Chapter 164: Return To The Human World! Lucifer Despairs!
Thomas Wayne’s words fell silent, and the room fell into a deathly hush.
For a moment, it was truly difficult to describe Ian’s complex emotions at this moment in less than twenty thousand words. He opened his mouth, then felt as if he had misheard and closed it again.
“Sorry, what did you say?” Ian’s hand kept hesitating in front of his mouth, only his eyes, widened like a dragon’s, conveyed his disbelief.
Ian found it truly hard to imagine that a simp Minotaur actually had such skills. After all, in that guy’s simp vocabulary, there were only a few mindless simp quotes that were repeated over and over.
Such a demon with a limited vocabulary could actually fool a King of Hell with words?
“Your head attendant, it seems, spent over three hours in a long talk, making the King of Lies, Belial, believe you are the future of Hell, the successor truly favored by Lucifer.” Thomas’s expression became even more peculiar as he spoke of this. He didn’t believe that a mere lower-ranking demon could deceive the King of Lies with lies.
Precisely because of this.
This was the most unbelievable thing for Thomas Wayne. Even someone as cunning and intelligent as he couldn’t figure out how that lower-ranking demon managed to fool the King of Lies.
“Nonsense, Lucifer wouldn’t even give me half of his demonic power. He clearly just wants to see me in Hell… Wait, who did you say my trash can fooled just now?” Ian suddenly grabbed Thomas’s sleeve, the silk fabric sliding through his fingers.
Armani clothing.
Clearly still contraband.
“The King of Lies, Belial!” Ian didn’t wait for Thomas Wayne’s response, as he had actually heard clearly. The youth’s eyes shone unusually in the dim light.
His golden-red eyes were like 200-watt light bulbs.
They shone so brightly that Thomas became somewhat unaccustomed. With a snap of his fingers, a faint blue flame rose from the last of the ashes in the corner of the room, countering Ian’s gaze.
The two lights made Thomas’s face flicker.
“So? Why does a name make you so excited, like a Hellcat that’s smelled catnip?” He leaned back slightly, avoiding Ian’s sudden advance.
Ian let go and began pacing the room. His Nike sneakers crunched softly on the ashes, and the corners of his mouth spread wider, clearly showing immense joy.
“This name is good, this name is wonderful!” Ian chanted as if reciting a spell, then suddenly turned with a firm tone, “This name sounds perfect for joining my new Land of Light!”
Ian was not only good at creating alt accounts but also at setting up shell companies. Anyone who has played Red Alert knows that a cunning person has many hiding places; having a few more bases is never wrong.
Evidently.
The new Justice League was no longer enough for Ian, because of the “Ultra Bomb.” He considered himself the first Ultraman in the human world, so he felt that the DC universe should also have its own Land of Light.
“A great undertaking awaits me, something no one has ever been able to do – to purify Hell. Fortunately, I am here. Once I transform Hell into the new M78 Nebula, it will be brighter than Heaven! This is a complete renewal, a transformation, a complete overhaul, a rebirth. Uh, my vocabulary shouldn’t be so limited, why is it gone… Anyway, there are many similar American idioms here, so I won’t say more.”
“Mainly, I’m worried you’re uncultured and won’t understand. In short, this is me—the new King of Hell, Ian the King of Ultra, the master of Hell renovation in the new era, the soul beautician of demons, the terminator of sin, the purifier of darkness!” Ian chattered incessantly. He even took out a piece of chalk from his pocket and began drawing his proposal on the wall, using professional terms, but Thomas Wayne didn’t understand a single word.
He had seen many proposals in his past and present lives, but he had never witnessed scribbles like Ian’s. Bruce Wayne’s doodles at the age of three were neater than this.
“No, aren’t you worried at all? Are you really going to accept that demon’s fealty?” Thomas Wayne took a handkerchief from his suit’s inner pocket and wiped his face.
Spittle was practically raining down.
