Chapter 57 Clark: Joanna and Yale are sleeping together, what kind of dream am I having?
Smallville.
Yale glided down.
The cumulonimbus clouds closed behind him, scattering the last trace of bad luck from his suit.
This was important.
Extremely important.
If someone's nose caught the bloody scent of the crimson web on him, the perfumed powder scent of Miss Magician, or perhaps Mr. Penguin's 1963 Fonseca...
Then the intensity of the interrogation he would face next would make even James Gordon feel ashamed by comparison.
Descending from the high altitude, the Bio-field allowed the young man to land silently on the grass behind the farm barn.
Gently pushing open the door, Yale sneaked into the house.
And then slowly closed the door...
"Why are you coming home so late? Didn't you say before twelve o'clock?"
Yale gasped a breath of cold air.
Moonlight shone through the window, casting a patch of light on the sofa and touching the girl curled up on it.
A thin blanket slipped from her waist to the bend of her knees, draped half-covering her body, revealing the camisole nightgown on her upper body. Two bare little feet stretched out from under the thin blanket, their toes slightly curled as they stepped on the sofa cushion.
Yale breathed a sigh of relief.
This posture meant that Joanna was not in a combat state.
She was simply waiting for him.
"What?"
The girl's eyes reflected dimly in the moonlight, "Did I scare you?"
"How is that possible? My beloved younger sister is waiting for me, I'm too happy to even begin to describe it." Yale walked into the living room with a sheepish smile, "You still haven't slept so late?"
"You haven't come back yet, how could I sleep?"
That made a lot of sense.
Yale was momentarily unable to refute it.
Fortunately, Joanna found a way out for him herself.
"Milk." She looked at a cup of milk on the coffee table that was no longer steaming, "It's cold now."
"You were waiting for the milk to get cold?"
"I was waiting for you to come back."
"It takes at least two hours for milk to get cold, Joanna." Yale walked over and sat down on the other end of the sofa, reaching out to touch the wall of the cup of milk, "It could be used directly to water flowers next time, don't wait for so long."
"...It's because you came back too late," the girl said sullenly.
"There's no help for it, something happened tonight." Yalesank into the sofa, stretching his legs out and resting them on the edge of the coffee table, "Someone died at the charity banquet."
"What's wrong?"
Joanna's eyes constricted.
"It wasn't me." Yale quickly clarified, "It has nothing to do with me, someone named Quill got stabbed."
Joanna stared at him.
Super Vision seemed to scan him from head to toe in the darkness.
Until she confirmed there were no injuries.
Only then did she slightly let out a sigh of relief.
"Gotham?" she said, frowning.
"Yes, Gotham."
Yale said helplessly, "This damn place can even have someone die just holding a charity banquet. The sewers most likely house Killer Croc, the roadside hot dog stand might be a drug dealer's contact point, and their Policeprobably have half bad guys and the other half unable to tell if they're good guys or bad guys."
"You shouldn't go to places like that," Joanna said somewhat uneasily, "Don't go next time, Yale."
"I went to receive an award."
The young man said righteously, "The Hero Culture Award, presented by the Wayne Foundation. Do you know what this means for our family's comic sales? It means we can buy a combine harvester for the farm."
"You said before that you could be back before twelve o'clock."
"I didn't expect anyone to get stabbed at the banquet either."
"Then you can't anticipate what else might happen if you go to Gotham in the future." Joanna touched her chest. Ever since Yale said he was going to Gotham tonight, her heartbeat had been racing, and it wasn't until Yale came back that the sound of her heartbeat finally calmed down quite a bit.
"We'll talk about future matters in the future." Yale laughed it off.
Joanna pursed her lips.
She knew this was twisted logic.
But she also knew that if she continued to press on, this boy could argue from various angles why he didn't make a phone call.
"Snap!"
A little foot suddenly kicked Yale's thigh.
"Does it hurt?" she asked expressionlessly.
"It doesn't hurt."
"That's right," Joanna said, "Only when the knife falls on your body will you know pain. The city of Gotham is just like this, I..."
"What's wrong?" Yale was puzzled.
