Gotham Presbytery.

Roy used the syringe he had with him to draw Joe Chill's blood and put it in his universal belt.

But he also ran out of time. The door that he had bolted on finally broke through, and both panels were blasted open, and the pale patients rushed in, and laughter instantly took over the entire isolation room, enveloping Joe Chill's bed. It was as if all the madmen in the building had been drawn in, and the crowd stretched out into the corridor outside the door, with no end in sight.

The curtain was rudely torn into strips, and the laughing madmen approached the bed. By this time, however, the bedside was empty, except for Joe Chill, who had the same grim smile on his face as everyone else here.

The vents in the ceiling were open, and the pried open ventilation grille lay quietly on the floor, trampled under the feet of a group of sluggish maniacs.

The exit of the ventilation duct is in the room on the next floor. Roy kicked open the ventilation grille with a hard kick, and the ventilation grille, which was given a huge muzzle velocity with a strong kick, shot out like a frisbee and smashed into the back of a madman's head, knocking him unconscious on the spot.

Of course, the commotion inevitably attracted the attention of everyone around them, but before they could see anything, two smoke bombs were thrown out of the ventilation ducts, sending out a thick smoke screen that obscured the entire aisle.

There weren't many smoke bombs left, so we had to save some of them.

The figure of the Winged Knight burst out of the pipe and sank into the smoke screen. I saw the turbid mist being stirred rapidly, the muffled sound of fists hitting the bridge of the nose and endless wild laughter sounded endlessly.

Roy felt a little weaker, and each punch was heavier than the last.

He's been fighting for a long time now, and he doesn't know how many bones his men have broken. Theoretically, he had avoided the largest number of lunatics, but even the road in front of him now seemed to have an unlimited number of people.

Every time you knock down one with a punch, there will always be three or five coming up again, like a tide, with no end at all.

What's even more terrifying is that these madmen are not afraid of pain and death. No, or it would be more accurate to say that there is no such thing as "death" at all.

Roy gritted his teeth and continued to keep going. He didn't just choose an exit, he studied the detailed diagram of the hospital, and from this exit in the ventilation duct was the closest to the window—only about ten paces away. But he didn't expect that these ten steps would be so difficult.

But he had no choice but to grit his teeth.

At this moment, the window of his target suddenly shattered with a "boom", and a black thing blurred by the high speed broke through the window and rushed into the aisle.

"Boom!"

A tank gun. It burst into the aisle savagely, turning into light and heat in an instant. The shrapnel, invisible to the naked eye, quickly dispersed, stabbing the nearest few people into sieves.

The flames ignited, and the flames scurried up to several people, setting them on fire. But it was as if they had lost the ability to feel pain, completely ignoring the flames that spread and robbed them of their life force, and still kept laughing almost madly.

It's the tanks of the military. But at this time, the soldier wearing a military uniform, a steel helmet, and operating a tank gun, had a smile on his face as hideous as everyone nearby.

The first shell fell, and Roy was only slightly affected, not serious. But the two madmen who acted as his shields in front of him were blown to a bloody pulp on the spot, and Roy was blown to the wall behind him.

But two seconds later, the second shot came in again.

The violent explosion was like a thousand needles piercing Roy's eardrum, and the floor of the hallway was blown through like fragile pieces of paper, leaving Roy's feet empty and falling.

He fell heavily on the floor below, and the moment he landed, his brain was a little dizzy. But he didn't have a second to breathe, and before he could focus his eyes, he saw a burning pile of wood falling towards him. He hurriedly rolled on the spot, narrowly avoiding it, a fiery wind falling from his ears, and he could vaguely feel the vibration from the floor beside him.

Even though every cell in the body seems to be protesting, now is not the time to rest. He got up and staggered on his way with one hand on the wall. The general orientation of the tank can be judged from the position of the shelling, and now he is still within the range of that tank, and he must move away as soon as possible

The next shot hit the old hospital.

The floor shook like an earthquake, the ceiling above me cracked at a speed visible to the naked eye, and rubble fell like raindrops. The floor tiles shattered in front of Roy, and the fracture crossed in front of Roy. He took half a step back, but the floor under his feet was tilting down nearly 60 degrees very weakly.

Roy's feet slipped and slid against the shattered floor, a sea of fire beneath him.

With a flick of his hand, the zipline grabbed the crumbling ceiling above, stopping his sliding form.

Roy slowly lowered the zipline and landed gently down to the lower floor, leaning against the wall that hadn't burned down yet. Surrounded by raging fire, he now felt that it was extremely difficult to move a finger. To make matters worse, a shrapnel from a tank gun somehow pierced his armor and cut a vein in his thigh.

Just about three meters away from him, a man lay there, his body almost burned dry and blackened, but his mouth still maintained a strange smile, as if he was laughing at him.

Don't struggle, you'll be just like me soon. It seems to be saying.

Outside the building, the tank pointed at the hospital, and another shell was already brewing, ready to be discharged.

But in the midst of the lightning, the side of the tank was suddenly blasted open by a sudden blow from the sky, and the wave of flames slammed the tank to the ground, turning its tracks weakly like a four-legged turtle, losing its threat.

The Batfighter's motor hummed violently, and the wind from the engine blew the flames violently. The plane slowly descended to the floor where Roy was, and the cabin slid away gently.

Kassandra slickly emerged from the cockpit, slammed through the glass and jumped into the building, quickly finding Roy leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

"Kassan?"

"Shh Kassandra motioned for him not to speak, put his arm on her thin shoulder, and walked toward the plane hovering beside the building. (To be continued.) )