Chapter 194: Little Punk Girl, Queen Of The Madwomen
Courage, benevolence, wisdom, resilience, humility, honesty, tolerance, hope, temperance, justice, loyalty, benevolence—the twelve qualities were gestating under the catalysis of the holy song.
However.
Most great and meaningful things are not accepted by people at the beginning. As the saying goes, one step ahead of the times can be called breathtaking and genius.
But if too far ahead of the times, few people can understand. Ian was like Tesla, Mendel, Rosalind Franklin, or Mary Anning and Alan Turing.
Clark Kent was one of the “mortals,” and upon hearing the holy song, he instantly froze in place, his expression completely solidified on his sculpturally perfect face.
He finally understood why Bruce was sweating profusely and why his expression was so strange. So this was what Ian meant by redemption and male mom!
“Twelve melons on one vine… not afraid of wind or rain, la la la~”
That ethereal and holy “holy song” kept drilling into his ears, and Clark felt that his super brain and super hearing, for the first time, had a strong desire to crash voluntarily.
This song was like the most stubborn brainwashing virus, directly pouring into the depths of his mind through Clark’s super hearing, and the God of Man’s expression gradually became uncontrolled.
Hmm.
No doubt, it was mental pollution.
On the God of Man’s face, from forehead to chin, every muscle was undergoing an extremely complex, extremely violent, completely uncontrollable twitch.
He even subconsciously covered his ears, even though it was meaningless for his hearing that could monitor the world.
“Ugh…”
Clark let out a pained grunt, feeling his heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys all trembling for it.
Injustice Superman, lying on the examination bed, felt his heart sink upon seeing this, half chilled. Even the Superman of this universe showed such an expression—what the hell was in his belly?!
He couldn’t lie still anymore, abruptly sitting up from the examination bed, snatching the anti-eavesdropping headphones still in Batman’s hand, and clumsily putting them on his head.
The next moment.
The song entered his ears.
The “holy song,” amplified through the headphones, even clearer, more three-dimensional, and more magically penetrating, exploded directly on Injustice Superman’s eardrums, which were full of rejection!
“This!!!!”
Injustice Superman was struck as if by lightning, abruptly stiffening in place!
On his already haggard face from various blows, all color instantly drained away, leaving only an extreme despair and world-weariness, as if he had seen the ultimate truth of the universe.
Sure enough, this parallel universe’s Superman stiffly, like a rusty robot, inch by inch turned his head, his hollow eyes dead fixed on the Clark Kent beside him.
This universe’s Clark, for the first time, when facing another self’s gaze, didn’t dare to meet it, subconsciously averting his own sight and gaze guiltily.
As if the son’s sins, the father must bear half.
“This won’t do!” Injustice Superman’s voice was dry like sandpaper friction, every word filled with blood-tear-like accusation, “This absolutely won’t do!!!”
He abruptly yanked off the headphones, like throwing away a red-hot branding iron, roaring at Batman.
“Get this thing out of my belly! Remove it! Bruce! Wayne! Whatever method! Get it out of me! I’ll do anything!”
Perhaps Injustice Superman’s world’s Bruce Wayne was long gone, but Superman’s path-dependent instinct to seek Batman when in trouble was engraved in every Superman’s body DNA.
His voice was near collapse, carrying a desperate madness. For a former iron-fisted ruler to utter pleas showed the immense mental shock he suffered.
“Batman can’t solve everything…” Bruce Wayne’s voice rarely lacked confidence; he at least appeared expressionless as he gazed at the scrolling data stream on the main control screen.
“According to the scan results, those twelve energy aggregates have taken initial form. They are deeply bound to your vital signs, and…”
Bruce Wayne’s voice paused.
His tone became even heavier, even carrying a trace of powerlessness he himself hadn’t noticed.
“Implanted with an extremely powerful【anti-removal protocol】. This protocol is not just a simple technical gene lock, but more like a conceptual safeguard mixed from higher heaven laws and some chaos logic—with justice and benevolence in name, hard to crack, and the consequence of forced separation is to suffer justice’s sanction.”
Bruce didn’t specify what kind of justice sanction, perhaps he didn’t dare dwell on it fearing sleepless nights, his words slightly vague.
He felt incomparable thorniness once again.
“Really impossible? I don’t believe you can’t do it.” Injustice Superman still quite believed in Batmen from various universes, especially this special universe’s Batman who surely had great skills.
“Don’t ask me, the embryos have formed, and I have a no-kill principle.” Batman’s tone restored absolute rationality, as if stating a law of physics. He was now even more firm in his【no-kill principle】; now wasn’t there a payoff? He had long known this principle would be useful at key moments.
“…”
Injustice Superman was numb.
Completely slumped on the examination bed.
