Chapter 1257: The Farm of Justice (39)

It was another rainy day in Gotham, but this time it was slightly different. When the road surface that had just been exposed to the sun was soaked by the rain again, it still had the temperature of noon. Even through the soles of shoes, it made people feel different from the usual cold and muddy. 阋

Zatanna, who was standing on the side of the road packing her magic box, looked up at the gradually closing dark clouds, sighed with some worry, and found that someone patted her from behind.

The owner of the newsstand next to her handed her an umbrella and said with a smile: "Times have really changed. There are people who go out in Gotham without an umbrella?"

Zatanna did not take it, but smiled and said: "I live in the apartment building next to me. I just take advantage of the two hours of sunny weather to perform street magic. I just need to run a few steps and go back."

After that, the magician lady quickly packed up her magic props and ran into the corridor next to her carrying a heavy box.

Zatanna ran up to the 6th floor in one breath and breathed a sigh of relief. But recalling the smiling face of the newsstand owner, she still sighed and said: "Sunshine will bring extra kindness to people. No one would have thought that someone here would lend an umbrella to a stranger. This is the city of sin. Not bad, right?"

Zatanna just took out the key to open the door when she heard a strange noise coming from inside the house. She immediately took two steps back with some vigilance. Just when she thought she was about to overturn her previous cognition, a familiar cry of pain came from inside the house.

Zatanna immediately opened the door and rushed in, exclaiming: "Thomas Constantine?! Why are you in my house?!"

"I'm not Thomas..." The man who was lying on the floor of the living room, holding his waist and looking painful, slowly got up, looked at Zatanna and said: "I'm John Constantine, don't you recognize me?"

Zatanna widened her eyes and shouted in surprise: "John! You're back?!"

Constantine's face was full of pain, his facial features were wrinkled together, he held his waist with one hand and his neck with the other, and said in a weak voice: "Yes, I'm back, you Don't want to know what I've been through..."

Zatanna could see that her old friend was on the verge of collapse, so she quickly helped Constantine sit down on the sofa and asked him: "What's wrong with you? Aren't you staying in the dreamland?"

"It was like this before." Constantine sighed for a long time and said in a trembling voice: "Until yesterday, Schiller came to me... Yes, this terrible doctor came to treat me again."

Accompanying Constantine's narration, Zatanna gradually understood what Constantine had been through.

Before, in order to repay Schiller's favor of paying off his debt, Constantine tore his soul in half, one half of which became Thomas and used his body in the real world.

The other half replaced Morpheus, the god of dreams, and supervised the dreamland for the retired god of dreams, but just yesterday, Constantine, who was traveling in the dream world, heard a few dog barks.

Then, a fast and powerful white dog threw him to the ground and sniffed him hard with his nose.

Then, Constantine saw Schiller's face.

"Schiller?!" Constantine screamed.

"Yes, it's me." Schiller nodded with his arms folded, and then he continued: "It's like this, I think the problem between us should be solved. You make yourself like this, it's not good for anyone."

"I think I'm fine." Constantine quickly stepped back a little, and then said: "I've been living much better during this period than before."

"You know whether it's good or not." Schiller looked up and down at Constantine, who was only half left, and said: "I think you should have discovered that tearing your soul apart is not only painful, but also has many sequelae."

"Because I have experienced all this, I know how terrible these sequelae are, but at the same time, I also know how to solve it."

Constantine showed a hesitant expression, because during this period, he paid the price for his previous reckless actions, and tearing the soul is not that simple.

Constantine certainly knew that it would hurt, but he was not afraid of pain at all. However, after doing all this, he found that the pain was just the beginning. The most terrifying thing was that he could not control his own soul.

Since he tore his soul apart, Constantine often felt that he was looking at himself from another person's perspective, as if he was no longer himself.

What followed was the loss of control under this perspective. He could only look at his soul, but he could not control it and could not do anything. The longer this time lasted, the more Constantine felt that he might lose himself.

Constantine was not afraid of pain, but any creature in this world would be afraid of not existing. That was not death, but everything was out of control, and he could not do anything even though he was watching.

Constantine knew that his previous actions were too reckless and rash. His research on soul science had not reached the level of being able to cut his own soul. He had been feeling worried and afraid recently. 阋

But at the same time, he also understood that Schiller, who was staring at him now, must have known this, so he deliberately delayed for so long before coming to him. This professor knew how to use fear to make people obedient.

Constantine was afraid, so he had no choice.

"Don't worry, I'm just teaching you some experience in dealing with broken souls." Schiller shook his head, his tone was very calm, and there was a power that made people feel confident.

Constantine swore in his heart ten thousand times that he would never deal with Schiller again, but every time he heard Schiller's whisper, the willpower that resisted countless devil temptations would begin to waver again.

