Compared to Schiller, Jonathan looked much more like a good person.
He was thin, with long limbs, a mess of curly hair, and wore large black-rimmed glasses.
He always had dark circles under his eyes and looked incredibly weak, like a total shut-in.
His personality at school was also very much like a nice guy.
All the students at Gotham University knew that Jonathan wasn’t strict in class and that his exams were easy to pass.
Even if someone skipped class or arrived late, he would merely push up his glasses and tell them to sit down without scolding them.
He looked like a bookworm through and through.
By contrast, Schiller, the newly arrived psychology professor, looked like a premium member of Arkham Asylum.
Schiller’s features were somewhat mixed-race.
He had black hair and gray eyes, and his original host seemed to be a straight-laced guy whose clothes were strictly black or gray.
Most of them were overcoats, scarves, and formal suits for work.
Schiller hadn’t gone out to buy new clothes, so he still maintained the original host’s dressing style.
And because it had been raining constantly in Gotham lately, Schiller carried a black umbrella almost at all times.
How should one describe this image?
It felt as if he was letting the audience down if he wasn’t the final villain of a TV show.
Furthermore, Schiller had only been here for a few days, but his students had already discovered that he was a very strict professor.
His lecturing was indeed excellent, but he showed no mercy to students who arrived late or left early.
On top of that, he gave pop quizzes every few classes, and he had directly announced in class that at least thirty percent of the students would fail, keeping everyone on edge.
Although the students of Gotham University came from wealthy backgrounds, they weren’t without their rebels.
No college student would like a professor like this.
At first, there were several troublemakers in Schiller’s class, but soon, some big-mouthed person spread Schiller’s resume.
Upon hearing it, the students in Schiller’s class instantly became as quiet as submissive sheep.
After all, any normal person would look at it and think it was impossible for someone to be involved in so many serial murder cases unless there was something wrong.
Soon, Schiller became a campus legend at Gotham University.
Some said their professor was actually the real killer behind those serial murder cases.
Others said he carried some sort of unfortunate curse—wherever he went, horrific cases would follow.
Some highly imaginative students even fabricated a tragic backstory for Schiller, suggesting that his involvement in so many murder investigations was actually for revenge.
Among the various versions of the story, there was always one that met the students’ inner expectations.
Among students, these bizarre and slightly terrifying stories always spread incredibly fast.
Within a few days, the vast majority of students knew about Schiller’s past.
When Schiller went out to buy breakfast, the counter where he stood was always empty of other customers.
The students would watch him from a distance.
In class, his homework turn-in rate was exceptionally high—no other professor had ever achieved this.
Ever since the confrontation that night, Schiller could frequently sense Bruce tailing him, even during the day on campus.
Fortunately, he had Spider-Sense.
Bruce had tried to install cameras in his dormitory, psychological counseling office, and classroom podium several times, but none had succeeded.
But this gave Schiller some inspiration.
It seemed this young Batman still hadn’t figured things out.
However, Schiller noticed that Bruce seemed to have reached some sort of agreement with Gordon.
Schiller went to the Mawson District a few more times at night and found that they seemed to be working together.
Finally, one day, close to bedtime, Gotham’s sky had already turned as black as ink.
Schiller had no intention of going out tonight.
University teaching wasn’t as easy as he had thought.
In his psychological clinic, students who genuinely needed counseling would occasionally visit.
Whether it was venting anxiety, easing depression, or actually needing psychological advice, these tasks were highly exhausting, so he planned to sleep well.
But things didn’t go as planned.
Jonathan, who usually only operated in the latter half of the night, suddenly left campus in the first half of the night.
Schiller knew he was probably trying to capture a new batch of test subjects.
Indeed, with Gordon and Bruce frequently active in the Mawson District lately, Jonathan knew very well that he couldn’t beat the police.
Once caught, he would definitely be locked up.
His physical fitness was even worse than Schiller’s, and he might even spray his fear gas off-target.
After Batman wiped out the Gutter Gang and several other minor gangs in the Mawson District, he had gradually gained some fame.
People knew there was a strange vigilante fighting those gangs here, and Jonathan hadn’t dared to show his face for several nights.
But his fear gas was on the verge of a breakthrough.
No mad scientist could accept an experimental failure at such a critical juncture.
He had already run out of test subjects, so he had to capture new ones.
Although he lacked physical strength, capturing test subjects was still very simple for him.
