Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 5549 - 4575: Blackest Night (64)

"Not long after the cliff incident, I returned to England and told Doctor Sophocles everything I had experienced. I thought he would be surprised, but now he’s troubled by something else. He told me he was once a member of a pen pal club, where they exchanged some mysterious and obscure information through correspondence. When I asked for details, the doctor was very secretive. From his reaction to my story, it was clear this was not his first encounter with such things. I think there truly is a group of people in this world who can see the more terrifying and dangerous side of it that ordinary people cannot.

What distressed the doctor was that there were fewer and fewer normal people among those he corresponded with. Recently, someone even emailed to inquire about some matters in this regard. It was indeed crazy because you never know who might see the email and thus get in touch with that forbidden knowledge. This group of people evidently had no scruples, daring to an astonishing degree.

The content of their correspondence also became increasingly dangerous, as if thoroughly digging into such information. This also sparked my concern because if one wanted to find such information, the Gotham University Library was an unavoidable checkpoint.

Since I left, Gotham University has not had a new librarian. If we let this group run riot in the library, who knows what trouble they could cause? Doctor Sophocles asked me to take care of it. So, on yet another damp rainy night, I returned to my hometown. I returned to Gotham."

The sound of an old wooden floor creaking came piercingly. Moisture surged in from the entrance. Jason, sitting behind the counter, looked up and saw a familiar face.

"Good evening, Jason. I didn’t expect you to return."

"I should say that to you." Jason continued to look down at the manuscript in his hand. His lashes were straight and long, casting dense shadows under the dim light, almost covering his entire gaze. "Why are you here?"

"What if I told you I came because I knew you were back, would you believe me?"

Jason laughed deeply and said, "You’d see a ghost if you believed that. Come on, what are you here for?"

"What else can you do in a library?" The figure in front stepped into the light. She had a gorgeous face, her eyes smiling yet clear, lazily leaning on the counter, tapping her fingers lightly on the table. "I’m here for a book, Mr. Librarian."

"Alright, Harley." Jason looked up a little helplessly. But Harley had already leaned over the counter, getting so close that Jason could see every pore on her face, which startled him. He kicked his chair back, moving more than a meter away.

Harley laughed triumphantly and patted the counter, saying, "Go find me a book! Jason Todd!"

Jason sighed, got up slowly from the chair, and walked back to the counter. The poor diet in England hadn’t hindered his growth; he was just too tall and strong. When he stood up straight, he was like a high wall, capable of enveloping anyone beneath it.

Instinctively, Harley took a step back, putting her hands behind her back, looking up at him with a righteous look on her face. Jason looked at her and said, "What book are you looking for?"

"I don’t even know." Harley lowered her eyes and said, "Your weirdest book."

"The weirdest book?"

"Yes, the kind that no one has ever borrowed or would want to read, the more nonsensical, the better."

"Why are you looking for such books?" Jason sat back down, looking at the unfinished draft in his hand and the first volume already published, pondering the direction of the next story.

"Don’t think too much about it, great writer. Can’t I just want to find something to casually read?"

"That’s not a casual book." Jason remained calm as he spoke, "Why don’t you go and check the shelves yourself? I’m busy now."

"If I could find it, why would I be bothering you?" Harley was persistent, "I just need one book. Can’t you help me look?"

"I know what you’re up to." Jason said, "Among your group, a bizarre case suddenly started circulating, known as the ’Blood Tide.’ Some things created a corpse that you found incredibly beautiful, and you want to trace the origin. But I must warn you, it’s extremely dangerous."

"You know more than just hearsay." Harley squinted her eyes and said, "You must know something, Jason. You have a knack for this sort of thing, but you keep resisting. Why can’t you honestly accept yourself?"

"I am myself." Jason said, "I think I’m fine as I am now. I have no intention of getting involved in any mystery investigations. I..."

"Bang!"

The sound of a gunshot was like a silver bottle shattering. Harley aimed at the glass window, and a corpse slowly fell inside. She coldly put away the gun and said, "I’m afraid things won’t go as you wish, Mr. Todd. They’ve been eyeing this place for a while now."

Jason put down the pen and looked in that direction. The corpse that had fallen inside was holding a powerful crossbow, with the arrow loaded, likely to have shot directly at his head if a second later.

Harley didn’t pay attention to the corpse; she turned around and looked at Jason, "Admit it, Jason Todd. You can temporarily go anywhere and live the different life you long for. But whenever you have the chance, you will return to Gotham because you belong here. You might play a kind Savior, but you also equally relish the danger and thrill of dancing with evil. Don’t you?"

