Chapter 144: Blood Of The Saint! Angels Want To Return Home?
Night is about to fall.
Lucifer’s Bar of Light was unusually closed today.
The crimson neon signboard was dim, and the “OPEN” sign at the door was flipped to the “CLOSED” side. Behind the bar, Maizi, the female demon, was wiping a glass cup.
“Why are we on Earth-53?”
She looked confusedly at the Lord of Hell, who was swirling a wine glass not far away.
The golden liquid shimmered enticingly under the light.
“There are actually many more unmanifested Earths hidden within the multiverse, but our current situation is rather peculiar because my father, the one who should be in Hell, specifically for…”
Just as Lucifer was about to explain, a loud noise suddenly came from the direction of the warehouse.
“Bang!”
Then came a series of crashing metal objects, accompanied by panicked screams.
“Damn it!”
Crowley rushed out of the warehouse, sweating profusely. His suit jacket was covered in dust, and his tie hung askew around his neck, making him look like a soldier who had just escaped from a battlefield.
As a part-time porter, he was still shaken. Leaning against the doorframe, he gasped for breath, “Why didn’t anyone tell me there were a bunch of my boss’s wings hidden in there!”
The Demon King obviously didn’t dare to question Lucifer, so he looked at Maizi, the female demon bartender. Hearing this, the rag in the female demon bartender Maizi’s hand immediately stopped wiping the bar counter.
“Are you cutting off your wings again? And hiding them?” Female demon Maizi stared at Lucifer incredulously. Lucifer quickly swallowed a mouthful of wine and innocently touched his shoulder.
“I didn’t hide them, I just put them there… somewhere others couldn’t see.” It’s hard to say whether Lucifer’s explanation was a quibble.
He’s a demon who wouldn’t lie, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t quibble. In fact, anyone who has dealt with Lucifer knows that his favorite thing to do is quibble.
Lucifer, the three-year-old.
It wasn’t just one person who saw him that way.
His tone paused slightly.
His voice suddenly became indignant, “Ever since I helped that little boy, I’ve been growing wings on my back! This must be a conspiracy by the Evil God!”
“My damn father is just trying to piss me off!”
Lucifer said with great seriousness, pointing to Ian on the television, who was suspended in the clouds of Metropolis, looking down with a stunned expression at “Armor Hero.”
“…”
The female demon, exasperated, burst into laughter, covering her forehead and shaking her head. “But you shouldn’t have put them in our bar’s warehouse. Do you know how many people sneak in there to fool around every day?”
Among all demons, she was the only one who dared to scold Lucifer like this. Perhaps most angels wouldn’t even have the nerve – Lucifer was more lenient with her than with most other demons.
Perhaps it was because of her loyalty and diligence, and the fact that Lucifer hadn’t really had any friends since his birth.
“Oh? Well, I hope my wings can add some spice to their experience.” Lucifer wasn’t angry; instead, he smiled happily and gave female demon Maizi a knowing glance.
“…”
The female demon was speechless again.
“You’ll scare them to death! Our customers will decrease because of this!” After composing herself, she spoke through gritted teeth to the irresponsible boss.
Lucifer casually swirled his wine glass.
“That’s fine, at least they’ll die from pleasure, won’t they? They won’t have such a hard time when they go to hell.” He had lived for countless ages, and of course, he had more twisted logic than Ian.
Female demon Maizi simply couldn’t argue with this guy.
“Slap!”
She slammed the rag onto the table.
“I’ve had enough!” With that, the female demon bypassed Crowley, who was trembling with fear and dared not speak, and walked towards the direction Crowley had just come from.
It was obvious.
She was going to clean up Lucifer’s mess – if only Ian were here, Lucifer’s wings might have been made into pigeon soup; even a single feather was that potent.
“Uh…” Watching Maizi’s angry back, Crowley stood frozen, not daring to breathe. Lucifer, to ease the awkwardness, beckoned him closer.
“Don’t mind him. Maybe he’s been in the human world for too long and caught his period.” Lucifer deliberately spoke loudly, ensuring his bartender could hear him in the warehouse.
