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

"Don't say that, Miss Zatanna. This is called adapting to local conditions. If the Justice League had a Gotham branch, I wouldn't have to deal with gangsters every day."

"I will seriously consider this proposal."

Then, as the taillights of Lark's truck disappeared at the end of the parking lot's exit ramp, Wang Baixi watched the red dots disappear from sight, then put away his smile, took out his special cell phone, and dialed his beloved Batman.

The phone was answered after only one ring.

“Batman, I’ve got this sorted out.” Wang Baixi leaned against the concrete pillar of the freight elevator. “Things are exactly as you guessed. The Bowers are the leaders of the Court of Owls. I knocked them out, and the Penguins are helping with the relocation. Also, the court headquarters is no longer at Blackgate Prison.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

“Received. You guys come back first. I was just interrogating a few court members involved in this. Many of them were terrified and quickly confessed. They told me that the court does indeed have a council, and they have already set up a headquarters trap elsewhere, waiting for me to take the bait. It seems our intelligence is the same.”

Batman's calm voice exuded confidence.

He was fearless.

"So what are you planning to do?" Wang Baixi couldn't help but laugh.

"What do you think?"

"Get them all sorted out within two days."

Who knew Batman's ideas were even more radical?

"No, tonight."

The main focus is on a quick and decisive victory.

“Then I’ll call Mr. Freeze too. With him, it will be easier to deal with these small fry,” Wang Baixi said.

After he finished speaking, he remembered something else, "By the way, how's Dick doing? Is he still able to participate in our special operation tonight?"

Chapter 82

Before dusk, Sacred Heart Cemetery in Gotham's East Side.

Dick Grayson stood amidst a row of familiar yet unfamiliar faces. He wasn't wearing his uniform today, just a thin dark blue sweater and black jeans, his hands in his pockets, looking like an ordinary person attending a family gathering.

Of course, this is not a family gathering.

This is Captain Harry's funeral.

The funeral was much quieter than he had imagined; no more than fifteen people attended, sparsely gathered around the tombstone. After the pastor finished reading the last eulogy, he left with his Bible. The remaining people chatted in twos and threes, occasionally glancing in Dick's direction, but no one came over.

Dick's gaze swept over the faces that appeared in his memories.

First, there's James Clark, who used to play the clown in the circus. His face still had some white paint that hadn't been completely removed, and the red paint on his lips made his smile look like he was crying.

"Jimmy, it's been a long time," Dick said as he walked over.

Jimmy Clark raised his head slightly, and his unusually empty eyes began to gleam.

“Long time no see, Dick,” he said. “I thought you weren’t coming. Bruce Haven is quite a distance from here, isn’t it?”

“No matter how far, I have to come. After all, Captain Harry is Captain Wayne…” Dick carefully chose his words, “and I’ve been in Gotham for a while now.”

"Yes, Commander. It's mine too."

Before Dick could say anything more, a round figure squeezed out from the crowd.

The other person's face was contorted with anger, their eyes were red, whether from sadness or rage, it was hard to tell, and their fists were clenched tightly at their sides.

Dick recognized him.

He is Brian Harry, the son of Harley Master, and a more legitimate heir to the Harley Circus.

“Dick Grayson, you really have the nerve to show your face.” Brian practically bit his back teeth off as he walked up to Dick.

His voice was quite loud, and several people around them turned to look at them.

Dick remained standing still. "Brian."

“Don’t call me by my name, you have no right to call me by my name.” Brian shoved him violently. “You traitor! You stole my father’s circus, he changed his will to your name, he gave you everything!”

“Calm down, Brian.” Jimmy tugged at Brian’s sleeve, but he shook it off forcefully.

“Why should I be calm? My father worked hard all his life to build this circus, and in the end, he'd rather hand it over to someone who left the circus more than a decade ago than leave it to me!” Brian said righteously. “You already have Wayne Enterprises, while I, as his son, have nothing!”

Dick looked at Brian's face, which was flushed with excitement, and was momentarily speechless.

He waited until the other person was panting heavily before calmly speaking.

“No, Brian, I don’t intend to inherit the circus.”

"Ok?"

Of course, it's not about handing it over to him to inherit.

“I don’t plan to run the circus myself; I plan to transfer it to someone more capable.”

Brian paused for a moment, and several circus members who had been listening intently also froze.

"Transfer, transfer?" Jimmy scratched his messy hair. "To whom?"

