Joker uttered a prayer.
The next second, he found out that the prayer was actually directed towards Bruce in front of him.
Joker immediately lost faith in God again, even wanting to strangle God's neck now and ask him, "Are you blind?"
Among all the misfortunes Joker has encountered, a new type of despair emerged today—a completely different one. The unidentifiable object in front of him, unbelievably, was an angel.
"Would you like to know what is going on here?" Bruce asked with some satisfaction.
Joker stared at him gloomily, discovering that Bruce had fully capitalized on his curiosity—about the Court of Owls, Superman, mysterious power, and particularly, the ins and outs of everything.
If Joker was only viewed as a synonym for chaos, then it would be somewhat reductive of his madness.
He was actually quite inquisitive, even a fervent explorer, engaged in all kinds of peculiar thinking for a long time. If he found an opportunity to verify or apply them, he would never let it go. He even preferred exchanging knowledge equally in the process, gaining more satisfaction.
Or perhaps the process was the most important part. Those fantasizing about a certain answer when paying a price in time, energy, or other costs could bring a sense of security. This was why most excellent scholars were more focused than ordinary people.
By asking this, Bruce seemed to be telling Joker that yes, there was a definite answer that you couldn't possibly know. If you paid a price to explore it, you'd surely gain something.
Who could resist?
Joker couldn't, and neither could Batman. In fact, this was his favorite thing to do—so-called deduction, which was the same.
Joker got somewhat excited and rubbed his hands. Feeling no sadness for the comedian's embarrassing photo, which was a laughable history to the audience, he immediately rushed to the scene—it was Joker again!
Bruce sat cross-legged on the ground and pointed to the figure he had drawn previously, saying, "I suppose you've already figured it out. This lake is the source of darkness, the creator of all the misfortunes in Gotham. We usually call it the Dark Source."
"There lives a giant dragon known as Barbados in the Dark Source. He has a large appetite and intends to devour all the cosmos in one gulp with darkness."
Peter instantly responded with surprise, "My god, what shall we do then? Who will stop him?"
"We don't need to stop him. The dragon in the lake intends to erode every universe with this water. Even if we push the flood back into the lake this time, the dragon can easily start another flood at any time. It is better to dredge it than block it."
Clark rubbed his chin and said, "Makes sense. So, you guys are planning to drain the water from the lake before the flood."
"As a matter of fact, the flood has already happened. It's just that the scale is relatively small, but sooner or later, a major disaster will come. What we need to do is to constantly drain the water, continuously postponing the date of the disaster until everyone is prepared."
Peter's gaze lingered on the river channels that Bruce had drawn earlier. He asked, "So, how will this be done?"
You have to ask yourself."
"Me?"
Peter recalled the mysterious black sun. He had just understood that all the dark energy was given to them by the black sun. In other words, the so-called river channels were actually the black sun.
How did Bruce know this?
Peter sneakily glanced at Bruce, wondering if he was also a believer of the black sun.
That would make sense. Perhaps the black sun, not wanting the dark flood to engulf the universe, directed a believer to find another believer to accomplish this great feat.
However, Joker was squinting at the diagram Bruce had drawn. He had only received power from Peter just now and hadn't seen anything, but he believed that within the mysterious Dark Source, there must be a dark, unknown force tirelessly chiseling away at the river channels and allowing dark energy to continuously flow out.
Joker's guess was spot on.
Barbados was a bit puzzled recently.
He had the same experience as Xeseon had before. When he woke up, half of the brick walls in his house were gone.
Of course, it wasn't that exaggerated. If he were to make a comparison, it would be like a log from a woodpile used for the winter had gone missing.
However, since the woodpile was stacked in an orderly manner, and the owner was very clear about how to arrange the logs, even though it was only one log that went missing, Barbados noticed it quickly.
He turned the Dark Source upside-down looking for the missing log but couldn't find it. He figured he might have forgotten when he granted it to a believer and didn't bother looking anymore.
A day passed, and another log was missing...
A day later, another one was lost...
Another day passed and yet...
For the past few days, Barbados had done nothing but squat in his house, trying to figure out the origin of the damn thief who was stealing his wood. But he couldn't figure it out, so he gave up.
It wasn't that he was generous. The current Barbados was the Dark Source of the entire cosmos, meaning he was the one producing oil, not just a middleman.
