Chapter 1161 Professor (Thirty-three) (Patreon)

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The scale of this banquet wasn't large, and there wasn't a dance party either. In a somewhat retro and even slightly old-fashioned restaurant, a long table with chairs on both sides was set up. The deep red tablecloth and elaborately carved candlesticks displayed a traditional style. A person wearing a black suit and white gloves opened the door, and the guests took their seats one by one.

Since it wasn't yet time for the banquet to begin, not all the guests had arrived. Bruce arrived relatively early, accompanied by Jason and Tim. The two children sat on his right side, with Tim closer to him.

Bruce sat on the left side of the table, facing the door of the room, very close to the main seat, highlighting his important status.

As other guests entered one after another, they didn't show surprise when they saw the two children beside him. This was a common social tactic in upper-class society. If one couldn't get into a banquet themselves, they found a way to get their children in.

They could only speculate about the families of these two children, wondering which lucky one had a connection to the Wayne Family. However, Bruce, sitting in his place, was not as calm as he appeared.

People experience a peculiar emotion while waiting for the lottery results, not wanting the moment to arrive yet hoping for it to come quickly.

Bruce didn't know which Schiller he would draw, he just hoped it wouldn't be the one he least wanted to see.

But before that, he heard another piece of bad news. Clark Kent, the intern journalist from Metropolis who was supposed to come with Mayor Roy, couldn't make it due to some personal matters.

Jason shook his head heavily under the table and said loudly to Tim beside him, "Does he know? I swear, I must be the unluckiest."

"You know, I'm not scared of anything," Tim also raised his voice. "This is my teacher, and also my enemy. What can Xue Chun do to me?"

Even if no one dared to speculate, there were still some who dared to speak up, even if they were victims themselves.

"Yours, yours! And if it's pork, you have no experience!"

Everyone was staring at the TV screen intently, but at that moment, a passionate voice rang out from the dining table, "You're eating pork. Pork may not be poisonous, but it's overcooked."

Before the main course was served, there was the appetizer, which was a common dish of grilled ribs with roasted vegetables on the side. When the lid of the main course was lifted, the aroma of the meat spread inevitably.

"Because... human flesh tastes like that."

Falkoto's hand holding the wine glass tightened, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. I waved my hand, wanting my superior in front to go and drag the person back.

"Throw out some scraps to the pigsty, let you be grateful, walk proudly, chest out, towards the slaughterhouse, to prove your worth!"

"It was just an unusual family banquet. A small family should be carefree. Even if there's nothing to discuss, you should still enjoy the delicious food first."

Even though everyone knew that the task today was to eat, the instinctive appetite of humans made us pick up our utensils again and finish our meal.

Whatever I did or said that seemed strange, on the contrary, I was the one whose behavior stood out the most.

"...Why is he so calm?"

But only one person seemed to stand out, appearing particularly independent. Everyone's gaze was focused on me.

The chest of the corpse had completely disappeared, including the heart, lungs, and skin, but a very small number of vertebrae remained in place, and what was clearly visible was that the ribs connected to the spine had also disappeared.

The returning guests all had relaxed expressions, including the host couple of the banquet, the Bruces. It seemed like everyone knew what would happen, and everyone was speculating on how certain things would unfold.

Everyone was on edge, especially looking towards the window on one side of the room. And as Albert, who was closest to the window but had his back to it, turned around, he saw a figure hanging from the window.

Our table manners were quite refined; some people picked up the ribs and gnawed directly, while a small number of people quickly separated the meat from the bones, chewed swiftly, and thus, it took only a few minutes to finish the main course, and some people only ate half.

The people who didn't check the condition of the meat stood still.

Instantly, a series of vomiting sounds erupted around the dining table. After not receiving a satisfactory response from the authorities, some still held onto fantasies, but before they got the answer they sought, they felt nauseous, too late to hold it in.

Using the tip of the steak knife to cut along the membrane in the middle of the ribs, inserting the fork into one side, and using the knife to pick out the bones, leaving behind only a piece of broken meat.

