Chapter 2139: Chapter 1442: Research on Manipulation (Eight)_1

"Two waiters approached, Shiller glanced at the one across from him. The white-gloved waiter presented the menu in his hand to Shiller. Shiller scanned it roughly, then signaled with his eyes for the waiter to go to the other side.

So, the two waiters switched positions. Jason couldn't understand why they were moving this way. Harley lowered her voice and told him, "When Gotham was first inhabited by the British, we adopted their customs, where if two people were having dinner together, one would order the food, and the other the wine."

"What if it's something the other person doesn't like?"

"Of course, they would ask whether the other person would like it beforehand, but generally, no one says they don't like it. The main goal of going to such a restaurant isn't for the food."

"That sounds like torture."

"There's something even more outrageous, take a look at the menu."

Harley and Jason were sitting face to face in the inner seats, while Shiller and Pamela sat outside. Harley made a face at Jason, her words making him curious, so he subtly moved his body towards Pamela and took a peek at the menu in her hand.

Immediately, Jason's eyes widened and he held his breath. But considering the occasion, he swallowed it back down.

The breath stuck in his throat made Jason cough hard, causing his face to turn red. Shiller looked up from the wine list and at Jason, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just choked a little."

"Drink your water slowly."

"Alright, Professor."

The other two were intently reading the menu. Jason leaned in slightly and whispered in a barely audible voice, "Are these prices for real?"

"Hasn't Bruce taken you out for a meal when you were at Wayne Manor? His spending is probably even more extravagant than this."

"We rarely go out to eat. Bruce doesn't trust food from outside. Besides, Alfred cooks good food, even though he's British."

Noticing Shiller's gaze, the two children immediately ceased their conversation, sat up straight like statues, and began studying the patterns on the ceiling.

"Cobblepot got a hold of two bottles of Dom Perignon Champagne, the commemorative edition from '59, and generously shared one with me. It's stored in the wine cellar of the new restaurant now."

Shiller put down the wine list and explained to Pamela. Then, he looked at the waiter and said, "Please open it for me, thank you."

After Pamela finished ordering the food, she sighed softly and said to Shiller, "Professor, I have to warn you. The subject of cultivating crops in Gotham hasn't made much progress. Even if you try to bribe me with this fine wine, I can't conjure up the seeds for large-scale planting here. So, do you still want to open the wine?"

"Of course. Judging from your ability to make a whole field of broccoli grow in an instant, I think it's just a matter of time before you complete this task."

Pamela covered her eyes with one hand and said, "Professor, you have to believe me, Bruce didn't tell me that his emergency restraint was an allergy to broccoli."

"Why didn't he tell you?"

Shiller leaned back, allowing the waiter to open the champagne. Pamela blinked, seemingly reading into Shiller's tone. She watched the clear liquid enter the glass, cleared her throat and asked tentatively.

"He…couldn't possibly have had good intentions, right?"

"Of course."

Pamela's eyes flicked. She picked up her wine glass and gently clinked glasses with Shiller, then said: "He did it so that someone could share your anger?"

"Exactly," Shiller nodded with a smile.

Understanding dawned on Pamela. She took a sip of wine and then carefully placed the glass on the table. She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin and said, "Professor, although it's a bit abrupt to say this, Bruce used my ability to cause trouble for you, but didn't tell me the consequences of doing so. We are both victims."

"Victims should unite, shouldn't they?" Shiller also put down his glass. When the waiter put the appetizer plates on the table, Shiller picked up his knife and fork, then suddenly changed the subject: "So there hasn't been any progress on the subject of crop cultivation in Gotham?"

Pamela sighed helplessly: "Let's put it this way. When I made a pact with 'All Things Green', they told me that I was to become a representative of plants, defending the right of green life to exist in the entire cosmos. I told them that I plan to defend Gotham first, they fell silent."

"I later understood what their silence meant. Gotham only has darkness, no green. It's a place where 'All Things Green' cannot exert control. The artificially cultivated plants here all go mad, sooner or later."

As Pamela watched the waiter remove the appetizer plates and bring the main dishes, she started cutting her food and said, "The soil-cultivated plants in the first phase either wither during the germination stage, or go mad during the growing phase. I thought it might be a problem with the soil, so I shifted to hydroponics. But the hydroponic plants in the second phase went even madder."

