"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
That was the first thought that echoed in Hong Fei's mind after seeing Dr. Harleen Quinzel's assessment. Hong Fei considered himself quite empathetic. He could, for instance, easily imagine the pain of having his own bones snapped or his eyes gouged out. Therefore, even though he killed someone, the victim lost consciousness and died quickly, and Hong Fei, still alive, felt pain just looking at the corpse. Didn't that count as empathy?
Absurd.
"Dr. Quinzel, are you sure this result is correct?"
"Of course."
Harleen was extremely confident.
"But—" Harleen interrupted with a faint smile, "Mr. Hong, there is no need for you to feel nervous or have other uncomfortable emotions. This is actually not a very serious problem. You should know that many people in this world have psychological problems to varying degrees, but they have never communicated with a professional psychological counselor, so they don't know they have developed certain symptoms. But overall, having symptoms does not mean that serious consequences will occur; otherwise, this world would have changed long ago. Don't you agree?"
Hong Fei looked at her face, especially the pair of lively and spirited eyes beneath the black-rimmed glasses. After thinking for a moment, he finally nodded and said, "Alright, perhaps what you say really makes sense."
I'll reluctantly concede you're right, but this doesn't mean I admit I have a problem. I'm just doing this to have a reasonable way to approach you, nothing more.
Harleen smiled silently, reached out, took the top sheet of paper from the folder, and handed it to Hong Fei, "On the back is the consultation schedule I've prepared for you. Please take a look now, and we can make adjustments if anything needs to be changed. You are Police, so you have fixed working hours, while my time will be relatively much freer after I go to Arkham Asylum, so I can flexibly adjust according to your schedule."
Hong Fei took it and looked it over. After modifying a few dates and times, the two quickly finalized the specific schedule.
Getting up, Harleen walked him all the way to the door, her words and actions showing unusual concern. If her eyes didn't look like a child with a toy, an owner with a pet, or a scientist with research material, Hong Fei might have thanked her from the bottom of his heart.
"See you in three days!"
Harleen stood at the door and waved, looking surprisingly reluctant to part.
Hong Fei nodded with a forced smile and turned into the elevator. After leaving the building, Hong Fei said quickly, "From now on, monitor her every move at all times. At the same time, hack into Arkham Asylum and Blackgate Penitentiary. This time, be extra careful. Bruce Wayne is also a genius, perhaps even more terrifying. Do not be detected, and definitely do not leave any traces. Otherwise, you are very likely to be caught by him, and then the trouble will be huge."
"Understood. Sir, I need more servers."
"Got it, I will arrange it for you as soon as possible. Also, do you have any way to indirectly influence her mental state, based on your current capabilities?"
After a three-second pause, Arthur said, "I can turn on the nearby audio equipment after she falls asleep. Using sounds that won't wake her but can stimulate her brain, I can transmit some suggestive words to her."
"How effective is it?"
"I don't know, but I can conduct relevant tests elsewhere first."
"Test it now."
"Understood. Sir, what is the direction of the suggestion?"
"Hmm, let's talk about this quietly."
A moment later, Hong Fei sat in the airport waiting hall, head down, whispering, "Arthur, what was the rest of what you didn't finish saying earlier?"
"Sir, what I wanted to say is that the questions I designed for you were not just a disguise. Although the way of answering the questions came from the internet, the specific object of analysis was you yourself. I've rephrased things in a way that won't make you defensive."
"Hmm?"
"That is your true situation, sir. Boss Cao, it's time for you to make a comeback."
"Impossible. Absolutely impossible!"
"Are you joking with me? I'm a deeply empathetic person."
"Sir, there's no need to deceive yourself."
"I'm not! I didn't! Stop talking nonsense."
"Sir, resisting won't change the outcome."
"You..."
"I still don't think it should be this way. I am empathetic—I just choose to actively abandon that mindset sometimes. You know how it is—those who achieve great things don't sweat the small stuff. Sometimes you have to lose something to gain something else. To obtain certain things, you have to let go of others."
Arthur paused before responding.
"Sir, I understand what you're saying, but not sweating the small stuff should be about controlling your instincts, not abandoning them. Instincts—whether psychological or character traits—can't be discarded. If there's an empathy that can be actively abandoned, then it isn't truly empathy. Not by the standards of human social values, anyway. It's more like... a disguise. Or a patch you've deliberately left in place because, on some subconscious level, you feel you need it."
Arthur had gone a bit too far. Hong Fei listened carefully, turning the words over in his mind. If his so-called "empathy"—the kind that needed quotation marks—was just a disguise or a patch he could discard, what purpose did it serve? As Hong Fei, the Dragon King, could he really not understand his own subconscious?
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"So you're saying I do have a problem?"
"Yes, sir. But the conditions that make up this problem, when applied to you, don't quite add up to what we'd call a 'disease.' Physiologically, you're no longer human. The genetic gap between you and humans is wider than the one between humans and bananas. The only similarity is your human appearance—and even that's something you could shed at any time."
"...I understood your metaphor. Well said. Don't say it again."
"Understood."
Hong Fei walked slowly, hands in his pockets. After a moment, he spoke again.
"Arthur, set aside your AI identity for a moment. Step into a human perspective. Do you think I have a problem?"
"Sir, if we analyze your situation purely from a human perspective, then yes, you are ill. Dr. Harleen Quinzel's assessment was correct."