“A guy named Wang Baixi. He is a shareholder of Wayne Group and a very capable person. I believe he can run the circus better than anyone else.”

“You!” Brian uttered only one word.

Just then, a clear female voice came from behind the crowd.

"That's enough, Brian. This is a funeral, not a gladiatorial arena."

The crowd automatically parted to make way, and a young woman with red hair walked along the cleared path.

“Raya.” Dick recognized her.

Layavistri, Dick remembered that she always wore two braids when she was little, but now she wore her hair in a high ponytail, and looked much better than he remembered.

“Dick,” Raya said, standing next to Brian with a smile, “we haven’t seen each other for so many years, and you present us with such a big gift as soon as we meet. Do you think we can’t even manage our own circus?”

"The key issue is not whether it can be managed well or not."

“I didn’t mean to refute you,” Raya said, turning to Brian instead of continuing the conversation. “Brian, bring out the will.”

"On what grounds?"

"Take it out."

Brian reluctantly pulled a crumpled brown paper envelope from the inside pocket of his coat. Raya took the envelope, pulled out the documents inside, and handed them to Dick.

"See for yourself."

Dick took the will and scanned it from top to bottom, looking at the formally formatted legal clauses.

In his notoriously illegible handwriting, Harley handed over the entire ownership of the circus to "Richard Grayson, the sole heir of the Flying Grayson family," followed by standard terms such as accidental heirs and accounts payable, until the very last page.

There was an extra line that wasn't in the standard format, and the handwriting was more forceful than before.

"Dick, the answer lies in the heart of the circus."

“What, what does this mean?” Dick stared at the line of text for a long time.

“If we knew the answer, we wouldn’t be standing here,” Raya said.

Her words seemed to signal something, and the silent crowd dispersed upon hearing her tone. Brian took a step back, said in a low voice to Dick, "Give me back the circus," and turned to leave.

Raya stood beside the tombstone, which still smelled of freshly turned soil, and looked down at the newly engraved epitaph.

"Dick, I have something to tell you."

Two rows of sycamore trees line the dirt road leading from the cemetery to the city, their leaves rustling incessantly in the evening breeze.

Raya walked ahead, with Dick following behind. After walking about two hundred meters, she slowed down and stopped with Dick under a particularly thick sycamore tree.

Raya leaned against the tree trunk and reached out to touch Dick's hair. He was about half a head taller than her, and she had to stand on tiptoe slightly to touch the few strands of hair on his forehead.

Didn't the Wayne family hire a barber for you?

“This is my new look,” Dick laughed.

"Are you still the same as before, too lazy to cut your hair once it touches your collar? I remember your dad always said it's not safe, that if your hair is blocking your eyes before going up high, you might fall into a hole."

“So every time before a performance, he would use a headband to pull all my bangs up on top of my head,” Dick’s voice became very soft. “I thought that headband was too ugly at the time, and I would secretly take it off every time he turned around.”

“So you tripped and fell on the tightrope, didn’t you? Raymond was laughing so hard he almost fell off his unicycle,” Raya withdrew her hand, her eyes somewhat somber. “By the way, do you remember Raymond?”

"of course I remember."

Raymond and she were his best friends from childhood.

Raya brushed a strand of red hair that had been blown across her face by the wind. "It's a pity Raymond drowned in that car accident. If only he were still here."

“Yes,” Dick sighed.

“Alright, stop being so sentimental,” Raya said with a wry smile. “That’s not the point I wanted to make. The point is: the circus will be alright. You know we’re planning a Grayson family memorial show, right? In memory of your parents, and in memory of our circus. You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Brian, he…”

"Actually, Brian orchestrated everything."

Dick's eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s just how he is. He cares most about the circus, which is why he’s so resistant to you.” Raya’s lips curled up slightly. “So don’t hate him.”

“I don’t hate him.” Dick shook his head.

That being said, if we really have to talk about who Harry is closest to, it's ultimately his son.

But why would Harley Quinn rather hand over the circus to him?

“Dick,” Raya’s voice softened, “are you planning to stay tonight? I mean, we could have dinner together, a more formal kind than we did a decade ago.”

Dick did not answer immediately.

If he only considered her a friend, then her comment about it being "more formal" made him think differently.

Damn it, he can never resist the charm of red-haired girls.

Just as he opened his mouth to answer, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Dick pulled out his special cell phone. The caller ID on the screen displayed only one letter: B.