Eyes despondent.
As if he had already seen his unspeakable future.
Seeing Injustice Superman’s world-weary look, Batman was silent for a moment, then his white eyepieces turned to Clark beside him, who also looked ashamed.
“This is your family matter, Clark.”
Batman’s voice showed no emotion, but the intent to pass the buck was obvious, “The ‘bond’ your son created should be your responsibility to communicate and resolve.”
He really could only think of this solution.
“?????” Clark looked at Bruce incredulously, as if saying, “You’re actually throwing this hot potato to me?!”
To have him communicate with Ian—he believed Ian would definitely give him another lesson; just thinking of that scene made Clark feel his super brain overheating and crashing!
“Well, this…”
Clark opened his mouth, finding any language pale and powerless at this moment. He subconsciously turned his head, his gaze as if penetrating layers of steel and concrete toward Metropolis.
The invincible old father’s super vision instantly locked onto a middle school.
In the classroom, Ian Kent was obediently sitting in his seat, and for the moment, no reason to make trouble could be found. In the old father’s eyes, Ian looked much younger.
This was parents’ filter.
In Clark’s heart.
Ian was still that toddler of a few years old, wearing split pants, toddling in the house, waddling, every step careful yet full of longing to explore the world.
“This actually… perhaps isn’t a bad thing, after all, it hasn’t hurt anyone.” Bruce Wayne stroked his chin and spoke gravely at this time.
“Hurt who????”
Injustice Superman knew he was in Gotham now.
But he didn’t come to Gotham to be the new Joker!
…
Metropolis Middle School.
Ian was indeed sitting very obediently.
But only in terms of sitting posture.
Other aspects weren’t so obedient, especially his mouth—Ian’s mouth was the kind that couldn’t stop, so perhaps the mouth was Ian’s true body.
“Classmate! I know your club is the Deadpool Society, with uniform temptations, European and American selections, and Japanese and Korean styles, but your understanding of Batman is way off!” Ian Kent sat at the desk, his finger joints tapping the surface, making aggressive light sounds, completely in the demeanor of a veteran mentor.
He looked heartbroken as he ideologically educated his classmate.
A skinny boy was trembling, wearing a “Batman” battle suit barely pieced together from cheap black glossy fabric and cardboard, the hood even more crude—a black corrugated paper hood with two eye holes, wrapping his entire head tightly, looking like an amateur robber ready to hit a bank.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm for Gotham City’s nighttime security, but this all-black getup is fundamentally wrong! Totally wrong!”
No one understood playing Batman better than Ian, because the Batman he played, crawling darkly on the ground, still hadn’t been questioned much as not the real Batman.
“But, Batman… isn’t he all black?” The boy timidly retorted; even as a classmate, he had some awe for the school’s supreme overlord.
“Superficial! Only skin deep!” Ian slammed the table, startling the boy into a shudder: “Do you think you can see through Batman’s uniform aesthetics and survival philosophy at a glance? Tell me, why does he only cover the upper half of his face? Why deliberately expose that angular chin and sexy lips? Hmm?”
“Answer me?”
Ian’s tone was passionate.
The boy was stumped, shaking his head blankly.
“I knew you couldn’t answer—this is called advanced implication!” Ian raised a finger, as if imparting a little-known truth in the DC universe.
“Cover the eyes, maintain mystery and oppression, let criminals guess who he is, where he comes from. But expose the chin—especially that obviously white, well-maintained, even punchable chin.”
“Who do you think this is signaling to?” Ian had long learned how to teach others, so he now used the method of gradual inducement from life experience.
“To Gotham’s【nan gong】 fans who like that chin?” The boy had tried his best to think, but he was after all just an ordinary public school student.
Limited imagination.
Good thing Batman didn’t have Superman’s hearing, or while answering this, on the other side, his old dad and mom could start packing to be fired by the company.
“That’s an alternative answer, not bad for grade six, but your ideological maturity is still a bit short of mine, the top of the grade—don’t block the sunlight, I need to smirk.” Ian scanned the surrounding classmates perking ears to eavesdrop, giving the truly reasonable and irrefutable answer.
“Batman doesn’t dare cover his whole face; the real reason is bats are black, but Batman can’t really be black, or Gotham police biubiubiu-ing you might be more zealous than villains.” Ian didn’t dare reveal too many heavenly secrets to classmates in this place where even teachers declared gender freedom.
“So, classmate, take my advice, modify this crappy hood. At least expose the chin and mouth, better yet rub on some foundation to look more purely white.”
Ian wasn’t unwilling to give the male classmate a name; mainly he really didn’t remember this male classmate’s name, so he could only wrong him to stay at the male classmate level.
