Chapter 141: God! God Takes Action!?
The sunlight in Heaven seemed filtered through a soft gauze.
It gently bathed a tranquil garden.
The air was filled with the faint scent of flowers and birdsong. There was no clamor of the mortal world here, nor pollution like mountains of corpses and seas of blood; it held only peace and harmony.
“Holy shit!”
In Heaven.
One couldn’t casually curse. Ian could only exclaim in shock with a sacred curse. Under his feet was grass that would never wither, and the scene thirty yards away truly made him gasp in astonishment.
Who would have thought.
Ian had just arrived in Heaven.
Beside a white carved wrought iron tea table, he saw his grandfather.
That is, Superman’s adoptive father.
Of course, this wasn’t the reason for Ian’s great shock. His emotions were quite volatile, primarily because Old Jonathan Kent was having afternoon tea with an elegant lady.
The lady was dressed in a long skirt that looked like it stepped out of a 1940s fashion magazine. Every movement exuded elegance, clearly indicating she wasn’t from an ordinary family before ascending to Heaven.
Martha Wayne!
Bruce Wayne’s mother, Batman’s mom. Perhaps no one in Gotham didn’t know her, and even the most dangerous Joker wouldn’t dare mention her much in front of Batman.
At this moment.
The mother of Batman seemed to be conversing happily with Superman’s father. Such a scene would stun anyone; in any case, Ian’s emotions were truly hard to describe.
His own grandmother Martha was still alive, and his grandfather had fallen for another Martha in Heaven? Should one say his grandfather was too devoted, or that he truly wanted to progress and was trying to woo a rich woman!
The problem is, they’re already in Heaven.
There’s no need to try anymore!
“Oh, my rich Uncle Bruce, is he really going to become my uncle…” Ian rubbed his eyes. As he was lost in thought, Old Jonathan suddenly turned his head.
Those eyes, weathered by life on Earth, still shone brightly in Heaven.
“I can already sense what nonsense you’ll spread when you get back, kid. Come here quickly, let me spank you first.” Old Jonathan didn’t seem surprised by Ian’s appearance.
He playfully chided Ian with a “fierce” expression in a kind tone. His graying temples were neatly combed behind his ears, and his ruddy cheeks bore a smile that Ian had only seen in videos Clark had kept.
Souls in Heaven could choose their age and appearance in the eyes of others. Clearly, the image Old Jonathan Kent had chosen was that of a grandfather.
It was the appearance last imprinted in Clark’s mind shortly before his death. People living on farms aged faster; time had left deep marks on Old Jonathan early on, and every wrinkle on his face recorded the sunshine and storms of the Kansas Farm.
“Oh, Grandfather… spanking me is fine, but spanking Ms. Martha Wayne is not.” Ian was primarily worried about his still-living grandmother Martha’s sadness if she knew about this. Of course, this didn’t stop him from instinctively pulling out his camera and snapping over a dozen shots of the two of them.
In response.
Ms. Martha Wayne chuckled and shook her head, “If you want my child to give you money, I’ll write you a letter; it would be far more effective than spreading rumors about your grandfather and me.”
The two seemed to have a rather innocent relationship.
But it could also be a pretense.
Ian walked closer to the two at the long table with suspicion.
“It seems I misunderstood. Well, I’m just a child, and it’s normal for a child to misjudge adults.” Ian held the pearl necklace in his hand and looked at Martha Wayne.
“I believe this is yours, Mrs. Wayne.” He realized who had slipped the pearl necklace into his pocket: Batman Bruce Wayne, who always liked to stir up trouble stealthily.
Gotham’s Master Wayne must have practiced his sleight of hand often. Ian couldn’t recall when the man had put the necklace there; clearly, Bruce knew the necklace could guide him to Martha.
He patted another pocket.
Ian pouted.
His own father, Clark, hadn’t been smart enough to slip him any relics. But thankfully, not only was Martha Wayne fine, but his grandfather, Old Jonathan Kent, was also not corrupted.
He looked around again.
The most heavily polluted areas in all of Heaven seemed to be the Holy City of the angels and the Gate of Heaven outside. The souls living here were still protected by God.
Just as Ian was lost in thought.
“Kid, they didn’t send you here to stand around gawking at us,” Old Jonathan said, rubbing Ian’s slightly fluffy, messy hair with his hand.
