"Uh," Peter fell silent when he heard Star-Lord's unintentional "critical hit" on Bruce Wayne.
Star-Lord didn't realize there was anything wrong with his words and continued to ask Peter, "Dad, is Bruce going to be the King of Hobos?"
"King of Hobos?" Peter was a little confused.
"Dave, he used to be a taxi driver, and now he's a hobo in his own car. Mark says he's the King of Hobos because he knows all the little tricks, like 'don't let the windows get all foggy,' because then the Police will know someone's sleeping inside."
Star-Lord introduced him with great seriousness.
"Then Bruce probably won't become the King of Hobos; at most, he'll be the King of Gotham."
Peter replied to Star-Lord, looking at Bruce, who was bustling with activity not far away.
It seemed Bruce's image was completely ruined in the eyes of Mark and Star-Lord.
Either a down-and-out kid or a hobo, he just couldn't be associated with a Gotham billionaire.
"King of Gotham?"
Star-Lord nodded, putting on a thoughtful expression, "Then I want to be the King of the Galaxy!"
"You can't conquer the galaxy."
Peter pressed Star-Lord's shoulder, "Alright, go wash your hands and get ready to eat."
Afternoon.
Mark, who had returned from school, looked at Bruce standing in front of him in shock, "You… you're Bruce Wayne?"
Mark scrutinized the much taller young man in front of him, asking in disbelief.
He never expected to see Bruce Wayne under such circumstances.
"Yes, I am Bruce Wayne. Long time no see, John."
Bruce extended his hand to him.
Mark did not shake his hand but suspiciously scrutinized him from head to toe.
"Why are you here?"
He remained quite wary of Bruce, after all, this guy was highly valued by his dad back then.
"I plan to travel the World, and before I leave, I wanted to catch up with Patrick."
Bruce was more mature than before and didn't mind Mark's tone.
"Travel the World?"
Mark looked at him suspiciously, "Then you're definitely going to fail."
He immediately cursed Bruce's journey to fail.
Bruce's mouth twitched slightly, "I don't care about success or failure; I just want to experience something."
He glanced at the messy farm, "On the contrary, John, your temper hasn't changed. I think Patrick must be very annoyed."
"That's between me and Dad; you're an outsider, so you can't interfere."
Mark clenched his fist, wanting to punch Bruce in the face.
This guy, after all this time, was still so annoying.
Taking a deep breath, he self-hypnotized: relax, no need to get angry over a guy like this.
He was just a tiny jerk, an insignificant fellow, a complete microorganism.
Soon, Mark's emotions calmed down as he insulted Bruce.
"Perhaps you are right."
Bruce didn't continue talking to Mark but walked towards Peter.
Turning to look at Bruce's back, Mark narrowed his eyes and let out a deep breath.
This guy… is clinging to Dad again!
No…
I really need to figure out a way to beat this guy up!
Otherwise, once he travels the World, there won't be a chance.
Night.
Peter prepared a rich dinner to entertain Bruce.
"Would you like some wine?"
Peter held a bottle of wine and asked Bruce.
Bruce looked up and asked, "What kind of wine, sir?"
"Ernest Hemingway's favorite cocktail."
Bruce pondered for a moment, "Sir, I remember Ernest Hemingway was a diabetic, and his favorite drink was a dry martini."
Peter asked with slight surprise, "Are you sure?"
"I should be sure."
Next to him, Star-Lord curiously asked Bruce, "Do you read a lot?"
"I read all the time."
Star-Lord nodded, an understanding expression on his face, "Homeless people like libraries."
Homeless?
Bruce's confused gaze turned to Star-Lord. Was this annoying little fatty really Patrick's child?
"Cough, cough."
Peter pretended not to hear, coughed, and took another bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet, "Perhaps you could try this, Bruce, vodka and absinthe."
"Sir."
Bruce said with a bitter face, "I'm not an adult yet, so I can't drink alcohol. And vodka mixed with absinthe doesn't make a dry martini."
Although he couldn't drink, Bruce knew a lot about alcohol. "A martini is gin, always gin. If you add absinthe to vodka, it won't taste the same."
Mark, chewing on his beef, listened to Bruce's wine connoisseurship and asked him, "Why do you know this if you don't drink?"
"I have a wine cellar at home, and I usually study the various wines stored there."
As Bruce said this, he looked at Peter.
