Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 43: Ch.42 Nanda Parbat

Cindy and Su Ming were merely speculating. Without any concrete clues, guessing aimlessly wouldn't lead to any conclusions and would only waste time.

He called the three others inside, asking Barbara to continue working, then turned to Cindy and said:

"We've been delayed here by all sorts of things, but it's clear these creatures weren't meant for the League of Shadows. If they can't stop us, they certainly won't stop Ra's al Ghul."

"Exactly. So I think his real intention is to lure Ra's al Ghul into Gotham and ambush him along the way, probably using large-scale weapons. And being underground here is actually safer," Cindy deduced, also arriving at a similar conclusion regarding Falcone's plan.

"So, in a way, he kidnapped Gordon to protect him."

"Who knows what he's thinking, and I don't care. You need something from Gordon, so we'll get him. He took Gordon, so he's the enemy," Cindy said indifferently. All she cared about was the information Gordon had on Batman; the rest didn't interest her.

Barbara was busy hacking the door, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "I don't know about protecting anyone, but his men did kill a lot of people at the police station. That doesn't sound like a good deed. He definitely has his own agenda."

Su Ming and Cindy exchanged glances, surprised that Barbara could see the situation from that angle. Although it was just a guess, it was a better deduction than before.

"Good. Whatever his plan is, we won't let him succeed. Gordon has to be with us," Su Ming said as he adjusted his strap and took the shotgun in hand, uncertain of what they might encounter next.

After some thought, he decided to test his lucky charm. He called Vicki over.

"Vicki, do you have enough material for your news report?"

"Hmm, almost. But I'd really like to find the Roman himself and do an exclusive interview," Vicki replied with a smile. The various monsters had been novel at first, but now they seemed mundane. Viewers would get tired of them, too. All she needed now was to find the main villain and wrap up the story, then she could go home.

"Good enough. Barbara, can you open the door?" Su Ming tapped the armrest of Barbara's wheelchair, signaling that it was time.

The door opened, revealing the stairwell and elevator leading to the lower levels.

It was as if luck itself was guiding them!

If luck weren't such an intangible and unpredictable thing, Su Ming would have considered finding a way back to the main world and leaving the matters of Earth-11 to Vicki.

But given her craziness, she'd probably end up doing an exclusive interview with Barbatos himself and then filming his destruction of the world, wouldn't she? The fate of the Earth wasn't as important to her as getting her story. As for where the finished news would be broadcast, a madwoman like her wouldn't care about such trivial details.

There was no way Su Ming could let her find out about this major event.

Thousands of kilometers away from Gotham, amidst a land of ice and snow, stood a strange complex built on the sheer cliffs of a snowy mountain. This place was an eclectic mix of architectural styles from around the world: Middle Eastern battlements, long connecting corridors reminiscent of Chinese gardens, and Gothic spires alongside Japanese-style courtyards, all surrounding a grand castle perched on the precipice like a jewel embedded in the mountain.

This was the headquarters of the League of Assassins, Nanda Parbat.

Few knew of this place apart from the assassins themselves. Nanda Parbat was perpetually covered in snow, and its inhabitants led simple, peaceful lives—honing their skills, striving for greater heights, and killing their targets.

From here, they spread out across the world to eliminate their targets or die trying.

The assassins' actions were always for money, but gathering wealth served a grander purpose:

To destroy this world! To overthrow the rule of the Amazons completely!

Ra's al Ghul had lived for over 800 years, a time before the Amazons unified the world. Born in the Middle East, he never believed that women had any right to rule the world. To him, they were merely slaves and appendages, meant to bow down to men.

Indeed, this world had many powerful women, some of whom could easily overpower him with one hand. But Ra's al Ghul never acknowledged them.

No matter how strong they were, they were still women, and thus weak.

Why were they weak?

He didn't know, but they just were. Don't ask him why; they were just weak!

No one knew what had happened to him in the past, but everyone knew he was an extreme and obsessive misogynist, making him a notorious lunatic.

About eight years ago, while plotting the world's destruction from the shadows, Ra's al Ghul heard of a masked figure in Gotham, someone powerful and extraordinarily clever.

