Chapter 2232: Battle of Two Cities! (Seventy-Four)

Chapter 2206 Battle of Two Cities! (Seventy-four)

"Isn't it my weakness that I have never been firmly chosen?" Constantine asked.

"Bruce Wayne should believe it." Constantine heard Schiller's answer, which sounded like "think about it again."

"Do you think this is wrong?"

"Maybe."

Constantine really couldn't bear it anymore. He took a big sip of wine and said, "I have paid the price. You can't always let me ask you questions. Shouldn't you ask me some questions and give accurate answers?"

"That's what other Schillers do."

"Then what will you do?"

"You ask, I answer."

Constantine felt very confused. He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. Although this did not allow him to see Schiller more clearly across the long table, he had to do it just to show his urgency.

"You can't perfunctorily tell me. If there is no basis, how can you ensure that your analysis is correct?"

"If you want a basis, then go find Bruce."

Constantine was really crazy.

"If there is no basis, isn't it just a blind guess?"

"I am."

Constantine was stunned when he saw Schiller finally slowly straighten up from the back of his chair. Constantine thought this was a sign that he would seriously analyze it, but Schiller just picked up the bottle and poured more wine into the glass, then leaned back in his chair and squinted his eyes.

This made Constantine doubt that he asked at the wrong time. Schiller looked like a large beast digesting food. The mages digested moose meat, and Schiller digested the mages. What a wonderful food chain.

To get these unrealistic associations out of his mind, Constantine had to be more straightforward.

"Give me a reason why you did this, so that I can believe that you are not trying to perfunctorily answer me. It doesn't need to be scientific and reasonable, as long as it can convince me."

"I'm afraid I'm not good at this."

Constantine once again saw Schiller's ability to lie with his eyes open, but he still said: "Tell me."

Schiller adjusted his posture and sat up a little straighter. Obviously, he had accepted the impact of alcohol on his brain very relaxedly before. Although the slightly drunk state made him look more lazy and mysterious, if he was serious in this situation, Constantine would only be a good bacon.

"Do you know the difference between me and arrogance in psychology?"

He finally asked a question! He finally asked! Constantine almost cheered in his heart, so he shook his head and said excitedly: "I don't know, can you tell me?"

"I lack theoretical basis more than him."

"Huh?"

Constantine couldn't imagine it, because in the few times he saw Arrogance make judgments about someone's psychology, Arrogance acted as if he was inspired by God, and this was not just his feeling. The expressions of everyone present were the same as Constantine's.

Constantine couldn't imagine how there could be no theoretical basis.

"So you'd better not expect me to make any explanation for my judgment. You ask, I answer, absolutely accurate, without omission."

"Narcissist" is the only label Constantine can give Schiller now, just like a gambler saying "I win every time I gamble."

"Then let's try it." Constantine said in disbelief: "What is the correct standard for judgment?"

"If you think it's wrong, it's wrong."

"No refund?"

"Full compensation."

This made Constantine look like a gambler, as if he was testing whether he could control himself from pointing out Schiller's mistakes and get compensation.

He can always point it out, because Schiller is analyzing him now. Even if it's not him, who else can find no flaws in his words?

"You have to make sure it's not too brief and perfunctory, and you can't go around in circles." Constantine habitually blocked all the roads and said: "Perfunctory words such as good and not bad must not appear, let alone repeat known facts."

"It is guaranteed to be brand new and substantial until you are satisfied."

Constantine was really shocked.

"Are you sure you're not drunk?" He began to question this point instead, and even looked carefully at the wine in his hand. His years of drinking experience told him that even children can't get drunk with this amount of wine.

"How many questions can I ask?" Constantine asked nervously.

"Unlimited number of times."

This must be some kind of manipulation trick to gain his trust, Constantine thought, just like when you use horoscopes to predict the future, no matter what you predict, you will apply it to yourself, but in fact it is just some clichés that refer to the general public, or flattering words that people instinctively want to use on themselves, it must be like this.

But Constantine decided to give it a try.

"Then let's start with that question." Constantine swallowed his saliva and thought, "If not being firmly chosen is not my spiritual weakness, then what is my weakness?"

"Before that, let me ask you about your empathy ability."

"I think it's pretty good, what do you think?"

"My answer may be very abstract."

"What is my weakness?"

"The sunset after the rain stops must be beautiful, but the rain will never stop."

Constantine was silent for twenty minutes.

A bolt of lightning struck the first half of a bad man's life. From then on, those memory scenes that most Constantine couldn't name, those vague and broken feelings that he himself had, finally had a more appropriate description.

Constantine believed it.

"How should I overcome my weaknesses?"

"Go to bed early and get up early, get enough nutrition, and exercise properly."

"You mean 'can't overcome it'?"

"I'm trying my best to make suggestions."

"That means it can't be overcome."

Constantine hesitated and asked again: "Do you think it is necessary to overcome it?"

"This is a too broad question. It depends on all your experiences in the first half of your life. I can start talking now, but maybe you can use the question to get some key points in advance."

Constantine expected that every answer would have such an effect, but he was also afraid of this.

There is no doubt that if Schiller himself started talking, he would not get any more such maxims. It would be a hearty psychoanalysis on the psychological level, but if that was the case, why didn't he go find a professor who could speak better?

Constantine had to admit that he preferred this answer, even if there was no basis and no principle, like a pure guess based on intuition, but at that moment, he saw the cold sword stained with the blood of his heart.

Constantine swallowed his saliva.

"What was my childhood like?"

