"I want to be as strong as you, sir."
Bruce said sincerely, "I want to save Gotham, save Alfred and my friends."
Peter looked at the young man as if he was seeing Bruce for the first time.
Batman wanted to learn from him?
Suppressing the strange feeling, Peter shook his head, "There's not much I can teach you, Bruce."
Bruce asked in confusion, "Why, sir?"
"Because…"
Peter gazed into his puzzled eyes and slowly said, "I have never been a normal human."
"Because I am not a normal human, I cannot, through day-after-day physical training, possess an indomitable will that conquers all, nor can I use such will to overcome the physiological limits of pain."
Peter had a good understanding of himself; having been granted superpowers by his wristwatch, he couldn't teach Batman much.
"Because I am not a mortal human, it is impossible for me to maximize human wisdom and courage in every possible way."
He paused, then continued to the stunned Bruce, "But what I just said is what you, as a normal human, need most."
"Sir…"
Bruce stared blankly at Peter, "Who are you, exactly?"
His curiosity about Peter's identity grew.
"You'll know later."
Peter changed the subject, "However, Bruce, I can teach you some things—things about how to face fear directly."
The next day, early morning.
At the hotel gym, as soon as Peter entered, he saw Bruce practicing boxing.
Bruce, covered in sweat, seemed to have been training in the gym for a long time.
"Bruce, let's practice some boxing."
He picked up boxing gloves and asked Bruce to spar with him.
"Sir, do you know boxing?"
"A little, at least I'm not an amateur."
Peter told Bruce to attack him first.
Bruce took a deep breath and began to sway from side to side, facing Peter like a cobra ready to strike at any moment.
"Thump!"
Bruce stepped forward and threw a fierce straight punch.
But Peter easily dodged it and grabbed his wrist.
"You seem to be replacing guilt with anger, and using it to drive yourself, Bruce, but that's not enough."
Facing Bruce's very powerful blow, Peter easily defused it and pushed him back.
He could feel that Bruce was holding back a lot of force when he punched, as if he wanted to inject power into himself with that ferocity.
Undeterred, Bruce gasped a few times and continued to attack forward.
As he stepped forward, his left fist struck out.
After Peter blocked it, he immediately retracted his feinting left fist and threw his right fist at Peter.
But Peter still caught his fist.
"A bit clever, Bruce, but not enough. Don't reveal your thoughts too directly; learn to hide your intentions."
Peter released Bruce, signaling him to continue attacking.
Bruce became more courageous with each setback and continued to attack Peter.
After sparring with Bruce for a while, Peter received a call from Martian Manhunter, ended the spar, and left the gym.
"Are you okay, Mark?"
Clark asked Mark, who seemed a bit distracted, with concern.
"I'm fine, it's just…"
Mark followed Clark towards the gym's swimming pool.
He didn't know how to describe his feelings, "I don't know how to describe that feeling, I… I killed someone yesterday, Clark."
"What?"
Clark stopped, looking at him in shock, "What happened?"
"I don't know, I was tracking Bruce at the time, and then I was surrounded by a group of gunmen. I don't know why they attacked us. A homeless child died, and I was very angry."
Clark listened to Mark's account, frowned, and asked him, "Are you not injured, John?"
"No, I'm not. To be honest, I wasn't too scared. I was just worried that Dad would be angry."
Mark confided his thoughts to Clark.
"I'm worried Dad will think I'm a bad kid. I killed someone, and I messed up. I don't want Dad to think I'm a killer."
Clark recovered from his shock, unsure what to say.
Seeing Mark's worry, he comforted him, "Don't worry, John, you're not a killer. Just like Popeye said, 'You am what you am,' you won't change."
Mark exhaled and thanked Clark, "Thank you, Clark, and please thank Popeye for me."
As the two walked towards the pool, talking, they happened to see Bruce practicing boxing.
Mark, fueled by anger, immediately quickened his pace towards him.
"Hey, Bruce, maybe you can explain what happened yesterday."
Mark said impolitely.
Bruce looked up at Mark, then continued to punch the Sandbag, "I have nothing to explain."
"Oh really? You're not even going to explain your pathetic escape back then?"
Mark crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the extremely displeasing Bruce, and said, "You abandoned all your poor siblings back then."
"I didn't abandon them!"
Hearing Mark's words, Bruce stopped his movements and glared at him angrily.
"Those guys' target was me. The best protection for them was for me to leave there!"
Mark shook his head, "But why did someone die? Admit it, Bruce, you're not just a poor boy, you're also a coward."
"Shut up! I'm not—a coward!"
Bruce took off his boxing gloves, his tone growing more agitated.
Although he was eight or nine years older than Mark, he was still angered by this brat.
Seeing Bruce's broken defense, the petty Mark finally felt the anger from yesterday's mockery subside.
"You are a coward, and a poor boy, a liar!"
"Shut up!"
Bruce couldn't hold back and threw his boxing gloves at him.
With a "bang," Mark easily caught the gloves.
After examining the gloves, Mark's initial anger suddenly dissipated for the most part, and an idea sparked in his mind.
"It seems you really like boxing. Dad also taught me boxing, Bruce. Let's decide if you're a coward with a boxing match. Do you dare to accept the challenge?"
Bruce didn't know that Mark was Superman. Looking at Mark, who was much shorter than him, he walked up to him and looked down at him, "I'll teach you a good lesson for Mr. Patrick, kid."
"You can't replace Dad."
When Clark walked up to the two, he saw them preparing to box.
Looking at Bruce with concern, he advised him, "Bruce, maybe let's just forget it. You can't beat Mark."
Bruce looked at the confident Mark and refused, "It's okay, Clark. He's not a god. Even if he is a god… it doesn't matter. I'll make a god bleed too."