His rough palm had a very gentle force.
Ian looked up at his grandfather, whose face was full of teasing. He couldn’t help but raise his camera and take a few more shots. Perhaps Grandma Martha on Earth would like these photos.
“Let me fix my hair,” Jonathan said, unexpectedly cooperative, smoothing his already neat silver hair with his fingers and even adjusting the collar of his plaid shirt.
He seemed to know what Ian wanted to do.
As the photos from Heaven were captured by the camera, Ian noticed that Old Jonathan appeared as a handsome young man in the photos, perhaps the way he wished his beloved would see him.
“So… you two really aren’t on a date?” Ian asked cautiously, camera still raised, ready to capture any valuable image.
“Darling, there’s no concept of ‘dating’ in Heaven. We’re just very good friends, and your grandfather and I both happen to be interested in things on Earth.”
Martha Wayne elegantly rolled her eyes.
Ian had never known anyone who could roll their eyes so perfectly.
“Something like that,” Old Jonathan said, taking a sip of tea. He pointed into the distance. “We live close by. Sometimes we chat about everyday matters, sometimes we watch the children.”
Following the direction of Old Jonathan’s finger, Ian saw a farm cottage and a house that wasn’t exactly a mansion. The two areas indeed seemed not far apart.
It was as if an invisible hand was planning the residential areas for the inhabitants of Heaven.
“Alright, I believe you.”
Ian didn’t want to cause trouble. He felt that no matter the truth, he should act like a pure child and not meddle. After all, being in Heaven, one should understand that God had plans for everything.
“Hiss~”
Thinking this.
Ian felt the air in Heaven might be toxic.
When did he attain such a philosophical level of thought?
“I knew this child had an unhealthy mind,” Ms. Martha Wayne rolled her eyes again. She pointed to the teapot and two teacups on the tea table.
Ian leaned closer and saw that the liquid in the teacups wasn’t ordinary tea. Instead, it reflected scenes from the human world like a mirror – superheroes busy saving the Earth.
All the streets of Gotham were empty, leaving only shattered concrete and twisted rebar. The once bustling crime capital was now only the sound of the wind whimpering through the ruins.
It sounded like some indescribable lament.
Those former skyscrapers were now mere broken walls after being pulled out, dead silent, as if even the wind carried fear and dared not linger in this desolate place.
The angels who had fallen to Earth were like plants rooted in the ground. They no longer sang, but emitted a low-frequency lament that seemed to resonate deep within the human mind.
Causing mental breakdown.
Even more terrifying was that their bodies and songs were corrupting the earth. Black mucus seeped from the angels’ wounds, spreading along the ground like living things, devouring buildings, soil, metal, and even air.
The rebar writhed as if it were living flesh.
A monster formed from black liquid emerged, its shape constantly changing, sometimes like a human face, sometimes like a snake’s body, and sometimes a mass of countless eyeballs.
It let out a piercing scream. Superman Clark instantly charged forward and punched the monster’s head, but the next second, it re-formed as if unharmed.
“I need someone to take me to analyze these substances!” Facing countless twisted and revitalized ruins and debris around him, Batman had managed to contain some of the black liquid.
The worst part was actually the shedding feathers. Every fallen feather took root and sprouted upon landing, growing into deformed life forms that resembled both plants and animals.
They were trying to stuff Wonder Woman into their mouths—fortunately, Wonder Woman was agile enough. After her Flaming Sword proved ineffective, she swung her Lasso of Truth.
Thunder surged.
It had some effect, but not much.
After all, Ian only had a tiny bit of Thor’s power when he modified the Lasso of Truth. Of course, even so, it at least allowed Wonder Woman to make some effective defenses.
“Boom~”
Batman threw a bomb.
It absorbed all the substances towards the center of the bomb.
Then.
He discovered the bomb he threw had become animate—combining with the surrounding absorbed substances at the center, it became a colossus. It was as if he had artificially increased the difficulty.
“Damn it! Water! Give me some water!”
Aquaman was rather weak on land.
He ran around in panic, and the colossus seemed very interested in him, constantly chasing him. This new god of DC almost became part of the colossus.
“Bruce, I’ll take you to your base!”
Superman flew over.
He grabbed Batman’s—scalp. Batman froze stiff, not daring to move. The two flew towards a certain location in this “eagle catching a chick” pose.
