking, drinking, and getting into fights at the tender age of ten.

But at that moment, he was still writing diligently at his desk. It had been 10 minutes already, and it was surprising that his brain, usually filled with alcohol and nicotine, could still keep him going.

To Bruce's left was a famous graffiti artist from Gotham University. He was good at spray painting and often left the walls in a mess. When Sheldon set out a ban on alcohol on campus, he even spray-painted a caricature of him on the wall in the headmaster's office corridor.

But he was almost out of steam now, unable to start the first essay question and started drawing all sorts of doddles on the paper instead.

Employing his excellent vision, Bruce stole a swift glance and saw he was drawing Shiller. Unlike his typical irreverent doodles, this depiction of Shiller, standing with his back against a dark sun and hands stretched wide, surrounded by dot-like patterns, looked somewhat eerie yet cool. Bruce wondered whether Shiller would give him extra credit for this creative effort.

Half an hour later, more than two-thirds of the class were still writing. This was quite unbelievable for Gotham University.

In previous final exams, firstly, some rebels would always be absent, leaving some seats vacant. Two minutes into the test, some students would finish writing their names and leave straight away.

Ten minutes after the start of the exam, many students would have guessed all the answers to the objective type questions, throw their pens down, submit their papers, and leave.

Previously, after twenty minutes, the whole classroom would be almost empty. The few who remained weren't there to write essays, rather, they had no subsequent arrangements and were taking advantage of the peaceful classroom to sleep.

But now, Bruce looked at his watch, 40 minutes had already passed but half the students were still writing.

No one dared to hand in their paper early. Although the majority of them had exhausted their ideas and were at a loss, they were still chewing on their pens, sitting in their seats, hoping their limited brain capacity could squeeze out a few more words to write on the paper, trying to prevent this professor from getting too angry when he sees their semi-illiterate answers.

In fact, even the introductory textbook of psychology is full of technical terms, names, theories, and definitions which can be quite challenging.

Not to mention these students of Gotham University who couldn't care less about academics. Even students from renowned American universities had to prepare themselves before themed lectures, otherwise they would be confused.

Reciting all these terms was already a problem for them, let alone cramming it in one or two weeks.

An hour passed and the majority of the students had stopped writing. Bruce made a list of the students who were still laboring on their papers. They would be the backbone of the Psychology Club he planned to establish.

He thought for a moment, and decided to add the name of the graffiti artist to the list. After all, the club needed someone skilled in creating promotional art.

Finally, after one hour and forty minutes, when the professor's command to "gather the papers" reverberated harshly against the floor, a series of sighs echoed in the classroom as the students felt like they were going crazy.

After the papers were collected, no one dared to leave. Only when Shiller had done securing the papers, checked the numbers, examined the names, and left the classroom with a stack of test papers did the classroom explode like a bomb, creating an uproar.

"I'm ruined! I didn't know more than half of the fill-in-the-blank questions!"

"Damn it, I crammed all the definitions of psychology last night! But it didn't come up? If I knew, I wouldn't have wasted so much time in the beginning!"

"I wrote the answer to the second essay question under the fourth one, oh my god, what do I do now? I definitely won't get any marks for the essays!"

"Who's applying for postgraduate here? Evans, did you apply? My dad said yesterday, if my brain could handle postgraduate studies, that would be like expecting our dog to climb trees! But our dog is a Corgi....."

"I have two unfinished essays that I have to complete before the holidays, otherwise I will have to spend my holidays on tenterhooks, and won't be able to enjoy at all..."

A few people gathered around Bruce's desk. They were the first batch of club members that Bruce had invited. Lenny, the graffiti artist with a fluorescent yellow sweatband said, "The professor will like my drawing, I can tell he's a man of artistic taste."

"But he might prefer to see your correct answers," Bruce countered.

"Oh please, I know nothing about this, and remembering all these would contaminate my brain," Lenny rubbed his nose. He was a typical Germanic, with green eyes and a smattering of freckles. He wore Reggae-styled clothes.

"And who says that's not a correct answer? Who says answers must be written in words? Drawing works too. I will pass!"

