Bruce Wayne felt as though he had drifted through a long and harrowing dream—one filled with shadow and fire.
In that nightmare, Earth—Blue Star, as some now called it—had been invaded by a terrifying alien force. They had come searching for the Mother Boxes: ancient, cosmic relics capable of terraforming and obliterating planets. Bruce had spent every waking moment assembling Earth's finest warriors, desperately trying to resist the impending annihilation.
But the tide turned dark when Superman—Clark Kent, his old friend and the world's greatest protector—was taken by the enemy. Controlled. Corrupted.
Even with allies like Diana, Arthur, Victor, and Barry, their resistance crumbled before the immense power of a mind-broken Kryptonian. Each battle ended in disaster, the Justice League falling one by one under the weight of tragedy. Bruce remembered the worst of it: standing against Superman alone, with only desperation and a rebuilt kryptonite weapon as his last hope.
It wasn't enough.
In that final moment, as a blistering beam of heat vision tore toward him, Bruce barely recalled the sound of Diana's shield intercepting the blast. The agony in his chest had been real. The searing pain. The smell of scorched flesh. The unbearable weight of failure.
Then came the darkness.
The deepest he'd ever known.
For a man who'd been broken, stitched, stabbed, and burned countless times over a lifetime of war in Gotham, this was different. This wasn't the pain of survival—it was the threshold of death.
And yet...
Somewhere in that abyss, something touched him. Cool, then warm—like a gentle tide washing away agony. A strange current of life began to pulse through his shattered frame. The darkness gave way to light, and with it, sound.
Voices. Familiar ones.
Diana. Victor. Arthur. Alfred.
And... a stranger.
The name echoed in his mind—Lin Feng. The one who had arrived at their lowest moment. The one who wasn't just powerful but different—Kryptonian, like Clark. Yet something else entirely.
Bruce's senses returned gradually. The warm current continued flowing through him, mending sinew and bone, stitching together flesh that should never have healed. As awareness crept in, so did purpose.
Blue Star still needed him. This wasn't over.
He tried to speak, to open his eyes, but his body betrayed him. His chest still itched faintly where he had been hit. Pain, yes—but also healing. A foreign yet welcome sensation.
After what felt like an eternity, Bruce finally forced his eyelids open.
White ceiling tiles. Dim fluorescent lights. The sterile scent of antiseptic.
He blinked, slowly turning his head. The sight he beheld next brought a quiet peace to his recovering heart—Alfred, his most loyal companion, sitting at his bedside.
"A-Alfred..." he rasped, barely louder than a whisper.
The old butler didn't hear at first, lost in thought.
"Alfred!" Bruce managed with more strength. "Help me up."
Alfred gasped, eyes wide. "Good heavens! Master Bruce—you're awake!"
With gentle care, he helped Bruce sit upright, a tremble of emotion in his usually composed voice. "Thank the stars… you've come back to us."
Almost immediately, the others in the room rushed to his side—Diana, Victor, Arthur, and the stranger with black hair and dark eyes. Bruce knew without a doubt who that last man was.
"Hello, Bruce," the stranger greeted with calm warmth.
"You're Lin Feng," Bruce said, voice steadying. "Thank you—for the miracle you brought."
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow, a trace of curiosity playing across his face. "Oh? You remember me?"
"I couldn't speak or move... but I heard everything while you were treating me," Bruce explained. "I just couldn't wake up."
Diana's brows furrowed, but she said nothing, silently marveling at Bruce's resilience.
"Remarkable," Lin Feng murmured.
Alfred leaned forward. "Master Bruce, how do you feel? Truly?"
Bruce scanned his body, rotating his shoulders, flexing his fingers, before glancing down at his chest. There wasn't even a scar.
"I'm tired," he admitted, "but the wound is gone. Completely."
He placed a hand over where the searing heat ray had nearly ended him.
"It's a miraculous potion…" he muttered in awe.
