I train Batman in a horror world

Chapter 47: The Maoshan Conference

In the days that followed.

Bruce studied Taoist arts even more diligently.

His little brain was full of knowledge about this subject, and he gradually mastered the thunder magic that Uncle Nine had taught him without even realizing it.

Although he could only produce a small cluster of lightning in his palm, he could still be considered to have a talent for it.

Foul thought that if Bruce were allowed to stay in this world for ten or eight years, he would probably be promoted directly to a Celestial Master!

Bat Master!

Of course, that's impossible.

Bruce never forgot why he learned this knowledge in the first place.

......

Time slipped by quietly, and July arrived.

According to local rumors, July is the Ghost Month, and the fifteenth of July is the Ghost Festival, a day when the gates of hell are wide open and many wandering ghosts roam the human world.

This is, after all, a day of sacrifice.

On this day, people usually burn paper money and paper clothes or release water lanterns to commemorate their deceased relatives.

At the same time, monks will chant sutras to help some unclaimed and lonely souls escape their suffering.

Bruce wouldn't be willing to believe something unless he had a lot of knowledge about Taoist practices in his head.

I've just learned so much and been exposed to so much.

I inevitably chose to believe.

of course.

The most important point is because...

Uncle Nine was actually printing money himself!

It's still ghost money!

Charity home.

inside the house.

Rolls of white paper were piled up together, like mountains of white paper.

Uncle Nine gently pressed the paper with the money-printing tablet, and a string of monetary numbers immediately appeared on the paper. Then Uncle Nine slid the paper and continued pressing.

Bruce, on the other hand, watched with great interest.

The bat on his shoulder clicked its tongue in amazement upon seeing the amount of the banknotes:

Five thousand taels? Prices in the underworld have risen that badly lately?

"You mean it's not enough?" Bruce replied with a sidelong glance.

"A little, just print two zeros together." Foul nodded.

A group of zeros?

Bruce imagined the pattern for a moment, then his expression changed.

"Isn't this infinity? How can you print money like this?!" he said angrily.

"Doesn't that mean we have endless money?" Foll chuckled.

Bruce rolled his eyes in exasperation.

It is also infinitely large.

Don't you understand the concept of inflation?!

Uncle Nine, who had been listening in the background, couldn't help but laugh and said, "Only you would bother with it."

Fowler shook his head, a smug look on his face. "Who am I? I'm Bruce Wayne's Fowler!"

Bruce ignored the guy's words and instead asked Uncle Nine curiously:

"Uncle Jiu, why do you print your own money instead of buying it in town?"

Uncle Nine seemed to be writing something important at the moment, and he didn't even want to lift his head.

"no the same."

"no the same?"

Bruce was confused, then he heard Fowle's explanation:

"Uncle Renjiu is burning offerings for ghosts in his own name, so his merit points will skyrocket!"

Bruce asked, "May I?"

Fowler looked Bruce up and down and chuckled, "Do you think you've done anything good by writing this?"

Bruce roared, "And what about you? All you do all day is spout nonsense, and you think you've done anything good?!"

"Then let me ask you, whose merit did it take to strike me with lightning that day?"

"whispering sound!"

Upon hearing this, Uncle Nine, who had finally finished his work, looked up and his gaze fell on Bruce.

Uncle Nine asked, "Why did you suddenly decide to burn it in your own name?"

Bruce hesitated for a moment.

He recalled his previous conversation with Foul, about using the means available to this world to rationally transform and utilize the power of his own world.

"I don't know if these things will work for me, but I think if possible, I hope these ghosts... can tell my parents, tell them that I miss them very much," the boy said.

"..."

After listening, Foul glanced at the little bat and his serious expression remained genuine.

In his view, Bruce would never have shared these innermost thoughts with others if he were in his own world.

At most, they might hide under the covers and secretly wipe away tears to remember their deceased parents.

But it's different here.

Ghosts truly exist in this world.

Perhaps as long as he doesn't return to his own world, Bruce will always be Bruce Wayne.

And back to Gotham?

Fowle shook his head, deciding to stop thinking about it.

"You have a sincere heart, Bruce, and I believe your parents will know that."

Uncle Nine would never say anything about whether the "managers" below him were the same kind of people.

After all, what's the point of saying this other than hurting people's feelings?

I'm afraid only that bat would do that.

"I didn't say anything at all!!!" Foul was furious.

"You must have thought that way," Uncle Nine sneered.

"I'll never bring Bruce here again, they all hate me so much!" Foul said angrily.

Bruce listened quietly to Foll and Uncle Nine arguing.

Then he picked up a brush and wrote his name on a blank banknote.

......

A few days passed in the blink of an eye, and it was July 15th.

If you were to ask Bruce what this day felt like, aside from the night falling exceptionally quickly, it would be the air filled with bluish smoke.

Even inside the mortuary, Bruce could see wisps of smoke rising from the town, as people were commemorating the deceased in their own ways.

Bruce stared for a moment, then looked away.

He went to the cauldron that Uncle Nine had specially prepared and began to burn paper money.

Not long after Bruce put the banknotes down, his two junior brothers came into the room and asked:

"Junior brother, there's an opera troupe performing in town later, want to come along?"

"Yes, if you're going, you should call your master, and I'll go save a spot!"

"..."

Upon hearing this, Bruce couldn't help but put down the banknotes in his hand, looking completely puzzled:

"Don't you know tonight's performance is for ghosts?"

"!? There's such a saying?" Wen Cai and Qiu Sheng were shocked.

The two rushed into the house to ask their master, Uncle Jiu, if the truth was really as their junior brother had said.

Then, in response, they received two slaps from Uncle Nine himself.

clap clap!

Hearing his two senior brothers' wails and Uncle Nine's curses, Bruce couldn't help but curl the corners of his mouth, continuing to gaze at the firelight in front of him, gently and carefully burning the paper.

A short while later.

Fowler flew back from outside, like a falcon, and with a whoosh, he slipped into his collar.

"There are a hundred ghosts roaming outside at night!"

"..."

Bruce said helplessly, "I don't think I'll ever understand why you're so cowardly."

"Never mind whether I'm a coward or not, I'll just tell you one thing: a parade of a hundred ghosts never ends well!"

"Yeah?"

Bruce suddenly thought of how Fowler would tremble every time he did this.

It seems like... nothing good is happening!

Just as he was thinking this, he suddenly saw a yin-yang symbol appear in the night sky.

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

He recognized what it was.