"You shouldn't talk about Bruce like that."
After Bruce left the room, Martian Manhunter said to Peter, "This kid isn't as bad as you say."
"I know."
Peter stared at the Fire in the fireplace. "Rebellious, self-righteous, lonely, suspicious, inherently stubborn and prejudiced—if he were in school, he'd definitely be called a 'freak,' even if he's rich."
"If he were a rich second-generation, he might be a playboy both loved and hated; if he were a hero, he might be a knight protecting a City."
Peter picked up the unique-tasting coffee brewed by Martian Manhunter.
"But now, he can't save anyone; he's just a brat who messes everything up."
Martian Manhunter's eyebrows twitched, and he said, "Perhaps we could add 'billionaire,' a billionaire brat—Bruce Wayne."
Peter looked at him in surprise. Did a Martian have a sense of dry humor?
"How is John doing?"
Not noticing Peter's expression, Martian Manhunter picked up an Oreo cookie and asked Peter.
"His emotions are stable enough. You can counsel him tomorrow."
Peter always felt that Martian Manhunter's suitable profession was a psychologist.
Using his "mind-reading" ability to solve others' psychological problems was a perfect fit.
"I never easily pry into others' minds."
Martian Manhunter seemed to have read Peter's thoughts and said earnestly.
"That's like a cat saying it's never stolen fish in its life. Alright, Jones, do you know what organization swapped Bruce?"
Peter steered the conversation back on track.
Martian Manhunter's hand, holding the Oreo, paused in the air. He didn't answer directly but asked Peter, "How much do you know about Gotham, Peter?"
"Not much."
He said to Martian Manhunter, "Everything I know about Gotham is through 'ArtBell.'"
"ArtBell?"
"A Gotham radio night program, mainly involving supernatural phenomena and various strange news. The commentators discuss conspiracies, UFOs, and all the peculiar things in the United States."
The reason Peter paid attention to this radio program was purely due to a mischievous streak.
In the simple folkways of Gotham City, supervillains were as numerous as carp crossing a river; they were either lunatics, psychopaths, or perverts.
He listened to the radio just to find some fun, to see if he could hear news of those bizarre supervillains he'd heard about in his previous life.
"You have some unusual tastes, Peter."
After a brief complaint, Martian Manhunter said to him, "Have you heard of a mysterious organization that exists in Gotham? This hidden organization, completely unpunished and unknown, controls the power of Gotham."
Peter shook his head. "No, I haven't. Your tone now sounds like the host of the ArtBell radio show, Jones."
He put down his coffee and asked, "Do you suspect this mysterious organization replaced Bruce?"
Martian Manhunter said with a serious expression, "Yes. Also, I received information that this mysterious organization seems to be plotting something big in Gotham."
Upon hearing this, Peter stared out at the dark night outside the window.
The skyline of Gotham City, across a river in the distance, faintly emerged in the night.
"Such things happen every day in that City. It's too far from us."
"Whew!"
Bruce suddenly awoke from his trembling!
Wiping the sweat from his face, he exhaled dejectedly.
He had the nightmare about that alley again.
The scene of his parents' death replayed in the nightmare.
He turned to look at the window.
The glass in the night seemed to be stained with blood, black blood, thick and viscous.
The blood from the alley, which had become a nightmare, seemed to slowly flow on the glass.
Shaking his head, Bruce looked at the glass again and found nothing on it.
Feeling utterly terrible, he zoned out for a while before getting up from the bed, putting on his clothes, leaving the room, and heading upstairs.
After arriving on the rooftop alone, Bruce pulled his clothes tighter to ward off the cold wind.
Taking a deep breath, he walked to the edge of the rooftop.
He looked down at the cars, which were the size of matchboxes, making him feel a bit dizzy due to his fear of heights.
Standing on the edge, looking at the rooftop on the other side, he mustered his courage and wanted to try jumping across.
But at the moment he was about to jump, he suddenly became cowardly again, hesitated for a long time, and finally didn't jump.
"What are you doing, Bruce?"
The sudden voice from behind startled him, and he stumbled, almost falling off.
He steadied himself and looked back, finding Peter standing there.
"I'm trying to conquer fear, Mr. Patrick."
Bruce turned around, saying with an unnatural expression, "What you said tonight was very true. Cowardice and fear have always been hidden in my heart. Perhaps only by conquering fear can I become strong."
"Only when I become strong will something like this not happen today."
Bruce's face was filled with remorse and self-blame. "And innocent people won't be harmed."
"Fear isn't something you should avoid like the plague, Bruce."
Peter hadn't expected this kid to try to overcome fear in this way.
He organized his words and said, "It can also be a tool, a Spur. Without fear, life would be meaningless."
As he spoke, he held out his hand to the other party. "Come down. You shouldn't be standing so high."
Bruce looked at Peter's outstretched hand, hesitated for a moment, but finally grabbed it and jumped down.
"You're very disappointed in me, aren't you, Mr. Patrick?"
After jumping down, Bruce asked Peter.
Peter shook his head. "No. We all grow up from immaturity."
Bruce was silent for a while, fought a battle within himself, then bit his lip and said to Peter, "Sir, I actually know who is hunting me."
Peter looked at him in surprise. "Who is it?"
Bruce said with a complex expression, "That mysterious organization. It... it's called the Court of Owls. It's said to be composed of Gotham's prominent families. It controls Gotham, secretly observing everything in Gotham, infiltrating Wayne Enterprises. My parents' death might even be related to it."
"It was also the Court of Owls who knocked me out and replaced me with that fake Bruce."
Bruce shivered in the cold wind, pulling his clothes tighter, and softly recited the nursery rhyme he'd heard: "Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time."
"I've been investigating this mysterious organization. I don't know why they replaced me with a fake Bruce, but I know... they must be planning something. Alfred, my friends... they could all be in danger."
Bruce's tone was full of worry. "It's not just Gotham; this wildfire spreading in Kansas might even be related to the Court of Owls."
"Sir, I want to stop them. I know I'm not strong enough. Can you teach me to become strong?"