Diana smiled softly. "Things just got better with you awake, Bruce. And with Lin Feng's help, we may finally stand a chance."
But the urgency in her eyes betrayed the heavy burden still resting on them all.
Superman—that Superman—was out there, hunting Barry. Time was running out.
Bruce's expression turned grim, returning to full strategist mode. "We can't waste any more time."
The others straightened, understanding what that meant.
"Victor," Bruce turned, "can we contact Barry?"
Victor nodded. "Yes. The tracker you gave him—it's active and has communication capabilities."
Bruce exhaled in relief. "Good. Keep the line open."
Then he turned to Arthur, his gaze falling on the Atlantean's heavily bandaged arm. "What about you? Still fit for combat?"
Arthur's mouth curled into a defiant grin. "Of course I am."
He tried lifting his arm—and winced. The muscles refused to cooperate.
A few in the room couldn't help but shake their heads. Even Arthur had to chuckle through the pain.
Before anyone could speak, Lin Feng stepped forward. He reached into his coat and tossed a small green vial to Arthur.
"Two drops," he said, tone firm. "No more. This stuff isn't just powerful—it's expensive."
Arthur caught the vial, eyes widening. "Thanks."
He didn't hesitate. Stripping the bandage away, he revealed a grotesque wound radiating a black-red glow. It pulsed with corruption, the sight making even Victor wince.
Arthur carefully administered two glowing drops of the liquid.
The moment the potion made contact with the wound, a faint hissing sound emerged—like steam escaping a kettle. The corrupted light sizzled and vanished, the flesh beneath gradually knitting itself together, vibrant and clean.
Within moments, the injury disappeared completely.
Arthur rolled his shoulder and raised his arm effortlessly. "Healed."
"Unbelievable…" Diana whispered.
Bruce nodded with respect, now fully understanding the magnitude of Lin Feng's power—and generosity.
"You saved us again," he said, meeting Lin Feng's gaze. "Thank you."
Lin Feng merely nodded. "We're all fighting for the same world."
There was no doubt now—he wasn't just a visitor. He was an ally. A hero.
---
Chapter 29: Barry's Situation, Pre-Battle Conversation
The door opened as Alfred returned, this time with a tray of warm food—nutritious, comforting, and carefully prepared. The tension lifted slightly as the scent of fresh bread and broth filled the room.
Bruce had barely eaten in days. The moment the tray touched the table, he dove in with practiced restraint, savoring every bite.
The others didn't wait either. For the first time in what felt like forever, they shared a moment of peace.
Lin Feng pulled out two elegant bottles filled with a glowing amber liquid.
"From the Tree of Life," he said, handing them out. "Restores energy, clears fatigue. Drink sparingly."
They clinked bottles in quiet camaraderie.
No one questioned Lin Feng's seemingly endless supply of miracles anymore. They had seen enough.
And yet, none of them forgot the reality outside those walls.
On the other side of the world, Barry Allen—The Flash—was still running for his life.
Through deserted cities, across mountain ranges, over endless oceans—he blurred through time and space using the Speed Force to stay just ahead of death.
More than once, he'd felt Superman closing in, the unmistakable ripple of air pressure behind him. Each time, he had barely escaped. The last time, he'd seen Clark's face—rage, confusion, and something inhuman staring back.
Barry's legs burned. His heart hammered. His mind frayed at the edges of panic.
Keep moving. Don't stop. Don't let him find the box.
He found temporary shelter in a half-destroyed basement in Istanbul, where thick lead panels from a collapsed hospital gave him brief cover from Clark's X-ray vision. Collapsing to the floor, Barry finally allowed himself to breathe.
His arms tightened around the final Mother Box.
"I really hope Bruce is up by now," he whispered into the dimness. "Because I don't think I can keep this up much longer…"
The air was heavy with dust. Silence filled the room—except for the frantic beat of his heart.
Unseen to him, halfway across the world, the light had returned to Bruce Wayne's eyes.
The fight wasn't over.
It was just beginning.