"I used to stay there for a period of time with... Dad." The girl's eyes were somewhat dazed, "It wasn't very nice there."
Seeing his younger sister like this, how could Yale not know what she was thinking of.
Benjamin, you old bastard, you really did all sorts of bad things.
"I'm sorry, Joanna," Yale said in a low voice, "Next time I come back from Gotham, I'll call in advance."
"Mm."
The two fell silent.
Outside the window, the withered grass rustled in the night wind.
Yale felt a bit chilly on his thigh as well.
He couldn't help lowering his head to take a look.
Small and rounded toes, clean nails, the skin on the instep of her foot was very healthy, showing a pinkish tender hue amidst the fairness.
"Have you seen enough?"
"Seen what?" Yale asked reflexively.
"Hmph..."
The girl pulled her foot back.
"Actually, there's another matter tonight," Yale, pretending to have seen nothing, said casually, "I forgot to tell you."
"What?"
"There was a king at the banquet who took a fancy to me and wanted me to marry his daughter."
"A king?"
Yale turned his head slightly, only to see Joanna still looking at him calmly in the moonlight.
"A king."
"What king?"
"A... very big king," Yale hesitated and said.
Did ruling a hell and countless Worlds count as big?
Well, this remark successfully made the girl look at him with the gaze of looking at a psychiatric patient.
"Anyway, it's a very, very big king."
Yale gave up the effort to explain, "Then he said he has a daughter, and he wants me to marry her."
"Why?"
"Probably because he thinks I'm good."
"And then?" Joanna asked.
"Then I refused."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you refuse?"
Yale looked at her.
Moonlight spilled onto the sofa, plunging the girl's delicate pretty face into shadow, with only two tiny specks of light flashing in the position of her eyes.
"Because I wanted to go home before twelve o'clock."
Yale gave the safest answer.
After these words were spoken, the sofa was quiet for a long time.
"But you were still more than two hours late," she said.
"So you see, if I married a princess, I wouldn't be able to go home on time," Yale said with a straight face, "It's too far, I can't fly back."
"So is the princess pretty?"
"I don't know, didn't see her," Yale answered honestly, "That king only said there was such a person, and didn't let me see a photo."
"Making you marry without even seeing a photo?"
"Well, kings... you know, such people tend to skip procedures when doing things."
"Then how do you know she's a princess?"
"Her dad said she's a saintess."
"And you believed it?"
"I didn't believe it, I refused."
"You refused because you didn't believe it?"
"...No."
"Then because of what?"
"Because there is someone at my home who will sit on the sofa at two in the morning holding a cup of milk that has completely cooled, waiting for me to come back," he said.
"Your reason is terrible, you were still late after all."
"Well, I'm really sorry."
"You..."
Joanna seemed to want to say something more.
"Creeak"
Yale's ears moved.
It was hearing footsteps coming from the east bedroom on the second floor.
"Don't make a sound."
Yale grabbed the girl's shoulders and pressed her down onto the sofa along with her blanket.
"Mmph..."
Yale lowered his body, using his back to block the angle of the moonlight, while refracting the light with his Bio-field.
Looking from the direction of the stairs, the sofa should just look like a blurry lump of a blanket.
"Thump! Thump thump!!"
What a fast heartbeat.
Whose?
Yale was stunned.
Was his heartbeat accelerating?
This made no sense on a physiological level.
His heartbeat was rock-steady when facing the gaze of the demon Trigon.
Then it was...
Yale lowered his head slightly.
Joanna was looking up at him.
The girl's sky-blue eyes shimmered with watery light, her lips slightly parted, and her warm breath hit his chin.
Her heartbeat was ridiculously fast.
The two looked at each other in the dark, neither moving.
Only somewhere beneath the thin blanket, a bare little foot was restlessly pressed against Yale's calf.
The touch was warm, her toes slightly curled due to tension. The curling force wasn't big, but every curl would cause a hint of veins to stretch and relax.
Yale gasped a breath of cold air.
He really wanted to speak up right now and tell her to move her foot away.
Woman, you are playing with fire!
