Batman didn't respond. Hidden beneath his pitch-black mask, his eyes locked onto Liang, analyzing every subtle twitch in his facial muscles. "I've cross-referenced the voice frequencies. You were the one at Gotham Harbor that day."
"And so what?" Liang spread his hands, speaking casually. "What are you going to do? Arrest me? On what charges? Interfering to save Gotham National Bank's money, hostages, and SWAT officers? Or maybe for fighting crime and dismantling an evil scheme? I've done nothing different from what you do."
Batman's voice dropped lower. "No. We are not the same."
"Oh? You mean because you don't kill criminals?" Liang sneered. "You just break a few of their bones, toss them into prison for a few years, and let them return to wreak havoc again? The blood of the innocents they harm afterward is on your hands, Mr. Vigilante."
"Killing doesn't solve problems."
"But it solves the people who create them," Liang replied coldly. "I've scoured Gotham's underground social networks. Do you know what the people call you? A knight in the dark, a messenger of justice, an impartial arbiter… and a savior of criminals."
He took a sip of water from his glass. "Why won't you kill them? Are you hoping they'll repent, turn over a new leaf, and trade their raised weapons for redemption? Do you think they'll come to their senses and become decent people?"
Liang laughed derisively. "The moment someone chooses to harm others, they forfeit their right to forgiveness. Can a victim of lifelong trauma forgive their assailant? Can an orphan whose parents were killed by a drunk driver forgive the perpetrator? No. They want justice. And Gotham's corrupt legal system can't give it to them. Neither can you, Batman, as someone who clings to a broken law while refusing to deliver true justice to the victims."
His cold voice echoed through the hospital room, while Batman stood silent, as unmoving as a marble statue, bearing the weight of the accusation.
Liang could tell what kind of person he was dealing with—resolute, intelligent, unshakable, and steadfast like bedrock. A flame unwavering even in the deepest darkness. In other words, a man with an iron will.
With a long sigh, Liang removed the medical equipment attached to him and stood barefoot on the floor. The plaster encasing his left arm cracked audibly as he flexed.
"We walk different paths and cannot work together," Liang said, peeling off the plaster to reveal the splint inside, which he discarded on the floor. "There's no point in arguing. Let's settle this with a fight. If you win, I'll surrender and face the law. If I win, we part ways. You can go back to being your vigilante self, and I'll continue living quietly as a civilian."
The two squared off at opposite ends of the hospital room, neither moving a muscle. The tension hung thick in the air until the canned laughter from a talk show on the TV broke the silence.
Liang was the first to move. Clad in his loose hospital gown, he stepped onto the tiled wall, used the bed as leverage, twisted his hips, and lashed out with his right leg like a whip aimed at Batman.
Batman stepped forward, intercepting the strike with both arms. His vice-like grip trapped Liang's shin at his waist.
Liang didn't struggle. He used the momentum to fall to the ground, springing off the floor with his hands, and brought his left leg down in a powerful axe kick aimed at Batman's head.
Having achieved the first stage of The Human Immortal Acupuncture Technique, Liang's physique rivaled that of professional athletes. His unique breathing technique allowed him to fight with relentless stamina and flexibility, like a tightly coiled spring.
Batman caught Liang's left ankle mid-air, intending to slam him into the ground. Instead, Liang grinned under the flickering light, his expression full of intrigue.
Twisting his torso, Liang harnessed the spiraling power from his spiritual vortexes, turning his legs into unyielding vices. He wrapped them around Batman's midsection and spun, toppling him to the floor.
Batman's Kevlar armor was nearly impenetrable, shrugging off even small-caliber bullets. Liang wasn't foolish enough to try breaking through it with brute force. Instead, he focused his attacks on the narrow gap between Batman's helmet and shoulder plates, relentlessly striking it with his knuckles.
Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound of Liang's repeated punches echoed like a relentless jackhammer. His hospital gown billowed as steam radiated from his body—an unmistakable sign of the vortexes spinning at full throttle.
He gave Batman no respite. Elbows, knees, shoulders—every inch of his body became a weapon, unleashing fierce, explosive attacks. Yet Batman, like an unyielding glacier or towering cliff, remained steadfast. He parried, blocked, and neutralized each strike until Liang's energy waned.
Then Batman countered. Taking a step forward, he drove a punch into Liang's diaphragm with the force of a lance.
The single blow left Liang momentarily paralyzed. Blood surged to his throat, metallic and bitter.
But he smirked, swallowing the blood, and let his spiritual energy replenish his strength. Refusing to retreat, he traded blow for blow, matching Batman strike for strike.
The room filled with the dull sounds of combat, drowning out the television's cheerful music. The only witnesses to their battle were the gently swaying curtains.
The door creaked open.
The young doctor entered, engrossed in a medical chart. Turning on the lights, he froze in shock at the sight of Liang sitting barefoot on the bed, panting heavily as he stared at the TV.
"Oh, Doctor, good evening," Liang greeted with a smile, wiping sweat from his brow. His left arm still trembled from the exertion.
"What on earth are you doing out of bed?!" the doctor shouted angrily. "And you've removed your cast! Do you have any idea how much damage you're causing?"
"Uh, I made a $100 bet online to see if I could take it off," Liang said sheepishly, scratching his head. "But now it's kind of sore."
The doctor sighed, exasperated. "Teenagers… You're staying right there while I get another cast. And this time, you're paying extra for the bill."
The sound of the doctor's retreating footsteps faded, leaving Liang to down a glass of water, washing away the lingering taste of blood. He turned to the shadowy corner where Batman stood and asked coldly, "So? Do you still want to fight?"
Batman's Kevlar armor was dented and battered, evidence of the ferocity of their battle. He gazed at Liang with an unreadable expression and said in a low voice, "I'll be watching you. The next time you break the law, I'll bring you in."
"Suit yourself," Liang replied, cracking his neck as he watched Batman leap out the window. The dark-clad figure spread his cape and vanished into the night sky like a bat.