He was intrigued and planned to recruit this person into the League of Assassins.

But it turned out to be a woman who had no sense of her own weakness. Not only did she refuse to submit to him, but she also claimed Gotham as her city and told him to get lost.

No one had ever spoken to the Demon's Head like that. So he decided to destroy this weakling's city, to cleanse the world of its greatest filth.

But...

The League of Assassins, mobilizing in full force, was repelled by this bizarre woman in a bat costume through various means. Over the years, several attempts were made, all ending in failure, leaving him both ashamed and enraged.

Even when facing her himself, he was no match. She seemed to have everything planned out, knowing the city inside and out. He always inexplicably failed due to minor, seemingly insignificant reasons.

And not only that, she was the only woman in the world whom he grudgingly admitted was somewhat worthy.

If Talia weren't his daughter, he would have killed her.

At this moment, the Demon's Head sat cross-legged in the great hall of the League of Assassins. The hall had only three walls, with the fourth side opening onto a broad terrace overlooking the surrounding mountains. Snowflakes danced in the howling wind as he warmed his hands by the fire, gazing at the towering, ice-capped peaks in the distance.

The hall was filled with the calming scent of incense, thin trails of smoke curling around the antique eaves and pillars. He appeared serene, silently waiting.

Talia knelt beside him, preparing tea with a bamboo whisk. She spread the green tea powder into the bowl with a long, slender scoop, poured in hot water, and gently stirred it with the whisk.

She knew Ra's al Ghul liked tea. The Amazons had only unified the world six or seven centuries ago. Before that, there were countless nations with their own cultures, many of which still persisted today.

In his youth, he had traveled to Asia, where he studied martial arts and, of course, drank tea. But this place was too remote, and even if the assassins brought back good tea, it was never as fresh as when it was just picked. So it didn't matter what they drank here.

It was in Asia that he learned martial arts and embraced many philosophies. He understood the righteousness of killing and the meaning of honor. He witnessed the destiny of warriors.

But unfortunately, his Middle Eastern beliefs dominated his mind. He was inherently biased, believing that women were inferior to men, refusing to acknowledge any strong female, and turning a blind eye to reality.

This made him radical and extreme.

Talia was different. She, too, had traveled far and wide, retracing her father's path, but she had realized one thing: strength reigns supreme!

Her father's refusal to accept reality had become his inner demon. Unless he overcame it, his combat ability would never improve.

Although the Demon's Head was already one of the world's strongest, known as the greatest swordsman, Talia could clearly sense that he was losing his inner peace.

He was too obsessed with proving that woman was weak, investing too much attention in Gotham.

There weren't many minor jobs in Gotham, because anyone there could suddenly turn into a killer, with small targets mostly handled internally. But there were always large targets that couldn't be dealt with internally, and the League of Assassins had no share in those.

Because of the previous turmoil in Gotham, any assassin from the League who appeared in the city would be found by Batwoman the same night and beaten into unconsciousness with broken bones. How could they compete with others?

It was all Ra's al Ghul's doing. Gotham was a wealthy city, yet the League could only watch enviously as people like Deathstroke, Copperhead, and Deadshot made money there.

The League had only a small outpost in Gotham, where the two or three assassins had to disguise themselves as exotic dancers to gather information. Life was tough.

Batwoman knew Ra's al Ghul's thoughts inside out, as if she had crawled into his head. She deliberately gave the League a feminine name, using her influence to spread it worldwide, infuriating Ra's al Ghul and causing him to lose his composure in battle, leading to his repeated defeats in Gotham.

She named them the League of Shadows, a title that replaced their centuries-old name, the League of Assassins, and spread across the world.

The League of Shadows was the five words Ra's al Ghul hated most. Just hearing them would make him go berserk and kill someone.

Talia often wondered if her father had been possessed by some demonic entity. Because as far as she knew, only a devil from hell would be without a mother or

father. How could someone with a mother believe all women were weak?

Eight hundred years ago, when there was virtually no medicine, anyone daring to give birth was a true warrior.

But she could only think these things in her heart, never daring to speak them to Ra's al Ghul. She was afraid of him, having lived her whole life in fear of his patriarchal dominance.