American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

Bruce turned off the screen that displayed a jumbled mess of waveforms, and hovered his finger over the communication key on the console—a key that was not only encrypted but also engraved with some kind of rune.

He admitted that he was an expert in physics, chemistry, and even criminal psychology, but faced with the mystical operation of connecting brainwaves to Gotham's ley lines, even the Bat-computer could only give a bunch of question marks.

"Your eyes are like you're looking at your own dog suddenly reciting Shakespeare."

Xiu En sat on the edge of the medical pod, swinging his legs, his silk robe, which was clearly a size too big, hanging loosely on him.

He felt great, except for his stomach growling with hunger.

"Your situation is beyond the scope of my current understanding."

Bruce turned around, not denying Shuen's wonderful analogy, though he wanted to say that Shuen was much harder to manage than a dog.

"I know an expert. She's far more professional than I am at dealing with these non-material problems."

The screen flickered, then a noisy backstage dressing room background appeared.

A woman wearing a black top hat, fishnet stockings, and a tuxedo was touching up her makeup in front of a mirror. She hadn't even put down her lipstick as she looked at Bruce on the screen through the reflection in the mirror.

"Srub?"

The woman uttered a string of eerie, reversed syllables, then, as if realizing something, cleared her throat, and her voice became magnetic and normal again.

"Sorry, I just finished practicing my spell. Bruce, why are you looking for me during the day?"

Zatana Zatala turned around, her eyes, which seemed to hold the starry sky, filled with mockery.

As the daughter of Bruce's escape artist mentor, she is one of the few people who can see the clumsy boy beneath the Batman mask.

"I have someone I'd like you to take a look at."

Bruce turned to the side, showing the camera to Shum, who was trying to snatch the napkin from Alfred's hand.

"He just resonated with Gotham's ley lines. I'm not sure if it's a magical curse or some kind of ancient pact."

Zatana's gaze went beyond the screen and closer to the camera, as if she wanted to see through the halo around Xiu En through the internet cable.

"Wow. A human walking light bulb? And he smells so familiar."

With a napkin in his mouth, Xiu En waved indistinctly at the screen.

"Hi, Miss Magician. Although you are very beautiful, if you also want me to drink that green vegetable juice, I suggest you hang up now."

"A very interesting guy."

Zatana put her top hat back on, picked up the magic wand on the table, and twirled it in her hand.

"Since it's your request, and it seems quite interesting, I'll come over. Give me half an hour; I have a grand finale performance—a magician's disappearing act."

Communication was cut off.

Bruce turned around, ready to give Shuen a lecture on how to respect magicians, only to find that his subject was too busy to pay attention to him.

Ah Fu, pushing his gleaming silver food cart, descended upon the medical area like a savior.

The moment the lid was lifted, the aroma of caramelized steak instantly shattered all of Xiu En's composure.

"Praise be to Afu! You are a true god!"

Xiu En grabbed the knife and fork with even greater speed than when he was killing enemies on Tenth Avenue.

"Mr. Xiu En, please enjoy your meal. Considering that your digestive system has just undergone a reboot, I suggest you chew slowly."

While elegantly pouring red wine, Afu glanced at his young master out of the corner of his eye.

"Young master, I've also prepared a portion for you. After all, watching others eat is also a physically demanding task."

Bruce looked at the guy who was already engrossed in eating, sighed helplessly, and pulled up a chair to sit down.

Hugh put the last piece of mushroom coated in red wine sauce into his mouth.

It must be admitted that although Wayne Enterprises' technological advancements are mind-boggling, their kitchens are incredibly powerful.

This was more than just food; it was salvation! Every bite was a bombardment of Shuen's poor stomach.

Xiu En wiped his mouth.

He stood up, the light emanating from him pulsating rhythmically with the smooth breathing in his lungs. He walked past Bruce, who was looking at a tablet, and went straight to Alfred, who was tidying up the food cart.

"I think I have found the oracle."

Xiu En's voice carried a deliberately cheesy, charlatan-like aria.

"In this dark city filled with toxic gas and violence, what can truly purify the soul is not sunlight, but these perfectly placed black peppercorns."

Afu stacked the plates together.

"Your praise is the highest reward for a chef, Mr. Hugh. But it's actually mainly due to the freshness of the ingredients."

Afu bowed slightly, unaware of the seriousness of the situation.

Xiu En grasped Afu's hand, his eyes filled with eagerness.

"Alfred Pennyworth, on behalf of the thriving Cult of the Sun, I formally extend an invitation to you."

His voice rose an octave, and he even went so far as to add a bright, rotating special effect halo behind his head.

"We need a bishop like you who takes care of the diet. You don't need to be in charge of fighting; you just need to be in charge of the clergy's stomachs."

He glanced at Bruce beside him, who remained silent but whose aura grew increasingly cold, and tried to raise the stakes: "Besides, we don't have to work day and night, and we don't have to deal with those so-called vigilantes who like to jump off buildings in Kevlar bodysuits. Our motto is that even if we work overtime, it must be under the sun! And I guarantee that once we're big and powerful, your retirement pension will be settled in gold!"

The temperature inside the bat cave seemed to drop ten degrees in that instant.

The steak knife was simply placed gently on the table.

Bruce Wayne remained seated, not even fully raising his head. But his gaze was already fixed on Shum.

This is the legendary "I can make my butler work overtime however I want, and you can't poach him" death stare.

"Xiu En".

Bruce's voice was calm.

"If you say one more word about hiring, I'll transfer all your takeout orders in Gotham to the Botanical Garden's composting facility."

A threat, a blatant capitalist threat.

Especially when this threat also has access to your activity fund card.

Alfred, caught in the middle, gently pulled his hand away from Shuen's grasp.

"Although gold settlement sounds very tempting, Shuen."

A-Fu's lips curled into a smile, the kind of look one gives when looking at a mischievous child.

"But I'm afraid I'm already deeply entangled in this family and can't extricate myself. Taking care of a young master who never grows up, who is a picky eater and often treats coming home like an emergency room visit is a kind of ascetic practice that I haven't been able to comprehend."

He smoothly turned the food cart around.

"Also, Miss Zatana's teleportation coordinates request has just come in. I believe that rather than discussing kitchen organization here, you two should have more important and magical matters to attend to."

Xiu En somewhat regretfully withdrew his charlatan aura and sat back down in his chair. Although he knew from the beginning that the answer was simply to be shameless, it was still quite a pity to be truly rejected at this moment.

"Okay, but remember, if one day you also go bald from overwork or can't stand this guy's weird temper, the door to the sun is always open for you."

Bruce picked up the batarang next to him, though he only played with it in his hand.