Chapter 370: Death
The Brutal Fight
Decades as a killer deeply influenced William Cobb, most notably in his approach to problem-solving. While ordinary people primarily resort to words before violence, rarely considering murder, Cobb was different. When killing could solve a problem, he never bothered to speak.
The current situation was no exception. Despite knowing that the four Talons facing him were equally poor souls captured and brutally trained by the Court of Owls, he had no intention of saving them.
Killing is the best way to solve problems. That was William Cobb's ultimate belief.
His black short sword slowly slid out of its sheath, the blade shimmering with a bloody glow in the moonlight. The smell of blood began to spread. With a low growl, William Cobb charged forward.
The four Talons spread out, forming a circle, and attacked from different directions.
Sword flashes and afterimages blurred, and blood and flesh splattered. The five men were locked in battle, the simplest and swiftest killing techniques displayed on the beach. Within mere seconds, William Cobb had six new wounds on his body.
The four Talons were also suffering.
The next moment, the wounds healed, returning to their original state. William Cobb raised his sword and fought again.
The silent slaughter was broken only by the clang of weapons. The five fought like emotionless killing machines. Regardless of the pain they suffered, their eyes remained cold, like water in a deep abyss.
On the nearby pier, Dick Grayson covered his mouth, his eyes wide with terror as he watched the scene.
Are they even human?
Superhuman strength and speed, rapidly healing bodies, and cold, brutal combat skills—Dick saw the shadow of demons in them. The fight between the five was utterly horrific; the spilled blood nearly dyed the sand red.
William Cobb's combat prowess was top-tier among the Talon unit, but his opponents had come prepared. Each of the four Talons had the strength to fight him one-on-one, and in a four-against-one scenario, the tide quickly turned.
Wounds piled up on Cobb's body, and his limbs grew weak.
Clang!
His short sword was knocked away. The staggering Cobb was kicked to the ground. Two Talons immediately rushed forward, stabbing their swords toward his heart. William rolled backward, grabbing a handful of sand and throwing it into their eyes.
The two Talons quickly raised their hands to shield their faces.
William Cobb seized the opportunity to attack, swinging his sword straight at one Talon's neck. The Talon's weakness was the head; cutting it off meant death.
The blade sliced through the air, but was blocked by another sword with a loud clang.
Pshh!
Another Talon attacked from the side, its blade passing through Cobb's back and piercing his spine.
Blood jetted out like a fountain. William's vision went blank. For a moment, he lost control of his body. The four Talons struck ruthlessly, hacking him more than a dozen times. The final blow was plunged into his throat, nearly severing his neck.
Dick, witnessing this, couldn't help but scream. He quickly covered his mouth, but was heard.
One Talon looked in his direction. Dick knew he was in danger, turned his head, and ran.
The four Talons exchanged glances. One Talon went in pursuit, while the others remained, grabbing William Cobb by the hair and lifting him halfway up. They then brought a sword down, decapitating him.
The headless body fell to the ground, blood spurting from the neck and seeping into the sand.
Born in the early 20th century and with countless lives on his hands, William Cobb died here. His corpse lay by the sea, and his head became a trophy.
With the mission complete, the three Talons turned and left. None of them worried about their colleague; how could a mere child possibly escape a Talon's pursuit?
Batman to the Rescue
Dick ran desperately, channeling all his energy into his legs, urging them forward.
He couldn't understand why those people were fighting. It was horrifying. They weren't human; they were like monsters.
And the envelope—it contained a bank card and an address, seemingly prepared just for him. Why would that man do that? Who was he? Why did he look so much like his father?
Could he be his grandfather? No, his grandfather had died a long time ago; he had even visited his grave. If not his grandfather, then who?
Whoosh!
A slicing sound came toward him rapidly. Dick quickly twisted his body, but a throwing knife still struck his thigh. He screamed, falling to the ground.
A dark shadow rushed toward him from behind, exuding a dense aura of death.
No. I haven't even avenged my parents yet. I can't die here.
Dick gritted his teeth, stood up despite the intense pain, clenched his fists, and stared defiantly at the rapidly approaching killer. The courage he displayed in that moment was admirable, but a Talon was not a person—it was merely a puppet following orders. The killer pulled out its short sword, its face expressionless as it confronted the barely-standing boy.
The smell of blood filled the air!
Dick roared like a cornered beast making a final charge, rushing forward.
The short sword sliced through the air...
Clang!
The Talon's expression instantly changed. Before it could react, a heavy blow struck its abdomen, sending it flying backward.
A tall figure appeared in front of Dick, solid and imposing like a mountain. Seeing the devil-like cowl, the boy cried out in delight,
"Batman!"
Bruce said grimly, "Get behind the building."
"I know! Be careful. He's very strong, like an immortal!" Dick limped backward, clutching his right leg.
Bruce stared coldly ahead.
"Are you... a Talon?"
The only reply was a cold, merciless thrust of the short sword. Bruce raised his arms, and metal blades sprung from his gauntlets. He clashed with his opponent.
The Talon was agile, strong, and possessed the most professional killing skills. Such skills were extremely dangerous to ordinary people, but insufficient against a master like Bruce. In just half a minute, Bruce pinpointed his opponent's weakness. He shattered the Falcon Mask with a palm strike, followed up with his left leg, and tightly curled his right hand.
Boom!
A heavy, powerful punch sent the Talon flying several meters away.
Blood foamed at the Talon's mouth, clearly indicating severe internal damage. The shattered mask was even more problematic. Feeling the cool air on its face, the Talon's expression became bizarre—just like William Cobb's when his mask was broken: confusion, bewilderment, panic, fear, and unease.
The Talon immediately scrambled up and fled without looking back.
Bruce clenched his fist, ultimately holding back. He turned and walked toward Dick.
"Are you Dick Grayson?"
"Yes, sir. I'm Dick Grayson. I... I..."
"How's your leg?"
"I'm fine. It'll be better soon." Dick forced a smile to show he was okay, but his face was ashen.
Bruce was silent for a moment, then said slowly,
"I'll take you to get treated."
Bruce called the Batmobile, used the onboard medical supplies to give Dick basic treatment, and then returned to the pier alone.
There were over a dozen bodies scattered near the pier, one headless corpse standing out clearly.
Bruce stood before the body, his eyes full of confusion.
"Why did he die here?"
"Why didn't Luke Shaw show up?"
"Was I wrong?"
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