Reincarnated as Gotham's beauty trash

When I crawl out of the pool full of sewage, I don't just want to cut my hair short, I want to shave my head like Master Gu Yi.

At the end of the sewage is the entrance of a dark passage, as if a giant beast that chooses to devour people opened its mouth wide at me, spitting out a strong fishy smell.

I touched the hanging ring hidden under the tactical gloves, and stepped forward.

The darkness engulfed everything in front of the eyes, only a few rows of light tubes were installed on the zenith, which was so far away from the ground that it was almost invisible, but they couldn't even illuminate the position less than one meter in front of the eyes.

I tried to contact the Batcave, but none of the devices on me could connect to the signal.

I reached out to feel for it, and through the tactical gloves, it felt hard and rough, like a wall.I reached out to touch the other side, which was also the wall, and I was sure I was in a corridor.

Carrying a knife with you has become a good habit at this time.I carved a vertical line on the wall to mark where I started.

Less than ten meters away is the fork. I carved another vertical line on the wall with a knife and walked to the right.

After a while, I confirmed that I was somewhere in a maze.In just 5 minutes, I encountered four corners, and at every corner I chose the right without exception.

The only sound in the maze is my light footsteps, and occasionally I can hear the sound of light tubes crackling from the distant zenith.I tried to open the portal and teleport back to the original starting point, but unexpectedly found that the teleportation channel to the outside could not be constructed.

This is not the first time I have encountered this situation. The Batcave has taken measures to isolate teleportation spells to prevent them from being tracked by the magic side.

Now it seems that the magic side has entered the vision of high society a long time ago, and they know much more than we think.

The sound of my breathing, the dust on the ground rolled by the soles of my shoes, the walls with no difference, leading to corners in different directions.

The extremely weak light makes people have a slight delusion that they can find the exit, but the final result will only be like me, facing the tall wall at the end of the passage and turning back the same way.

When I saw the mark I had carved for the third time, I realized that my physical strength was gradually declining.Swimming from the sewer drain to get here has taken half my strength.Now the infinite repetition of hitting the wall is also consuming my courage and patience.

In fact, at this point, I can't even confirm where I am.At which fork I changed direction, and at which dead end I turned back, I can hardly remember these.

In the extreme silence and endless repetition, anxiety rose from the bottom of my heart little by little.Leaning against the wall, I can feel the notch I made on it not knowing how long ago.

I considered jumping onto the wall and walking along it.It's a pity that my skills are not strong enough to support my catwalk on my narrow high wall. I can only walk a certain distance and use the hook gun to stick out of the wall to check my current position.

The maze is huge and I spent probably half an hour or more in it.The third time I poked my head out from the wall to confirm the position, only vaguely saw a brighter light in a certain direction.

I followed the direction of the light and came to an open space at the end of the intersection.

It is said to be an open space, because of the high walls around, it is more like a room.The strong light that was completely opposite to before made people dizzy standing under the lamp.

Rows of coffins are neatly placed in the center of the open space, like a cemetery for the unburied dead.

I bowed my head between the coffins and dragged a picture from the coffin.

Above is a child, about six or seven years old.

The coffin next to it also had a picture belonging to a boy, no older than ten years old.Going to the side, each photo records the vivid faces of each child.

I can't tell what kind of psychology I was trying to push open the coffin lid of one of the coffins.The thin young man lay quietly inside, as if he had just fallen into a deep sleep.

The reality is not as good as it looks on the surface. The people lying here should be the killers of the court, Talon.

Combining the photos on the coffin and their powerful self-healing ability, they should have been brought underground since childhood, trained and transformed, and eventually became the sharp weapons of a group of cowards hiding behind masks.

In the center of all the neatly arranged coffins, there is an open empty coffin.Softer cushions and flannelettes were placed inside the empty coffin, as if waiting for someone to lie in and usher in their due destiny.

I found a photo at the bottom of the empty coffin.

Dick Grayson, only seven years old, still active in the circus, Dick Grayson lives with his parents.

This coffin was prepared for him.

I was silent for a moment, tearing up the photo in my hand expressionlessly, and snapped my fingers after the scraps of paper fell to my feet.

They curled up in the burning, turned into a pile of black ash, and I stepped into the ground with my foot.

I can no longer search aimlessly like this.Matt's imposter Batman was technically identified from the start.Sooner or later the owls figured out that the purpose of his exposure was to attract attention, so that someone could sneak into the underground labyrinth.