But Clark was walking through the living room.
The refrigerator door was opened.
"Gulp gulp gulp gulp!"
The presumptuous guy actually finished an entire bottle of milk straight from the bottle.
Yale's face darkened.
Even the sensation beneath him was pushed out of his mind for the moment.
"Clack."
The refrigerator door closed.
Walking up step by step.
Only when walking to the middle section of the stairs did the footsteps pause for a moment.
"...Strange," the young man muttered, "There's clearly Yale's scent in the living room."
You really are like a dog, aren't you?!
Yale held his breath.
Joanna's toes curled even tighter against his calf.
The footsteps continued to move upward.
Finishing the last few steps, turning into the second-floor hallway, and then gradually fading away.
"Creeak"
The door closed.
Yale let out a long breath.
Finally avoided it.
Recently, Clark had been hounding him about a pickup truck, looking for him whenever he had time to discuss what kind of pickup truck to buy, and on a certain night last time, he even pestered him for an entire night.
Plus, this guy was recently in the stage of "I've unlocked the hero class, striving hard to become a great hero."
Last time Yale stayed with him in the barn.
Clark spent forty-five minutes showing Yale how to use Heat Vision to carve words on a wooden board, eventually burning a crooked yellow-skinned mouse on the door of Jonathan's most beloved tool cabinet.
Thereby showing Jonathan and Yale that he had control over his power.
Forget it, let's not mention this guy; anyway, the crisis was resolved now.
Yale breathed a sigh of relief, lowered his head preparing to say something to Joanna, and then locked eyes with the girl again.
Joanna's eyes were very bright in the dark.
Too bright.
So bright that Yale felt whatever was contained inside was about to burn out.
A beautiful backflip landed on the floor next to the sofa.
Yale kept a straight face.
Joanna also sat up from the sofa, pulling the blanket up to the height of her chest in one yank. Her hair was a bit messy, with a strand of blonde hair clinging to her flushed auricle.
"Ahem ahem."
Yale cleared his throat.
Joanna was silent.
The grandfather clock on the fireplace ticked dozens of times.
The air was somewhat awkward.
"Let's sleep," Yale spoke first.
"Mm."
Joanna stood up.
The blanket slipped from her knees to the floor. As she bent down to pick it up, the hem of her nightgown revealed the absolute territory above the base of her thighs.
So white it was almost glowing in the moonlight.
A fleeting image.
Yale guiltily looked away.
He definitely didn't use Super Vision to save it just now.
"Thud."
"...What is it?"
Yale looked down at the foot kicking his calf.
"That princess."
"What's wrong?"
"You are not allowed to go see her."
"I said I refused."
"Not refused."
She turned around and dragged the blanket up the stairs, "Forbidden."
Actually forbidden?!
Trembling with anger.
Yale Kent felt that one day he would leave his original family in pursuit of happiness.
He let out a soft hum, then tilted his head back, looking at a crack on the ceiling.
It was said to be Heat Vision unconsciously released toward the ceiling by Joanna when parting with Uncle Ben due to an emotional release.
Yale smiled, and his figure flashed.
The next instant.
He appeared in his own room.
Today is Sunday.
There are still two or three hours until dawn.
He took off his suit, got into bed, and closed his eyes.
Before closing his eyelids, his Super Hearing could even hear the sound from behind the door across the hallway...
The room door let out a creeak.
Opened a crack.
A tender white foot stretched out from the crack first, its toes probing the wooden floor. After confirming that no sound was made inside the door, the whole person squeezed out sideways through the crack.
Moonlight shone from outside the window.
He looked much better when he was asleep than when he was awake.
Joanna stood by the bed for a while.
Yale has a deep sleep once a week.
Tonight is that night.
Joanna knew this very well.
She also discovered it recently.
The time window starts about thirty to sixty minutes after falling asleep, lasting about four to five hours?
Gently lifting a corner of the quilt, the girl silently crawled in.
The Sun of Kent Farm, the Sun in the summer cornfield, the first Sun in her life who asked her if she wanted hot milk.
Safe.
The girl gently closed her eyes.
