Chapter 1205: Lamb's Cry (26) (Patreon)

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Under Bruce's expectant gaze, Jason shook his head and said, "I don't know, I fell asleep as soon as I heard it."

Bruce was taken aback, feeling like he had been punched in the gut again. He took a deep breath, looking at Jason, and said, "So you also sleep in class, huh?"

"You're not one to talk, are you?" Jason asked, looking at Bruce with a surprised and doubtful expression. "I saw you sleeping soundly at the back of the classroom when I went to deliver the lesson plan to Professor Schiller last time."

Bruce was speechless, his face frozen in shock.

He suddenly realized that he didn't have the right to demand good grades from Dick. Dick's grades were average, while Bruce's were at the bottom of his class.

If he could have used the excuse that he was pretending to be a playboy who didn't care about studying during his freshman and sophomore years, by his junior year, Wayne Group had expanded its business, and it was no longer possible to pretend that he wasn't a talented businessman.

So, at that time, Bruce should have been studying hard, but he felt busy and didn't think his grades were that important, so he would occasionally take a nap in class.

"I'm an adult, I can manage my time..." Bruce instinctively wanted to explain, but looking at Jason's gaze, he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

What if one day Jason got caught sleeping in class and the teacher asked him why, and Jason said he could manage his time, and the teacher asked who taught him that, it would be a disaster.

"Why is Dick afraid?" Jason asked himself. "Children during their rebellious phase challenge authority for a reason - they want to know how far their parents will tolerate them."

"They think this represents the extent of their parents' love for them, and their rational minds know it's excessive, but they can't help it. They want to know if their parents will still love them after they become independent."

"They want to know what position family love should occupy in their future self, and where their parents should stand, and they judge based on their parents' reaction after challenging authority."

"Shouldn't I scold him?" Bruce asked.

"I don't know," Jason said, shaking his head again. "But I think Dick's behavior might be because he's still traumatized from before."

"If someone kidnapped me in my dream, cut off my ear, and I couldn't resist, just watching them hurt me, with no one to save me, that kind of desperate scene would give me nightmares for at least half a year." A rare flash of fear crossed Jason's face.

Bruce's expression turned guilty, and he said in a low tone, "I shouldn't have blamed Dick last night, but I was too angry."

"You said you're an adult, you can manage everything," Jason said lightly, shrugging his shoulders and glancing at the door. "But it's not too late now. You can go comfort Dick and let him know that the scary things that happened in his dream aren't real."

Bruce got up and walked slowly into the room, but Dick started shivering again, or just stared blankly with tears in his eyes. Bruce stood in the middle of the room, unsure if he should approach him.

After a while, he still went out and called Alfred over to calm Dick down and put him to sleep.

Bruce lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, with chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind.

The anger he felt during the day would ferment into a cup of bitter wine at night, and if he had no one to talk to, he would pour in countless sorrows, mixing it into loneliness.

Loneliness was a hard drink to swallow, and all the flavors it produced were just self-consolation for the pitiful person. Even after drinking it many times, he still wanted to pick out a few sentences from the drunken ravings to ask the heavens why it was so unfair.

Bruce was holding back a lot of emotions, no matter how he adjusted his mood, he couldn't sleep, but it wasn't because of disappointment - perhaps it was because he felt a glimmer of hope, because he had seen Thomas today.

Thinking of that tall figure, Bruce imagined him to be even stronger in his mind, and the days and nights he spent with Thomas kept replaying in his mind, making him sit up in bed.

Standing in front of the bedroom window, Bruce couldn't suppress his inner urge. He quickly put on his clothes, not even bothering to wear his Batman suit, and rushed into the rainy night of Gotham.

He kept jumping through the dark city, his speed increasing, his blood boiling, until his body was covered in a white mist due to the temperature, and Bruce, standing at the edge of the rooftop, was breathing heavily.

Bruce knew that exhausting himself to this extent was extremely unwise, and the sweet and sour taste in his breath, as well as the pain in his lungs, were reminding him that if a dangerous criminal approached him now, he would be finished.

But what made him feel even more terrified was that after circling the city, he didn't see that figure.

Panicked, disappointed, and with a hint of luck, Bruce finally turned to leave, mocking his own emotional craziness in his heart, which was useless except for increasing the possibility of a fever.

But just then, Bruce turned back, and through the rain-soaked eyelashes, he saw a figure standing at the top of the Wayne Building, so tall and strong, like a mountain.

