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

“You’re saying this like an old man writing a retirement application,” Wang Baixi laughed.

Bruce did not refute.

His gaze swept around the conference table, landing on Cassandra, who was quietly watching him; Dick, who looked exhausted but still sat upright; Tim, who was secretly yawning; and Wang Baixi, who was putting his contact lenses into his pocket.

Now that Barbara can stand up again and Cassandra can stand on her own, he no longer has to be as exhausted as before.

Now imagine if Wang Baixi's plan succeeds in the future, Gotham's crime could be fundamentally curbed. Then he could indeed consider retiring and enjoying his retirement.

But is it really that simple?

No one knows what he is facing.

He smiled faintly, suppressing those thoughts: "Please forgive my little bit of willfulness."

"When are you planning to leave?" Dick asked at this point.

"tomorrow."

"Just like me, Your Majesty, the circus is now in your hands."

"You're all leaving tomorrow? That's so fast!" Tim exclaimed in surprise.

“So I’ll be back soon,” Bruce said, walking up to him and patting him on the shoulder.

"Well, the father and son are both on the same day." Wang Baixi chuckled twice, but then his expression turned serious as he looked at Bruce earnestly. "Bruce, come with me somewhere before we leave."

Bruce was somewhat puzzled.

"Where are you going?"

Why are you going out so late?

Well, he seems to be the least qualified to say that.

But Wang Baixi said seriously, "Go to a place that is very important to you."

Chapter Eighty-Nine: Martha!

Gotham Cemetery at night is as quiet as another world.

Wang Baixi walked in front, with Bruce following behind, but Bruce's steps, like his mood, grew heavier and heavier with each step.

Why did you suddenly bring me here?

“I was thinking that since you’re going to the Middle East tomorrow, you should let your mother know. As the saying goes, ‘While parents are alive, one should not travel far.’” Wang Baixi said, squinting his eyes.

"Nonsense." Bruce curled his lip.

"That's not nonsense, you definitely need her. Besides, you look amazing tonight, no dark circles or red eyes, and the darkness will keep you a secret."

They finally stopped at the gravestones of Martha Wayne and Thomas Wayne. Moonlight filtered through the clouds, illuminating the two side-by-side white marble slabs and the Wayne couple's names, a reminder to Bruce not to forget the years gone by.

Bruce Wayne stood there in front of his parents' gravestones, unsure of what to say.

"Are you ready?" Wang Baixi asked.

What do you need me to do?

"You don't need to do anything. I'll just ask you: Are you ready?"

"..."

Bruce seemed somewhat bewildered.

"Alright, then you can continue preparing now. Just stand there," Wang Baixi said helplessly.

He took a deep breath and gently placed his right hand on the top of Martha Wayne's tombstone.

[Spiritual medium, activate!]

The next second, Wang Baixi's body trembled violently, and his pupils turned into a very pale grayish-blue in an instant before slowly closing.

When those eyes opened again, all the playfulness and sharpness had vanished, leaving only bewilderment and tenderness.

That look didn't belong to Wang Baixi.

Martha Wayne blinked softly. Her memory was still stuck on that night.

Gunshots, alleyways, Thomas falling beside her, and little Bruce's cries.

And then, nothing happened.

But now she suddenly stands here, in front of her own tombstone, her body not her own, and in front of her stands a man she can hardly recognize.

"Where am I...?" she said, trembling.

Bruce stood there, letting his mother silently watch him in the moonlight, while he looked back at her.

“Sir, could you please tell me where I am?” Martha stared uneasily at Bruce’s face, half-hidden by the moonlight. But when she saw those familiar eyes, her own eyes widened. “You…”

Then, her eyes began to tremble uncontrollably.

She must be dreaming! At least that's what she told herself, but her maternal instincts still overwhelmed everything.

"Bruce?"

“It’s me, Mom. You…you recognized me.”

Under the moonlight, Bruce Wayne forced a smile, trying to mask his more complex emotions with it.

“Bruce, how could I not recognize you? How could a mother not recognize her own son?” Martha called his name again. “Is it you? Is it really you? Tell me, darling, it must be you. I remember your eyes, your face, how you’ve grown so much.”

“It’s me, Mom, it’s me.” Bruce took a step forward, and the two were now less than a step apart.

Martha raised her hand and gently touched Bruce's cheek. That face was no longer the face of the boy she remembered.

His skin was no longer soft, his laughter no longer childlike, and his features no longer rounded. Fine wrinkles and healed wounds marked his face; more than twenty years of loneliness had left their mark, marks that could not be smoothed away by anyone's hand.

