**Chapter 75: I’m Batman**

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In the suburbs of Tokyo, Takao Mountain.

Fujino parked the car on an open space next to the Takao Mountain forest.

After locking the car, he put on the Batman mask and proceeded into the depths of the forest.

Not far from the car, an ancient building appeared in his view.

The building, resembling a temple, was elevated on numerous wooden stilts, perched beside a cliff.

A waterfall cascaded down from the cliff, with cherry blossoms drifting onto the temple's path, giving it a distinctly traditional Japanese elegance.

Through the enhanced vision goggles, Fujino clearly saw the sign of the temple, which read: "Sandstorm Temple."

For an average person, this scene might suggest a sacred Buddhist place. The monks there would likely be meditating away from the chaos of the world.

But Fujino knew better.

In reality, Sandstorm Temple was merely a money-making scheme.

The temple's head monk, Tenyu, was a fraud, using the guise of a monk to conduct various illicit activities.

Fujino withdrew a pair of leather gloves from his space and donned them before sneaking into Sandstorm Temple.

Ascending the steps cautiously, he opened the temple door, revealing a wooden entrance hall.

The temple's layout was complex. Despite wearing soft-soled shoes, the old wooden floors creaked underfoot, making faint squeaking noises.

"Creeeak, creak…"

Suddenly, footsteps echoed from around the corner.

Fujino frowned, pulling out the Batman anesthetic batarang from his space.

[100% Strength Enhancement Activated, Remaining Time: 59 Seconds]

As the footsteps approached, a plump figure dressed in a monk's robe appeared around the corner.

The figure turned his head.

Both men faced each other: "…"

"Brother Muni, are you here for the bathroom too?"

The little monk, recently finished with his bathroom visit, mistook the figure for his senior.

But instead of a response, he was met with a swiftly thrown batarang.

"Whoosh!"

The batarang struck his stomach.

In an instant, the little monk felt as if he had been bitten by something.

Then darkness enveloped him, and he collapsed onto the floor.

Seeing the monk fall, Fujino walked up, removed his gloves, and checked his pulse.

He was still alive.

The effect was good.

Confirming that the monk was only unconscious, Fujino retrieved the batarang and continued to sneak deeper into the temple.

As night fell, the largest room in the temple was dimly lit by the flickering light of candles through paper screens.

Head monk Tenyu, disheveled, sat at a low table, pouring sake directly into his mouth from a bottle.

His flushed face indicated he was quite drunk.

"Creeeak, creak, creak."

Footsteps on the wooden floor outside made the old monk increasingly agitated.

He put down the bottle, muttering angrily, "What the hell are you doing up so late? Are you looking for trouble?!"

But just as he finished shouting, a figure appeared on the paper screen door.

It was a well-defined silhouette, but strangely, there were two sharp protrusions on the figure's head.

The old monk squinted at the strange figure, frowning.

But given his drunken state, he thought little of it.

He assumed it was just one of his little disciples playing a prank.

Then the door was suddenly yanked open.

Before he could react, everything around him turned pitch black.

…

The sound of flowing water filled his ears.

The old monk slowly opened his eyes, and stars filled his vision.

"Why am I here?"

Feeling a dull ache in his head, the old monk sat up slowly, scratching his head in confusion.

The surrounding environment was familiar; it was the cliff atop his temple.

But how did he end up here? Had he blacked out?

As he puzzled over this, he noticed a figure standing nearby, wearing a black mask and black cape.

Both men locked eyes: "…"

[Detective Aura Activated: Inflicting Significant Psychological Pressure on the Target]

"Who are you?"

The old monk recalled the events leading up to his current predicament, swallowed hard, and backed away in fear.

It was this figure that had caused him to lose consciousness earlier.

"I'm Batman."

With the help of a voice changer, Fujino's voice took on a deep, imposing tone, reminiscent of a certain Gotham billionaire.

"Batman?"

The old monk muttered, his face contorting into an odd expression.

Fujino paid no mind to the old monk's strange expression.

He walked up, grabbed the old monk by the collar, and lifted him, "How did Chūnen Monk die?"

"Chūnen?!"

The old monk seemed surprised by the question.

He paused, looking somewhat guilty. "Wasn't he killed by a Tengu?"

Not getting the answer he wanted, Fujino shook his head.

He hurled the old monk in front of him.

At over seventy years old, the old monk's frail body could not withstand the force. He cried out in pain upon impact.

"How could an old man like this commit murder?"

Fujino assessed the groaning old monk and frowned.

But after a moment, he relaxed his frown.

If a certain museum curator could wield a large sword, then a seventy-year-old monk using special techniques to kill wasn't too surprising.

It was very "Kōgaku."

Fujino wasn't going to show mercy simply because the other person was elderly.

He pushed aside his thoughts, retrieved the batarang, and threw it again.

Thirty minutes later.

Fujino, wielding a wooden sword, beat the old monk's bald head like a wooden fish.

Meanwhile, the system's voice echoed in his ears: [Swordsmanship Proficiency +1, Swordsmanship Proficiency +1…]

To avoid revealing the wooden sword, Fujino had first covered the old monk's head with a black cloth bag.

He also showed off his knot-tying skills by binding the old monk's limbs with a rope in the shape of a bat.

"Did you kill Chūnen Monk?"

Fujino repeated the "wooden fish" beating motion. "What method did you use to kill him, and what was your motive?"

"I really didn't kill Chūnen…"

Through the black cloth bag, the old monk's voice sounded muffled, yet his stubbornness remained.

"Unreasonable!"

Fujino frowned and raised the wooden sword high, striking the back of the old monk's head.

Smack!

With a cry of pain, the old monk felt as though a steel pipe had struck him, and he lost consciousness.

When Fujino had beaten Numaoka Jirō, it took five or six strikes to knock him out.

But this old man?

One strike was enough.

It greatly diminished Fujino's enjoyment of the process.

**(End of Chapter)**