About fifteen minutes later.
"Gurgle."
Another protest from the stomach came from the hallway.
Clark Kent rubbed his eyes and walked out of his bedroom.
He felt thirsty.
That little bit of milk he drank earlier was completely not enough.
What is going on tonight? Why can't drinking milk ever be enough no matter how much is drunk?
Passing by the door of Yale's bedroom, Clark yawned, his peripheral vision subconsciously catching a glimpse of a door crack that wasn't closed tightly.
He stopped in his tracks.
It wasn't that he had a habit of prying into privacy, but he vaguely remembered that when he just woke up and passed by, the door at this place was closed.
That kid Yale is back?
Clark's eyes lit up, and he quickly poked his head in to take a peek through the crack of the door.
Pupil earthquake.
The moonlight illuminated the scene of the lower bunk clearly.
Two golden heads.
"Haha."
Clark gave a dry laugh.
"Hahahahaha..."
"I must not be fully awake."
"Not fully awake."
He repeated it to himself, "Clark Kent, you must not be fully awake."
"This is a dream!"
He muttered as he turned around.
Entering the dream once more.
The entrance to the dream realm is usually a silver-white corridor.
The white fog on both sides reflects countless sleeping human souls.
Some are colorful, some are gray, and occasionally one will make a hiss sound and then shatter.
Moge said this represents someone waking up startled from a nightmare.
But tonight...
The bubbles shattered one after another.
Yale frowned, speeding up his steps to walk through the corridor.
Above the white hall, beneath the blood moon.
The moon was several circles larger than the Eye of Trigonhe saw in the crimson web tonight.
"What's the situation?"
Yale frowned.
The spacious hall was completely empty.
Only...
"Meow-ooouuu-"
Yale's mouth twitched as he followed the sound.
He saw a Burmese cat squatting in the corner, its neck tilted up as it let out one howl after another.
Moge.
And on the steps in front of Moge...
Two motionless bodies were lying there.
Yale's pupils constricted.
"What's going on?" he asked in astonishment.
Seeing Yale's figure, Moge pounced fiercely, hanging all four paws onto Yale's trouser legs.
"Traveler! You're finally here!" it wailed, "The two of them died so miserably!"
Yale:
A moment later.
"Thus and so, like this and like that." Moge sniffed its nose, "It's all your fault, guy, you came late."
Yale disgustedly peeled the silly cat off his trouser leg and placed it on the ground.
He glanced at the startled and suspicious Nightwalkerbeside him.
This guy had arrived at some unknown time as well.
"You mean that while the two of us were absent tonight, the two of them entered the nightmare World?" Yaleasked.
"I just feel that their combined combat power isn't bad either. Their coordination was quite good last time when we fought Grundy. I thought they would be fine, I just..."
"You just let them go in."
Yale pressed a hand to his forehead, "And then they got instantly killed by someone."
"I couldn't help it either!"
Moge felt aggrieved, "Do you think I wanted them to go? But who knew if the two of you would come tonight or not? Besides, if we don't go in tonight, that thing might land directly tomorrow! By then, you'll have to face a fully formed nightmare in reality, which is much harder to fight than in a dream!"
Yale had a bit of a headache.
His gaze swept over the two unconscious people on the ground.
Nightwalker had somehow moved from behind him to Diana's side.
"Did they really fail?"
"Yes."
"And beaten by someone with a harpoon..."
"Trident!"
Yale was stunned and looked down.
He saw that Silence's icy blue eyes had somehow opened a slit. Even though her whole body was limp against the white ground and she couldn't lift her head, she found the strength to correct this mistake.
"What?"
Yale was taken aback.
"I said... it's... a trident!"
"Are you deaf..."
Silence seemed to want to curse further, but her body wouldn't obey, and she finally closed her eyes again.
"Fine, instantly killed by a trident."
Yale nodded expressionlessly, "That makes the situation much better. Thanks for the clarification."
"What's wrong with her?"
Nightwalker sighed and turned to ask Moge.