“Sizzle sizzle~”
A TV static-like scene appeared on the tea.
“It seems Bruce has taken precautions against Heaven spying in that place,” Martha Wayne said, unsurprised. She knew how severe her son’s paranoia was.
“Yes, I need to find the source of the pollution.” At this point, Ian also remembered why he had come to Heaven. He needed to resolve the notebook causing the pollution from the source.
Of course.
He might as well try some of Heaven’s flowers and grasses, birds and beasts, bricks and tiles, and the taste of the so-called Sacred Lake… A gourmand must always remember they are a gourmand, wherever they go.
“No taste.”
Ian plucked some flowers and stuffed them into his mouth. Since he didn’t receive any experience points from the system, he was slightly disappointed. This scene made Old Jonathan look a bit awkward in front of Martha Wayne.
Fortunately, Martha Wayne just gave a light laugh and didn’t comment much on Ian’s pica behavior.
“Your rich Uncle Bruce might be willing to pay a large sum for some photos of his mother,” Martha Wayne said, tidying her clothes before Ian prepared to leave.
“Okay, okay, Mrs. Wayne, your suggestion is great.” Ian’s eyes lit up at her words, and he couldn’t help but sigh in admiration that Martha Wayne was indeed a woman married to a capitalist.
He aimed his camera at Martha and started shooting rapidly, already planning his sales strategy: a profile shot would be one price, a full face another, and a smile yet another.
What is this called?
It’s called drawing inferences from one instance.
Master Ian has always had a talent for being a capitalist!
“Mrs. Wayne, I have a business proposal that will definitely make a fortune.” Ian finally found someone with a business mind and naturally wanted to seize this hard-won opportunity.
Martha Wayne elegantly set down her teacup.
She raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Oh?”
She didn’t see Old Jonathan quietly put on his headphones.
The next moment.
This Mrs. Wayne sensed Ian’s astonishing wisdom. Ian’s eyes were shining, his expression full of hope for the future, and his tone brimmed with excitement.
“Perhaps we should go into partnership selling indulgences. I’ll handle the smuggling, and you’ll handle the resettlement—I’m about to go save the angels, so selling some indulgences on Earth isn’t too much!”
Ian clasped his hands together.
As if announcing a grand invention.
“…”
Mrs. Wayne was stunned for quite a while.
She turned to look at Old Jonathan, who was looking down and drinking tea.
“Why is this child in Heaven?”
She asked bluntly, full of Mrs. Wayne’s surprise. However, facing this simple question, Old Jonathan, wearing Heaven-made headphones, didn’t hear a thing.
He was still looking down, drinking tea.
Silent.
Ian, completely oblivious to the subtle atmosphere, continued his enthusiastic sales pitch: “We won’t sell to thieves or murderers, only to wealthy capitalists who have committed forgivable sins.”
“Doesn’t that prove I’m kind enough and deserve to be in Heaven as if I’ve come home?” He genuinely believed he was a good person.
This perfectly met his self-judgment criteria for entering Heaven.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mrs. Wayne said, putting her hand to her forehead and sighing deeply. “Ian, if you really want to sell indulgences… you should find Bruce’s father.”
She finally pointed him in the right direction.
“Then what about my Uncle Wayne? Is he under the table?” Ian crouched down and lifted the tablecloth, but he didn’t find Batman’s father. He looked up at Mrs. Wayne, confused.
“…”
Martha Wayne opened her mouth, but in the end, she couldn’t say anything. Her eyes dimmed slightly. After a moment of silence, she simply shook her head at Ian without a word.
Old Jonathan coughed and patted Ian on the shoulder.
“Don’t ask, child.”
Whether or not he was playing music in his wired headphones was known only to himself. Upon hearing this, Ian blinked. His exceptionally high emotional intelligence made him understand Old Wayne’s situation at that moment.
It seemed he would have to go to Hell to find Old Wayne, but perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing. He was close to finding the entrance to Hell, and he imagined the price of indulgences in Hell would be even higher.
Perhaps demons would even make bids.
While thinking this.
Ian patted the Minotaur behind his butt, which was playing dead. It turned out demons weren’t barred from Heaven. This world was still a world where shortcuts were better than difficulties.