He gave his final summary, patted the boy’s shoulder; the boy hugged his now worthless hood, thoroughly falling into deep self-doubt and confusion.
Young students who haven’t entered society are indeed inexperienced.
After outputting a bout of “survival philosophy,” Ian looked at the boy hugging the hood in contemplation and existential doubt, satisfactorily clapped his hands, as if just completing a public teaching service. He stood up, naturally walking toward the classroom door, steps dashing, even with a T-stage model vibe.
But after a few steps, he suddenly paused, a bit inexplicably wondering why he was walking out of the classroom; perhaps because this posing was too cool, naturally following the flow.
“Hmm, probably because the speech was too cool, needs space for the coolness to flow.” To not seem abrupt, he turned into the restroom at the corridor end, pretending to use the restroom, then sauntered back to the classroom. Actually wanted to go for real, but who let a【mysterious gender】 classmate who thought he was male stand inside peeing.
“Sigh, my beloved Amerikka.” Returning to his seat, Ian found the “corrugated paper Batman” gone, probably hiding in some corner to modify his uniform.
“Family, brush some gifts.”
“Wow, it’s Dream Castle, this operation is too strong! Family, top【good brother, lifelong】 big shot awesome to the public screen top!”
“This gift is too precious, I’m a bit embarrassed, but really super touched! So much face! As long as you’re not Lucifer, I love you!”
…
Someone in the classroom was watching a live stream on their mobile phone. As Ian sat down, his gaze was drawn to the female classmate’s mobile phone screen in the front row. The screen was playing an extremely popular live stream.
The streamer had brilliant long hair as if flowing with molten gold, a face exquisitely perfect beyond mortal, singing and dancing, dressed in a way that didn’t treat the audience lords as outsiders at all.
This was exactly Archangel Michael, now calling herself Mi Jiale, recently obsessed with her streaming career, and with her impeccable looks after self-defining as a girl, holy temperament, and precise “edge-brushing” art, she quickly became a top internet celebrity. The Archangel finally proved she excelled at whatever she did.
“Oh ho~” Ian whistled silently, stretching his neck, almost resting his chin on the front row female classmate’s chair back.
“What a good streamer, good streamer… with edge-brushing, he, no, she really brushes hard, grasping the boundary of holy and desire perfectly!”
He noticed in the live interface, Mi Jiale was doing live stream scams with an innocent expression.
“Look, she’s crying! So pitiful! Pity her! Brush some! Quick, gift to comfort!” Ian immediately elbowed the front row female classmate’s back.
He knew this female classmate unwilling to reveal her surname wasn’t just a female classmate, but the kind where the【tong】 character could be doubled as a contemporary not-rare orientation enthusiast.
“Aiya, my pocket money is running low, lately don’t know why, can’t keep up, so many pretty misses in streaming.”
Classmate Lena’s face reddened, clearly hit on the mark, her finger hesitated. Looking at Mi Jiale’s “fragile” yet “strong” look on screen, she finally couldn’t hold back, finger tapped—【User “Lena_L” gifted “Jiale Angel” 50 US dollars “Holy Light Shine” gift!】
The live stream room instantly burst with gorgeous effects, Mi Jiale broke into a smile, Archangel-level acting flawless, even blowing a kiss, equivalent to another 49 US dollars into Ian’s account.
Ian felt good.
Re-gluing his butt to his cold student chair. Platform and union cuts? Nonexistent, Ian was the biggest union, and the platform was one Ian made.
Full industry chain was like this.
Ian’s butt just re-touched the chair, not yet settled, about to take out his phone to check his balance, when it could match most people’s social security numbers in length.
Suddenly.
A cool hand reached from behind, gently covering Ian’s eyes. Then, a deliberately pinched throat voice trying to sound sweet but a bit contrived rang in his ear.
“Guess who I am~?”
Ian was too lazy to identify the voice’s owner. For such sudden attacks, from childhood to now, he had a mature and efficient coping process.
“Unless you’re a Pokémon, I won’t be surprised at all.” Ian didn’t hesitate. Lightning fast, from some dimensional pocket, he pulled out a grayish, dirty-looking sack, motion practiced, without looking hooded it behind his head!
“Mm?!”
A short exclamation rose, the sack precisely covering the head of the person behind, and by inertia, pulling their upper body forward.
The whole class was unfazed.
Everyone busy with their own.
…
Ding dong~ Ding dong~
The pre-class bell rang.
Classmates returned to seats.
Then, this year’s rehired physics teacher Edward Robert, an old man with white hair and thick glasses, strode in spiritedly hugging his lesson plan.
He spotted at first glance the extremely discordant scene in the back row: As Ian’s little simp, Emily was a classmate with her own name, even the teacher saw her upon entering. At this moment, Emily was fumbling to yank a dirty sack off her head, hair disheveled.
