American comic book: After mastering resurrection, I became incredibly popular.

"Ah, I've finally heard the familiar accent again."

Wang Baixi smiled and pushed open the door, leaving Cassandra alone in front of the mirror. Only after the oblivious man left did the young woman breathe a sigh of relief and quickly turned around to close the door. Her previously composed expression softened and finally turned into a gentle smile.

Chapter Fifty Death

At 7 p.m. Gotham time, Alfred Pennyworth returned to Wayne Estate. He got out of his car, carrying a briefcase.

The briefcase contained the minutes of this afternoon's Wayne Group special board meeting, the withdrawn application for a declaration of death against Bruce Wayne, and other documents.

It took him the longest afternoon of his long career to get those few sheets of paper sorted out.

How can I convince those old guys that Bruce is still alive? How can I make them think that Bruce faked his death to seek refuge, rather than to abandon the board and his business?

Everything requires a lot of talking.

He shed his weariness, pushed open the manor door, and found the hall empty.

Yes, this time period is normal.

After thinking for a moment, he went into the kitchen, placed his briefcase on the counter, and then took off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Next, he tied on an apron and took out eggs, butter, and a small piece of cheddar cheese from the refrigerator.

Alfred cracked the eggs, poured the butter into the frying pan, and set the heat to level four. The blue flame of the gas stove spread evenly across the bottom of the pan, and the butter slowly melted, making a sizzling sound.

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Alfred, Bruce is back. I mean really, he’s back. The resurrection spell really worked.”

Dick Grayson leaned against the kitchen door frame, his hands wrapped in clean, thick white bandages.

Alfred felt a chill run down his spine, but he still maintained his composed demeanor in front of Dick. "I know, Master Dick. I know."

Dick didn't call him out on it. "How are things going at the company?"

But then Alfred turned down the stove and turned to him. “The company’s affairs have been settled. Mr. Joshua’s share transfer and the board resolution have been confirmed in writing. The legal department will submit the documents to the stock exchange first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I knew you could handle it,” Dick said. “You got those old foxes to sign in one afternoon? Did you drug them?”

"It was just a matter of using some logical debating techniques."

"Logical?"

"Very logical."

Dick laughed, and Alfred smiled slightly. The butler turned back to continue cracking the eggs, the chopsticks tapping rhythmically on the rim of the bowl, while Dick paced back and forth behind him.

"Where is Mr. Bruce?" Alfred suddenly asked.

"He's asleep."

The chopsticks stopped.

"At this time?" Alfred paused for a few seconds, then put his chopsticks down on the edge of the bowl and wiped his hands on his apron.

This was something he hadn't expected.

“Yes, right at that moment. He was more tired than I thought, so I told him to go get some sleep.” Dick sighed.

His old friend is still waiting for him at the Knights Arena at 9 p.m. tonight.

"I'll go see him."

Alfred took off his apron, quickly left the kitchen, walked down the hallway lined with portraits of the Wayne family, and went upstairs to the end of the hallway...

The door he knew wasn't completely closed. He placed his hand on the door panel and pushed it open a crack just big enough for his toes to squeeze through.

The lights were off in the room.

The heavy curtains blocked out the last bit of natural light from the window, plunging the entire room into the deepest shadows.

Bruce Wayne was lying on his side on the bed, his back to the door, with the blanket pulled up to his shoulders.

Alfred stood outside the door for a long time.

He really is still there.

As before, he disappeared, but then he returned.

Last time, he disappeared for many years, but he returned, bringing with him the ambition to set the world ablaze back to his city.

All Alfred could do was wait. He thought others would surely ask him if he would still wait if Bruce were gone and never to return, and his answer was simple:

He's there whenever he's needed.

Batman needs him, and the world needs Batman.

The man lying in bed never had time to check his keys and wallet, let alone the things he needed to pay attention to besides fighting crime.

How could anyone forget this madman? Of course, there are. He was so focused on saving others that he often forgot himself.

After making sure Bruce's blankets hadn't been kicked off, Alfred quietly closed the door. He went downstairs to the kitchen, put the bowl of beaten eggs in the refrigerator to keep them fresh. He could make the scrambled eggs for Bruce and his new friends later, perhaps after nine o'clock. He would stay at the manor and wait for their triumphant return.

“He’s really sleeping,” Alfred muttered to himself, looking at the empty kitchen.

Outside the window, the last rays of twilight sank below the horizon.

Night has officially fallen in Gotham.

……

In his dream, Wang Baixi walked across a wasteland.

It's called a wasteland mainly because there's nothing here that can be called a "scenery".