"Alright, I will pay you to make me a poster. It needs to be big with a strong impact, for the club's promotion. You can name the price but it needs to be phenomenal", Bruce stated.

Lenny snapped his fingers, "Boss, you've come to the right person! No one in Gotham knows how to make a bigger impression than me!"

A few heads huddled together, murmuring softly.

"What? You're saying you want to…"

"You're a genius…"

"Count me in, I want to be part of this!"

"This is a big surprise...Yes, I see it…"

"Perhaps, based on this, he might pass us…"

A few days later, Shiller was grading papers, amassing frustration. Although he had foreseen the incompetence of these students at Gotham University, he did not expect them to perform this poorly.

Not wanting to have his mind continually polluted by these academic disasters, Shiller decided to work overtime and grade all the papers in one go, planning to decisively give most of them a failing grade.

Suddenly, he heard a sharp siren from outside the office building window. It sounded somewhat like a fire alarm, but it was shorter and sharper.

Shiller stood up and glanced out the window, noticing some lights flickering. It was just after sundown, and the streetlights were not yet lit. Most of the teachers and students hadn't left the school yet.

He heard a commotion from below, seemingly someone calling his name. Shiller put down his pen, left his desk, and walked over to the window.

The entire side of the opposite building was covered by a huge curtain. Shiller had heard that it was for wall renovation. He rarely used that route and hadn't paid much attention to it.

However, as soon as he neared the window, the curtain on the opposite wall suddenly fell off, revealing a massive graffiti about seven stories high. A row of spotlights suddenly lit up, illuminating the entire side of the building as bright as day.

It was indeed a massive graffiti. At the bottom was the silhouette of Shiller, and above it was a strange, black sun filled with bizarre patterns, encircled by rings of golden flame. Shiller's figure was standing in front of this black sun.

Shiller's silhouette was almost blended into the background of this black sun, or this enormous sun seemed like his shadow.

Shiller stood by the window, initially blinded by the high-powered spotlights. When he opened his eyes, he saw this sight.

Shiller: "…"

Symbiont: "…Wow."

The side of the graffiti read: "Join the Psychology Club, face the human heart, face this black sun. ——Blue Ghost Lenny"

Shiller looked down to see a group of people at the bottom of the building waving excitedly at him. They were mostly students from the Psychology department at Gotham University, including Bruce Wayne.

Shiller looked up again at the black sun made up of bizarre patterns. It invoked a sense of eerie aesthetic that one couldn't look away from, as if it was sucking in their soul.

It was terrifying, strange, absurd, and yet filled with a sense of beauty that sucked you in.

Shiller recalled "Gotham" originally meaning "Fools' Village", and indeed filled with all kinds of absurd fools, clueless about life and death.

Yet, there were also all kinds of geniuses here, with unparalleled talents, and fascinating vitality.

Shiller was indeed fascinated. This audacious and bizarre act, filled with a unique vitality that no other place in the world possesses, was like a terrifying vine climbing up from the abyss, and also like a top-notch masterpiece rivaling countless masters.

Shiller knew more than these students, but he just realized he wasn't yet adept at one thing—

He hadn't truly understood Gotham yet.

All who lived here were insane, but at the same time, they were clear-headed.

This City of Darkness didn't need anyone to rectify it. Everyone here lived crazily in the abyss, with a life force that was twisted and bizarre.

This vitality grew from the darkness, making the people here use their madness as a blade, accurately piercing into anyone's heart.

Shiller was staring at the black sun, thinking perhaps everyone here was an unparalleled genius, and the only fools were he himself and everyone outside of Gotham who vainly attempted to play the savior.

Here, these people with brains devoid of any knowledge of psychological theory could read their professor like a book.

A black sun is still a sun. This portrayal of Shiller couldn't be more precise.

The part Shiller played wasn't that of a bright, hot sun, but of a sun that didn't shine or heat— a black sun.

After a few minutes, Shiller wrote a line on the foggy glass — "You all passed."

In an instant, a loud cheer erupted from below. Underneath the black sun, the people seemed like citizens rejoicing under an eternal star that would never shine, celebrating the birth of a new era.