"You even have a label?" Beihan exclaimed, looking at Bruce, "Do you really rap? Are you serious?"
"Ha," Bruce chuckled coldly, gave Christopher a "hi, bro" look, and Christopher immediately bumped fists with him, then glanced at Beihan and said, "Even if you don't listen to rap, you surely have heard of the big name 'Gotham Boy' that's been hot to the point of sizzling lately."
"Do you think the news of the famous Gotham Boy being Bruce Wayne himself as a freebie would make my new album red-hot to the point of sizzling?"
"Hey!" Bruce immediately raised his voice, pointing at Christopher, who laughed heartily and said with a distinct rhythm unique to Black culture, "I know you've got to save that bombshell headline for your fiery little reporter or your celebrity girlfriend, you enviable rich guy!"
"Oh——" Everyone uttered a rising cry in unison.
Although Beihan hardly listened to rap, he had heard about this recently explosive Gotham Boy at parties and during meals at restaurants where local tourists would often sing classic segments from his songs, especially the catchy chorus parts with a strong Gothic style.
"So you're really into music?" Beihan inquired, looking at Bruce's profile.
"What else would I do with all this free time if not music?" Bruce shrugged nonchalantly and continued, "In fact, it's also a way of boosting Gotham's tourism. Previously, I hosted a punk music exchange event using Gotham University's music club as a platform, which received a very positive response, attracting many niche music enthusiasts to this place."
"Next, I plan to set up an independent Gotham arts website. I believe we lack a forum for niche art enthusiasts, and I'm confident I can make it number one in the industry and draw in numerous art lovers."
Bruce crossed one leg over the other and added, "You know, Gotham is naturally fertile ground for niche arts. The people here have a tremendous capacity for embracing all kinds of art, and they themselves are often part of various performance and site-specific arts."
"This place is also incredibly inspiring for creatives, thanks to its unique history, architecture, and urban vibe."
"I have to agree with you there," Christopher said, making a rap gesture and continuing, "Every day here is an adventure. Although different, the joy contained in those surprises more than compensates for the shocks I get. It's absurd and lively, always stimulating my senses and sparking new ideas."
"It's also very conducive to deep contemplation." Tupac nodded and commented, "I used to think the East Coast's pace was too fast, too noisy, like water guns turning pressure into aggressiveness, lacking the flow and sway of seaside culture. But Gotham's not like that; it's like natural giant waves."
Beihan had clearly experienced a similar atmosphere before, but no one had articulated it like that. He suddenly realized that these rappers, whom he didn't often interact with, had a more abstract understanding of certain matters. It wasn't inaccurate; it was simply a different perspective. Because they straddled the line between abstract and concrete, their expressions were more intelligible and not as nebulous as many artists' conversations tend to be.
Beihan had to admit he was gradually getting drawn in. He looked at Bruce and asked, "You said you want to create a Gotham label, which is a really bold idea. What do you plan to use as the theme?"
"Of course, Gotham itself and, you know, bats."
Downstairs, Oliver followed the trail of blood to the deck and saw the three corpses. He didn't even need to analyze the wounds to imagine the scenario. In short, Shiller had taken each of them down with a single move.
Shiller must be close by; this thought had just formed in Oliver's mind when he saw a dark figure standing behind one of the deck chairs.
"Where did Batman go?" Oliver couldn't shake off a bad feeling. The deck was too open; even if he didn't turn his back on Shiller, Shiller could still come up behind him, and it was clear that Shiller was planning to do just that.
The shadow disappeared in an instant, and Oliver couldn't make out its movements at all. Even if the moonlight on the deck were brighter, Oliver wouldn't know its trajectory to intercept it.
Oliver immediately turned and ran.
He had thought of the tactics Beihan had considered, of course. Since Shiller had already made his move, standing still and trying to face him by turning around was almost impossible. Oliver zipped into the cabin, and sure enough, he saw Shiller standing where he himself had been.
He didn't know when Shiller had moved to a position three meters behind him. If Oliver had foolishly remained in place, his countdown would have been complete, and the hunt would have begun.
Fortunately, Oliver reacted very quickly. He rolled into the cabin, and with a gap just opened in the window, shot two sleeve arrows, not to injure Shiller, but to draw his attention.
Batman had said before that Shiller was nearly invisible when not locked onto a target, but judging from Shiller's previous actions, he should be able to hear sounds. In the jungle, Green Arrow often used this trick to attract the attention of large ferocious beasts.
Hearing footsteps receding, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. The Batman who had descended earlier was nowhere to be found, either he might have been seriously injured, or his attention may have been drawn away by something else. Now he was not in the vicinity, so it was up to Oliver to hold off Shiller.
Shiller was out of control, but not completely irrational; he guessed that the sound-attracting trick might only work once or twice...