"She has entered a deep sleep," Moge explained. "It was a similar situation last time when Grundy's vines eroded her mind, but this time it's a bit more severe. Both of them were beaten into a deeper nightmare by the nightmare, and they need external stimulation to fully wake up."
"The method from last time?"
"Yes."
The cat gave him a cautious look, "However, I still hope you can go easy..."
"Slap!"
The sound echoed in the White Hall.
Before the cat's voice trailed off, Yale was already squatting in front of Silence.
Silence's eyes suddenly snapped open! She sprang up and threw a punch at Yale.
Yale dodged to the side, letting the wind of the punch brush past his ear.
"You're awake."
He smiled "benevolently".
Silence's fist froze in mid-air.
"...I said last time, you hit pretty lightly."
Silence slowly lowered her fist, her chest heaving.
"Well, the force is about the same this time," Yale said casually.
"I mean you can hit harder."
"I'll consider it next time."
Yale turned and walked towards Diana.
Her ocean-blue eyes were still closed, and her long black hair was spread across the white ground.
"Sorry," Yale said.
"Slap!"
The force of this slap was identical to the one given to Silence.
Yale was never ambiguous when it came to fairness.
Diana's eyes opened.
Her pupils focused on the face of the black-haired young man holding up his right hand in front of her.
Unlike Silence, she didn't throw a punch in retaliation.
The princess of Paradise Island quietly sat up, touched the side of her cheek that had been hit with the back of her hand, and then looked at him with an earnest gaze that made Yale feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Traveler," she said.
"Sorry," Yale said again.
"Thank you," Diana said in a very calm tone.
"Aren't you angry?"
Yale blinked, glancing pointedly at a certain woman panting and huffing nearby.
"On Paradise Island, after being knocked down during training, the sisters use a similar method to wake each other up."
"Do people on your island slap each other in the face normally?"
Nightwalker asked in surprise.
What the hell kind of place was this?
"Not slaps," Diana corrected seriously. "We use longswords to tap each other's foreheads."
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Isn't that even more terrifying?!
Isn't this fucking murder?!
Nightwalker was filled with doubt and astonishment.
Could it be that Paradise Island is a place called paradise but actually a hell concentration camp...
"...What kind of place is your island anyway?"
"Paradise."
Diana answered very calmly.
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Nightwalker decided not to delve deeper into this topic.
"Alright, alright."
Yale sat on the white steps beside Moge, "Tell me, what on earth happened?"
Silence snorted.
"Ask her."
She lifted her chin to point at Diana, evidently reluctant to recall the process of being instantly killed.
Yale completely understood this mindset.
It was like pushing open the door to a new boss in a game with full confidence, only to see "YOU DIED" while the boss was still playing its opening cutscene.
No self-respecting player would be very willing to review such an event.
Of course...
If they were killed by a trap disguised as a "chest ahead" message, the "YOU DIED" players would be more than happy to spew colorful language on the forums.
"After entering the passage, we appeared on a beach," Diana said calmly. "Night sky, no moon."
"Right opposite the beach was a lighthouse..."
"Did you walk to the lighthouse?"
Nightwalker asked.
"No."
Diana hesitated for a moment, "How should I put it..."
"In the name of Hera, I really don't know how to describe it," the woman sighed. "Anyway, for that shadow, the ocean is just like the ground is to you and me. He stepped on the sea as if stepping on stone."
"Then he raised his trident."
"I only had time to hold my spear horizontally in front of me. Silence reacted faster than me; she had already rushed out."
She glanced at Silence.
Silence turned her head away.
"She is very brave," Diana said.
"And then you guys got instantly killed," Yale summarized.
"Yeah, my consciousness just vanished."
"When I woke up again, it was that slap you gave me."
"Are you sure you didn't see anything clearly?"
Yale pressed, "That shadow's face, height, attire..."
"The lighthouse light was behind him, so I could only see the silhouette," Diana admitted frankly. "But I saw his weapon very clearly."
"A five-pointed halberd, with three teeth in the middle and short tips on both sides."
"You even counted the number of teeth on the weapon, but didn't see the person clearly?"
Yale was speechless.