In the end, the fear of completely losing himself overcame the willpower, and Constantine followed Schiller to a room in his spiritual palace.

This is a somewhat dim room, with only one chandelier hanging in the center of the room, a dark red carpet on the floor, a traditional British cabinet on one side, and a shiny countertop on the middle island, and a wooden long table and chairs on the other side, with candlesticks and flowers on the table.

Constantine walked over and sat on the chair. He shuddered when he heard the door slam, but he could only pretend to be calm and joked: "Is this a candlelight dinner for the two of us?" Constantine turned his head to look at Schiller. Schiller took out a few dishes from the refrigerator and put them in the oven. While putting on gloves for himself, he said, "My cooking skills are not very good, so I asked my friends to help me cook a few dishes." With a "ding" sound, the oven door opened, and a rich aroma came. Constantine couldn't help but shrugged his nose and said in a brisk tone, "It's really fragrant. I didn't expect you to be able to cook." Schiller gently placed the plate on the table, withdrew his hand, looked at Constantine's eyes with a focused and neurotic look, and said, "As long as you like it." Constantine looked at the main dish he placed in the middle of the table. It looked a bit like short ribs. The golden color was just right after being cooked. More importantly, the aroma from it made Constantine feel extremely hungry. Constantine's Adam's apple kept moving, and his reason told him that this abnormal hunger was not an appetite, but an uncontrollable desire, a hunger that burst out from the depths of his soul.

He followed his instinct and picked up the knife and fork like a starving man, trembling with his hands to cut off the largest piece of meat, thrust it into his mouth, and then froze there. 阋

His hand shook, and the fork fell down with the piece of meat, and the food fell onto the table. The fork touched the edge of the table and continued to spin and fall down.

In an instant, the air rippled, and a pair of pale and thin hands grasped the handle of the fork.

The next second, Constantine stood up and tried to escape, but was grabbed by the neck by the same pale hand, pressed back to the chair, and the sharp fork was pressed against his throat again.

Constantine leaned back desperately, and with his only remaining eye, he glanced at Schiller standing behind him, and screamed a scream he had never made in his life:

"Schiller, you are crazy!!!!!!!"

"Eat it up before you can leave."

Schiller turned the fork with two fingers, and the cutlery flashed a dazzling luster, which made Constantine close his eyes for a while. When he opened his eyes again, the extremely tempting ribs appeared in front of him again. 阋

"This can replenish your soul energy and make it complete again, so you don't have to face those terrible sequelae."

"But this is your..."

Instantly, the hand that pinched Constantine's neck tightened, and Constantine could only let out a "uh..." that was on the verge of suffocation.

Constantine's eyes unconsciously stayed on the food in front of him, the color, the smell, and the most terrible, the delicious fantasy derived from hunger and thirst that lingered in his brain.

An incomplete soul seeks completeness, so it craves energy. Constantine is like drowning, constantly breathing, with only one thought lingering in his mind -

He once thought Schiller didn't need a lifebuoy, just because the sea where Schiller was struggling was not his professional field.

Constantine, leaning on the sofa, panted tremblingly, and a dry heave came out of his throat. Zatanna didn't dare to ask him if he had eaten. He appeared here, and the answer was obvious. 阋

Zatanna was sure that no devil in the world would be crazy enough to force his friends to eat their own flesh. This kind of treatment can no longer be said to be evil, it is simply crazy.

Constantine wiped his saliva, jumped up from the sofa in a hurry, stood hunched in front of Zatanna, looked into her eyes and asked: "Is there a phone call?"

"Yes, who do you want to call?"

Constantine stood up straight, looked up at the ceiling, and said in a trance: "Schiller is a fucking lunatic... We must unite to cure him!"

"Ding-ling-ling."

A phone rang, Oliver picked up the receiver, then turned around and shouted: "Bruce, it's for you!"

Bruce walked over to answer the phone and said to the other end: "Hello?"

"Bruce, this is Victor. We must unite and cure your crazy psychology professor!"

Bruce changed his hand to hold the phone. He heard Victor sighing and saying:

"I have deeply understood your feelings in the past four years. We must take some measures against Schiller... But the problem is that I have tried to control him, but failed. Do you have any good ideas?"

Victor's voice was not hopeful, so when he heard a very affirmative "yes" from the other end of the phone, he was shocked, so he asked: "Do you really have a way? What is it?"

Bruce turned his head with the phone receiver and looked at the hot and dazzling sunshine in Mexico and the huge tractor plowing in the fields.

He retracted his gaze, lowered his eyes, and looked at his fingertips. A small piece of paper was rotated between the fingertips of two fingers, like a flying butterfly.

But Bruce knew that it was not a piece of paper, but a common seed packaging. The edge of the paper with a corner folded down revealed a cursive English word - "broccoli".阋

Looking up again, the young man has a sharp jawline and thin lips with slightly raised corners.

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