"You've grown so much."

“It’s been many years, Mom.” Bruce raised his hand and gently placed it on the back of his mother’s hand.

"Many years, how long is that?" Martha looked around, her gaze sweeping over the tombstones of varying heights, and then over the gravedigger's hut not far away.

In the end, she still saw her own tombstone.

“Am I dreaming, Bruce?” Martha murmured to herself. “Or are you some kind of ferryman who guides the dead?”

“No, Mom, this isn’t a dream. This is psychic magic, and you’re in my friend’s body right now. I’m sorry to bother you. But…” Bruce choked up.

"Don't say that, child." Martha hugged Bruce tightly. Although it wasn't her body, it still made Bruce feel at ease. "Our Bruce has always been a good boy. You must have woken me up because you needed me, right? Tell Mom, what's wrong with you? Is it a business failure, or are you planning to take your own life?"

She was crying, but she forced herself to smile.

"No, Mom, no. I just missed you, that's all."

“Oh, Bruce. You should be a brave adult by now.” Martha looked at Bruce kindly. “Who’s taking care of you? I guess Jarvis is all grown up now, so it must be his son Alfred, right?”

"Yes."

“Thank God.” Martha smiled for the first time that night. “I was worried about what would happen to you if your father and I were gone. At least there’s Alfred. We owe the Pennyworths so much. He even gave up his identity to take care of you… By the way.”

She suddenly stopped, her eyes flickering. "Where's your father? Where's Thomas? He's not here either. He wouldn't be like me, would he?"

“Dad…” Bruce hesitated for a moment, but still chose to tell the truth, “He came by a few days ago as well.”

"A few days ago?" Her voice suddenly became very soft. "He saw you?"

"I saw him."

What did he say to you?

Bruce gave a wry smile. "He asked me to give you my regards."

Martha remained silent for a long time. She looked down at the two tombstones side by side, the moonlight shining on them and making Thomas Wayne's name appear bright.

“I so want to hear him say that to his face,” she said, then looked up at Bruce again. “So, how have you been these past thirty years? Tell me the truth, Bruce. I’m your mother, you can’t fool me.”

"I……"

“Look at me and say it.”

Bruce looked into her eyes, a gaze that was gentle yet firm, brooking no disobedience.

"all is well."

“That’s not good.” Martha ruffled Bruce’s hair. “You’ve grown taller, Bruce, taller than your dad, but that doesn’t mean you have to lie to your parents.”

“Really, I’m fine.” Bruce Wayne tried his best to explain, but then he remembered Wang Baixi’s words. “But, as you said, I’ve run into a problem, Mom.”

"What's the problem, child?"

"If, if I had the chance to resurrect my dearest loved ones, should I do it?"

Martha's eyes shifted from surprise to obvious pain. She gently withdrew her hand and instead cupped Bruce's cheeks in her hands.

“My silly child…” she sighed softly, her voice full of pity, “You know the answer, but you still want to get a pardon from me, don’t you?”

Bruce pursed his lips and did not refute.

“If it requires you to pay a price, to taint your soul, or even to plunge you into deeper torment, then absolutely not.” Martha’s voice was soft. “Your father and I have finished our journey. It was a journey that ended in tragedy, but it was our journey, not yours. Isn’t it? But…”

“But I can sense that the closest and dearest people you’re referring to are not me and your father.”

Bruce opened his mouth in surprise, realizing that his mother had said something he hadn't expected at all.

"Who could it be? Your lover, your friend, your other elders, or..." Martha's voice trailed off, a soft light shimmering in her moist eyes, "...your child?"

Bruce's eyelashes stopped trembling only when he said the last two words; Martha Wayne always saw through her son's thoughts so easily.

“Listen to me, Bruce.”

"There's no need to be sad or upset for Thomas and me anymore. We've already had a fulfilling life."

“I also experienced the loss of my parents. When your maternal grandparents passed away, I was much sadder than you were. But I never told you that when you were five years old, you got acute pneumonia and had a fever of 41 degrees Celsius. The doctor said you might die. I knelt on the hospital floor for those few days, and I even said to God that if you have to take a Wayne, take me instead.”

"Do you know, if it had been you who fell in Crime Alley that day, Thomas and I would have done everything in our power and paid any price, just so that you could live a good life."

"So, as a parent, I understand parents' thoughts best. Go for it, Bruce. Go for it, do what you think is right."

Bruce Wayne's heart tightened, but his eyes hardened.