"On Paradise Island, the first thing we are taught is to look at the weapon in the opponent's hand first," Diana said matter-of-factly. "You can deceive a warrior's eyes, but weapons don't lie."
Yale sighed.
He felt he had no grounds to refute the methodology of a demigod with three thousand years of military education background.
"What about you? What did you see?"
He turned to Silence.
"I already said it," Silence's voice squeezed through her teeth, "A trident. Not a harpoon."
"Aside from the trident?"
Silence.
"...Probably."
Silence's voice dropped lower. To her, this was even more humiliating than being instantly killed itself, "Probably just what she said."
"So you didn't see anything clearly either," Yale confirmed.
"Hey! Have you said enough?"
Silence hissed, a frost-white fire burning in her icy blue eyes.
Yale pushed her away impatiently and looked at Nightwalker, who had remained silent throughout the conversation.
"Beach, lighthouse, trident, controlling the ocean," Nightwalker listed the keywords in a low voice.
"Do you know something?"
Yale looked at him.
"Not yet," Nightwalker said frankly. "But these characteristics are enough to establish a preliminary search range. A superhuman who controls water? Or a mythical entity using a trident-type weapon..."
7
"Damn... could it be the sea god Poseidon?"
"Impossible, the aura of the god Poseidon is not like that," Diana interrupted with a frown.
66
"Alright, alright, I'll investigate next," Nightwalker sighed. "Reality... dammit, this kind of thing is going to happen again."
Smiling helplessly, Yale was just about to say something to encourage his good-for-nothing teammates.
"Traveler."
Diana suddenly turned around.
"Hmm?"
"This failure is because of us, sorry," she said.
"I came late," Yale shook his head. "You don't need to apologize, Diana. You couldn't be sure whether I would come or not anyway. Sorry, I'll pay attention next time."
"Every fucking time you say you'll pay attention next time," Silence muttered softly. "Do you like saying that to women in bed too?"
Yale:
"Anyway, I've already been discussing it with my mother," Diana said seriously. "I want to leave Paradise Island and take a look at the human World."
The White Hall quieted down.
Silence's icy blue eyes turned over, sizing Diana up from head to toe.
The human World?
Where on earth is this guy from?
However, Silence didn't comment on Diana's decision; she just snorted and turned her head to look elsewhere.
Nightwalker, on the other hand, straightened his posture, his gray-blue eyes flashing.
The shock brought to him by the impending descent of an Amazon warrior into the human World was no less than the conversation he vaguely heard in the crimson space.
"Are you sure?"
Yale asked.
"The prophecy has descended," Diana slightly nodded. "And I cannot wait forever under my mother's armor."
"Alright."
Yale didn't say much more.
He wasn't the type to stop others from making decisions.
The four people and one cat stood under the red moon, each harboring their own thoughts.
They won against the nightmare from Grundy's time.
But this time with the trident nightmare, they lost without even seeing the opponent's face.
And according to Moge's statement...
"Can that nightmare still be found now?"
Nightwalker broke the Silence.
Moge shook its head.
"Nightmares that can be detected by us are generally fellows about to come true," the cat sniffed. "We only have one chance to intercept it before it fully forms. Once the mission fails... it will sink into the deep sea of the dream realm."
"Deep sea?"
"A place deeper than the mist of the White Hall," Mogeexplained. "We can't reach there. Down below, it will continue to accumulate mass and grow until one day it chooses to surface on its own."
"When it appears a second time, it will be in reality."
Yale closed his eyes for a moment.
This matter couldn't be blamed entirely on Silence and Diana.
It was because he and Nightwalker were held up tonight by the Blood Brotherhood over in Gotham. The blood sacrifice ceremony at the Gotham charity gala went from dark till dawn and almost tortured him to death, not to mention that big-eyeball guy Trigon throwing him some inexplicable embroidered ball.
Even if they didn't go in voluntarily, a nightmare that had grown to this extent would possess the power to invade reality after the red moon set. Fighting in the dream versus fighting in reality at that time...
Reality didn't have a red moon to limit the nightmare's upper limit, so their decision to go in wasn't wrong in itself.