“Bang~”
The sound of things being smashed came from inside.
Lazy jazz music played in the bar, but it couldn’t mask the palpable annoyance in the air.
“See? Solid evidence.”
Lucifer chuckled and poured Crowley a drink.
“Report on your work?”
When the boss pours a drink, there’s always a reason.
Fortunately, the discerning Crowley was prepared.
He cautiously approached and took out a crumpled report. “Uh, Hell has been relatively peaceful lately. The riots have been suppressed, and the rebellious demons have all been locked up where they belong.”
“However, mine isn’t very good. Since you’ve been away from Hell for a long time, many demons are still restless, wanting to seize the opportunity to advance.”
His report made Lucifer purse his lips.
“Boring.”
Lucifer yawned.
“Anything interesting?”
He tore up Crowley’s work report directly.
“Yes, yes!” Crowley’s mind raced, and he quickly added, “We’ve developed a new type of temptation potion that even angels find hard to resist.”
This was clearly what Lucifer wanted to hear.
The Lord of Hell suddenly became interested.
“That’s good! Bring me a few bottles. We have a lot of angels right now.” As he spoke, Lucifer pointed to the angels on the television screen who had fallen into the mortal realm.
He then happily patted Crowley on the shoulder, “Work hard. In a few days, I’ll have a clone for you to kill, and your prestige in Hell will greatly increase.”
Upon hearing this.
Crowley’s face turned pale.
“I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare.”
He feared that this was a test and trial from the capricious Lucifer.
“Tsk, how boring. When I have my grand wedding with the female police officer, you’ll only be fit to sit at the same table as the equally boring Maizi.” Lucifer glared at Crowley unhappily.
Crowley quickly lowered his head.
Trembling.
However, the Lord of Hell didn’t continue to tease him. He suddenly changed the subject and asked a question he already knew the answer to, “Is Constantine in your hands?”
Lucifer still “loved” Constantine as much as ever.
Crowley was stunned, then nodded. “I captured him while capturing that angel. However, Constantine has already escaped. You know how slippery that guy is.”
“As for that angel… I handed that angel over to the boy who calls himself an Evil God.” After a slight pause, Crowley pointed to the television screen with the 【Evil God’s comical face】.
In the image, Ian was gesturing and talking animatedly at Jonathan’s new look.
“The mastermind behind this entire angel falling incident ended up in Ian Kent’s hands. Tsk tsk, that’s going to be a huge laugh.” Lucifer was even more interested than before.
He even sat up straight, as if anticipating a good show. Apart from angels of the same origin, Lucifer viewed other ordinary angels no differently than mortals.
There was no emotion whatsoever.
Crowley took over the female bartender’s job and wiped the table.
He observed Lucifer’s mood.
“Boss…” Crowley chose his words carefully. “I noticed that except for the Archangels, almost all other angels have fallen to the human world. Is God really that cruel?”
He certainly didn’t dare to insult God as casually as Lucifer and Maizi.
However, his curiosity still led Crowley to ask the question in his heart. His voice grew softer and softer, the last word almost stuck in his throat, a clear sign of his timid and fearful nature.
This emotion was half true, half false.
As the Demon King of Hell, Crowley knew better than anyone about Lucifer’s complex emotions towards God – a mix of hatred, awe, and a distorted form of nostalgia.
Generally, mentioning God in front of Lucifer was extremely dangerous, but unexpectedly, Lucifer, who was in a good mood today, did not erupt in anger.
He just let out a sneer.
His slender fingers tapped lightly on the rim of the wine glass.
As if playing a piano.
“God is much crueler than you think, Crowley.” Lucifer’s voice was full of hidden meaning. “Why do you think Heaven was polluted? That source of pollution didn’t have the ability to find its own ‘door’ to enter.”
He paused deliberately, watching Crowley’s pupils widen in shock.
“Yes, that old immortal is like that. He seems to do nothing, but in reality… when the old immortal does nothing, it’s the biggest statement he can make.”