Then a scratch on the wall caught my attention.

That's the opposite direction from where I came in, maybe I'm going to go out from there later.

A whitish scratch was branded on the wall, I rubbed it with my finger, and there was still dust falling down.This shows that this scratch appeared not long ago.

According to this position, the person who rubbed the scratch staggered two steps, bumped into the wall, and left the place with the help of the wall.

He's been stuck for a while, and the owls have stripped him of his props and cape, and they won't give him food.In order to destroy his will and spirit, the drinking water that can be found in the maze must have been added with hallucinogens, drugs and the like.

For him now, every step he takes is the result of gritted teeth and persistence.No one could persist in cleaning up the traces left by this situation, and I could trace his location along this trace.

Thinking of this, I cheered up and followed the traces along the road.

I can imagine his appearance, his every movement, how he stopped at the fork in the road, and chose a path with the remaining reason.

He staggered forward alone, bumped into the wall several times, leaned on the wall with his hands, and scraped off the wall with his gauntlets.

I can hear the roar of his soul, frantically trying to break free from the darkness.The Court of Owls chose one of several methods that worked best against him.

Bruce Wayne, who has always restrained his mortal side, has molded himself into a mysterious urban legend.Fear comes from ignorance, not everyday.

Batman can play Bruce, but Bruce can't play Batman.He wanted to make sure that when everyone tore off the bat skin, all they saw was a gloomy and terrifying soul.

So those who want to bring him down are even more eager to take off his mask, revealing the scarred, angry and vulnerable orphan under the layers of disguise.

I close my eyes, maybe the air in this maze is mixed with drugs.The longer I stayed here, the more I began to feel dizzy in my brain, and what I stepped on was not solid ground, but fluffy cotton.

There was a faint voice in my ear, and I tried to distinguish it as the roar of a person.

He does not admit defeat, does not admit defeat, but there are many people standing on the high platform to watch his jokes.

I saw a lot of people, they were wearing white masks, like owls covered with human skin, staring round eyes and turning their heads upside down to look at people.Talon circled behind them, protecting them, moving towards the fallen man in the middle of the field.

The person in the middle of the field was covered with blood, and he was stabbed from the back by visual inspection.He looked terrible without the cape.

No wonder no one paid any attention to me after I sneaked into the maze for so long. It turned out that there was a more important event.

A bat without wings is a mouse played by an owl.He will always stand up again on his own strength, and the process must be full of difficulties.

From a branding point of view, Bruce is undoubtedly successful.

Enemies regard him as a clown, opponents regard him as a confidant and a lunatic.The people regard him as the hope of Gotham, and the younger generations regard him as a guiding lighthouse.The public knows him as a topical material, and the police treat him as a noisy grasshopper.

Most of them couldn't see that he was Bruce, not even himself.

I had a sudden urge that I might, might, might be able to draw this man, this fighter, to me.

This idea is a bit too ridiculous, but it is feasible in combination with some small spells at the moment.

I pressed my hand on the ground, and the dangling ring was hot at the root of my finger. The world was reconstructed and separated in my mind, like a light and thin film floating on the body.I can easily fold it up if I want, like this -

The mirror world unfolded, with me as the center, the maze was split into two halves, and then erected together.

Everyone is falling through the air, except me.

Among the many figures, I saw the 210-pound one at a glance.He stretched out his hand in vain, as if trying to grab something, and he quickly saw me, a strange creature who didn't fit in.

I opened the portal under him, and sparks engulfed him, followed by me.

The mirrored world collapsed in an instant, and we left the maze, standing in front of the canal I climbed up.

Bruce loses his footing and nearly falls, I won't admit I nearly overreacted and kicked him into the ditch.

I tried to hold him up, but unfortunately his weight was a huge challenge for me.

I used spells to support his body, and I didn't have time to take a good look at him. I hurried to heal the wound on his waist to avoid infection before entering the water.Once out of the court's magical isolation, I'll be able to open the portal and take him straight home.

Bruce mumbled a few syllables that didn't make sense, and I held him by the shoulders, "It's all right...I'll take you home."

I could feel the tension in his body relax, putting more weight on my shoulders mercilessly.The word home touched some nerve in him.

I stuffed the respirator into his mouth and jumped into the sewage in front of him with him.

Of course, the first thing I did when I got home was to cut my hair.

Oh, and extra pay for Matt.