Bruce was as if guided by something, walking towards that direction, until he reached the back of that figure.

He hadn't even opened his mouth to ask a question when the person opposite him had already removed his mask, revealing his father, Thomas Wayne, whom Bruce had dreamed of reuniting with for countless days and nights.

However, the reunion between father and son was devoid of any warmth, with Thomas appearing overly aged and exhausted, while Bruce seemed crazy and fragile.

The emotional turmoil of the past few days had already stretched Bruce's heartstrings to the limit.

The doubts and grievances in his heart had transformed into a rage, and he wanted to demand an explanation for the tragic sorrow of his childhood and the loneliness of so many years.

"Whoosh!"

As the bat-dart rotated at the initial moment, it first cut through the thin rain lines, then returned to its extreme speed, carrying the power of a thunderbolt as it brushed past Thomas's white hair, with the bright blade reflecting the wrinkles at the corner of his aged eyes.

"This is you, Batman," Thomas said, opening his mouth. "At the moment of reunion with your father, you choose to attack him. Such a ruthless monster shouldn't exist."

The moment the bat-dart was thrown, Bruce had already regretted it, but Thomas's attitude had further enraged him. He stared fixedly at Thomas's eyes and said, "You deceived me and abandoned me."

"You have no patience to investigate the truth, relying only on your narrow imagination, pushing all responsibility onto others," Thomas said. "But I also bear responsibility. In the days when I was absent, you didn't receive enough education, nor did you receive any guidance."

"And now, I've come back to correct all these mistakes. Bruce, I will kill Batman and let you return to the right path."

As soon as the words fell, a black figure darted forward. Bruce was not willing to show weakness, raising his arm to block in front of him, but Thomas's fist was too fast, and Bruce was knocked to the ground with a punch to the cheekbone.

This punch was very heavy, and Bruce almost instantly felt dizzy and disoriented, with a sharp buzzing in his ears, his tongue scraping against his teeth, and a large gash opening in his mouth, with fresh blood flowing out.

Thomas half-knelt on Bruce's body, grasping his neck, and gave him another punch. Bruce let out a dying gasp, with more blood spilling from his mouth.

Thomas slowly stood up, the dizziness bringing a dark mist that made Bruce's vision blurry, but he could still see Thomas's tall and strong figure, still fitting perfectly with the night of Gotham.

"You're not... Thomas..."

"I am."

Thomas squatted down again, using one hand to grasp Bruce's jaw, forcing him to look at himself, and said, "The ignorance and shallowness resulting from a lack of education have led you to make all sorts of mistakes, wasting your life in places where it shouldn't be wasted. Since I have this opportunity to turn everything around... you'd better listen to me, otherwise, I'll teach you a lesson."

Thomas flung Bruce's face away, stood up, and stepped on Bruce's chest, then threw the mask he had removed onto Bruce's body, saying:

"Do you think I've gone mad? But this is the price to be paid as Batman. I've worn away all my patience and emotions, turning myself into a ruthless and violent law enforcement machine."

"If you want to get the patient explanations and warm nostalgia you desire, take off that ridiculous costume. I won't allow my son to become Batman."

"To avoid those terrible tragedies from happening to you again, I'll use every means necessary. Today is just the beginning."

Thomas raised his foot, but the next second, he heavily stomped on Bruce's chest, the sound of broken ribs clear even in the rain.

Bruce covered his chest, gasping for breath, and let out a dying moan.

He was trying to convince himself that he didn't want to fight Thomas, which was why he had ended up in such a tragic state, but his rationality told him that he indeed couldn't defeat Thomas, even if he wore the full armor.

However, in the instant he realized this, Bruce's anger rose without bounds.

Thomas turned to leave, but Bruce, still covering his injured chest, forced out a sentence from his throat.

"Only losers regard their lives as tragedies. You not only failed but also acted despicably, making me feel ashamed... Ugh!"

A bat-dart pierced through Bruce's shoulder blade, with the rain line carrying fresh blood falling onto the cold ground. Bruce struggled to get up from the ground, but Thomas turned back to look at him, saying:

"I'm a failed father, and you're the same. You'll only bring pain to your children."

In an instant, Bruce's arm became powerless, and he fell to the ground again, his gaze scattered as he looked at the fresh blood dripping from his nose and mouth into the puddle, staining everything red.

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