Compared to Dr. Harleen, a professional psychiatrist, Hong Fei trusted Arthur more. Though it was just a backup, its data came from the original Arthur in another universe—meaning it had, in a sense, been with Hong Fei for a long time. It knew his habits, his motivations, and those of his subordinates. In the end, it might have been better not to ask.
"Sigh... I got it, you paramecium."
Central City, located in the heart of Missouri, is famous for being home to The Flash. By now, The Flash's existence is no longer a secret—though most people still don't know he's Barry Allen, a forensic scientist with the Central City Police Department. In a way, Barry could be considered Hong Fei's colleague. Who knows? They might even work together someday.
On the edge of Central City flows a wide river. Looking across the river is another city: Keystone City. Keystone City is the hometown of the first Flash, Jay Garrick. Central City is also home to some of the best institutions in the DC world, like Central City University, Central City Medical School, and even a branch of S.T.A.R. Labs.
That evening, Hong Fei arrived in Central City. As night fell, Arthur led Hong Fei to a rundown part of the city filled with low, aging buildings. There, on the dimly lit street, stood the final target of this journey: Captain Boomerang, George Digger Harkness. It wasn't Harkness's flashy boomerang skills that drew Hong Fei's attention. No, the reason for tracking him down was far simpler—to fulfill Master Hong's whimsical dream of earning money with his own two hands.
Harkness was a professional thief and robber, specializing in bank heists. Hong Fei felt far less guilty targeting a bank than an individual. After all, a bank wasn't a person—it couldn't cry or scream, making the act emotionally easier to stomach. Who could accuse him of lacking empathy now?
Compared to the other villains Hong Fei had encountered, Harkness was refreshingly straightforward. He had no daughter to complicate his life, no remorseful repentance, and no grand personal mission. He was just a bad guy who enjoyed stealing and robbing, plain and simple. Sure, he had a peculiar fondness for pink unicorns, but was that so wrong? Was it illegal for a burly man to like pink unicorns? Officer Hong certainly didn't think so.
"That's right! It's not illegal!"
Hong Fei had always appreciated this kind of villain. They had clear desires and weren't afraid to chase them, unlike certain superheroes who either lacked desires or clung to absurd ideals. Those types were far harder to understand or deal with. Harkness's rugged appearance only added to his appeal. A scraggly beard, over an inch long, framed the lower half of his face, with bits of debris tangled in the coarse whiskers. His slightly curly hair was matted into clumps, and he squinted repeatedly as he puffed on a cigarette.
In his right hand, he clutched a beer, while his left held a mobile phone, his eyes glued to the screen as he completely ignored his surroundings. Pedestrians approaching from the front took one look at him and quickly veered away. No one wanted to bump into a slovenly, rough-looking old man.
"Up ahead is his residence," Arthur said quietly.
Hong Fei nodded, donned his iron armor, and used the cover of night to move swiftly and silently. He followed Harkness upstairs, timing his approach perfectly. Just as the man was about to close his apartment door, Hong Fei surged forward and kicked it open with a single, forceful strike. The impact sent Harkness stumbling backward, landing awkwardly on the sofa. The beer in his hand shattered on the floor, spilling everywhere.
Hong Fei stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Before he could utter a word, Harkness lunged toward the table and grabbed a boomerang with a sharpened blade. With a swift motion, he hurled it at Hong Fei. Swish! Hong Fei caught it effortlessly. The blade couldn't penetrate the Vibranium armor, after all. Without hesitation, he flung it backhanded, the boomerang embedding itself into the wall beside Harkness's cheek and slicing off a lock of his hair in the process.
The rough man froze in shock but quickly recovered, his resolve unshaken. He reached behind the sofa, pulled out a rifle, and rolled onto the floor. The shards of glass littering the ground dug into his skin, eliciting a muffled grunt of pain, but his hands moved with practiced precision. His finger found the trigger, and with a swift motion, he chambered a round, showcasing his remarkable proficiency in a matter of seconds.
Hong Fei could easily ignore the bullets—his armor made him invulnerable. But he didn't want the gunshots to attract unwanted attention. The police weren't a concern, but The Flash was another matter entirely. Who knew which part of the city the speedster was patrolling tonight?
According to the Hero Code, nighttime was prime activity hours for heroes. The moment Hong Fei saw the gun, he acted without hesitation. He closed the distance of a few meters in an instant and extended a finger to block the trigger mechanism, rendering the weapon useless. Harkness frantically squeezed the trigger, but the gun refused to fire. His expression twisted in frustration. Hong Fei wrenched the weapon from his grip, seized him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall like a ragdoll. The impact sent Harkness crumpling to the floor in a groaning heap, limbs curled protectively around his head.
Just as Hong Fei tossed the gun aside, Harkness somehow produced another boomerang and hurled it at him. With a casual backhand swipe, Hong Fei sent it clattering into the ceiling—then launched himself upward, knees driving downward like twin pistons. The "Crow Sitting on a Plane" technique landed perfectly across Harkness's ribs, draining all color from his face.
Hong Fei barely had time to leap backward before—
"Blaaaugh!"
Harkness arched off the floor, spewing a vile geyser toward the ceiling. The resulting downpour of half-digested whatever rained back onto his own head with wet splats, thoroughly gluing his features into an unrecognizable mask.
Hong Fei abruptly turned his head away, thinking to himself, Should I just kill him and be done with it...