Chapter 109: Status Elevated! Igniting Heaven? [8k]
The brave enjoy the world first.
As the Son of Superman, Ian lacks nothing but courage.
Courageous Ian.
Not afraid of getting beaten.
He just wants to hear Morpheus call him Father. This is a pure and simple wish. Ian heard Miss Death say that Morpheus always knows how to repay kindness.
Miss Death is the second sister of the Endless Family.
She definitely wouldn’t lie.
Moreover, Miss Death also agreed to let Morpheus call him Father—the agreement with Miss Death is still fresh in his mind, and Ian obviously has his own understanding of her response.
“……”
A subtle silence filled the Hellcat’s cabin.
The Hellcat’s radio was silent.
It, like the Demon Head, didn’t dare make a sound now. There are many bold demons in Hell, but few are bold to this extent.
As expected.
Ian God, boundless future.
“Are you taking advantage of me?”
Morpheus’s pale face was full of confusion. Faced with Ian claiming to be his father, Morpheus naturally wouldn’t believe it—after all, no normal person could fail to notice the problem.
“I’m amnesiac, not an idiot.” Morpheus pointed at the rearview mirror ahead with his pale, tender fingers. He could see his slender figure in the rearview mirror.
“You and this girl are at most sixteen or seventeen years old. How could you possibly be my parents?” Morpheus’s logical judgment and reasoning abilities weren’t affected by his amnesia. His gaze turned to Madison curled up in the passenger seat, who was unconsciously making long, kitten-like breathing sounds.
“She’s not your mother.”
Ian quickly grabbed a black cloth and covered Madison completely. “She’s just a pitiful person I picked up on the road. I often pick up such pitiful people when I’m out.”
Hearing this.
Morpheus was slightly stunned.
“So, am I also a… pitiful person you picked up on the road?” His tone carried some uncertainty as he asked, thoughtfully looking at the now-covered Madison.
“I just look young. In reality, my age isn’t young at all.” Ian didn’t answer, merely emphasizing the fact that though his body is small, his soul is not.
“You’re telling the truth.”
Morpheus was somewhat surprised.
“Of course I’m telling the truth. Here’s the thing—do you know Dreamland?” Ian had prepared two plans. If caught, he’d say it was to stimulate Morpheus’s spirit.
To awaken Morpheus’s memory with strong stimulation, of course he could gain another favor. As for not getting caught… no excuse needed if not caught.
Ian would profit no matter what.
“Dreamland?” Morpheus clutched his head and shook it. Unfortunately, the memories in his mind were like tiny fragments, impossible to piece together effectively.
“I remember this name. It’s very important to me.”
It was as if some force had forcibly shattered his memories, and that force was still affecting his memory recovery—perhaps someone didn’t want him to remember something.
Morpheus felt shocked and uncertain inside.
At the same time.
Ian was also observing Morpheus’s reaction through the rearview mirror. He began thinking of a third plan. Even if he couldn’t joyfully become a father, he wanted a place in the dreamscape.
“Important is right. Dreamland is a distant place, and I am the Dream Shadow of Dreamland, the most noble person in all of Dreamland. You are the Dream King I personally appointed.”
Ian had recently taken a course on 《the art of lying》.
Truth and lies need to be mixed together.
The effect was very significant.
Morpheus’s bewildered expression already had a bit of that dazed, unable-to-tell-apart feeling.
“Dream King…” Morpheus murmured to himself. His fragmented memories told him Ian might not be lying, but his intuition felt something was off.
Ian pressed his advantage.
“Think about it: under what circumstances would I make someone a king? Hand an entire country over to that person?” His tone was full of patient persuasion.
“When I’m very important to you?”
Morpheus astutely offered a reasonable guess.
“Yes, exactly. Looks like you get it.”
Ian smiled, patting the steering wheel in the passenger seat—he was unfamiliar with this position, but with two people to care for, he chose to get back in the car.
Facing Ian’s praise.
Morpheus couldn’t help but sigh.
“I feel like you’re scamming me into lameness.” He naturally couldn’t believe Ian was really his father, but everything Ian said felt incredibly familiar.
This was someone who knew him very, very well.
Morpheus judged inwardly.
“Don’t be like that. Just call me Father, and I won’t need you to v me 50, unseal any dream army—I’ll directly help you recover all your lost memories for free.”
Ian still wouldn’t give up.
