Chapter 347: Ch.346 Master of Dark Arts

Chapter 347: Ch.346 Master of Dark Arts

"You know, Batman, you're wrong," Luthor said as his high-tech armor extended a slew of additional gadgets from his back—energy weapons resembling shoulder cannons. He opened fire on Bruce: "We're both smart, but there's a difference."

Bruce rolled to avoid the attack and punched Luthor's chin.

"The difference is, I get to keep my teeth, and you don't."

Batman's punch shattered Luthor's nanotech face shield, knocking out several of Luthor's teeth, and the doorknob-like object flew out of his hand, landing on one of Superman's brain cells.

Batman turned and ran toward it, intending to grab it and retreat—he sensed it was crucial.

Flames burst from the thrusters on the back of Luthor's armor, propelling him forward. He grabbed Batman's leg and threw him aside, moving to retrieve the object himself.

The two fought over it, grappling with each other inside Superman's brain.

Bruce had prepared for this—he had an entire plan to counter Luthor. As long as Luthor wore that green armor, he was no match for Batman.

One by one, Bruce pulled gadgets from his utility belt, each specifically designed to counter Luthor, leaving Luthor unable to fight back, overwhelmed by Bruce's relentless assault.

"Joker, help!"

Luthor had no choice but to call for help from Joker, who was controlling Martian Manhunter.

Despite his penchant for unnecessary chatter, Joker never let anyone down at a critical moment. Under his control, Martian Manhunter laughed so hard his eyes disappeared, and his green fingers began to morph.

J'onn, under Joker's control, pried open Superman's eyelids, letting his transformed, root-like fingers slip into Superman's eyes, following his optic nerves into his brain.

"Hahaha, Superman, we haven't gotten to know each other properly yet. Let Uncle Joker give you a physical, hahaha!"

In an instant, those green tendrils appeared behind Batman, their sharp tips lunging toward Bruce's back.

Hearing the sound, Batman quickly dodged, but the green tendrils still managed to slash his side, leaving a deep gash that oozed blood, giving Luthor the opportunity to escape.

Batman glanced down at the wound, ensuring his intestines weren't spilling out, and ignored the pain.

He had special endurance techniques, using sheer willpower to block out the pain so he could continue fighting.

"Warning: Performing surgery without anesthesia is extremely dangerous," the Final Machine's computer voice announced.

"Override command, code 0F1270C2 changed to 0111FCD7, voice verification... I am Batman."

The machine's indicator lights flashed briefly: "Command override complete. Beginning surgery."

The various surgical instruments, gleaming coldly, cut through Bruce's suit and flesh, starting with his legs, peeling back the muscles, reconnecting blood vessels, and piecing each broken bone back together.

"Clap, clap, clap." Constantine, leaning against the wall and smoking, shook his head in amazement and began clapping. "Brilliant, leaving a backup in even the medical equipment. I need a lawyer to draft my will. If I ever die an untimely death, the killer is definitely Batman."

"I don't have much time. Listen carefully to every word I say."

Batman ignored Constantine's sarcasm, speaking seriously, sharing some crucial information before finally passing out from blood loss.

Constantine scratched his head with the hand holding his cigarette, dandruff falling like snow, causing Dove to grimace in disgust.

So dirty!

"Oh boy, this is a big deal..." Constantine realized he had just inherited a massive problem, and he immediately felt like backing out—he hated trouble.

Maybe he'd just run away, head back to London for a drink.

But Dove stared him down, her eyes full of contempt.

He knew if he ran off, Dove would certainly tell 'Deadman,' and that guy in the red tights would make his life miserable.

"What to do... Should I try sacrificing 'Deadman' to some demon to settle my debts?"

However, this thought gave Constantine an idea. He began to think seriously.

He started considering selling a kid—maybe he could get help from the Trinity. If he negotiated to let the Trinity stay on Earth for some time to spend with their daughter, this crisis could be averted.

As for whether 'Raven' wanted to spend time with her father... Constantine, as a master of dark arts, always found a way.

He'd lie, of course.