He only needed to find a house with an open window, stick a pipe inside, spray a large amount of anesthetic, then pick the lock, open the door, and drag the person out.
Schiller watched him leave the campus.
He had no choice but to put on his coat again, grab his umbrella, and follow him.
Although he didn’t have a savior complex and didn’t plan on being some superhero savior, he would still step in when a tragedy unfolded right in front of his eyes.
More importantly, if he let Jonathan keep messing around like this, there wouldn’t be many people left in the Mawson District, and Batman’s debut journey would end in failure before it even truly began.
In any case, Scarecrow would eventually be caught by Batman anyway.
There was no day like today; it might as well be tonight.
Besides, Schiller had used a little trick.
He planned to teach Batman a lesson and make him wake up from his arrogant mindset as quickly as possible.
Currently, Batman still had room to make mistakes because the Joker was still just a circus performer.
Schiller dared not think how badly Batman would be played if the Joker were to appear before this young, inexperienced Batman right now.
Although Batman was still young and had many shortcomings, it had to be admitted that the skills he had acquired from traveling the world were not for nothing.
And Jonathan was not a meticulous criminal yet.
He had no special training, much less any counter-reconnaissance awareness.
Many of his clues had been discovered by Batman and Gordon.
The two of them had worked together to track things down to the basement of a small church.
There, they found Jonathan’s laboratory.
It wasn’t a very sophisticated laboratory; in fact, it looked very much like a shady, back-alley workshop.
Dim, cramped, and filled with a foul odor.
Batman looked at the drainage pipe in the basement and said, “I think I might know where those people went.”
Gordon walked over holding his handgun and said, “As much as I don’t want to ask, I must write the truth in my incident report.”
“Aqua regia.
It can dissolve not only metal, but also the most difficult parts of the human body.”
“Alright, I get it.
You don’t need to say more.
I don’t want to hear the details,” Gordon said.
They searched the small laboratory.
Suddenly, beneath a discarded wooden crate, Gordon found a slight trace—some broken fallen leaves.
“North American red pine,” Batman said.
“Damn it, where are there pine trees in Gotham?
Otherwise, the weather here wouldn’t be like this,” Gordon said.
“I think there is one place with this plant…” Batman said.
“Gotham University.
It has the best greenery in the entire city.
On its widest pedestrian walkways, both sides are lined with this plant.”
Gordon squatted down, carefully examining the traces.
He said:
“The killer must have stepped on these fallen leaves with his boots.
There’s mud on them.
Clearly, the heavy rain over the past few days caused him quite some trouble.
After he arrived here, the mud inadvertently fell off, and he didn’t clean it up.”
Gordon looked up and said, “Is the killer a student at Gotham University?”
“Or perhaps a professor,” Batman said.
“Is it the man you threatened the other day?” Gordon asked.
“I wasn’t threatening him,” Batman said.
“But you sliced open his neck with a Batarang and made him bleed a lot.
A wound that long is bound to leave a scar,” Gordon said.
“Are you sympathizing with a criminal?” Batman asked.
“He isn’t a criminal.
At least not before he has been tried.”
“Tried…” Batman sneered.
Gordon detected Batman’s distrust of the judicial system.
He didn’t righteously refute him.
He hadn’t been a cop in Gotham for just a day or two; the judicial system here indeed wasn’t worthy of trust, or rather, the entire system of order here wasn’t worthy of trust.
“But in my eyes, you wielding a dangerous weapon and arbitrarily harming an unarmed civilian—that is a threat,” Gordon said.
“Unarmed…” Batman said.
He suddenly realized he couldn’t refute Gordon.
Based on his knowledge, Schiller indeed hadn’t received any professional combat training.
Batman was certain he could knock him down with a single punch.
Yet he had been troubled by this man for days, with absolutely no solution.
He suddenly remembered a saying he had heard on his travels—words are more powerful than fists.
But that ends here, Batman thought.
The killer was from Gotham University.
There was almost no other answer.
Wasn’t this evidence conclusive enough?
Perhaps it was time to send that mad professor to prison.
He looked down at the stained drainage pipe, where the souls of over forty people had vanished.
Among them, some must have had parents.
On that night long ago, his parents’ lives had vanished in an alley, yet no one paid the price they deserved.
But things were different now.
With him around, these criminals would eventually end up where they belonged.
Not a single one would escape.