He just wanted to establish the deepest bond with him.
However.
Morpheus wouldn’t take the bait.
“You’re too young.”
The amnesiac Dream God shook his head.
Black hair swayed by his cheeks.
“Youth isn’t the issue. If you choose to believe, anything is possible—give me a chance!” Ian regretted not studying psychology, that incredibly practical course.
Hearing this.
Morpheus was silent for a long time.
“You’ve already slipped up!” He lifted his bangs, covering his forehead, utterly helpless, unsure how to evaluate the con artist before him. Of course, the amnesiac man was also puzzled why gratitude surged in his heart when this person was trying to trick him into calling him Father.
“I get it. Actually, we’re brothers?”
Morpheus tried hard to make a reasonable guess.
He felt an inexplicable closeness to Ian.
This time.
It was Ian’s turn to be silent for a long time.
“No, I still want to be your father. Your sister promised me.” Overly greedy people are like this—Ian didn’t settle for second best.
His tone was insistent.
“……”
The cabin fell silent again.
Morpheus’s bangs were nearly pulled out by himself.
“I have a sister?”
Morpheus felt the complex information hard to process.
“Yes, you got into trouble, and it was your sister who begged me to rescue you from it.” Ian looked somewhat melancholic because his plan failed.
“Elder sister is like a mother—look how worried she is… Hmm? Elder sister is like a mother? From that angle, we could be brothers, but I have to be the older brother.”
“Elder brother is like a father.”
A flash of inspiration struck his mind.
Another persistent attempt.
Such a tricky angle.
Made Morpheus’s CPU freeze.
He didn’t understand why the boy before him was so obsessed with being his father.
Was this some bet?
Morpheus couldn’t figure it out.
“Give it up. I’ve seen through you.” Morpheus sighed, ultimately not letting Ian have his way. He ruffled his hair and couldn’t help asking.
“You just said I got into trouble. Can you explain that in detail?” Morpheus’s tone carried worry; he always felt he’d forgotten something very important.
“Actually, I’m not too clear either.”
Ian’s tone grew more serious. “Perhaps because you hosted witches from outside Dreamland but missed one, so the uninvited witch holds a grudge?”
His words made Morpheus’s expression quite strange.
“That’s Sleeping Beauty’s story.”
The ancient deity sensed a faintly familiar flavor.
“You don’t seem amnesiac.”
Caught lying, Ian sighed helplessly.
He wasn’t making it up.
It really was something like that. Ian’s knowledge was very limited; he only knew Morpheus had indeed been imprisoned by an evil witch’s spell.
Sandman.
Sleeping Beauty.
All the same.
All fell to a witch’s hand.
No one knows why Morpheus was captured by the Sorceress Supreme.
“Amnesia doesn’t mean I lack common sense.” Morpheus hadn’t recalled much, just instinctively remembering some fragmented information.
“I lost something, my… strength.” This was the only thing Morpheus could recall, though he felt there was something more important he hadn’t remembered.
Very important.
And extremely urgent.
“Supreme Bone extracted—this I know. If you just…” Before Ian finished, Morpheus guessed what he would say and quickly interrupted him.
“No, I absolutely won’t call you that. Give it up.” Morpheus was very cautious. “You’ve conned me this long; at least tell me my name?”
He felt he might recover his lost—or shattered by some force—memories from this. A voice inside urged him to remember everything quickly.
“.”
Ian chose to give up. “I still remember that day, yes, yes, when you were born. The entire forest of Dreamland whispered this name—Morpheus.”
Of course.
He perhaps hadn’t fully given up.
“……”
Morpheus was utterly helpless.
However.
He didn’t argue with Ian, because he knew Ian had told him the truth. Morpheus—this name struck his heart like lightning.
“I…”
When Morpheus heard his name, his head buzzed. Fine sweat beaded on his forehead; his slender fingers unconsciously gripped the genuine leather seat.
Countless memory fragments surged in his mind—star-like brilliant castles, library bookshelves, the sound of raven wings—they were like shattered mirror pieces, impossible to reassemble.
However.
Forewarned, Morpheus still searched diligently, seeking in those flashing fragments to capture the most crucial piece of information he must recall.
Effort pays off.
A broken memory reflected in Morpheus’s eyes. The next moment, his expression turned serious, and he spoke to Ian in a slightly urgent tone.
“You must tell them this information. Due to my lost power, I can’t contact them directly.” Morpheus looked around as if searching for something.