“You might need to go save the world, child,” Mrs. Wayne seemed to have been stirred by something. She wasn’t angry, but she still reminded Ian that he should leave.
“Okay, okay, Mrs. Wayne, Grandfather, I really do need to go save the world. The MVP will always be the MVP.” Ian picked up his teacup and drank it down heroically.
Old Jonathan smiled with relief.
“Cheer up, child. We’ll watch you save the world again. It looks like you’re much more powerful than your father,” he encouraged Ian in a gentle tone.
Hearing this.
Ian’s golden eyes lit up again.
“Wait! Grandfather, say that last sentence again! I want to record it!” He quickly pulled out four or five cameras, preparing to record simultaneously to prevent any potential data loss due to camera quality issues.
“Of course, no problem.”
Old Jonathan repeated with a smile. Ian was satisfied as he checked the recording, ensuring the image was clear and the sound was loud. This was precious material he could use to motivate his father.
“Dad needs to work hard and prove himself,” Ian knew he had to “pua” his father more often, so his father would genuinely believe he was an idealist superhero.
Martha Wayne watched this scene, sighed softly, and then gently said, “Ian, if you can… please give Bruce a message for me.”
Ian immediately raised his camera and pointed it at her.
“No problem! You speak, I’ll record! Whatever you have to say, it’s better if you say it yourself than for me to relay it.” This small favor didn’t require payment, so Ian was always happy to help.
Seeing this, Martha Wayne tidied her clothing.
“Bruce, you know, we love you. So, please, never give up hope.” Martha Wayne’s tone carried a very heavy and serious feeling.
She seemed to be giving Bruce Wayne some words of concern about something.
“Could you please say a few more words to Uncle Bruce for me?” Ian asked Martha Wayne after she finished speaking, without stopping the recording.
In response to this.
Martha Wayne did not refuse.
She recorded again as Ian requested, repeating the words he wanted him to tell Bruce Wayne, and Ian happily obtained a new recording.
“Perfect!”
Ian was extremely excited. This place was indeed Heaven; as soon as he entered, he gained a means to rival Batman. Heaven truly grants everyone’s wishes.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Wayne, and my hardworking grandfather! I’ll have Dad take you to see them when I train him into an idealist Superman!” Ian happily closed the dozen cameras.
He waved to the two, knowing he had to hurry—perhaps Bruce could find a way to deal with the Cthulhu contamination, but ultimately, he would still need to eliminate the source of the pollution.
Otherwise, it would just come back.
Heaven knows when the source of the pollution might spread from the restricted area. No one can fathom God’s thoughts; the best solution is to let Lord Evil God devour the source of the Cthulhu pollution.
“We’ll see each other again, no need to rush,” Old Jonathan said with a kind smile. He watched Ian glance back before flying straight towards the now terrifying and eerie Holy City.
Under their watchful eyes, Ian’s figure gradually disappeared at the end of the garden. The gentle breeze of Heaven brushed past, petals swayed softly, and the tranquil courtyard returned to silence.
“We’ll see each other again.”
Martha Wayne took a sip of her tea.
She found the tea a bit bitter.
This was uncommon in Heaven.
The lady unconsciously rubbed the rim of the teacup with her fingertips, her expression slightly dazed.
A complex emotion flashed in her eyes; she thought of Bruce, of her husband, and of her son, whom she hadn’t truly embraced since that rainy night.
Old Jonathan noticed her mood and tried to comfort her, “It’s not just us; I believe you and your husband will see each other again, and of course, your son too.”
Martha Wayne sighed softly, a faint, forced smile appearing on her lips.
“Perhaps.”
Her voice was soft, her smile still elegant.
“That child’s personality doesn’t seem like Clark’s at all.” This was clearly a change of subject. Old Jonathan didn’t bring up Martha Wayne’s worries anymore.
“Clark’s personality isn’t like mine either, but that doesn’t affect our relationship. Family is always family,” Old Jonathan laughed heartily in response.
His laughter was deep and warm, like the never-fading sun over the Kansas plains. Martha Wayne nodded in agreement and chuckled softly in response.
“You adopted a Kryptonian, and then your Kryptonian child adopted an Archangel… I just want to know what kind of outrageous situation your family will pass down in the future.” Martha Wayne raised an eyebrow, her tone filled with emotion. A tycoons’ family might still be a step below the Kent family in that regard.