Lucifer added a final remark.
Full of malice.
His implication, which made one shudder upon further thought, almost made the cup in Crowley’s hand slip. He didn’t dare to respond or ask further questions, fearing that one more question would turn him into a Demon King who died from being hit by pigeon droppings.
“Well… Boss, it’s my fault for being too talkative. Let’s talk about Constantine. Shall I go and catch him for you?” Crowley promptly changed the subject.
It was rather abrupt.
However, his current profuse sweating wasn’t acting or an overload of his physical form using his powers; Lucifer glanced at the tailor with excellent business skills with disdain.
“No need. Let Constantine play by himself. No matter how much he struggles, he won’t get into Heaven.”
Lucifer casually swirled his wine glass, his tone sneering. “Really, Crowley, you call yourself a collector, yet you haven’t noticed the treasure hidden on that guy?”
“Treasure?” Crowley looked bewildered.
Lucifer flashed a devilishly charming smile.
“A divine artifact sufficient to secure your throne in Hell.”
His smile was truly devilishly charming, more so than the Dragon King’s lopsided grin. Hearing this, Crowley suddenly stood up, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.
“I’ll go chase him now!”
Crowley knew Lucifer wouldn’t lie, so Constantine might indeed have a treasure. Just as he reached the main door, as soon as he stepped out, his vision blurred.
He found himself back in the seat opposite Lucifer.
“An opportunity, once missed, is gone forever.” Lucifer took a sip of wine. “That thing has already been taken. I advise you not to covet it anymore.”
“Otherwise, you’ll be very unlucky, and don’t blame me for not warning you.” Crowley found this tone familiar. He had warned his partner in a similar tone not long ago.
His brain worked at lightning speed, and his gaze drifted unconsciously to the television screen – in the image, Ian was holding a cup of milk tea and shouting excitedly at Jonathan, who was transforming.
“In Ian Kent’s hands?”
Crowley, thinking quickly, then spoke in a low voice, probing.
Lucifer’s gaze also turned towards the television.
“Not in his hands, but in his cup… The Sandman’s sandbag has become vanilla seed boba milk tea. Haha, I really like this guy.”
Lucifer burst into laughter. This answer confirmed Crowley’s guess. The Crossroads King stared at Lucifer’s expression, recalling all the information he had about Ian.
The boy who suddenly appeared at the Kent household, possessing a power that even angels feared.
“Boss, I’m confused.” Crowley hesitated for a long time before finally asking the question that had been bothering him: “This boy is clearly not Superman’s biological son. What is he?”
The bar suddenly fell silent.
Even the background music strangely stopped.
Lucifer slowly put down his wine glass.
“Believe me, Crowley.” Lucifer’s voice suddenly deepened, like an echo from the depths of Hell. “Discovering the answer to this question may not be a good thing for you.”
Hearing this, Crowley’s mind buzzed again. Even with Lucifer’s attitude, he felt even more certain that his guess might not be wrong.
“Alright, I won’t ask.”
Crowley decisively made his choice.
“You seem to be a tiny bit interesting after all.” Lucifer elegantly poured Crowley a glass of amber-colored strong liquor. Amidst Crowley’s flattered expression, he refocused his gaze on the television screen. No one could fathom the thoughts of the Lord of Hell. At this moment, Lucifer’s mind seemed to return to that special night.
Beside the sulfur lake of Hell.
He witnessed Archangel Amanadiel handing a swaddled infant to Clark Kent. The infant was surrounded by a special aura that did not belong to the entire multiverse.
Just as Lucifer was about to approach and observe, a long-forgotten pressure that made him tremble descended from the heavens – it was the first time God had cast His gaze upon His son since his fall.
Even.
It was merely a warning.
Yet, it was the only time Lucifer had felt that God still existed since he chose to fall.
Invincible.
Unchallengeable.
It remained unforgettable to Lucifer even to this day.
The bar’s music echoed.
“To the unknown.”
Lucifer suddenly raised his glass.
Under Crowley’s bewildered gaze.