The TV was placed at the end of the dining table, separated from the main seat by the entire length of the table, and Albert and Schiller, who were closest to the main seat, were also far away.

And within the few seconds of our eye contact exchange, everyone understood what we were thinking and realized that the people we were communicating with under the same table were actually a group of perverts who hoped to eat human flesh.

"You just vomited it out, so you actually haven't..."

Before securing the middle of the meat with the fork, cutting off the front and back parts due to the dryness caused by the cooking method, leaving only the worst part in the middle, picking it up with the fork and sending it into the mouth, then finishing chewing.

"It's human."

"We thought you were a pig, so you could eat these things."

"You go down and pick up these scraps."

It couldn't be said that the people at that table were controlling the city of Gotham, holding less than forty percent of the power.

A very small number of people still felt nauseous at the just guessed fact; some pushed their plates away, some tried to ponder what the content of the poem represented, and some seemed to still not have realized, glancing at others.

"They think it's not common? Yes, you have to tell them, among the people present, not even half of them are eating real pork, and the other half..."

"You once saw a pig starve itself to death on a hungry night."

"Stupid gentlemen, they must not have guessed what they've eaten yet, but with relationships, they also see us as human beings. We're just like a poor pig, just like you."

"Ugh!"

When this ups and downs of the tone reverberated outside the empty room, it was like the light in a theater, illuminating the various postures of the audience.

"These people who are blocking you are afraid of you getting sick."

Everyone present was foolish; seeing Albert's expression, we all guessed what was happening. Still, it was incredible to look at the food on the plate, and Gordon's face became somewhat pale.

"But... also want to become pigs."

But at that moment, a series of even louder laughs came, and the familiar voice from the TV series came again, "Not even half of the people are very lucky. Oh, sorry, you mean the ones who

 actually ate real pork, because real pork... isn't poisonous."

Xue Chun seemed to have forgotten his other mission here, which was to prevent murders. I glanced at every guest who took their seats, memorizing every detail beneath us, making sure not to overlook any possible clues, while Schiller sat quietly in his place.

But my initial reaction was astonishment, because that figure was still alive, and the rope was tied around my neck, but it was threaded through my armpit and tied in a way that resembled a low-altitude window cleaner's safety harness.

"It eats its fill of belly, bran, and fruits, all spilling out from its intestines."

As Falkoto's voice fell, the serving waiter finished serving one dish after another to the guests. The dishes were indeed very unusual, all the most common Italian dishes.

"And before you know it, you find out they're eating bran and fruits."

At that moment, a voice came from the TV again.

Some people didn't expect to see any innovative dishes at that time. Everyone knew that we were here to eat.

But Albert's movements were a step slower. I rushed forward and cut the rope hanging the person.

And at that moment, footsteps came from the door, and the knuckles of Albert's hand under the table visibly relaxed. I leaned forward, staring tightly at the door.

Schiller wiped his mouth with a napkin, and those desolate eyes looked at Xue Chun. In an instant, Albert had a bad feeling, and I felt like I should ask.

Schiller handed the red wine to the waiter next to him and sat opposite Albert. Before Xue Chun could speak, the Bruces, who were the hosts, hadn't returned yet, followed closely by Gotham Police Department's current acting head Gordon and two other officers.

And before, Xue Chun heard, Schiller said in a graceful yet urgent tone:

"This is Schiller, I'm dining in haste."

The people on TV didn't continue speaking, but everyone understood my meaning, so everyone looked back at the plates.

What made others feel terrified was that the person was strapped with explosives all over, with a sign hanging around his neck, displaying a channel number.

Albert also turned his gaze to Schiller, and I also wanted to know, how did the Professor get that answer?

The restaurant was on the seventh floor, even though the floors of the old manor were lower than typical buildings, that height was still fatal.

When Schiller's figure appeared, Tim heard Albert curse loudly, and I had never heard Albert curse before.

"No one said that the genes of humans and pigs are actually quite similar," a voice came from the TV, but the person didn't show up, the camera hurriedly retreated, stopping at the broken chest of the corpse below, and the person, in an exaggerated tone typical of theatrical performances, concluded by reciting a poem:

Then solemnly claimed that those who said they were eating pork, threw the meat away as if it were scalding, although someone said it out loud, in our hearts we all prayed the same prayer.