To steal a portion of Barbados into the bright universe was equivalent to speeding up his plan of invading the bright universe. After all, the main body of his plan was to secretly corrode the bright universe with Dark Power and then seal the deal with a final hit. Even if it were stolen into the dark universe, it would eventually return to the Dark Source, making it pointless.
So, apart from the puzzling unauthorized stealing, Barbados didn't bother to pursue it. He didn't mind the theft. No matter how far it was moved, it was still a part of him.
As for those three unfortunate beings in heaven, Barbados didn't consider them as suspects at all. These Outer Gods' homes weren't in this world. Dark energy couldn't leave the Source wall, so naturally, it couldn't enter other worlds. Stealing it would be useless.
Moreover, it didn't look like these three characters needed energy. Even if the sun were always in the sky, it wouldn't steal the small amount of heat from your fireplace due to heat decay. The scales were simply not on the same level.
Bruce explained this to the other three.
"So, this stuff is corrosive and can't be used directly?" Peter asked, somewhat confused, "Then does that mean the water it produces can only be dumped? That seems wasteful?"
"Of course, we don't dump it." Bruce responded casually, with one hand propping his jaw, "Although we cannot use it directly, we can use it for investment. Have you ever heard of money laundering?"
The three of them looked up at him. Bruce pointed at the ground and said, "This is just like illegal money earned from illegal businesses. It cannot legally exist in any financial system in the world, and its direct usage risks arrest."
"The usual way of handling it, however, is to invest this money in legal industries. The continuous output from the legal industries is akin to whitewashing the illegal money, which is the safest method so far."
"If it were money, yes, but I don't get it. Can energy also be used for investments? What would one invest in?" Peter questioned again.
Bruce revealed a mysterious smile.
In a dilapidated beachfront wooden cabin, a man in a trench coat leaned on a sofa, mumbling unintelligibly. The bottle in his hand slid down onto the floor.
With a 'whoosh', a rune lit up in front of him, startling him into an awkward scramble to his feet.
"Who? Who's there?! Show yourself! I can see you!"
He saw another version of himself enter from the front door.
Constantine looked blankly at this younger, hardly recognizable version of himself. He rubbed his eyes hard and gulped.
"You're not dreaming, nor did you take too much or get drunk. I am you from another cosmos, here for you."
Constantine collapsed back onto the sofa. "People say that before you die, you see another version of yourself. Does that mean I'm going to die?"
"If you don't listen to my advice, you'll die soon." The younger Constantine sat on the sofa and looked at his older self. "You will soon encounter some troubles that you need to take on debt to solve. Then, you will find that both Heaven and Hell have closed their doors to you, leaving only one open."
"Behind this open door is a black sun, incredibly generous and kind. It lends you an overwhelming energy that you have never possessed or even dared to imagine. Then, you will die in this accident and your soul will enter a mysterious fog."
"Is the fog in Heaven big?"
"You don't belong to Heaven, nor do you belong to Hell." Constantine sighed, "You belong to the one you owe the most. Your body, heart, and soul will all belong to him."
The younger Constantine seemed to realize something. He turned his head to look outside the window. On the dazzlingly bright coastline with distinct heatwaves in the air, a man in a black trench coat was walking towards them.
Constantine's throat bobbed.
The black figure quickly arrived at the porch. He knocked and walked in, only giving the younger Constantine a quick glance before settling his gaze on the older Constantine slumped on the sofa.
"How are you, John Constantine? All Souls College, Oxford University sends their regards. Have you heard about the recent case in Wales?"
Constantine coughed heavily, propped himself up on the sofa with his elbow, sighed, and said, "It seems I'm more popular than I thought. What's going on with the two of you? Speak."
"I am relatively uneducated." Sophop lowered his eyes and said, "But at school, we're typically taught that angels and devils will use any means to shake you. One common method is to disguise themselves as someone you care about."
"Precisely, Doctor," Constantine lit a cigarette and a second later, the flame at the tip of the cigarette transformed into a ball of fire, flying towards the young Constantine.
The younger Constantine dodged with a swift movement. He tried to speak urgently, but a moment later, an extremely painful expression contorted his face. He kneeled, clutching his chest.
Sophop accepted the cigarette Constantine offered him. "In common contracts, devils always establish clauses to prevent their followers from saying their names. If the followers try to do so, they will be heavily punished."
"Sneaky bastard." Constantine commented.
The younger Constantine stood up, clenching his fists tightly. He stared at Sophop's profile for a long time, and before he disappeared into the magic flame, he said, "Thanks for the warning."
"You're welcome."