"I suspected there was something wrong with the water, so I started using purified water purchased from other cities for irrigation. The plants from phase three showed great promise, maturing without going insane and attacking people, so I irrigated and fertilized them without fear, making them particularly robust."

"Three days after the harvest began, two robust cabbages whacked five people next door, broke ribs of two, and even punctured one person's eardrum."

"Indeed... they were robust," was all Shiller could say. Then, he asked curiously," Where was the problem in the end?"

Pamela shook her head confusedly. "It wasn't just water and sunlight. I even switched the air for one batch of phase three plants, but they all went insane at the same time."

""I sent all my data to every botanist I know. They were all clueless. I even consulted with All Things Green, but he hasn't answered me since."

Seeing Pamela's bewildered and sorrowful expression, Harley burst into laughter. She laughed and laughed, hardly catching her breath, until she choked herself."

Shiller helped her to catch her breath, and then looked at Pamela, asking, "How many cabbages did you plant?"

Pamela wore an expression of hesitation. Shiller leaned slightly forward, showing curiosity. So Pamela quietly said, "Two tons."

Jason almost sprayed out his food, and Shiller also was taken aback. He looked at Pamela, asking, "How did you plant so much?"

"I haven't had All Things Green's strength level for long and I didn't control some of it well. When I was trying to stop the cabbages from attacking, I used the wrong spell. Instead of reducing their number, I made them multiply. Each leaf of the original sample had split into a robust cabbage, and so..."

Shiller took a deep breath. This happening in Gotham City did not surprise him. Still, he asked after a pause, "Have you considered asking for help?"

"Of course I have. I consulted with many related experts. But Gotham City is unique. No other place is known for having plants go crazy. They couldn't help."

"What I mean is, have you considered asking for Batman's wisdom for help?"

Pamela's hand paused as she held her fork. Recalling Shiller's earlier conversation, she realized and suggested: "Actually, I approached Bruce before, but I didn't have high hopes for him. Do you mean I should invite him to join my project team for joint development?"

"Miss Pamela, Gotham City's agricultural development is a crucial part of its self-sufficiency. We can't rely on the Federation to provide the resources we need in times of disaster. We must produce our own food."

Pamela immediately put on a somber expression and nodded firmly, "Yes, I shouldn't delay anymore. But Batman must be very busy. His mind is even more popular than he is, with many issues waiting for his participation."

"With food as the most important thing for the people, what is more important than a food issue?"

Pamela nodded, her expression contemplative. She murmured Shiller's words as if she were reciting them.

Shiller then added the most critical piece of information.

"Bruce Wayne's rowdy and unproductive behavior has made his father very angry, and his bank card has been frozen. How long do you think this rich young master can endure being broke?"

Pamela immediately understood the implication. She raised her glass to toast in the air, both revealing a knowing smile.

Dinner ended quickly in a harmonious atmosphere. In the car on the way back, Harley tightened her scarf around her neck and turned to Shiller, who was in the passenger's seat and asked, "You want Pamela to take on Bruce? But Batman won't be easily fooled."

"Of course Batman won't, but Bruce will."

Harley and Jason exchanged glances. They observed some hidden meaning in Shiller's words.

The car traversed the streets of Gotham City in the night. Gotham, as ever, was cold and damp. Elliot, who was disguised as Bruce Wayne, had to move into the old house of the Kane family on Breeze Street, which Thomas had previously told him about.

It was a very old house, tracing back to when Gotham City was first established. The building was old, but it seemed unoccupied, most likely a failed investment property that was never sold at the right time and now left until present day.

Elliot was miserable about his living conditions. He'd been on the run from the Federal Bureau of Investigation for a long time, with his family's assets long absorbed by competitors. Most of his private wealth was divided among distant relatives.

He dared not touch some secret assets that only he knew about. Elliot couldn't tell which ones were bait from the Bureau who often used this trick to lure fleeing tycoons.

Elliot thought that his days as a fugitive were the pits of his life. As long as he inherited Bruce Wayne's wealth and status through his appearance, he'd be free as a bird.

But clearly, the sky that Bruce Wayne offered was not as wide as Elliot imagined. Worse, Elliot, who could have stayed in his luxurious manor, sipping expensive red wine, and enjoying quiet nights, was now enduring the musty, damp air of an old house, lying awake for hours on the creaking wooden bed, with every muscle tensed.

Elliot thought, enough is enough. He had to find a way to improve his current situation.

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