“Ian is not an Archangel.”
Old Jonathan lowered his head and gazed into the teacup. The image in the cup had reappeared—Clark was standing amidst the ruins of Metropolis, looking up at the sky as if searching for something.
Hearing this, Martha Wayne was stunned.
“Don’t lie to me; he is dazzling and radiant, shining with a glory brighter than any angel, but it seems he cannot see himself as we see him.”
Her gaze was deep and clear.
Her soul’s vision in Heaven allowed her to see many things mortals could not.
“Perhaps it’s just the radiance of a hero?” Old Jonathan chuckled dryly, clearly hiding something. His guilty demeanor suggested he wasn’t used to lying.
Mrs. Wayne looked deeply at Old Jonathan.
She did not continue to ask.
The atmosphere between them became subtly quiet, with only the rustling of the breeze through the flowers. Eventually, their gazes returned to the scene reflected in the teacup.
The garden of Heaven remained peaceful, while in the human world, the stories of heroes continued. Of course, Ian’s story was the same; he was steadily approaching the Holy City of Heaven. The glory of Heaven should be pure and flawless, but as the distance closed, a thick, unpleasant aura began to permeate the air.
It was the former capital of the angels, now a breeding ground for Cthulhu contamination—a city mutated, twisted, and consumed, like a rotten, godforsaken place in the universe.
“So disgusting,” Ian could even see that the clouds above the Holy City were no longer white but a sickly purplish-black, as if contaminated by some unspeakable power.
There were even unnatural tentacles churning within the clouds, clearly a sign of Cthulhu power contamination.
“God must be a slob for not minding his own backyard getting sick.”
Ian couldn’t help but complain in his heart.
He felt nauseous at the sight.
It was similar to when he had tried to inhale that Cthulhu black mist; 【Error Data】 accompanied by physical disgust. Lord Evil God, after all, followed a completely different path from Cthulhu.
“Ultimately, I have to put myself at risk. Lord Evil God is taking a huge loss for Earth this time.” He frowned and was about to accelerate when he suddenly heard an anxious shout from below.
“Where’s Mom? Where is Mom?”
The voice was strangely familiar. Ian looked down and saw two familiar figures darting around in the flower patches at the edge of the Holy City, searching for something like headless flies.
“Sam? Dean?” Ian blinked, confirming he wasn’t mistaken—it was indeed his classmate Sam Winchester and his brother Dean, who doesn’t use safety equipment for hookups.
“Your mother isn’t in Heaven; she’s in your house back home… Wait, you guys already fought your way into Heaven at fourteen?” Ian landed in front of the two astonished figures.
Although these two were destined to fight Heaven and Hell, they were only teenagers now. Ian suspected the brothers had died, or else this progress was truly outrageous.
“Who’s there!”
Dean was startled by Ian’s sudden appearance and instinctively reached for his waist—of course, his weapon wasn’t on him, so he just grasped at empty air and awkwardly pretended to be calm.
“Who are you?”
Since Dean had been unconscious when Ian last encountered him, he had never seen Ian before. This big boy felt a sense of unfamiliarity upon seeing Ian.
“An angel? A ferryman?”
Dean tentatively asked, unable to figure it out.
Before Ian could answer, he took a closer look, rubbed his eyes, and then rubbed them again frantically. Finally, Sam, who had confirmed the situation, exclaimed.
“Ian Kent?”
His expression was one of disbelief.
Hearing this, Dean was first taken aback, then his expression became amusing: “The Ian Kent you talked about who took down the school bully, got several principals fired, and was so awesome he was practically in heaven?”
He began to scrutinize Ian intently.
“Is that how you usually introduce me?”
Ian raised an eyebrow at Sam.
Sam nervously took a few steps back.
“I only mentioned it a few times! I didn’t say anything bad about you!” He grabbed Dean’s arm, “Please let my brother go; he’s too young to go to jail just because he offended you!”
This guy had always harbored deep prejudice against Ian.
Perhaps it was due to Ian’s threat back then.
“Yes, yes, I absolutely meant no disrespect!” Dean quickly nodded, swallowing hard, his voice nervous. It was mainly because he was unemployed.
And a demon hunter.
In a court of law.
Let alone Ian’s outstanding track record; just the fact that Ian was a little boy would make the jury disregard his defense, and the judge would likely reach a verdict in the first second.
