Gotham City, on a morning that wasn't particularly bright but was still somewhat warm, Schiller set down his coffee cup and heard the sound of his colleague Anna's high heels. Before long, a blonde American sweetheart walked in with a frown and said, "The damn lazy bums at the freshman registration office called in sick. You go cover for them for a day."

Schiller replied, "Sure, but you're paying for this cup of coffee."

"You can forget about ever hitting on me!" Anna yelled. Schiller happily took his coffee and walked out of the café, glancing at Gotham's eternally gloomy sky as he started his fifth day here.

In his past life, Schiller was a psychologist. After a plane crash, he found himself tossed into this quaint yet frustratingly simple city. Thankfully, he was neither a hero nor a villain, but rather a laid-back and stable university professor, still in his old profession as a psychology lecturer.

Schiller was delighted to be able to slack off for another day when a "ding" sounded in his mind, displaying: "Peter Parker has sent you a chat request."

As he walked to the registration office, he replied in his mind, "What's up, Peter?"

"Hey! I'm starting my internship at Oscorp tomorrow! You have no idea how rare this opportunity is for me! And Gwen… I mean, she's going too. It's going to be awesome! We can discuss genomics and those amazing machines..."

Schiller silently thought to himself, no girl would want to talk to you about that, Spider-Kid, wake up.

Since arriving here, Schiller had acquired a "Marvel Chat System," and the first person he unlocked was the chatterbox Peter Parker. This talkative kid had been rambling to him for four and a half days about how he liked Gwen, wanted to pursue her, but was too scared to do so.

As Schiller encouraged Peter, he reached the registration office, sat down, and organized the forms, waiting for the new students to check in for the year.

Strangely enough, Schiller hadn’t seen the Bat-Signal light up in all his days here, nor had any villains caused trouble. Life seemed comfortably simple.

Soon, students began coming in one after another, carrying a pile of materials, and all Schiller had to do was register names and dorm assignments.

"Next!" Schiller called without lifting his head. In front of him was a long line of people. A boy sat down, and Schiller asked, "Name?"

"Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce… Dormitory 2, Room 306…" Schiller wrote it down absentmindedly when suddenly his pen stopped. He raised his head to take a discreet look at the boy, who had blue eyes and black hair, and was quite handsome. Schiller said, "Wayne?"

"Indeed, I am Wayne."

Schiller repeated, "Dormitory 2, Room 306. Didn’t you hear me? Take your form and hurry up; the people behind you are waiting."

Now it was Bruce's turn to be stunned. He picked up the form and asked, "Which department are you a professor in?"

"Psychology. Don't take my class, kid," Schiller replied.

Bruce was intrigued, but Schiller felt helpless; Batman had just started college! No wonder he hadn’t seen the Bat-Signal!

How unlucky was he? Batman goes to college, and he ends up as a university professor!

Schiller had a thorough understanding of the dangers surrounding the Batman series, especially with this 18-year-old brat Bruce, a damn playboy!

Bruce said nothing. He thanked Schiller and left. After finishing the registration work, Schiller planned to head back to his professor's apartment for some sleep when he suddenly remembered he had left his keys in the office. As he climbed the office stairs, he ran into a tall, thin professor. Schiller said, "Hi, Jonathan, are you here to get something too?"

"Yes, did you forget your keys in the office again?"

"Oh, right, Anna rushed me too much today; I forgot when I left. I'll grab them and come right back down. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Just as Schiller and Jonathan passed each other, a chill crept up his spine. Jonathan… Jonathan Crane!

The supervillain Scarecrow!

Jonathan, with his back to Schiller, didn’t see Schiller turn around and stare at him. If he hadn't learned that Batman just started college today, he wouldn't have remembered. Memories of Scarecrow flooded his mind—Gotham University's psychology professor, PhD in psychology and chemistry, who in the future would use fear gas for slaughter, Jonathan Crane!

Schiller took a deep breath and continued up the stairs, maintaining his pace. Jonathan wasn't Scarecrow yet; Bruce was only 18, hadn't graduated from college, and thus hadn't become Batman. Jonathan wasn't yet the world-renowned psychologist either; he was only somewhat known in the academic field of "emotional psychology." Schiller was currently more famous than him…

Schiller was now a world-class expert in criminal psychology and abnormal psychology, a renowned psychological researcher, and Gotham's most famous psychology professor.