"After a long time, when I saw Miss Quinzel standing there again, I still saw too many vivid and bizarre colors on her. The darkness of Gotham has never been dull and boring, yet she is still an exceptional bright color, like a rainbow on a blade, reflecting unique madness from the Dark Source.

Am I as she described? I don’t know. She’s been right too many times, so much so that the last time we talked about it, I chose to avoid it. And the truth is, many nights at Oxford, I was pondering this question.

Is Gotham really a curse for me? The version of me molded by this city, is there truly an essential difference between myself and those madmen whom I neither wish to understand nor conspire with?

Indeed, a person genuinely seeking a peaceful life would never return at a time like this. But is my sense of responsibility really just an excuse to seek thrills? I believe that’s not what she meant, and I shouldn’t think of myself as so sinister. Yet when a mad adventure throws me an entrance ticket, I still grasp tightly onto this thin paper, allowing myself to walk towards the lottery machine."

Jason walked out from behind the counter. His tall figure moved through the densely lined bookshelves, appearing to wander aimlessly, yet seemingly having a target. Harley just stood outside the bookshelf area, seemingly quite trusting of the result he would bring.

After a while, Jason came out, looking down at a book, and handed it to Harley, then said, "Maybe it’s this one, but I can’t be sure. But you can take a look."

"What’s this book about?"

"I haven’t read it either."

"Then how did you find it?"

"Intuition," Jason said, tilting his head, "that’s why not just anyone can do this job."

"Interesting," Harley remarked. Then she picked up the book and began to read it. The library became very quiet, with only the faint sound of page flipping and scribbling.

"Your intuition is quite accurate," Harley closed the book with a smile and said, "I’m going to meet a friend, do you want to come with me?"

"A friend? Who?"

"A Madame No Name."

Shiller stood on the cliff, observing the movement of the corpses below. Some time had passed since the injection, but there was still no movement. This could be considered good news, as it proved that the Black Death Emperor had made no progress with the Old Day Dominator corpses, naturally failing to notice anything unusual about them.

Jonathan hadn’t mentioned an onset time, but judging by his personal style, it shouldn’t take too long, especially since the fear gas took effect immediately. The current lack of movement likely meant the Joker Virus was taking effect.

Sure enough, after waiting a few more minutes, Shiller noticed one of the elderly corpses’ fingers twitch slightly. Then, this twitching and convulsions became widespread among the corpses.

It didn’t seem like they were coming back to life; rather, it appeared as though something was pulling at them. The entire scene was eerily peculiar, capable of frightening a large crowd in a zombie film set.

After the twitching stopped, there was no more movement. Shiller sensed something was amiss and walked down to check the eye movements of the corpses. If there were any changes in eye movement frequency, it would indicate success.

However, just as he walked among the corpses, a cold wind accompanied by the sound of something breaking through the air struck at the back of his head. Shiller turned and dodged. A short-haired woman, wielding a dagger, rushed at him. Shiller moved back again. As she stabbed forward, he struck her wrist with an umbrella. The dagger fell to the ground. The woman closed in once more. Shiller stepped back again.

"I haven’t offended you, right?" Shiller asked.

"Damn it, what did you inject me with?!" The woman swayed on the spot, seemingly losing control of her limbs.

Observing her state, Shiller realized something was wrong. It was the first time he’d encountered such a person—her spirit domain completely mismatched her appearance.

Typically, a person’s spirit domain is accurately reflected by their appearance, this is known as one’s face reflecting their heart. Here, appearance refers not to someone’s looks but to their overall demeanor and aura.

How one dresses, the aura they display, is closely linked to their mental state. The woman before Shiller was clearly a professional assassin, highly skilled and decisive. Her appearance leaned towards Gothic style, which wasn’t out of place, but was somehow jarring.

"Are you a superpower user?" Shiller inquired. He was almost sure of this, assuming there wasn’t a transformation ability involved, it wouldn’t be so incongruous.

Suddenly, the woman knelt to the ground and began to retch, the gasping from her throat turning into crazed laughter. Shiller hadn’t anticipated a living person hiding among the corpses. Had he known, he would have asked Jonathan for some antidote.

Although he didn’t have the antidote, it wasn’t entirely hopeless. Shiller approached and grabbed the woman’s wrist, using the gray mist to help cleanse the Joker Virus from her system. This wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart, mainly because injecting a living person was somewhat inhumane. If a Joker actually emerged, it would be problematic.

The Joker Virus was peculiar; no one could claim to cleanse it completely. Shiller removed as much of the Joker Virus liquid injected into her system as he could. The woman let out a breath and collapsed on the ground.

"So what exactly is going on? Who are you?"

The woman lifted her eyes: "Jane Doe."