He drank the wine in his glass in one gulp. Crowley quickly followed suit, but as he tilted his head back, he missed the fleeting complexity in Lucifer’s eyes – no one could discern how many emotions were contained within it.
“Alright, now, let’s continue enjoying the 《Raid of Heaven》 directed by God.” Lucifer suddenly laughed again, looking at the television screen as if nothing had happened.
In the image.
The disaster in Metropolis might have passed.
However, Gotham, where the superheroes resided, remained extremely busy.
Gray mist drifted over the ruins of Gotham, a mist of pollution in its confusion. The once-prosperous streets were now reduced to rubble, along with a pile of fallen angels contaminated by the pollution.
In this somewhat sanity-eroding apocalyptic scene.
Several agile figures were moving rapidly.
They were wielding high-tech water guns, moving through every corner, whether it was the alleyways of the East End or the ruins of relocated houses.
Wherever there was a source of pollution, the Justice League was present.
The seemingly comical weapon, the water gun, actually contained purification liquid and was a product of Batman’s timely efforts, capable of instantly neutralizing and clearing the pollution from the angels.
“East End alleyways cleared.”
Cyborg’s voice came through the communicator.
“Three more contaminated angels have been found and purified.” Batman stood on the roof of a partially collapsed apartment building, his cape gently fluttering in the foul-smelling breeze. In his hand, he held a peculiarly shaped high-pressure water gun, its body covered with Batman’s signature black technological patterns.
“Pay attention to the seven o’clock direction,” his deep voice sounded on the Justice League channel. “There’s a strong abnormal energy reaction there, there should be more than one defiled angel gathered.”
It wasn’t just that someone was cleaning up the pollution source.
Someone was also cleaning up the pollution that had spread.
The Flash darted through like a red lightning bolt, the water gun in his hand accurately spraying a light blue liquid. The liquid immediately emitted a “sizzling” sound upon contact with the black viscous substance seeping from the ground.
Wisps of green smoke rose.
Then.
The pollution on the ground was purified.
“Seriously.”
The Flash complained as he ran.
“I never imagined the daily life of a superhero would become like that of a firefighter.” He braked sharply and pulled the trigger at the shadow in the corner of the wall.
In the shadow hit by the blue liquid, a curled-up angel suddenly trembled violently. His originally black wings began to shed their defilement, gradually returning to a pure white color.
But the process was clearly agonizing, and the angel let out a heart-wrenching scream and knelt on the ground—of course, he finally regained his senses and stopped singing that defiled holy song.
Wonder Woman quickly stepped forward.
The Lasso of Truth was binding an angel who had started singing an even more defiled holy song, madly praising the god Ian of all laws: “Calm down! The purification process will be over soon.”
She also purified the angel’s pollution with the water gun.
However.
The new holy song did not stop.
Wonder Woman had no choice but to release the bound angel. The next moment, the angel, having lost his glory and his power link to heaven, finally regained true clarity in his eyes.
The angel who had lost his power raised his head, revealing a handsome but gaunt face. His eyes were full of vigilance, and he instinctively flinched back upon seeing the heavily armed heroes around him.
“What did you do to me?”
His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time.
Accompanied by the whistling of the wind, Batman leaped from the rooftop, his cape unfurling like bat wings: “We purified the defilement on you. You are safe now.”
As he spoke.
Batman scanned the angel in front of him with an instrument. Like the angels whose defilement had been purified earlier, the angel presented feedback information on his instrument that was like that of an ordinary person.
“Mortal. You shouldn’t interfere in the affairs of angels.” The angel, maintaining his arrogant attitude, staggered to his feet and tried to stretch his white wings to ascend to the sky.
Although he fell to the ruins in embarrassment after flying less than ten meters, he persisted in getting up and trying again—he looked like an ordinary person with a pair of atrophied wings on his back.
“I guess the ‘never accept human help’ clause is definitely in heaven’s onboarding training,” Aquaman couldn’t help but quip as he saw the angel’s arrogant attitude.