The ground stretched out flat in all directions, without undulations, cracks, or grass; not even a single pebble could be found. The sky was neither day nor night, for there was no sun, no moon, and not even stars.

"Did I activate creative mode?" Wang Baixi asked, his head aching.

With a major battle imminent, I hope I don't have any nightmares.

He stomped his feet hard on the ground twice, but there was no sound. Even the sound of his breathing was swallowed up by the wasteland.

The silence here has no end. The quiet did not begin at any moment, but has existed since the beginning of the world, completely covering the entire world before he even noticed it.

But he didn't feel afraid. Logically speaking, when you're dreaming, all sorts of emotions can be overwhelming you without warning, but Wang Baixi felt no unease.

"Yes, it was a good dream."

This dream was so boring!

He stood there listlessly, like a name long forgotten, returning to the page where it was first written.

Then, he saw a person appear in the distance.

Although it was said to be far away, he couldn't actually judge the distance because there were no landmarks in this wasteland. But at a certain moment, he looked up and found that there was another person there.

The figure slowly emerged from a gray-white background that was also devoid of any distinguishing features. The person was dressed in a gothic style, wearing a black short-sleeved shirt, black tight leather pants, and black boots.

Her hair was exceptionally fluffy, but it wasn't dyed any other color; it was just a natural black, as if it had just been pulled from ink.

Her skin was so white it was almost transparent, and her features were so exquisite they were breathtaking, leaving Wang Baixi mesmerized.

Her eyelashes were very long, a fact Wang Baixi noticed even before she got close. Equally striking was the small mark below her right eye, which looked like some kind of ancient tattoo.

Her steps were almost unsteady, a thin Anka necklace hanging between her collarbones, swaying gently with her movements, as if she had just happened to pass through this wasteland and happened to see Wang Baixi.

The mysterious woman walked up to Wang Baixi with her hands behind her back.

Wang Baixi noticed that the corners of her mouth had turned up.

“Hello! You can call me 'Death'.” Her voice was so soft it could melt water. “After so many days in Gotham, you finally had your first real dream. And I… I’ve finally met you, Wang Baixi.”

Chapter 51 The Brother of Death is Sleep

Wang Baixi looked at the petite girl in front of him, his heart filled with confusion. His intuition told him he was dreaming, yet he couldn't help feeling curiosity, doubt, and even fear.

The person in front of her was so unfamiliar, yet she possessed a natural affinity, as if she had known him for a long time, even longer than he had known her.

"Um, you are..."

“You can call me ‘Death’.” The woman who called herself “Death” smiled.

“I know, you already said that. I want to know your background!” Wang Baixi frowned and looked around. “Also, where is this place?”

"This is your dream, the end of reality," Death said calmly.

I'm completely baffled!

"So you're Death? Fine, then let me ask you a different question: Why are you in my dream? I haven't done anything heinous lately, have I?"

Death tilted its head and looked at him. "I came to see you because you're very interesting. You know, you're the most unruly person I've ever met."

“I don’t follow the rules?” Wang Baixi pointed to his nose. “I’ve hardly ever run a red light in my life.”

“I’m not talking about traffic laws.” Death took a step forward, but left no footprints. “I’m talking about the rules of life and death.”

Wang Baixi fell silent.

“I noticed you when you brought Joshua Wayne back from two hundred years ago,” Death’s voice was soft. “Then came the Killer Croc, the parrot, the falcon, the owl… the things you resurrected became more and more varied, and more and more frequent. How could I not notice you?”

"So you're here to collect a debt today? Shouldn't the Grim Reaper only care about the dead and not the living?" Wang Baixi asked tentatively, taking a half-step back at the same time.

"Are you referring to the Black and White Impermanence or Anubis?" Death couldn't help but chuckle. "Actually, I am not the god of death, but the symbol of death. I not only govern death but also life. A person has two opportunities to see me in their lifetime: once at birth and once at the moment of their demise."

"Oh..." Wang Baixi seemed to understand, but not quite. "So you're still here to collect your debt!!"

die:"……"

Death looked at Wang Baixi with a hint of silence, or perhaps pity, and said, "If I were here to collect a debt, you wouldn't be here now."

"What brings you here, sir?"

“No, I was just curious and wanted to see what you look like. You probably don’t know how much effort I went through to see you. I borrowed my brother Memphis’s power to enter your dream. I originally wanted to take you away when you were almost killed by the birds, but your magic is really annoying!” Death said with a wry smile.

In this world, most people's magical powers come from the Olympian goddess Hecate, or from the inverted beings of the Dark Multiverse, but Death is unclear about the source of Wang Baixi's magical powers.

This is precisely why she was curious about Wang Baixi.