“What information?”
Ian asked curiously.
Morpheus didn’t answer.
His gaze locked on the pen in Ian’s hand.
“Give it to me.”
At this moment, His divinity seemed to take over, his tone carrying a high-cold air. Ian didn’t hesitate, first handing Morpheus a pair of gloves.
“I want pen and paper.”
Morpheus frowned.
“I know what you want, but you might not know I’m a qualified writer, so to borrow my pen, you need to wear a glove.”
“Don’t misunderstand—it’s not that I think your hands are dirty; it’s just that I’m pure love in this regard and don’t like being cucked.” Ian’s serious explanation struck Morpheus like lightning.
He was greatly shocked.
And didn’t know why he was shocked.
“Gulp~”
He swallowed.
Morpheus obediently put on the gloves. He really didn’t want to hear more soul-shaking remarks. “You need to deliver this information to them.”
Saying this.
He took the notebook and pen from Ian and quickly drew on the notebook. “This thing is hidden in a diary and sent to our world.”
“Since it borrowed some seemingly harmless disguise, it’s likely we haven’t noticed it yet.” The nib’s scratching sound on the paper filled the cabin.
Morpheus drew very swiftly.
Such a serious warning.
Made Ian suspect the man had already recovered his memories.
“It’s fine. Draw away—when you finish, your sister should know. She often lurks somewhere, overly shyly peeking at my private life.”
Ian guessed this definitely involved an Outer Universe invasion.
“Hm?”
Morpheus looked at Ian in confusion.
He stopped drawing.
“Done? What did you draw?”
Ian marveled at the other’s hand speed matching his own.
This divine power didn’t seem completely lost.
“Catastrophe.”
Morpheus’s tone was low and slow.
“It may be very weak now, but it will eventually absorb our nutrients and grow powerful.” He seriously warned, handing the notebook back to Ian.
“Sounds pretty scary.”
Ian hadn’t looked yet.
When he saw Morpheus open the car door and get out.
“It’s yours now. I need to recover my… Supreme Bone?” Well, Morpheus’s memory hadn’t recovered; he was still somewhat influenced by Ian.
Seeing the Dream God about to leave without looking back.
“Don’t get caught again. Most importantly, don’t forget my life-saving grace to you. Leverage my repaying kindness.” Ian earnestly shouted reminders to Morpheus.
He saw the Dream God’s back stiffen.
However.
He didn’t refuse after all.
Just quickened his steps a bit.
“Sigh.”
Ian turned back melancholically and picked up the drawing Morpheus left—a delicate style, as if he could still use some dreamscape power in his body.
The drawing flowed.
The creature on it defied geometry: humanoid outline, but fractured and reassembled at key points, with twelve tentacles of varying thickness extending from the neck up.
The head was humanoid but with slender, writhing tentacles instead of hair, dark skin, gaunt build, torso covered in ever-shifting eerie patterns.
Just looking.
Made Ian clearly feel an indescribable malice, like embodying humanity’s deepest cognitive fears, then packaging them into seemingly rational geometry. It perfectly exemplified “indescribable,” not just because language fails, but due to its chaotic, indeterminate essence.
“Fuck!”
Ian suddenly recalled the corrupted Sorceress Supreme, the eerie black mist surging from her body, and the plants mutated by the mist.
“Cthulhu invasion!”
Ian slammed the notebook shut.
One more glance and he’d sleep poorly tonight.
“I’ve been contaminated by Cthulhu virus.” Ian quickly clasped his hands and began praying. This time, he didn’t ask Miss Death what color shroud she liked.
Therefore.
Miss Death responded quickly.
When Ian opened his eyes.
The rearview mirror already reflected the woman sitting in the back seat.
“Is there anything you wouldn’t dare do?”
Miss Death had changed outfits: black lace long dress with motorcycle leather jacket, rivet ankle boots, like heading to a goth concert. She held a drink from who-knows-where, shaking it while eyeing the boy ahead with a strange look.
“I didn’t do anything?”
Ian felt extremely wronged.
“I wanted you to be his friend, not try to become his father!” Miss Death’s tone was incredulous; she truly hadn’t expected Ian’s audacity.
Obviously.
This goddess had indeed been peeking the whole time—at least Ian believed he wasn’t fabricating that. Who knows when Miss Death starts spying.
“It’s all the same meaning.”
