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Chapter 71 The Owl's Judgment, The Penguin's Wrath
Chapter 71 The Owl's Judgment, The Penguin's Wrath
Kent Farm.
Night fell.
Clark stayed up late, finally waiting for Lucas to finish his workout.
He asked with some surprise, "Where did you go to train? I looked all over but couldn't find you."
"What do you need me for?" Lucas asked, wiping the water from his forehead.
Clark touched his nose and began to explain the confusion he had encountered over the past few days.
"Suspended in mid-air?" Lucas was somewhat surprised.
We're still a long way from the point where Superman can fly.
Perhaps it was some kind of premonition.
Lucas thought for a moment: "Although I don't know exactly what happened to you, in my opinion, this shouldn't be a bad thing. Like all the previous anomalies, you'll eventually get used to it."
"But this bothers me. It makes me feel more and more like I'm drifting away from my peaceful life now." Clark looked somewhat dejected.
Lucas came to the bedside: "If you really can't refuse, you might as well learn to accept it. After all, in many people's eyes, that's actually pretty cool."
=
Two days later.
A continuous autumn rain enveloped the streets and alleys of Gotham.
After five hours of torrential rain, the sudden downpour showed no signs of stopping.
Cold winds, carrying cold rain, seeped in from all directions into the dilapidated alleyways nestled between shantytowns and Gothic buildings.
Homeless people sleeping on the streets can only pitifully huddle under broken walls and eaves, wrapping themselves in tattered rags covered with a thick layer of grease, letting the cold devour them, shivering in despair at not knowing if they will see the sun the next day.
The stagnant water flowed from the uneven ground beneath them, converging into the black, foul-smelling ditch in front of them.
Even so, they were unwilling to move an inch from the spot where they were sitting.
This street is a famous commercial street.
The area is surrounded by all sorts of restaurants, bars, and clubs. The trash cans next to the ditch always have some leftover scraps, which is enough to keep them from starving. If they're lucky, they might even get a few bites of something good.
In a sense, it's not without reason that people in Metropolis keep their distance from Gotham.
Compared to the ever-changing metropolis, this place seems like an ancient relic from the last era.
Even though Thomas Wayne did his best to build numerous charitable institutions while he was still alive, it was still just a drop in the ocean for the increasingly dark Gotham.
Savage, rude, brutal, and aloof, the powerful figures turn a blind eye to everything happening here, while simultaneously allowing the despair that is unfolding here to take place. It is in this despair that they can demonstrate their nobility and special status.
now.
A luxurious yet antique-style giant conference room.
The room was surrounded by black rock walls, from which hung fist-sized, luminous pearls that could fetch astronomical prices if placed outside, illuminating the entire giant conference room as if it were daytime.
In the very center of the conference room.
A long, black stone council table stretched across the center of the hall, its smooth surface reflecting the silent, solemn black figures.
These shadowy figures all wore identical masks that resembled the outlines of some kind of raptor, obscuring faces that were either old, young, or shrewd.
They were dressed in exquisitely tailored, expensive black robes, and sat in chairs carved in the shape of owls, each remaining silent and still.
At this time.
Someone tapped the stone table lightly with their fingertips, the crisp sound breaking the deathly silence.
It was a figure completely different from the other shadowy figures.
Wearing a platinum owl mask, he is the Speaker of the Owl Court.
As the sound of fingertips tapping the stone table rang out, the other person's hoarse, deep voice followed: "No matter how fierce the rain outside, Gotham remains in our grasp. It has been this way for hundreds of years, never changing. It was so in the past, it is so now, and it will be so in the future."
"It's ridiculous that people always think they rule this city. Gotham is not a paradise for mortals; it's a hunting ground for owls."
We live in the shadows, in control of everything, and dominate the future of Gotham. This is a power passed down through generations, and no one can stop us.
"And now, some overconfident ants are trying to break this balance."
"They killed Sal Maroni, whom we secretly supported to oppose Falcone, and now they're trying to destroy the Court of Justice. Little do they know that in the tide of history, all those who dare to oppose the Court of the Owls become the foundation stones beneath our feet, forever suppressed by the Court."
At this point, the speaker stomped his foot hard on the marble floor.
The entire slab of black marble emitted a dull, hollow sound, beneath which lay countless skeletons.
These skeletons have served as the foundation of this conference room since 1600.
Then, the Speaker's voice changed: "But that madman who dared to desecrate the court suddenly disappeared. Our people searched all over Gotham, but to no avail."
This shows that the enemy the court encountered this time was a cautious yet dangerous prey, attempting to toy with us in this way.
But prey will always just be prey!
The Speaker's voice was filled with unprecedented anger and hatred: "No matter where he escapes, the owl will always find him, take his head in his sleep, and teach him the price of blaspheming the owl's will!"
"Then, let's capture Oswald now. He was careful, but tonight he's shown his true colors."
He might know the whereabouts of that mysterious person. Once he finds out, he'll immediately send Claws to strike!
Eastside.
:
A dilapidated dock warehouse.
The smell of rust mixed with the fishy smell of seawater filled the air.
Oswald had just finished a private meeting with his subordinates.
He straightened his tie, picked up the black umbrella that symbolized his status, and prepared to climb into his private car.
Suddenly, three dark figures darted out of the shadows.
The penguin immediately realized what was happening and was about to reach for the miniature pistol hidden at his waist.
But a wet cloth soaked in a potent anesthetic was used to cover his mouth and nose even faster.
The pungent chemical smell hit his throat, his eyes widened, and he quickly fell into a coma.
When he regained consciousness, Oswald found himself firmly strapped to an iron chair.
Before him stood several assassins wearing owl masks and wielding sharp blades.
"owl----"
Oswald suddenly realized something, and his face turned deathly pale.
He was already being careful enough, staying indoors all day and rarely showing his face unless absolutely necessary. He never expected that his only attempt to take action on a rainy night would be discovered by an owl.
Just as the folk song describes, they were omnipresent, which sent chills down the spines of the penguins.
"Mr. Oswald, if you want to see the sun rise as usual the next day, then you'd better answer every question I ask."
Catherine Menner slowly stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the incandescent bulb, looking down at the trembling...
The penguin looks terrified.
As a high-ranking member and de facto head of the Court of Owls, she comes from one of Gotham's oldest and most prestigious families, whose members have enjoyed a glorious and illustrious history for over a century. Her demeanor exudes the aura of aristocracy from a bygone era.
Indifferent, cruel, detached—everything is under their control.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I've offended you." Oswald struggled against his chains and spoke immediately.
"Listen, you should understand that we rarely appear in public."
Catherine glanced coldly at Oswald's legs: "Especially in front of someone like you. So, playing dumb in front of us usually only backfires."
"Now, tell me right now, who exactly is that mysterious person behind you?!"
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