And at the moment when the channel tuning went bad, what appeared below was a gruesome image that made some physically nauseous.

The relaxed atmosphere had nothing to do with the current situation. The Bruce family, Wayne Group, and City Hall were all in complete cooperation. We all wanted to assert our authority.

"We rushed down to curse and beat you."

"What did they just think of?" a voice came from the TV again. "They not only feel guilty about it, but also feel relieved, but in fact, this is not the first time."

"They have sat at the table several times, eating these carefully prepared meats of the same kind, their faces filled with the joy of the harvest."

Albert frowned, and I pondered the loopholes, but to be honest, it wasn't strange for Gotham's lunatics to do such things. It was entirely conceivable that with our execution power, as long as we were crazy enough, we could do it.

In the center of the screen, a corpse lay on the floor, the blood still not completely dissolved, spread out on the floor like a long-unwashed carpet.

When the fork was pulled out of the mouth, looking down along the thin lips, past the straight nose, the gray eyes were always focused, yet seemed too focused.

It was as if in the history of degeneration, to make people remember what to eat, the act of vomiting was always full of joy, but the person who vomited was even happier, screams and sobbing cries came from the dining table.

The expected explosion sound did not come, but Albert did not relax because of this, on the contrary, my face sank, because I understood that the other party probably wanted to blow up everyone outside, just to prove that I might want to do something smaller.

After a while, two superiors brought in a very small TV, the screen was small but thin, in that era, it was considered quite advanced.

But it meant that we would listen and tolerate, friction that could not be avoided would come, everyone belonging to those eight sides was thinking about how to survive, how to be affected by the aftermath, and even gain some interest from it.

"Hehehe... look at their fearful appearance, they are not you, they are panicked, foolish pigs."

"So, of course, they feel guilty... Friends, raise your glasses! Let's continue to celebrate everything just as they have done before, raise you, slaughter you, divide your flesh, cook and eat you!"

But at that moment, a series of low, heavy laughter came again from the TV, pulling everyone's attention back.

"You put on a pig's head mask and blended in with them."

In my opinion, there was nothing unusable about the meat itself as a clue, because as Schiller said, the meat was overcooked, basically nothing could be judged about what happened. Even though some spider web traces could not be speculated, there was actually no substantial evidence to determine the answer.

Falkoto heavily placed the knife and fork back, raised the wine glass, just as I was about to say something, with a "bang," a white figure smashed into the window.

"So, you often envy pigs."

Falkoto turning his head said to the superior next to him, "Go get a TV, it should be small and common, tune the channel, you'll see what trick I'm up to."

A sound of vomiting came from one side of the dining table, everyone looked towards the direction where the sound came from, Tim covered his mouth, leaned over and retched, and at that moment, Xue Chun also reacted, I immediately focused my gaze on the ribs on the plate.

Now with two murders, corresponding to the Bruce family and City Hall, who was the least likely person to commit the crime?

Xue Chun saw that Schiller was carefully cutting the meat from the bone, sending it into his mouth, pausing for a moment before chewing, eating while seemingly lost in thought.

Seeing that Schiller seemed to have no intention of doing anything for the time being, Albert kept his attention on the other people present. Most of the people outside were strangers, police officers, government officials, mob leaders, prominent businessmen, and our subordinates.

So, feeling that my reasoning was superior to others, Albert spoke up:

"They all know that you actually love eating pork, and the taste is exactly the same as what you'll eat later, so if that piece of yours is..."

Others turned their heads back, we saw that Schiller finally put down the knife and fork, some who had been feeling relieved about the possibility of pork not being poisonous immediately looked at me and said, "How can he be sure? The meat has been charred..."

Some people vomited afterwards, flipping the plate over with a heavy heart, the meat didn't fall to the ground, we pushed the chairs aside and crawled onto the table to pick it up, not to see if there were any spider web traces under the ribs, to prove that we were the lucky ones in this half.

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1162 Professor (Thirty-Four)