Ian stopped feeling wronged, just blinked.
“……”
Miss Death’s teacup didn’t shake, but her mouth twitched slightly.
She might want to curse, but wary Ian might take it as a confession, she swallowed the words.
“Cthulhu—yes, that’s why I sought you.”
Ian quickly handed over the drawing, but Miss Death didn’t take it—she was a peeper, surely having seen Morpheus draw the whole thing clearly.
“We’ll find this thing.”
Miss Death’s expression showed no worry.
“What if it’s hidden deep?”
Ian scratched his head, tone slightly worried. Though he’d suffered from two-eyed ones, he didn’t want a second little Ian growing.
“Since the target is confirmed, without top-tier power protection, it can’t escape our sight.” Miss Death leisurely sipped her tea.
She seemed relaxed, tone confident.
“Mm, good then.”
Hearing Miss Death, Ian relaxed. Big shots naturally had better discernment; he was just a Metropolis boy not yet two and a half years out of the gate.
“I don’t want this—bad luck.” Ian stuffed the drawing and his pure love pen to Miss Death, fearing the mere drawing would bring true ill omen.
“Keep your lover.”
Miss Death pinched lightly; the twisted lines froze on contact, then vanished completely, as if never existing.
“Gotta say, you three brothers… truly each have your tastes.” Miss Death tossed back the drawing and pen, sincerely sighing.
“Since you said that, this pen you’ve cucked—I definitely can’t keep it. Next one’s better.” Ian threw the pen and drawing back onto Miss Death’s lap.
His excessive caution turned pure love into simp behavior.
“？？？？？”
Miss Death clearly hadn’t anticipated this.
Silent for a while.
“Watch Morpheus closely. Don’t let him get caught again.” She spoke again. Indeed, not just Ian worried; Miss Death’s instruction was deadly serious.
“Got it! I’m watching.”
Ian magicked out a grim-covered book from under his butt—the book long turned into 《Ian’s Wisdom Navigation》, with a simp smiley on the cover.
He flipped it open.
It showed the real-time location of the status-fallen Dream God.
“You’re quite cunning.”
Miss Death’s mouth curved up slightly.
“I actually learned bad from Batman.” Ian sighed; daily contact with bad women and bad men made keeping a pure child’s heart hard.
“Batman learned bad from you.”
Miss Death’s gaze was disdainful.
Ian pretended not to hear, probing: “This counts as mission complete, right? Not just saved Morpheus but cleverly got his murder info.”
He emphasized “cleverly.”
Miss Death countered in kind.
She 100% pretended not to notice Ian’s emphasis. Of course, for Ian’s sudden claim, she didn’t pretend ignorance of the little boy’s intent.
“Consider it complete.”
As her words fell.
【Status Weight has risen】
Ian’s system prompt followed.
“The reward we gave is fulfilled; you’ll feel its richness soon.” Miss Death didn’t know Ian could feel rewards real-time.
She nodded at Ian and vanished from the back seat next moment. Regaining senses, Ian checked his system—data had new changes.
【Name: Ian Kent】
【Ordinary Profession: Student lv8〔78/1280〕Writer LV3〔11/40〕Leader LV1〔1/10〕】
【Supernatural Profession: Berserker LV6〔16/320〕Savage Tyrant lv5〔43/160〕】
【World Recognition: Key NPC】
……
In fact.
Ian’s World Recognition was already high enough.
His recent upgrades didn’t boost status weight, proving after last reward, it reached sufficient height.
Now.
New boost appeared.
Original 【Independent NPC】 recognition became 【Key NPC】. As a self-taught scriptwriter, Ian could somewhat parse this change.
Ordinary NPC needless to say: background extras, no independent plot, basic interaction, occasionally die in piles to raise 【event】 severity.
As superhero family, such NPCs likely cannon fodder. Luckily, Ian was beyond that; his original 【Independent NPC】 had explanation.
Per scriptwriting logic.
【Independent NPC】 ties to main or key side plots, full backstory, can affect local plot, even own story.
Of course.
Big events still risk sacrifice. 【Key NPC】 status weight is hot role tier, upper echelon with some destined air in story creation.
“I’ve become more noble in DC.” Ian got his reward; even Cthulhu couldn’t dampen his mood. He just wanted to celebrate properly.
……
Roast beef aroma wafted in the Kent Family Home dining room. Lois placed the last plate of creamed corn on the dining table; steam rose under warm yellow lights.
