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A long shadow cast by the the Continental Hotel upper wall lights stretched across the ground.

The shadow had wings and two pointed ears, resembling a massive humanoid bat.

Amidst gasps of surprise, people looked up.

They saw the source of the shadow atop the highest point of the the Continental Hotel .

A tall figure stood like a mountain, almost like a flag billowing in the wind.

"Batman?"

Someone recognized him immediately.

Many of the police present had seen the popular movie recently released.

Especially the officer who had received the report and happened to be patrolling Manhattan, now staring in shock.

"This… this…"

The reporters were instantly thrilled.

Big news!

The grudge between the Life Foundation and the Daily Bugle had been quite clear from recent public disputes.

The Bugle's expose had severely damaged the Life Foundation, cutting its market value nearly in half.

How could Carlton Drake not be furious?

He sent people from San Francisco to New York, traveling thousands of miles to target the Bugle, only to be thwarted by the sudden appearance of Batman.

And this Batman movie just so happened to be made by Anton Jameson, the grandson of the Daily Bugle's owner.

Could there be a connection between Anton Jameson and Batman? Could Batman be connected to the Daily Bugle?

The reporters' minds spun with possible storylines.

Glancing at the police outside the Continental Hotel, they exchanged looks, all in silent understanding.

Officially, they'd attribute this to the successful governance of New York City and the swift actions of the police department.

But the entertainment tabloids? They were fair game for all the gossip.

Using pseudonyms for reports was the proper way to work.

It avoided offending those in power and ensured no opportunity to make a living was missed.

Click-click-click!

Flashlights flashed repeatedly.

Whoosh!

A strong wind blew.

The figure above transformed into a massive bat, its shadow suddenly spreading across the ground.

Amidst gasps of amazement, Batman soared across the air from the Continental Hotel to another building, vanishing into the darkness.

"Everyone, no further photos are permitted," George Stacy said with a grim face, addressing the reporters before turning to the head of the the Continental Hotel . "Mr. Winston, I trust you won't mind coming down to the station with me?"

"Of course" Winston replied smoothly.

...

The next day.

"I'm filing a report… These people were sent by the Life Foundation. Those folks from San Francisco want to destroy my hotel… The Life Foundation has no feud with the Continental Hotel; they're targeting the Daily Bugle for revenge… and everyone knows the reason."

San Francisco, Life Foundation Headquarters.

Watching the news on TV, Carlton Drake trembled with rage, his eyes bloodshot, wanting nothing more than to leap into the screen and fight Winston right there.

In addition, the Daily Bugle had also placed Winston's accusation against the Life Foundation on its front page.

It caused a sensation, sparking outrage.

The Life Foundation had fallen to a point where everyone wanted a piece of it.

Its market value was now less than a third of its peak.

If it weren't for the Life Foundation's valuable medical patents and deep financial reserves, it would have likely been forced off the market amid such one-sided chaos.

Bang!

Drake slammed his palm on his desk, glaring at his head bodyguard.

"This is how you handle things?"

Unable to contain his fury, he threw whatever he could reach at his bodyguard, who took the hits in silence, blood trickling down his face.

"This is what you call 'taken care of'?"

His voice seethed with anger.

If Anton were dead and he faced such consequences, he would have felt pleased, at least having achieved his goal.

But this? A complete loss.

After reading the news, Drake's head buzzed, convinced that everyone around him was useless.

They couldn't capture Eddie.

The human-symbiote experiments couldn't proceed.

Even this revenge mission turned out to be a complete failure, the plan washed away with the tides.

"This is so frustrating!"

"Boss, the Continental Hotel is an assassin organization. They broke the rules, so we have grounds to file a complaint with the High Table."

The head bodyguard waited until Drake calmed down somewhat before suggesting, "Winston will pay the price! The High Table won't let them off."

"File a complaint?"

Drake cast a cold glance at him. "You're still counting on others to solve this? Last night, Batman took down every assassin in the Continental Hotel and then the police hauled them all to jail. Counting on the High Table is useless. Think about how we're going to deal with this Batman who appeared out of nowhere."

"This…"

The bodyguard's mind went blank.

He had spent years in the underworld, building a modest reputation with impressive skills, and was well aware of the Continental Hotel and the High Table's fearsome power.

Only in recent years had he gone legitimate, joining the Life Foundation as Drake's bodyguard, responsible for his security.

But he never imagined that the Continental Hotel—a titan in the underworld—would fall at the hands of this sudden Batman.

"Who is this Batman?"

The bodyguard couldn't help asking Drake. "Boss, anyone who can take on the Continental Hotel and hold his ground is no ordinary person."

"An ordinary person?"

Drake scoffed, his face dark. "Certainly not ordinary." He looked coldly out the window, not turning back. "He's the man we need to kill."

"Anton?"

The bodyguard's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Anton, Batman, the Daily Bugle…"

Drake, fed up with his slow-witted right-hand man, muttered the names that plagued him, clenching his fists tighter.

...

New York.

A certain villa area.

Anton looked at Jameson before him, exasperated.

"Old man, you've been staring at me all day. What exactly do you want to say?"

He looked annoyed, feeling that the old man's gaze was strange, not like he was looking at a normal person.

"When did you get these abilities?"

J. Jonah Jameson clicked his tongue, speaking confidently. "Batman? If you're really Batman, I'll eat this newspaper in front of me."

"Is that so?"

Anton raised an eyebrow and activated his Batman mode.

Whoosh!

In an instant, he transformed into the mysterious figure that had shaken the city the night before.

"Shit!!"

Jameson's jaw dropped.

He had only been testing him, not actually doubting that Anton was Batman.

Of course, he never expected Anton to reveal the secret so easily, without hesitation.

"You… you… you…"

Jameson was at a loss for words, eyes wide as he looked at the armored Anton, completely ignoring the mysterious abilities Anton had just displayed.

"Out of the goodness of my heart and respect for the elderly, I won't make you eat the newspaper."

Anton waved his hand, reverting to his usual form, and said calmly, "But there are some things you don't need to ask about. Old man, you'll gradually come to understand this world in a new way."

Jameson blinked, snapping out of it with a childlike excitement.

"Where's your motorcycle?"

"I must say, you've inherited my taste. That motorcycle is quite something…"

"Bring it out so I can take it for a spin—hurry up!"