“You can rest here temporarily. I will arrange safe accommodation for you and assist you in finding a way to return to heaven. You don’t need to worry about other matters.”
Batman continued to persuade him.
“Angels do not need mortal charity. We will solve our own problems.” The handsome angel looked up at the mortal dressed in a battle suit.
He finally just nodded slightly.
No help was accepted.
This was not the first time such a situation had occurred. Although the superheroes had purified the defilement on the angels, the angels who had lost their powers still had their own pride.
“Why are they all so stubborn?”
Not far away.
Cyborg sighed helplessly.
Similar conversations were being repeated in every corner of Gotham. Beneath the ruins of a bombed-out church in the East End, an angel, after being rescued, immediately refused Superman’s suggestion.
“I know who you are, and we know who Bruce is. I don’t want to be a sample on his experimental table.” Perhaps the angels had a little more respect for Superman than for Batman. At least this angel bowed slightly to Superman in thanks before folding his broken wings and staggering away.
And at an underground pipe exit, another angel, after being purified, didn’t even bother to look at Batman. He left behind only the words “We will find our way home” and left without looking back.
Truly, not a single angel was willing to accept aid. Although they spoke words of gratitude, their attitude remained one of arrogance and detachment befitting beings from a higher dimension.
“It’s like we’ve saved a bunch of big shots from heaven.”
Batman sighed.
He did not stop them.
Because he had already conducted a danger assessment of these angels who had lost their powers. Before they could regain their strength, more than half of them would likely end up in a mental hospital.
As for the other half, they would either end up in black factories or be lured into brothels.
“Is this the suffering angels must endure?” Just as Batman was boldly speculating on the thoughts of the supreme will, Superman Clark flew over with an empty water gun.
“Bruce, we’ve finished clearing all the areas.”
Superman landed beside Batman, his red cape gently swaying in the Gotham wind. He looked at the angels being purified in the distance, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.
“Mm.”
Batman nodded.
“Bruce, you’re really amazing,” Superman suddenly said, his voice carrying a hint of deliberate admiration. “To have come up with a counter-strategy in such a short time.”
He paused.
His blue eyes narrowed slightly.
“I think you were prepared, weren’t you?”
This was not really a question, but a statement delivered with certainty.
Batman did not respond immediately, his gaze still fixed on a precarious building in the distance. The ruins of Gotham cast long shadows in the setting sun.
However, Clark did not let this silent interval pass. He asked again, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Can you tell me what the raw materials for this purification liquid are?”
Upon hearing this.
Bruce’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment.
He slowly turned his head, his eyes beneath the mask appearing exceptionally deep in the shadows. “Believe me, Clark, you wouldn’t want to know the answer to that question.”
To this.
Superman merely offered another smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Let me guess, yes, let me guess,” Superman said, crossing his arms, his tone suddenly becoming sharp. “You have a share in our sewer treatment company, don’t you?”
As soon as he said this.
Batman, who was organizing his equipment, froze.
“??????”
Batman was uncharacteristically stunned.
“What are you talking about?”
His tone was utterly speechless.
The eyebrows under his mask seemed to fly up to his hairline.
At this moment, Clark’s expression had turned serious. “I watched you take out large buckets labeled with Ian’s name and then create these so-called purification liquids.”
He pointed to the empty containers not far away.
The “old father” clearly started settling accounts after the situation was under control.
“Hmm?”
Suddenly.
Wonder Woman also flew over after completing her work.
“Using the pollution created by Ian to fight another kind of pollution, good job, Bruce,” Wonder Woman said, giving Batman a thumbs-up with a chuckle.
Before she could continue her teasing, trying to diffuse the somewhat tense atmosphere, Batman let out a heavy sigh and pressed his hands to his temples.
“I only acquired some hospitals in Metropolis, hospitals that Metropolis schools designate for physical examinations.” Batman seemed to have no intention of concealing his actions. He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “It’s blood. I used a diluted extract of your son’s blood, along with some other chemical substances.”
This explanation made Clark’s expression a bit awkward.
