The sky above the city was pressed low by heavy, dark clouds, the leaden layers seeming ready to pour down a deluge at any moment, stingily withholding even a sliver of sunlight.
Gothic architecture soared on both sides of the street, their spires piercing the clouds. This was Gotham City, one of the cities with the highest crime rates in the DC Universe.
The villains, psychopaths, and anti-human lunatics previously hidden beneath the city's glamour were nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by images of Superman plastered across every street and alley.
Superman in the images wore a red cape, a golden halo encircling him, his gaze sternly looking down on all beings. Below him, the slogan "Order is Peace" was printed.
Occasionally, passersby would instinctively bow to the images, their faces filled with reverence.
Clearly, Superman had long since brought this city of sin under his rule.
Li Yu followed the map in his hand to the Wayne Manor on the outskirts, but the sight before him made his pupils contract.
The once magnificent manor was now nothing but charred ruins. Burn marks still clung to the broken walls and crumbling remains, valuable trees had turned to charcoal, and the water in the pond was a murky, dark green.
Evidently, a fierce battle had taken place. Bruce Wayne, along with his Bat Empire, seemed to have been annihilated here.
Li Yu followed the route from his memory to find the entrance to the Batcave beneath the manor.
Pushing aside the rubble, the scene inside was even more chaotic.
The Batwing was shattered into countless metal fragments, and the screens of the global surveillance satellite control panel were already cracked like a spiderweb.
There were footprints of varying depths on the ground, and a large amount of dried dark red bloodstains. Clearly, a fierce confrontation had occurred here, yet not a single clue about Bruce was left behind.
"Is he really dead?"
Li Yu frowned, then immediately dismissed the thought.
Batman would never fall so easily.
He turned and left the Batcave, heading for Arkham Asylum.
The asylum, which once held supervillains like the Joker, Penguin, and Poison Ivy, was now as silent as a giant tombstone. Its iron gates were rusted, the main door stood open, and the interior was empty.
The iron bars of the patient rooms lay askew on the ground, and the graffiti on the walls was covered with white paint, leaving only scattered, distorted writings as proof that 'others' were once imprisoned here.
Superman seemed to have completely purged all opposition.
Lex Luthor might not have been the last, but he was certainly the most prominent.
Li Yu stood on the asylum's rooftop, gazing at Gotham's skyline, yet his conviction remained firm.
Bruce Wayne must still be alive.
That max-level human, the Dark Knight who could contend with gods, would never die an obscure death.
If anyone in this world could inflict a fatal blow on Superman, it could only be him.
Li Yu returned to downtown Gotham, intending to find someone to gather information.
A bar named "Park Avenue" on the street corner emitted a dim yellow light, and rough shouts came from its entrance.
He followed the sound and saw three burly men dragging a drunk out and roughly throwing him to the ground.
The drunk curled up, clutching a glass bottle tightly to his chest. The burly men kicked him a few times, cursed, and then turned back into the bar.
"Bruce, you pauper! Don't come back again, next time we'll break your ribs!"
"And to think he was once the world's richest man, now he can't even afford a glass of rum, pah! Go rot in the garbage!"
The drunk didn't resist, only desperately protected the bottle in his arms, a muffled whimper escaping his throat.
After a long while, he slowly propped himself up against the wall, staggering into the dark alley next door. A few drops of liquid spilled from the bottle as he moved, emitting a pungent smell of cheap alcohol.
Li Yu quietly observed all of this, his brow slightly furrowed.
He found it hard to believe that this drunk could be Bruce Wayne?
Although he wasn't killed by Superman, he had fallen to such a state?
How could the world's richest man, who once, with his superpower, could contend with all metahumans, now not even be able to afford a drink?
He followed the strong scent of alcohol, trailing the staggering figure deeper into the alley.
At the end of the alley was a garbage-filled corner, where even the moonlight refused to penetrate.
A blurry figure was curled up in the shadows, it was the drunk from earlier.
As Li Yu approached, a sour stench, a mix of cheap rum, body odor, and mildew, assaulted him, almost making him gag.
"Don't come any closer..."
The man sensed footsteps and spoke hoarsely, tilting his head back to gulp down a large mouthful of liquor. The liquid ran down the corners of his mouth, soaking his shirt.
"I have nothing to steal... take whatever you want, except this bottle of liquor."
Li Yu, using the faint light of distant neon signs, finally saw his face clearly.
His once smooth face, like a marble statue, was now covered with a thick, messy, salt-and-pepper stubble, like a patch of overgrown thorns.
His eye sockets were deeply sunken, surrounded by bluish-black bruises, as if repeatedly scorched by despair. Those sharp, grey-blue eyes, once capable of seeing through all of Gotham's darkness like a hawk's, were now as murky as stagnant water, crisscrossed with spiderweb-like blood vessels, his gaze unfocused, resting blankly on the damp, sticky flagstones beneath his feet.
He wore a worn, shiny, cheap synthetic jacket, its cuffs and collar frayed, stained with unknown grease and dust.
His body, once strong and upright from intense training, was now hunched like an old tree bent by a fierce wind, his shoulders heavily slumped, as if bearing the weight of the entire world.
One of his hands hung limply at his side, while the other clutched the almost empty glass liquor bottle tightly, his knuckles white from the effort.
Several empty liquor bottles were scattered at his feet, next to a pile of tattered cardboard, which was likely his bed.
A cold wind swept in from the alley entrance, and Bruce Wayne shivered uncontrollably, his teeth chattering, like an orphan abandoned on a cold winter street.
The former Dark Knight of Gotham was now just a pathetic drunk, numbing himself with alcohol and barely surviving amidst the trash.
"Bruce Wayne..."
Li Yu looked at him, momentarily unsure how to speak. What could have happened to reduce the resourceful Batman to such a state?
A complex expression flickered in his eyes, but he finally spoke directly, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable force.
"Tell me, where can I get Kryptonite?"
Bruce's body stiffened abruptly. He slowly raised his head, a fleeting clarity flashing in his murky eyes. After seeing Li Yu clearly, he erupted into maniacal laughter.
"Haha... another madman who wants to kill Superman? Hahaha!"
He laughed uncontrollably, aggravating his wounds, which triggered a violent coughing fit. He hunched over, coughing so hard he could barely breathe, tears streaming from his eyes.
"Let me think, Kryptonite... I once collected the purest Kryptonite..."
His voice was hoarse, a hint of his old obsession flashing in his eyes, like a brief spark in the darkness.
"I made Kryptonite into bullets, into bombs, even embedded it in Batarangs... I thought I could win..."