"The root of your expectations for the sunset."

This was an answer beyond Constantine's expectations. In the psychiatric hospital where he had lived, all the doctors said that he had received no attention and abuse from his father, and his bad family of origin was the root of all the tragedies he encountered.

"Why do you say that?" He couldn't help asking.

"That's the only time in your life when you can sit on the lawn in front of the house and watch the sunset."

The answer was surprisingly simple, but it was like an extremely accurate harpoon gun piercing a memory in Constantine's mind - he was bathed in an orange-red ocean, watching the light of the sunset illuminate the grass into a color that he still couldn't describe.

"What else?" Constantine wanted more.

"You don't like the sunset, you are just curious why the Creator made its color so similar to blood, your father's blood."

Constantine's fingers froze.

The fragments of memory were completed. On the grass, blood flowed along the cracks in the soil. He didn't need to look back to know that the blood soaked the doormat, and there was an arm inside.

"It would be great if it could be the same." Constantine murmured in a low voice: "It's not that similar."

"But I saved my father." He said again.

"Do you want to say I'm wrong, or do you want to change this to another question?"

"If you're wrong, will we end it?"

"No, it's just that the contract is not established. You can continue to ask, and I will still answer truthfully."

It was just adding fuel to the fire of greed of the gambler, but Constantine decided to remain honest because he hadn't recovered from the shock.

"Why did I save my father?"

"His death will be the first rain in your life."

Constantine felt suffocated for a moment.

Many doctors have judged him, saying that he is a weird and crazy born bad seed, just like those juvenile murderers. If they are not bad enough, they won't do it. If they do it, it proves that they are bad enough.

When he was hypnotized to tell his past, the doctors usually concluded that John was worried that his murder would be discovered, and John was afraid that after losing his only close relative, no one would take care of him and he would be sent to an orphanage. John decided to let his father make a will before sending him off.

This is what people usually guess, because the whole logic is like this. John Constantine did not kill his father impulsively because he was desperate.

He was exposed to magic, learned the magic circle, spent a lot of time to find materials to practice on animals, and carefully arranged the magic circle after gathering all the elements. If he had any intention of regretting at any point in time, his father would not fall. Isn't this enough to show that he is a cold madman?

Constantine himself often wondered about this.

"Am I bewitched?" he asked.

"No."

Schiller's firm answer made Constantine feel panic.

"You look forward to a world without your father, but his death also makes you suffer." Schiller said slowly.

"You have been doing this all your life - sacrificing a better future to reduce your current pain, so the rain will never stop."

Constantine fell into a long silence again, and Schiller drank his wine one glass after another.

"Do you think I am such a person?" Constantine asked.

"Too mediocre." Schiller answered, Constantine asked again in disbelief, and Schiller added.

"I mean, this kind of contradiction is too common. Most human beings do this all their lives, whether they don't study hard before the exam or commit crimes at the risk of being sanctioned. It's essentially the same."

"Then what's different about me?"

"Your tolerance for pain is much stronger than others, too strong." Schiller said: "Long-term weakness and pressure are not only not enough to crush your spirit, but also can't even wear out your imagination of a better future. You can completely endure it."

"So, I should endure it until the arrival of a better future? Am I on the wrong path?"

"You can't endure it."

"Why?" Constantine was even more confused by this contradictory statement.

Schiller said that he has a strong tolerance for pain, so shouldn't the right thing to do be to endure it and then exchange it for a better tomorrow?

Schiller glanced at the scene on the table, the leftovers, the broken limbs, everything was so decadent and weird.

"You are feeling happy." Schiller looked at the corpse on the table and said, "Because this group of people finally got retribution, because they finally went to the place where they should go - in short, they died miserably here."

"You are not only happy to see this happen, but even ecstatic, but it is not because they have suppressed you for many years - but because you are the only one left in the magic world."

"You are the same to your father. You saved him not because you love him, but because all those he loved, desired, and looked forward to being born had already died, died in your hands, and he only had you left."

"So you chose to walk in the rain, making you the biggest tragedy in their lives, until they desperately realized that they only deserved you."

"Your existence is indeed a kind of natural survival of the fittest. Smart people choose death between you and death, because you slowly drown all fools with your rain."

"To avenge the injustice bestowed on me by God?"

Schiller shook his head.

"To satisfy your arrogance, which is no different from that of these mages, the sunset is beautiful, but if it does not respond to your appreciation in a different way, you will keep the rain."

Schiller looked into Constantine's eyes and said.

"They are greedy for power, and you are greedy for the artistic appreciation of the people you choose. For this reason, you would rather live your life in a form that is easier to give birth to art - a complete tragedy."

"This is not a performance. You put all your efforts into it, using your strong endurance of pain as your advantage, and silently enjoying the artistry that some people have experienced from your tragic life. This makes you feel satisfied every time you think about it."

"What about you?" Constantine also stood up, with his hands on the table, leaning forward, "Would you regard all this as art?"

"Too much."

"What?"

"Too many Constantines."

Constantine opened his eyes wide.

Schiller shook his glass and said, "The most unique artistic quality of tragedy is that similar darkness in a society leads each different soul to a different ending, which reflects the subtle differences in the pain of all people, which is extremely subtle and beautiful."

"But if darkness leads many people in one direction and disciplines them to be the same, art loses its uniqueness and becomes tasteless dregs."

Schiller shook his head and said, "So I lifted you up and ended your tragedy, because you are too close to me, and I hate being drowned. I would rather spend money to buy a ticket to watch it from a farther place."