Bruce no longer felt the chill of the cold water on his face, he felt as if he was frozen in a block of ice, cold and immobile.
When he looked up at Shiller again, he could clearly see a type of desire in Shiller's eyes that were fixed on him, that was the most primitive instinct of the human race—appetite.
It's been years since Bruce had launched up from a chair at such a speed, quickly retreating a few steps towards the side of the couch.
He never imagined, the truth was more horrifying and frightening than he thought—Shiller never regarded ordinary people as humans, his favorite food, was born killers like him.
Shiller was a hunter's hunter, a butcher's butcher.
Then, a more terrifying fact dawned on Bruce, the mysterious connection between the serial killers suddenly materializing, but also gathering like they had a psychic link, with no logic, but the audacity to target Shiller; who had organized it?
From seeing Shiller's detached gaze at the banquet and his current undivided attention, Bruce didn't need to linger on this question in his mind for a second, the answer was already very clear.
"Excuse me, Professor, I have some business to attend to, I'll be going now," Bruce turned and headed towards the door.
He was not worried about Shiller's intentions, his main goal was to fight crime and ensure that those serial killers were returned immediately to where they came from. They deserved to be in jail, not in a cooking pot.
A "whoosh" sound came from behind him, Bruce instinctively dodged to the side, rolling on the spot. But just as he was about to stand up, he was kicked hard in the shoulder, Bruce fell flat on the ground.
As he turned over, he saw Shiller walking towards him, holding a chilling boning knife in his hand.
"In consideration of you being my student, and if you die, Arrogant will be very upset, so leave 1000 milliliters of blood, and you can leave."
Seeing Shiller approaching with the knife, Bruce finally remembered why Arrogant had produced so many serial killers in his dreams and made him play the escape game for several months.
"Whoosh," the boning knife cut Bruce's arm, blood splattered and stained half of Shiller's shirt. The Batman dart followed the blood and left a wound on Shiller's left shoulder. The two men's blood blended together, dying the shirt a deep red.
But the moment the Batman dart was thrown, Bruce remembered the first time he saw Morbid. Morbid Shiller stuck his finger into a deep, bone-visible wound.
If Bruce remembered correctly, at that time, the expression on Shiller's face was one of pleasure.
He was a masochistic lunatic.
Bruce rolled over and got up, covering his arm and retreating, but he was already backed against the door.
Bruce quickly grabbed a chair next to the door to block the descending boning knife. Shiller used his arm strength, used the back of the knife to hold the leg of the chair, and flicked it outwards so that the chair flew out.
"Swipe," the knife was stuck in the wall, less than three centimeters away from Bruce's right ear.
When Bruce's deep blue eyes appeared on the reflective surface of the knife blade, it looked like the moon that had fallen onto the ocean of Gotham, or like the lighthouse on a foggy night, bright, clear, and the fear was overwhelming.
Having run out of space in the room, Bruce immediately tried to flee into the corridor when pulling the door open.
Even if doing so might add another wound to his back, but his experience of fighting with many terrifying killers told him that sometimes, it was necessary to exchange blood for space.
But just as he opened the door, he bumped into a small figure. "What are you doing here again? Move out of the way, I have something..." Harley said, holding her nose and glaring at Bruce.
"No! You're not!"
As soon as Bruce finished speaking, he watched as Shiller's gaze turned to Harley's face.
Bruce pulled Harley behind him in one go, but just as Shiller was about to slowly move his gaze back to his face, a sturdy figure suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway.
Bruce turned his head and saw the terrifying pig face of Professor Pig.
He cursed the efficiency of the Gotham Police Department in his heart, but when he looked back at Shiller, he found that the blood-stained knife had disappeared.
Shiller regained his genteel demeanor, adjusted his tie with his hand, he even took the initiative to open the door, made a welcoming gesture towards Professor Pig, then said, "Please come in."
Bruce was sure that Professor Pig hadn't seen what just happened because he waltzed right in.
What Bruce was even more certain of was that, a second before Shiller turned to go back into the room, his eyes were saying, "Don't ruin my fun."
"Wait." Bruce took a step and stopped Shiller from closing the door, forcibly pulling open a crack in the door that Shiller had already closed, and squeezed in.
Bruce saw the strong revulsion in the eyes of Professor Pig who was leading the front; evidently, this was another person who knew about Bruce's vigilante identity. But Bruce spoke quickly,
"Professor, I believe, you shouldn't be with such a dangerous killer, it could be dangerous!"
There was a hint of confusion in Professor Pig's eyes because when Bruce said that, his eyes were fixed on him.
"What happened to your arm?" Shiller's worried gaze fell on Bruce's arm. Bruce used his uninjured arm to block Harley who was trying to slam the door open, biting his teeth and saying,
"Nothing, I did it to myself."
"Then you better go back and get it treated." Shiller took another step closer.
"But I'm fine! Professor!... Thanks!"