Seeing the two demon-hunting boys, one big and one small, trembling, Ian genuinely felt his own evil god’s majesty. However, he put on a helpless expression.
“I’m already very broad-minded; what I’m curious about now is why you are here.” Ian truly hadn’t expected to encounter acquaintances from school in Heaven.
His gaze fell on the boxes held by Dean and Sam.
They weren’t large.
Very ancient, about the size of a sneaker box, made of some unknown material, with a texture between metal and leather.
There were also many runes that Ian couldn’t understand but could translate with his magic book, clearly enchanted, and he wondered if the two boxes had brought them to Heaven.
“No, you guys seem to be alive…” Ian’s eyes had a strange, fixed look, not from looking at flowers, but because he was looking intently and discerning the aura of the two people.
Seeing this scene.
Dean and Sam felt their scalps tingle.
“Here! Take it!”
Dean thought Ian was eyeing the box in his hand.
He quickly handed the hot potato to Ian—whatever was inside, Dean felt he didn’t want to get involved in any unnecessary trouble.
“What is this?”
Ian looked down at the box.
The box was predominantly dark gold, interspersed with some rusty marks, as if it had endured the erosion of a long time. A circle of intricate runes was inlaid around the edges; those symbols did not belong to any known language system but emanated an oppressive feeling beyond human comprehension.
Every time Ian tried to gaze at it for too long.
His sight would involuntarily drift away, as if his brain instinctively refused to understand these characters, or perhaps he was influenced by the runes on them and wanted to subconsciously ignore them.
“I don’t know. An angel mysteriously told us to keep this. Can you tell me what you meant about our mother being in our house back home?”
Dean shook his head in response.
And he wanted to minimize the damage.
He remembered Ian had mentioned their mother before.
“Mine too.”
Sam had been perceptive at school and was quite sharp in this unfamiliar environment. Seeing his older brother hand over the box, he quickly handed over his own.
“That’s our dad’s treasure!”
Dean tried to stop him.
But Sam had his own reasons.
He primarily wanted to know about his mother.
“We’re asking him for the answer now, aren’t we? We’ve reached Heaven, and we’re seeing him here; his background must be incredibly intimidating.”
This statement clearly implied that Ian didn’t have the qualifications to be in Heaven.
Sam had low emotional intelligence.
Dissing Ian to his face.
Even if he didn’t realize it himself, it still annoyed Ian. However, seeing the two boxes in his left and right hands, Ian chose to be magnanimous.
Sam’s box was also ancient; it was an old wooden box eroded by time, its dark brown surface covered in cracked patterns, as if it had slumbered for countless centuries.
The edge of the lid was carved with intricate runes; it was at least a magic item, or possibly a valuable antique. Either way, it was worth Ian showing his magnanimity.
“Your mother, after being killed by a demon, has been staying in her old house, becoming a special kind of earthbound spirit.” Ian provided the answer.
“What?!”
The two brothers exclaimed in unison.
Their minds buzzed.
This was absolutely an answer they hadn’t expected.
“Do you know who killed our mother?” Dean eagerly pressed, not entirely believing Ian, but knowing that a little boy who could appear in Heaven was definitely not simple.
“The yellow-eyed demon, Azazel. He is a powerful demon in Hell, a Demon Prince, but don’t worry, there are many Demon Princes in Hell.”
“My little car loves eating Demon Princes the most.”
Ian concisely provided the answer.
“You actually know!” Dean stared at Ian in shock, utterly amazed that Ian knew the demon was yellow-eyed. “How do you know so much?”
Neither he nor Sam asked about the little car.
This made Ian slightly disappointed.
No chance to brag.
“That’s how an omniscient brain works.” Ian poked his temples, he even knew that both brothers were vessels, vessels for an Archangel and the Lord of Hell.
“I think what he said is true.”
Sam looked at Dean excitedly.
The older Dean’s expression kept changing.
He was making some kind of judgment internally.
And at this moment.
Ian had already begun to study the two ancient boxes. Yes, the two boxes were older than each other, and their opening mechanisms were somewhat inscrutable.
“What exactly are you doing here? Were you brought by an angel?” Ian asked, trying to change the subject, not wanting the two boys to realize the terrible fact that they couldn’t even open a box.