It's just that the opponent was too strong.
Maybe strong to the point of...
Being outrageous?
Yale opened his eyes and looked around.
Standing in the dim White Hall were an angry powerhouse woman, a demigod princess, a teenage billionaire, and a wronged little cat.
Last time when fighting Grundy, he practically carried the entire match's damage output alone, and Grundy was at best just an immortal zombie.
That guy with the trident instantly killed both Silence and Diana.
This magnitude of power might no longer be something he could roll over just by recharging a couple more times.
And five years later.
Darkseid was going to arrive.
He surely couldn't really lead this group of battered remnants and defeated generals to a great battle against a god king, could he?
Yale narrowed his eyes slightly, his amber eyes thoughtfully sweeping across the three people.
Making all three of them feel slightly creeped out.
"Then what should we do next?"
To everyone's surprise, the one who spoke first turned out to be Silence.
"I said it just now."
Nightwalker chimed in at the right time, "I will investigate."
"Ocean, lighthouse, trident. If there are any superhumans or supernatural entities matching these keywords in reality, there should be clues in DE0 and other intelligence systems."
"Then how are you going to get them?"
Silence scoffed, "Who do you think you are? Is DE0 your family's?"
"Why would they give them to you?"
"I will give them a deal they can't refuse," Nightwalkerdidn't show weakness at all.
"Listen to you, are you that rich?"
Silence sneered.
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Yale and Bruce exchanged a glance, then turned their heads away from each other.
Neither of them picked up the conversation.
"Alright, Silence," Diana took a deep breath. "Stop provoking Nightwalker. Do you want to come practice?"
Obviously, for an Amazon, the first thing to do after being defeated was training, just as a heartbeat follows breathing.
But Silence shook her head.
"Not today, Diana."
Her icy blue eyes curved and landed on Yale.
"Traveler."
"Hmm?"
"Can we talk privately?"
Yale was taken aback.
"What do you want to do?"
He subconsciously took half a step back.
"A trade," Silence spoke.
Yale's eyebrows slowly arched up.
He pondered for a moment, his gaze cycling between Silence and the other two, and then he extended his right hand and made a grasping motion in the air toward the mist on the periphery of the White Hall.
"Hum—!"
The white mist surged from the edge of the hall.
Guided by his gesture, it slowly condensed into a translucent light wall, isolating a corner of the hall.
"You can control this?"
Nightwalker was somewhat surprised.
"Council President privilege."
Yale shook off the remaining mist on his wrist, "I just discovered it recently."
"Then why didn't you give it to us last time..."
"You didn't make a request either," Yale shrugged.
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Nightwalker opened his mouth, but ultimately swallowed back the words at the tip of his tongue: "Do you still have a lot of things hidden that you haven't told us?"
After all, asking wouldn't get an answer.
Having spent enough time with this guy who claimed to be an alien, he knew the Traveler's code of conduct well.
If you don't speak up, he never takes the initiative.
If you speak up, he discusses the price first.
Fair trade, equivalent exchange.
Bruce Wayne still didn't know whether this counted as a virtue.
The white mist closed in.
The sounds of the adjacent World disappeared.
The private chat space was about the size of a classroom.
Yale casually sat down on the mist wall.
The mist condensed into a chair beneath him.
"The matter between you and Nightwalker last time," Silence spoke first. "It was also a prophetic dream, right? You helped him solve it?"
"Coming late tonight was because of that," Yale nodded.
Silence hesitated for a moment.
This woman, who was so hot-tempered she could crush communication earpieces, was actually organizing her words?!
Has she grown up or what?
Yale had quite the feeling of watching a giant panda.
After all, he himself didn't really like speaking out his inner thoughts, and he knew very well how agonizing speaking one's inner thoughts was.
"How to trade," Silence said in a low voice.
"Then you have to talk about what your prophetic dream is like first," Yale casually picked up the thread.
The woman's icy blue eyes rolled around.
Finally...
"I... I have a friend," she said, "Her brother... seems like he's going to run into trouble in the future."
Yale:
Waiting for more chapters on WTR-Lab