American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

The long table in the conference room reflected Bruce's cold face and the incongruous figure of Shuen behind him, even with the lighting dimmed.

The air here is colder than in a freezer lab.

Several beer-bellied city councilors and shareholders representing the interests of an old family were trying to overwhelm the young playboy sitting in the main seat with a stack of financial statements several inches thick.

"Mr. Wayne, renovating the East Side sewers and laying an electric grid that can cover the entire slum? That's a budget that absolutely cannot be approved this fiscal year."

A fat man with a Mediterranean-style haircut wiped the sweat from his forehead, his eyes gleaming.

"And what's the point of hiring those, those scum of the earth? All they do is steal cables!"

Bruce didn't even open the documents they had handed him; he simply pushed a signed project proposal to the center of the table.

"I'm not asking for your opinions, gentlemen."

Bruce tapped his fingers twice on the plan, the sound eerily steady.

"Wayne Corporation will cover this cost independently. I just want one thing: the green light. Burn those damn approval processes and let these tens of thousands of people who need jobs to buy bread instead of drugs be at work with shovels in hand next Monday."

His gaze swept over the fat man, who felt like a moth being stared at by a giant bat.

"Or, I could replace this position with someone who can get these things done within 48 hours."

Xiu En leaned against the door, a stainless steel spoon dangling from his mouth, watching the usually powerful and influential people cower like quails.

He suddenly felt that the spoon in his hand tasted a little bland, so he snapped it in half like a cookie, the metallic chewing sound echoing in the conference room. He even let out a burp, and the golden energy formed a blurry hammer-like phantom in the air because of the burp.

All eyes shifted from Bruce to the monster who ate stainless steel like it was pudding, and the sound of swallowing saliva rose and fell.

"Oh, never mind me."

Xiu En chewed on the snacks in his mouth, waved his hand indistinctly, and turned up the brightness of his screen.

"You all continue, I'm just tasting this tableware; the iron content is acceptable."

Unsurprisingly, the proposal was passed unanimously, and no one dared to raise even a single punctuation mark of objection to the outrageous clause that would raise the minimum hourly wage for all employees.

As Bruce walked out of the conference room, he loosened his tie, and his previously tense demeanor finally softened.

"You scared them."

He glanced at Xiu En.

"You're the one who scared them, boss."

Xiu En shrugged and swallowed the last mouthful of alloy.

"My job is just to keep them from running away. Honestly, it feels way better to bury someone in money than to use your fists."

"This isn't about hitting someone, Xiu En."

Bruce looked down at the bustling yet desolate street below, his eyes deep in thought.

"This is like fixing a blood vessel in Gotham. Only when these 30,000 families have enough to eat will they stop helping Blackmask haul weapons for fifty dollars. This is one of the real battlefields that can kill evil."

……

three days later.

In the holographic projection terminal at Wayne Manor, Bruce's figure appeared more tired than usual, with the background noise consisting of countless flips of documents and secretaries reporting their schedules.

"A guy who claims to be the fastest man has recently appeared in Central City, and that kid named Barry Allen seems to have done a lot of good deeds at crime scenes. It seems that our world's Flash has appeared as well."

Bruce rubbed his temples, his voice coming from the conference room.

"I don't have time to leave Gotham. If I don't get the third phase of infrastructure funding sorted out this week, those gangsters will definitely find a chance to bomb my construction site. Shum, go check on that red kid. See if his heart is really that red."

Upon hearing this, Xiu En raised an eyebrow.

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"You want me to go? You want me to test how many punches he can take?"

"It's because you're intuitive, and... when you're not around, I'll have far fewer strange repair charges."

Bruce made a rare joke.

"As for transportation, Afu will provide it for you. He's been complaining these past few days about not having a place at the manor to showcase the driving skills of those retired special agents."

Before Xiu En even reached the huge helipad, the low-frequency roar of a turbo engine made the surrounding ivy tremble.

A heavy tactical transport aircraft, coated with Wayne Technologies’ latest stealth coating, lay quietly on the runway with its hatch wide open. Even though Afu was wearing a specially made tactical headset and pilot goggles, he was still inside.

Good morning, Xiu En.

Afu carried two metal supply boxes and tossed them into the cargo hold as easily as if they were two bags of garbage.

"Please don't worry about the bumpy journey; this aircraft has a very robust shock absorption system. And for your comfort, I've specially added a small oven in the co-pilot's seat that can heat up sandwiches."

As Xiu En watched the old man skillfully inspecting the hydraulic system, he became even more certain that the most terrifying person in the house was not the all-nighter dressed in a bat costume, but the butler who could use an RPG as a broom.

"Ah Fu, I've always wanted to ask, is there anything in this world that you can't pilot? Like a Gundam?"

"I haven't tried it yet. But if there are instructions, I think I could get the hang of it in half an hour."

Afu smiled politely and gestured for them to proceed.

One foot stepped onto the metal gangway, and the fighter jet's exhaust nozzles had already begun to spew pale blue preheated flames, distorting the air around the runway beyond recognition.

Xiu En didn't rush inside. He held onto the handrail of the cabin door, suddenly turned around, and looked at the lawn at the edge of the manor, which was trimmed as if he had an obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Apart from the faint smell of earth, there seemed to be nothing there.

"Hello!"

He didn't say anything long or elaborate, nor did he use any nice address; he simply shouted at the empty meadow.

"This giant iron bird is going to fly to an altitude of 10,000 meters. If you don't come out now, I'll give that good spot for photosynthesis to Afu as a coaster."

Afu paused for a moment while adjusting the instrument panel in the cockpit. He glanced at Xiu En through the rearview mirror, but instead of initiating the takeoff procedure, he patiently shut off a valve on the main engine to reduce the noise slightly.

"..."

The only sound on the meadow was the wind rustling through the grass.

But the next second, the patch of grass closest to Xiu En suddenly bulged up.

An unusually vigorous sunflower yanked itself out of the soil with a loud pop, its roots angrily shaking off the dirt, and then, with a clattering gait, it rushed across the track at a speed that such a plant should never have.

The sunflower scurried up the metal handrail of the gangway and, before Xiu En could react, very naturally and forcefully jumped onto his right shoulder.

Two large green leaves even slapped Xiu En hard, as if protesting this provocative invitation, before settling down comfortably. The flower head turned very human-like towards Xiu En's large, glowing face.

"That's more like it."

Xiu En grinned, completely unconcerned about the plant attack that could swell up an ordinary person's face.

"I would be so bored on the plane without your photosynthesis."

"It seems all the passengers have arrived."

Afu's voice came from the cabin announcement.

"Everyone buckle up, we need to get to the city center within an hour. I think the pizza shops there probably aren't open yet, but maybe we can have brunch in the air."

The Wayne fighter jet swiftly pierced the clouds above Wayne Manor, leaving only two thin white contrails in its tail.