"Sir, if you're interested, I can give you the wine cellar."
Peter was already depressed about his credit card being maxed out, and his heart stirred when he heard Bruce offering him a wine cellar.
Although he was very tempted, receiving something for nothing was never a good thing.
As he was about to refuse, Mark suddenly said, "Okay, consider it payment for your stay here."
Peter looked at Mark, the mischievous child, in astonishment.
Do you think the farm is a five-star hotel?
No, even a five-star hotel doesn't charge like that!
He turned to look at Bruce and found that the other party had a matter-of-fact expression and didn't think anything was wrong.
Well, it seemed neither of them took it seriously, so he didn't need to either.
The next day, early morning.
Tires screamed on the road, scorched by the scorching sun.
A Subaru sped through the farm, made a sharp U-turn, and drifted like melting butter on a hot frying pan.
Then the car reached the end of the road, crossed over, and its tires rolled through the grass, instantly kicking up dust.
Listening to the roar of the car engine, Peter crossed his arms, watching Bruce drive the car.
Bruce, after waking up in the morning, said he wanted Peter to teach him how to drive, as it might be useful when he traveled the World in the future.
But now, seeing how experienced Bruce looked, Peter felt he probably couldn't teach him anything.
"Bruce, although I don't think I can instruct you much, I still have to say, try not to attempt such things on actual roads."
After Bruce turned off the engine and got out of the car, he said to him.
"As you say, sir."
Bruce walked over and said to him.
Peter glanced at the car and said, "Your driving skills are excellent, Bruce. I don't think my Professor is needed."
"I know, sir."
Bruce sat down, "I just wanted to talk to you while driving."
"Are you troubled?"
"A simple trouble."
"It might sound simple, but Bruce, your life is anything but simple."
Bruce nodded, then hesitated and asked Peter, "Yes, sir, do you… do you know Schopenhauer?"
"Schopenhauer?"
"A German philosopher, the founder of atheism. He had two poodles."
Bruce explained, "He once said: Some people say suicide is the most cowardly act, suicide is a wrong move, but it is well known that everyone has the most inalienable right to decide their own life and human rights."
"I think, one day in the future, I might destroy myself, destroy myself in a suicidal way."
Bruce suddenly said.
The sentence just popped out, as abruptly as a rock jumping out of a sack.
Peter looked at Bruce in surprise.
This kid doesn't have some self-destructive tendencies, does he?
"Why do you feel this way, Bruce?"
"I don't know. I'm very young, but I'm very tired, sir. At night, I close my eyes, and it appears—my dreams are like an anchor. What I see, it's like lingering Death, draining everything from my body, making me lifeless, and I can't stop any of it."
"Sir, for the past three years, I have been saving Gotham in my own way. At night, I transform into Shadow to combat those evils, but Death keeps happening, and it seems I can't do anything. I hate this feeling, I hate my powerlessness."
Peter nodded and asked him, "So you want to travel the World to find answers."
"Yes, sir, do you think I should go?"
"Of course, I support your actions."
Peter placed his hand on the other's shoulder, "Bruce, you have two things in your heart, darkness and light, which is understandable, because humans are inherently composed of darkness and light. Humans cannot escape it."
"Traveling around the World might help you find the true method, a method to hide your dark side and show your bright side."
As he was talking to Bruce, his phone suddenly rang.
He took out his phone and saw that the caller was Officer Chandler.
After answering the phone and saying a few words to the other party, he hung up.
"Sir, what's wrong?"
"Some unexpected situation. Can you drive me?"
Bruce nodded, "Of course."
On the way to the destination, Bruce curiously asked Peter, "Sir, what happened?"
"Have you heard about the spontaneous combustion incident at the Smallville Orphanage?"
"Yes, I've heard a little."
Peter rested his hand on the car window, feeling the oncoming wind, and said, "The official explanation was a Fire, but they only found the old lady's ashes in the end."
Bruce nodded in understanding, then thought for a moment and said, "I guess the unofficial explanation is human spontaneous combustion. I remember a similar incident; in 1978, there was a case of human spontaneous combustion in New Jersey, where the person was dancing when they were suddenly engulfed by flames that appeared behind them."
"Sir, why are you interested in this case?"
Bruce asked him.
Hearing this, Peter glanced at Bruce, "We have a small dispute. I'm a little interested in the mastermind behind this incident."