“Em… Emily classmate?”
The physics teacher adjusted his glasses, surprised at the girl who finally pulled off the sack revealing her face, “What’s with your face?”
Sure enough, Emily, Ian’s number one little simp, a girl famous school-wide for exquisite makeup and persistent pursuit, now had her beauty marred tasting the bitterness of knowing makeup. Her carefully drawn eyeliner smudged into panda eyes, foundation and blush mixed into weird patches from sack friction.
Even her lipsticks smeared to cheeks, whole face looking like just spun in a washing machine, or splashed with strong makeup remover.
The whole class still unfazed.
Emily’s face instantly flushed hot.
But she forced a smile uglier than crying, fumbling to fix hair and clothes, responding to the teacher in as calm a tone as possible.
“N-nothing, teacher… just… um… boys out and about take extra protection for themselves.” She repeated Ian’s words with a woeful face.
“????”
The physics teacher was baffled for over ten seconds—boys? Protecting himself? Looking at Emily’s obviously female attire and figure, his head was full of question marks.
Of course, in this era, he didn’t dare assume students’ genders casually, just awkwardly coughed twice, euphemistically expressing hypocritical concern for the student.
“Uh… alright. Emily classmate, if… if needed, you can go to the restroom after class to fix up. Now let’s start class.”
The physics teacher began flipping his lesson plan.
Emily still sighing.
“Final exams are coming, everyone try a few minutes at least.” After confirming lesson plan content, the physics teacher began explaining today’s course.
About electromagnetic induction and Lenz’s law.
The class gradually restored order.
Only chalk on blackboard and teacher’s steady lecture.
However, Emily clearly had no mind for class. She sneaked out a small mirror, looking at the horrific face in it, eyes full of unyielding tenacity.
Her powerful self-consolation kicked in.
“No problem, Emily.” She told herself inwardly, “This looks like licked by a dog… but from another angle, isn’t this equivalent to Ian being my simp for once? He licked with a sack! Yes! Rounded up, he kissed my face all over! Loves me to death!”
Not unworthy of Ian’s little simp.
Even learned Ian’s rounding method not inferior to any emperor’s law.
Thinking this way, the effect was extraordinarily excellent; Emily self-conquered again, suddenly finding the messy marks on her face much more pleasing.
Even with a weird blush.
And while Emily immersed in her pink fantasy.
“Clang! Bang! Bang!”
Outside the classroom, suddenly came extremely rough, undisguised metal crashes and dismantling sounds! As if someone using large tools violently destroying the classroom door!
Physics teacher’s lecture stopped abruptly, whole class dazedly looking to the classroom door.
Boom!
A loud bang.
That fairly sturdy classroom door, with frame, was forcibly dismantled from outside! Crashed heavily on corridor floor raising dust.
In the swirling dust, a figure appeared.
It was Ian’s always late deskmate.
“????”
“!!!!!”
Whole class looked at the belated Madison.
Her hair messy, school uniform askew, like living in pre-class time, directly ignoring the physics teacher stiff and unsure on the podium, the little punk girl alone hugging a huge stone chair swaggered in from the dismantled door.
Whole class silent.
All watching Madison hug the stone chair several times her size with peacock pride.
“No… Miss Madison Montgomery, you… is this science?” Physics teacher’s chalk “patta” dropped to the ground.
No one minded the physics teacher who believed in physics his whole life, now seeming pitiful. Madison carried the extremely heavy stone chair carved with ancient intricate patterns to Ian’s side.
Like offering treasure.
Staring straight at Ian.
In a “praise me quick” meritorious tone “whispering.”
“Ian! Look! That old stone mason had a sale, ‘buy ten thousand stone tablets get luxury gift’! I specially had him carve you the most imposing style from the brochure into a student chair!”
“You always say your chair isn’t comfy enough; this one has seat heating and ventilation, nice huh!” Madison said, about to replace Ian’s student chair.
She was well-mannered; after swapping Ian’s chair, under physics teacher and classmates’ dazed gazes, she dashed back to the door.
Little punk girl picked up the violently removed door panel, muttering “screws… where are the screws…”, then like assembling Lego tried shoving the door panel onto the empty frame.
Trying to restore the crime scene.
“!!!!!”
Ian like other classmates was dazed, with some horror—that stone chair Madison held, he had seen before—when saving the world in heaven, Ian had seen it.
Yes, the one he blew away with an Ott bomb looked just like this.
“…” Ian recalled last meeting Madison, her eager to carve【God is dead, Ian shall stand】 stone tablet.
“No! Where’d you find that old stone mason!”
Ian no longer minded teacher and classmates’ strange stares.
His scalp now tingled.
Tingling like the Native Americans of yore.