“Aren’t you an omniscient brain? Then you should know why we are here, right?” Sam frowned, looking at Ian with a look of surprise.
Ian froze.
“My omniscient brain doesn’t activate all the time! It needs to rest too!” Even when exasperated, Ian could always find suitable excuses.
So reasonable.
Sam and Dean exchanged glances.
They truly felt speechless and didn’t dare to retort.
“So, what’s the answer?”
Ian sat cross-legged on the grass of Heaven, the two boxes placed in front of him. He picked up Sam’s first, examining it thoroughly, his fingers tracing the seams of the box.
Trying to find the opening mechanism.
He first carefully examined the box Sam had given him, his fingers lightly stroking the edge of the box’s surface. The circle of mysterious runes glowed faintly in the sunlight.
As if they would come alive at any moment.
“Uh… it feels like you’re interrogating us.”
Dean crossed his arms, wanting to curse but afraid the other person might actually be an angel.
“A big black angel suddenly attacked our house, knocked out our dad who was trying to sneak up on him with one punch, and then dragged Sam and me to this damn Heaven.”
His displeasure was obvious.
Sam added, “That angel also said that the human world was going to be in chaos, but we couldn’t be in danger, and neither could what’s in the boxes, not even the box my brother gave you.”
His gaze shifted to the box with the metal and leather texture. The edge of the lid was indeed also wrapped in a circle of worn, dark brown leather, still resilient after years of aging.
It exuded a faint scent of incense and the coldness of metal.
“It seems Heaven has also realized that something big is about to happen, which is why they chose to protect you two rascals… handsome guys.” Ian stopped himself just in time.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell them the truth, but they certainly couldn’t handle the truth yet. Dr. Hannibal made too much money; he couldn’t refer any more patients to him.
“Who knows? That guy was cryptic and we don’t know why he cared so much about us,” Dean rolled his eyes, glad the angel who grabbed them was big and black.
Otherwise, he would really suspect that his so-called dad might not be his real father.
Ian didn’t respond.
“Crack~”
Because he finally found the buckle of the box.
Sam’s box opened.
Gently lifting the lid of the box, a musty and cold aura rushed out – inside lay a glossy black revolver, strictly speaking, a Colt revolver.
Its metal body shimmered with an eerie dark light, as if it had absorbed the resentment of countless souls. The grip was entwined with a few strands of dried blood, like a curse solidified by time. Touching it lightly, one could even feel a faint pulse, as if it were not a mere weapon, but some kind of terrifying living thing.
“Gulp~”
Ian’s breathing stopped for a moment.
He swallowed.
His pupils dilated slightly.
“God-slaying gun, Colt!”
Ian was knowledgeable and knew that what lay in the box was perhaps a divine artifact of the supernatural, a gun rumored to be able to kill anything.
Whether it was true or not.
This gun had once ended angels, demons, and had even threatened the balance of the entire universe. Now, it had reappeared, sleeping in this ancient box.
Waiting for the next person brave enough to wield it.
“What about the other one! What about the other blind box!” Ian quickly hugged the metal and leather-textured box to his chest, fumbling around, trying to find the opening mechanism.
However.
“This box has no opening, it’s seamless, we tried and it’s impossible to open.” Dean, seeing Ian smashing the box violently on the ground, carefully reminded him.
“It’s very hard; let alone stone, even a hammer can’t…” Dean’s words hadn’t finished when he and Sam heard a crisp, clear crack.
Sam and Dean’s expressions froze instantly.
Only to see.
Under their disbelieving gaze, the sturdy box was bitten open by the impatient boy; not only that, the impatient boy swallowed all the debris into his stomach.
【Savage Tyrant Experience Points+11】
【Entropy Annihilation Lord Experience Points+888】
Ian chewed with gusto, and of course, he didn’t forget to take out the contents of the broken box. As he threw the last fragment into his mouth, he had already grasped the object within.
It was a short sword.
It still caused Ian’s pupils to widen slightly and then shrink a bit.
“Supplies before the big battle… This is Lucifer’s sword, that divine sword.” The moment Ian grasped the short sword, its blade erupted in blazing holy flames.
The flames burned fiercely.
So fiercely, it seemed like they could burn down all of Heaven.
“Damn it, I only like pretty girls, God, don’t have a crush on me!”
The bright white light illuminated the little boy’s astonished and uncertain face.