“Is that so?”
Clark’s voice lowered.
He suddenly agreed with Wonder Woman’s earlier remark. Perhaps Ian really had the legendary Ian virus, which could contaminate and corrupt the thinking of Kryptonians.
No one in the Justice League was surprised that Batman collected Ian’s blood, or the blood of others, not even Ian’s own father.
After all.
Even Ian, the invincible Father God with super intelligence, had his blood collected by Batman, the cunning villain, more than once. The Gotham Freaks truly had all sorts of bizarre methods.
“So the Blood of the King of Gods has this kind of effect.” Wonder Woman raised her eyebrows with great interest, her gaze shifting between the two. She even suspected Batman had secretly imprisoned some gods for research.
Otherwise, it would be hard to explain why Bruce could immediately choose Ian’s blood as the material—it was no wonder those angels were cautious and wary of Batman.
Sending angels, gods, and the like to the experimental table was indeed something Batman would do. Everyone present knew that Batman’s secret laboratory could probably contain anything.
“Ian hasn’t participated in any physical examinations since he started middle school. What I was able to collect was actually his blood from when he was an ordinary person.”
“As for why it’s effective, don’t ask me.” Batman suddenly pushed aside Superman, who was blocking his way. As they passed each other, he spoke meaningfully, meeting Clark’s gaze.
“Either ask Clark, or go ask God at the church.” With that, he strode towards the Batmobile and began the final scan of the entire city.
This was to ensure that no pollution source was missed.
The twilight of Gotham cast a long shadow of his figure. Just as the atmosphere was about to become awkward, Cyborg’s helpless voice suddenly came from the communicator.
“Uh, guys, I think we have another problem.” His mechanical eyes flickered with data streams, clearly having connected to America’s public network.
“Is the pollution appearing elsewhere?”
The Flash and Aquaman were immediately startled.
However.
“No, the problem I’m talking about is that Superman still has to move those residents and houses back.” Cyborg’s tone became increasingly strange, and he spoke with some difficulty. “According to my data, the disaster relief loans provided by the American government to Gotham refugees are a very special kind of usury.”
“How special, you ask? The people who engage in usury are calling it the usury of usuries online.” He paused before stating the facts.
“…”
“…”
“…”
The members of the Justice League collectively fell silent at this moment.
Only Cyborg continued to query information and report to the Justice League. “I think those gentlemen in Congress and the banks don’t know what they’re doing.”
“Those are Gotham citizens. After being forced into loans, even the inherently good Gotham citizens are now counting their weapon stockpiles and buying bullets in large quantities.”
Cyborg’s “broadcast” was simply jaw-dropping.
“Wait, what are those Gotham citizens preparing to do?” Aquaman’s pupils dilated. He felt like he was finally going to witness the uprising the land dwellers spoke of.
“Uh, I dare not comment, but some Gotham citizens have already raided Air Force bases in other cities and successfully instigated base soldiers to gain control of over thirty F-35 fighter jets.”
Cyborg’s voice was indescribable.
Upon hearing this.
The Lasso of Truth in Wonder Woman’s hand almost fell to the ground.
“What the hell is going on?!” She remembered the ruthless people she had encountered when she first arrived in Gotham, who thought the apocalypse had arrived and wanted to preserve their neighbors as canned food.
“These guys have been resettled in other cities, like max-level criminals entering a beginner’s village. Surveillance shows that even a pure-hearted old lady can pull a rocket launcher out of her super-sized underwear.”
Cyborg continued his report, his tone growing more helpless. Everyone looked at the figure using the Batmobile, all wanting to know from whom the Gotham citizens had purchased their munitions.
“Don’t ask me, ask the damn Joker Gang.”
Batman felt like he was being blamed. He sighed in annoyance, his emotional control deteriorating, his voice filled with impatience.
Just then.
“Oh, no!”
Cyborg’s shocked voice sounded again.
“Those guys are actually researching the unlock program for nuclear bombs—they got a nuclear warhead!” Truly, Gotham produces talent, far more impressive than those in Metropolis.
