Chapter 71 :Mountain Village

Among the mountains, a certain village that may have long been forgotten.

Bruce Wayne wore a black jacket and came across the mountains to this mountain range. The information given by Lex Luthor led him here. If Luther's statement is true, this is the end of the solar light energy trajectory belonging to Superman. Batman and Lex Luthor are far from being allies, but at least he thinks Luthor has no reason to lie in this matter.

Bruce couldn't calm his mind all the way, maybe the unpleasant meeting with the fake Superman last night made him upset when it came to the question of this long-dead old friend. He didn't know what he was expecting to find in this remote mountain village. Maybe his best friend still has a one-tenth chance that he is still alive, and maybe there is only one corpse that never decays waiting for him in this deep mountain. .

So he didn't think about it at all, and decided to take one step at a time.

He traversed the mountains and walked through several villages in the mountains. He showed everyone in the village a picture of Clark and asked if anyone had seen him. And after a futile morning, a little girl in a certain village finally said with some uncertainty that she might have met a similar person, but that was years ago. She said that the person only stayed in the village for a few months, and then left for unknown reasons.

Not a very valuable clue, but at least it was the beginning, which refreshed Bruce, who had been fruitless for a long time. He continued to ask if he knew where that person might have gone. The little girl bit her lip and thought for a while, and finally pointed out the village on the opposite mountain to him with some uncertainty.

Bruce visited village after village. In the next few villages, there were people who said with great uncertainty that a similar person might have been there, but he seemed to stay in every place for a while. Bruce climbed two hills in one day, walked through many villages, and finally came to this last mountain village when the sun was about to set.

This small mountain village also seemed to have experienced the baptism of rain last night. The road up the mountain was full of wet, slimy mud, but compared with Gotham, at least the air here was fresh and there was plenty of light. He found the only tavern in the village and lavishly left a green banknote on the bar counter, allowing the bartender to answer the outsider's questions while preparing a cocktail for him.

Bruce chatted with him for a while, first naturally talked about irrelevant topics, and then suggested that he was looking for an old friend when he thought it was right. The bartender proudly said that they were the only tavern in the village, and as long as they were in this village, he must have seen them at least.

Bruce showed a picture of Clark Kent-of course he was a reporter when he was a reporter. The picture with the "s" tag and red cape was not necessary at all. If Superman had come here, he would have known it. Up.

Disappointing but not surprisingly, the bartender shook his head and said that he had never seen such a person.

Bruce sighed, stopped talking, and just drank booze to himself. It's been six years. He knew how low the possibility of a valuable discovery this journey would bring. He didn't even think about what he was here for. But the kid named New Superman who sprang up this year, and the guy who looked like Clark who played against him last night, maybe he was just being stimulated to miss an old friend even more.

Let's face it, Bruce. He said to himself that Clark was long gone.

He swallowed another glass of wine depressed, and from the corner of his eyes he casually caught a glimpse of a bunch of burly men sitting at a table in a corner of the tavern. Their eyes were gleaming with malicious intent, all deliberately or unintentionally glanced from Bruce's purse pocket, just before they were full of evil intentions written on their faces.

Bruce secretly felt funny, not only because he was chosen as the target of the robbery, but also because he felt that these unruly guys were far inferior to Gotham's third-rate criminals. They simply revealed their intentions to their eyes, and after seeing all the crimes in Gotham with different ways and new tricks, Bruce almost started to think they looked a little cute.

He settled the bill, got up and pushed open the rough wooden door of the tavern. The local big guys stared at him intently and walked out of the gate. They got up quickly without thinking, and chased him out. Several locals, including the bartender, of course knew their behavior, but they all remained silent, as if they hadn't seen it.

Bruce put his hands in his coat pockets, pretending not to notice the few people following behind him-even though their tracking technology was too much to look at. He even deliberately picked an empty space where there was no one, and specially selected the most perfect hands-on environment for a few gangsters, and those simple-minded guys hadn't noticed that it was wrong at all, and were still secretly happy.

When a big, muscular, dark-skinned boulder stood in front of Bruce, he knew that these guys had finally started, and he was almost impatient to wait. He turned around calmly, and there were four big men behind him. They are all tall, big, and muscular. Bruce is close to 1.9 meters tall, but he has no height advantage against everyone. No wonder these muscular stupid big guys are so emboldened, their size alone is enough to frighten most outsiders.

"We don't want to make things ugly, foreigners." The one who seemed to be the leader among them came out and said in a hurry, "Your coat, wallet, cell phone and watch, leave these behind. , We will consider letting you go down the mountain completely."

Familiar with the road, it seems that they are not doing this for the first time, and they can't even find the slightest guilt in their eyes. Bruce swept through them all blankly, giving them a simple grade in his heart, which determined how much they would be beaten in a minute.

The five gangsters narrowed the encirclement tacitly. Bruce clenched his fists in his jacket. The smell of gunpowder in the air became more intense. Both parties were about to start their hands, but suddenly there was a spoiler.

"Hey! Stay away from that outsider!"

All the gangsters' actions took place at the same time, including Bruce also showing an unexpected expression. They followed the reputation and saw a man dressed in old fashioned clothes standing about ten steps away. His bare arms were full of strong muscles. The beard on his chin that had not been trimmed for some time made his image look slightly Sloppy, but his stiff waist refreshed him somewhat. The hair on his forehead was curly, and his blue eyes were as clear as water, and there seemed to be a lot of righteousness in them, making it difficult to look directly.

It took nearly twenty seconds for Bruce to recognize the facial features of his former best friend from this almost completely different face. The expression gradually changed from just a little accident to stunned-and when Batman showed this Expression, that generally means the end of the world.

The five gangsters temporarily set aside the foreigners they were about to rob, re-formed an encirclement to surround the new big man, and the leader said viciously: "You just can't take care of your business, are you stupid? Big one?"

The people who looked like Clark looked at them seriously: "I can't, because that's not correct, just like what you are doing."

"Oh, is it? Guess what? We are planning to do something more incorrect."

The leader said, winking at his companions, and everyone walked shoulder-to-shoulder towards Clark. Bruce still had his hands in his jacket pockets, standing there and watching with cold eyes. If that is really Clark, then he doesn't need any help, maybe in the next second he will use super speed to bundle these unpredictable villages into one big dumpling, or he will stand in place and let those guys beat them. When the fists were swollen, then gave them a mocking smile.

But things didn't seem to have developed that way.

"Boom!"

With a muffled fist hitting the gun, Clark Kent threw a string of bloodshot saliva from the corner of his mouth, and was planted embarrassedly in the mud.