As he thought this, Oliver suddenly realized that the sea breeze coming from behind him had slightly weakened.
No, this isn't right! Shiller is very fast!!!
As Oliver lunged forward, what should have been a spear piercing his chest instead skewered his calf. Oliver screamed in pain, instinctively turning to shoot his sleeve arrows.
Before pressing the switch, Oliver forcibly stopped his finger and did a cartwheel on the spot, kicking the spear, but he couldn't knock Shiller's weapon off. Then came a second thrust.
Oliver lifted his legs, tensed his back, and sprang up like a carp, but stumbled slightly because of the pain in his calf.
It was just this brief second of hesitation that Shiller launched another lunge, shattering the glass that sent shards flying into Oliver's face, scratching multiple marks on his cheek.
Oliver, supporting himself on the doorframe, went around again, but Shiller jumped straight out of the window frame, cutting off Oliver's path back through the window as he waited for Shiller to come out of the door. With no choice, Oliver could only run straight ahead.
As he ran, Oliver realized that Shiller was now much faster than when he had just lost control, possibly twice as fast, and his speed was still increasing.
Oliver was distracted, considering what might be causing such growth, and failed to listen to the footsteps behind him. By the time he realized, the sound of pursuit had vanished for some time.
Crash!
The glass overhead shattered, and a spear, glinting with cold light, plunged straight into Oliver's shoulder, nearly piercing him through the side. Oliver fell to the ground sideways, no longer feeling his entire left arm.
Just as he tried to muster the strength to stand up, he realized that his calf, previously impaled by the spear, had begun to go numb—a sign of excessive blood loss.
Oliver curled up on the ground momentarily, but the strength in his waist was insufficient to let him stand directly, so he ended up kneeling. But the next second, his uninjured, good leg was grabbed by the ankle.
The spear was raised high, but Oliver's injured leg suddenly kicked out, striking Shiller's ankle. The spear veered slightly, stabbing into Oliver's armpit.
Oliver turned with a look of panic to see the spear that had pierced the deck's surface, even sinking in deeply.
Without effort to pull out the spear, Shiller directly grabbed Oliver's uninjured ankle.
Whoosh!
Thrown aside, Oliver spun across the ground like a high-speed top skimming the surface, hitting a bucket at the other end of the deck with a thud, cold water and ice pouring over him, freezing him completely.
But just then, he heard a shout from the edge of the second-floor railing. Looking up, he saw to his surprise that it was Black Canary.
Black Canary threw down the lifebuoy that was tied with a rope from the pool behind her. Oliver used the last of his strength to crawl to the lifebuoy and clung to it tightly with both arms.
The next second, the spiked Gunfish mask pierced the spot where Oliver had lain, and as Oliver was pulled up, he saw Shiller standing in a pool of blood, looking up at him.
Bang!
In the darkness, a bullet hit Shiller, the blood starkly red and bright. Oliver shouted, "No!!!!"
Bang! Bang!
The muzzle flashes kept blinking. Just as Oliver was about to let go and jump down, Black Canary and Natasha grabbed his arms from the left and the right, forcibly pulling him up over the railing.
Oliver, who was flipped onto the ground, saw two agents with very professional gun postures kneeling at the corner of the deck behind the cabin, their knees to the ground, hands holding guns aimed straight at Shiller, all three shots hit, two to the torso.
The force of the bullets caused Shiller to sway like a leaf in the wind, taking a step forward, then another, wobbling in place.
Oliver struggled to prop himself up and said to Black Canary and Natasha with a hoarse voice, "Stop them, stop them, don't let them shoot!!!"
Natasha also drew her gun.
Bang!
Her gun skills were clearly much better than the two agents'. One shot, one man went down; the other dared not show his face.
Shiller disappeared from the deck.
Heartbeats, one and then two. Before the third could sound, a scream pierced the air.
"Ah!!!!!!!!"
Black Canary and Natasha exchanged glances, both seeing shock in each other's eyes. The spot where Shiller had stood was at least 30 meters from the corner of the cabin. It would take less than two seconds to move there, a speed almost on par with the world sprinting records.
But the issue was that those breaking records are fully fit athletes. Shiller had been shot at least five times, had killed or seriously injured ten people in a fight, and had just had his ankle severely kicked by Oliver. How could he rush over so quickly?
"Back... to the second floor, go back," said Oliver, "Quick!"
Closing the lyric book in hand, Beihan turned to Bruce, saying, "I think your whole set of entertainment facility plans are not bad. If possible, I might also try them in my city, so that we can share and exchange experiences."
Bruce nodded.
"Now, let's talk about Shiller," Beihan finally remembered the serious matter at hand. He asked, "Why is Shiller getting stronger and stronger?"
"That goes back to why Morbid Shiller is so powerful."