Upon hearing this, Superman immediately turned into a red and blue blur and shot into the sky.
The Flash followed closely. Their mission was clear—to move the Gotham citizens and their property back to the land they were meant to nourish.
Of course.
The first priority was to deal with the rebels at the Air Force bases.
Superman was responsible for high-altitude interception, preventing any F-35s from attempting to take off; The Flash was responsible for ground operations, forcibly taking away those citizens who were studying whether to bomb Congress or Wall Street with nuclear weapons.
In one of the most outrageous incidents, an aunt in pajamas had modified a microwave oven into an electromagnetic pulse cannon, causing electronics in half a block to simultaneously shut down.
For the next several hours.
The rest of the Justice League witnessed what could be called a “Gotham-style homecoming wave”—as Superman carried an entire apartment building across the bay, the residents inside were calmly eating, drinking, and gambling.
Their mental state was top-notch.
“What terrifying terrorists!” The Flash, at light speed, flew a captured fighter jet back to the Air Force base. The Gotham old man in the pilot’s seat was still studying the operation manual. Most outrageously, an old lady wearing a pearl necklace, upon being returned to her ruined home, was still clutching a metal box labeled “Radioactive Material.”
“This is a souvenir! A souvenir from outside!” The old lady yelled righteously at The Flash, who was trying to reason with her. “My grandson will need it for college!”
Her words left The Flash at a loss.
Batman was more effective.
He went straight up and gave the old lady a hefty slap, fully embodying the hot-tempered Batman. He directly snatched the metal box from her and had The Flash take it for proper disposal.
“You’re not yourself, Bruce,” Clark said, having moved the last batch of buildings. He noticed Batman’s condition and frowned in warning.
“Mm.”
Batman did not deny it.
He simply looked at his hand, which had unconsciously swung out and knocked the old lady out, his eyes flickering slightly.
“I will heal myself.”
He assured the other members of the Justice League, showing no intention of seeking help. Instead, he got into his Batmobile and sped off, as if to get a check-up.
To a secret base somewhere, it was unknown.
Superman quickly discovered that Bruce’s car had disappeared from his sight—clearly, Bruce had designed further defenses against him after his recent power boost.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
Clark looked into the distance.
At this time, after continuous transportation work, The Flash and Superman had successfully restored most of Gotham’s environment, though the buildings that had been replanted looked slightly different from before.
“Bruce said he knows what his problem is,” The Flash, who had clearly communicated with Bruce earlier, said to Clark while supporting his knees and panting.
“Your speed has slowed by more than half, and your stamina is depleting. I think the problem you have is still consuming you.” Superman’s gaze returned to The Flash’s arm.
There.
The hideous mark still remained.
The Flash looked down at his arm under his clothes and said softly, “Bruce told me that if I’m lucky enough, I can solve my problems tonight.”
He clearly didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he wasn’t lucky enough.
“If you need help, or if you find out Bruce has bigger problems, notify me immediately.” Superman patted The Flash’s shoulder and reminded him in his ear.
“No problem.”
The Flash gave Superman a thumbs-up and then turned into a red streak of lightning, disappearing at the end of the street – he was clearly heading back to the research base he had been in earlier.
“Everyone can finally get some good rest.”
Superman looked around at the other members of the Justice League.
“The way Bruce is acting, I can’t rest easy – heaven knows I might wake up to find a bunch of female superheroes created by Bruce on Earth.”
Wonder Woman was also very worried about Batman’s current mental state.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Aquaman and Cyborg exchanged a look and shared the same response.
“When I get back, I’ll figure out a plan to keep an eye on Bruce.” Superman was worried too, he gave his assurance, then his gaze shifted towards Metropolis.
Under the watchful eyes of the superheroes.
The invincible Superman instantly disappeared from his spot.
He left in a bit of a hurry – as soon as Clark landed amidst the ruins of his own yard, he saw Ian and Jordan wrestling, fighting over a glowing belt.
“Let me play with it! Eldest Brother loves me the most!”