Jordan kept his head down, nearly burying his face in the dinner plate, fingers fidgeting on the fork edge. He was stiff, awkwardly ashamed.
“It’s just not controlling strength, accidentally smashing the ceiling playing ball in the room.” Lois ruffled her second son’s curls, comforting gently.
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t on purpose. Your father will fix the ceiling.” Not mentioning Clark was fine; mentioning him made Jordan tense more.
He sneaked a glance at his father.
Clark silently chewed his food.
Just eating veggies.
No comments.
“Phew~”
Jordan exhaled long, steeling himself to eat.
“I really didn’t mean to.”
He admitted something he could.
Hearing this.
Lois expressed understanding.
“Martha said your father often lost control as a kid.” Lois continued comforting her second son, piling beef on Jordan’s plate.
“Really!?”
Jordan’s eyes widened suddenly, unsure what he thought, looking shocked at his old man—who kept eating silently.
Mouth stuffed with food.
Frenzied chewing very audible.
“Say something. Still thinking of that green-eyed Superman? You should know: Ian drank potion, others might succeed too.”
“My father is already investigating.”
Lois looked puzzled at her usually talkative husband, not understanding why he wouldn’t back her encouraging the kid.
Clark swallowed, helplessly pointing at the ceiling.
“I’m not thinking of that guy. I’m silent because Ian’s too noisy; I can’t hear anything.” He was using his youngest to change topic, of course.
Effect great.
“Hm?”
Lois looked up astonished, tone shocked. “Ian’s upstairs? Didn’t he say no dinner, stay out longer?”
This from her phone call with Ian. Jordan looked up too—his eyes pierced obstacles, but saw only ceiling hole, nothing else.
No one in Ian’s room.
“He’s in the sky.”
Clark finally started teaching his second son. “Listen carefully. He’s circling right above our house, flying back and forth, back and forth.”
“Over three hundred laps already.”
Though mentioning Ian to shift topic, Clark’s helplessness was genuine. When he awakened flight, he lacked such exuberant show-off desire.
“I can fly too.”
Jordan spoke but was silenced by father’s glare.
He immediately shoveled peas.
“Kids, just awakened—it’s like that.” Lois gave husband meaningful look, fingers tapping table, gaze inscrutable.
Superman potion.
Effect really that good?
On this.
Lois still harbored some doubt.
And right then.
“Smack!” Clark slapped his forehead.
“What now?” Lois forked a carrot.
“Ian just saved a plane with engine failure.”
Clark’s face was like he’d swallowed a lemon.
“Isn’t that good?”
Lois’s eyes lit up.
Son following father was what she loved seeing.
“First, only one engine failed. Second, no one saves a plane while going ‘wooo~’ in their mouth.”
Clark’s mouth twitched; thirty years pro plane-saving gave weight. “He’s holding the plane with both hands, circling three times in the sky.”
“Crew and passengers think they’ve seen a ghost.” Old father’s voice carried indescribable emotion; he accurately heard everything above.
What was this?
Playing paper airplanes?
Eerie silence at table. Jordan’s fork hovered; a pea “dinged” back to plate. Then, front door keys turned.
Jonathan entered with bags, carrying night chill.
“Where’d you go today? Date?” Lois switched to gentle smile, mothering like most parents about kid’s private life.
Luckily, Jonathan wasn’t rebellious.
“I went to church, bought some stuff.”
Jonathan set shopping bag down, honestly reporting. Lois peeked inside—no snacks or daily goods.
This heavy bag.
Was packed full of various statues.
Jesus, Buddha, Zeus, Odin, Ra, Vishnu… so many; probably every Earth god statue Jonathan could find.
Lois, Jordan, Clark looked at Jonathan in confusion.
“What’s this for?”
Lois suspected scam.
Hearing this.
Jonathan shyly scratched head.
“Mainly, faith—more believers the better, no harm.” He flashed sunny smile, words oddly 【silencing】 others.
“Why old man too?”
Jordan silently pulled a still-warm statue from bag.
“Ian said must believe this. Makes sense. I even made you and him.” Jonathan’s response deafening; his pulled statue quieted dining room more.
This perhaps family bond.
Kent family.
Indeed all somewhat unique.
Look.
Lois gripped wine bottle again; reasonable hero ready to reasonable.
Tomorrow make up once more.