Therefore, Jonathan's attitude just now was quite nice… but what good was that! Schiller couldn’t invent gas! He was purely a liberal arts student, while Jonathan was a PhD in chemistry!

Indeed, mastering the sciences made one fearless...

Schiller knew very well that on Gotham's grand stage, the bloody curtain was about to be drawn, and right now, he was just a scholar without the strength to bind a chicken, a weakling who found even moving a chair difficult, purely a knowledge-based talent. Forget about encountering these well-known supervillains; even the thugs in the comics could easily kill him with a gun!

And his worries became reality. The next morning, as he went to the psychology clinic at school to slack off, Schiller had just brewed some coffee when he heard a sharp knock on the door.

"Professor Schiller, may I come in?"

Schiller took a deep breath. Was there really a student coming to this shabby psychology clinic? He was just here to slack off, for goodness' sake! Paid vacation, you know?

Standing outside was Bruce Wayne!

Schiller could only grit his teeth and say, "Please sit, student. Do you have a psychological issue you want to consult about?"

"Can't I come to chat if I don't have a problem?" Wayne shrugged, clearly showing his playboy demeanor.

Schiller pushed up his glasses and said, "This is a place for students to have psychological consultations. If you don't have a question, then you can leave."

Schiller swore his tone was so dry it was more perfunctory than an airplane announcement, yet Bruce still asked with interest, "Alright, then let me ask a question. What do you think is the meaning of life?"

Schiller took a deep breath and opened the Marvel chat system in his mind. He remembered that he had earned a random chat opportunity for previously guiding Peter Parker through his emotional issues, so he quickly wrote in his mind:

"A kid whose parents died, swearing to take revenge on all criminals, yet disguised as a playboy, now comes to ask me about the meaning of life. I want him to stop bothering me in the future. How should I answer him? Waiting online, quite urgent."

Soon, a reply appeared: "I am a teacher. Regarding your question, I think you should exercise sufficient patience and offer psychological guidance to this unfortunate child from two aspects..."

Schiller looked at the name in the dialogue box: Charles Xavier! X Professor!

No wonder, the founder and head of Xavier's School, indeed in his old profession.

But noticing the avatar, Schiller found that Charles's avatar was clickable. He clicked on Charles's avatar in his mind, and a dialogue box popped up: "First-time chatting can randomly copy one ability from the chat partner (low-level), would you like to copy?"

Schiller, confused, clicked "Yes."

"Telepathy (low-level) has been loaded."

Schiller felt a blur in front of his eyes, suddenly bombarded by countless noises, with numerous unfamiliar emotions rushing into his mind, making it hard to distinguish. After a while of adaptation, Schiller realized he had indeed gained a part of X Professor's abilities.

Telepathy was Charles's signature skill; when combined with a brainwave amplifier, it could even brainwash all of humanity, but Schiller only got a drastically weakened version. He could only vaguely sense the other person's emotions and some thoughts that suddenly flashed through his mind, unable to read their thoughts directly.

However, this was enough. Schiller focused on Bruce and noticed his emotions were quite chaotic. Yes, he wasn't as carefree as he appeared.

Based on Batman's life experiences, he should have just returned from studying abroad. Entering university was likely just a disguise for Bruce's identity; the real Batman already loathed this unbearably mundane daily life. Every drop of his blood screamed "revenge" and "revenge on those criminals."

To Bruce, this professor across from him seemed to suddenly sink into a calm contemplation. Schiller had a pair of slightly unusual gray eyes, and when Bruce was fixed by those eyes, his sharp instincts began to alert him—he felt as if he was being spied on, seen through.

Then Schiller said, "Perhaps you've been waiting for someone to give you this answer, a definitive answer. If getting this answer will help you do more things and stop bothering me, then I'm willing to give you this answer."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Revenge." Schiller stared into Bruce's eyes, and under Bruce's suddenly darkened expression, he repeated firmly, "The meaning of life is revenge."

Without caring that Bruce's face had darkened like Gotham's sky, Schiller said, "Are you satisfied, Mr. Wayne?"