Ian put Jordan in a chokehold and pinned him to the ground.
“Nonsense! He still owes me two girlfriends! He should let me play with his belt!” Jordan, not to be outdone, reached for Ian’s armpit, causing Ian to let out a cackling, evil god-like laugh.
“What’s going on again?”
Superman stood not far away.
His cape hung limply.
“Can someone explain?”
He stood before the ruins.
He looked at Ian and Jordan, who were wrestling, then at Jonathan, who was standing by helplessly, and at Madison, who was holding a street lamp, eating roasted meat, and cheering for Ian.
“Jordan is a lazy winner, he wants to fight the MVP for that magical transformation belt.” Madison noticed Superman’s gaze and explained vaguely while chewing roasted meat.
She explained before Jonathan, and Superman felt like he understood this statement as much as he usually understood Ian’s words – he still didn’t understand anything.
“Uh, Old Man, it’s like this.” Jonathan scratched his head and walked forward a bit sheepishly. For the next ten minutes, he recounted his experience of meeting a white-bearded old man in a dream.
After Superman listened, his expression froze for a full five seconds.
“You’re saying.”
Clark asked word by word, as if confirming he hadn’t misheard, “An old man in a robe took a belt out of the television and gave it to you, and then you can pray to the gods for strength?”
“The last time I heard something like this was about Shazam and his little stories.” Clark of course knew Shazam, but Shazam wasn’t part of the Justice League.
That special superhero usually had to prioritize his studies.
Facing his father’s question.
Jonathan hesitated, then nodded. Seeing this, Clark couldn’t help but frown, and started to wonder if Jonathan needed to see Dr. Hannibal.
“Really, I also think it’s very bizarre, but that’s just how it happened.” Jonathan seemed to sense his father’s doubt, sighed, and strode towards Ian and Jordan, who were still fighting. He snatched the belt they were fighting over and, to his father’s astonished gaze, buckled it around his own waist.
“Transform!”
A dazzling blue light instantly erupted, and Jonathan’s figure rapidly changed within the light. When the light faded, a figure covered in mysterious armor, surrounded by ancient runes, appeared before everyone.
Most shocking of all, with a gentle wave of his hand, the mud on the ground began to dance automatically, arranging itself into neat formations, as if performing some kind of mystical ritual.
“?????????”
Superman’s mouth fell open.
His jaw almost hit the ground.
“.”
Silence.
A long silence.
It’s unknown how Superman convinced himself to accept this fact. He looked at his ruined new home, sighed, and reached out to pick up the three children in the house.
“Perfect, you can join the ranks of chopping trees and fixing the house too.” Superman’s ability to accept things was truly remarkable, perhaps due to proper training. He took the three of them and was about to fly back to the old house.
“I can also help you fix the house. As a witch, I usually need to exercise my strength.” Madison suddenly spoke, extending her street lamp to Superman.
“…”
Superman, with one hand holding three boys and the other holding Madison’s street lamp, instantly took flight and sped towards the direction of the Kent family’s ancestral farm.
“I don’t want to fix the house! I bought you a mansion!”
Ian’s resistance was ultimately futile.
He was still forced to join the ranks of chopping trees, absorbing moisture from them, and rebuilding the house. After about half an hour of busy work, he finally seized an opportunity and escaped with Madison.
Clark and his two older brothers, who were engrossed in their tasks, didn’t react at all.
It wasn’t until the new house was built.
Superman then realized that Ian had disappeared at some point. In the room, only a Demon Head was in there, mimicking Ian and Madison’s voices with a pinched throat.
“Where are they?”
He ignored the Demon Head’s skillful imitation of human speech.
He looked around in shock.
Finally.
The Old Man pinpointed the location of Ian and Madison – it was Gotham.
“Black Angel, come to my side.”
“White Angel, go to the Little Punk Girl’s side. Don’t worry, they don’t fix screws over there.”
Clearly.
The Capitalist knew how to seize an opportunity.
Thus, Ian’s greatest Technology Group began recruiting labor.