He even suspected Ian was deliberately spitting in his face.
“Don’t worry, Thomas brother, you’re the first King of Hell to pledge allegiance to me, and no one can shake that position.” Ian’s expression was as sincere as a streamer selling goods while fidgeting.
Thomas’s pupils dilated slightly at this moment.
“When did I swear allegiance to you?” Thomas Wayne was stunned. No matter how carefully he tried to recall, he couldn’t remember ever making such an unwise decision.
“Don’t you want to go to Heaven?”
Ian blinked, his eyes looking confused.
Upon hearing this, Thomas Wayne quickly explained, “Oh, no, no, no, I’m exchanging this new Gotham with you for an indulgence, it’s a purchase, not selling myself.”
He was clearly afraid that if he explained too slowly, it would be misunderstood. In reality, Thomas Wayne was perfectly clear about Ian’s nonsensical ramblings.
“I think you just want to use this to shift the influence onto Bruce, don’t you?” He looked at Ian not with a suspicious gaze, but with an utterly certain tone, exposing Ian’s ulterior motive.
No mind-reading was needed; face-reading worked very well with Ian.
“Uh… Brother Thomas, you’re really so smart.” Ian chuckled sheepishly and took a step back. Even though he was disappointed inside, he could only clumsily give a reluctant thumbs-up.
Thomas Wayne remained expressionless.
“Heh.”
He adjusted his tie, each syllable seemingly filled with speechlessness, “Once a slave, always a slave, even the son of a slave. These are the class divisions my ancestors established.”
“You want to use my grandfather’s methods against me?” It’s hard to say what Thomas Wayne was bragging about; truthfully, he might have been pre-booked for Hell from the womb.
To develop and grow in a place like Gotham, managing the city at least on the surface to look presentable, such a person was naturally suited to be a demon in Hell.
It made no difference anyway.
The Gotham Emperor demonstrated his family heritage, belonging to the orthodox American stars and stripes. Ian naturally couldn’t compete, so the youth could only concede defeat.
“When my second brother needs me, as long as he can produce a new Krypton, I can also be a Kryptonian old prince.” Ian secretly vowed to find more wives for his second brother who could bear children.
Second Brother Thanos’s potions should be used for their intended purpose.
Black people have good bodies, and American black women can definitely have more children. However, considering his second brother’s preferences, Ian thought perhaps a live-action movie and TV series of My Little Pony should be made.
Kryptonian centaurs wouldn’t be bad either; they are considered fantasy races. But calling a horse “sister-in-law” is still a bit awkward, so Ian felt he had to correct his second brother’s preferences—Thomas stared at Ian, who had once again fallen into thought, and worried that the other was still scheming some wicked idea.
“Seriously, Ian, I hope you can resist the temptation of controlling a Demon King. That is the King of Lies, skilled in deception and conspiracy, with many, many more schemes than I.”
“God knows if this bizarre decision of his is meant to plot something against you.” Thomas Wayne sighed, changing the subject while also revealing his inner defenses.
It was clear he had suffered losses at the hands of the King of Lies before.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I have a labor contract, it’s very effective… By the way, was the King of Lies not from the Great Britain Empire or the capital of heaven in his lifetime?”
Ian also maintained some caution, but Thomas Wayne couldn’t keep up with the leap in thinking and didn’t quite understand what he meant.
Of course.
This old American star-spangled banner man gave an answer, “You might not understand, but Belial and the like are embodiments of original sin, unlike me, a demon by acquisition.”
“The concept of ‘lifetime’ does not exist for them.” Thomas Wayne educated Ian on the classification of demons, though Ian had already discerned this classification from Crowley.
“Then it’s fine! I’m completely relieved. I have world-shattering wisdom, so his schemes are definitely no match for mine. Only the roaring bears from those two places can surpass me!”
The room fell into an eerie silence.
The last spark in the ashes died with a puff. Thomas blinked three slow times, his confusion undiminished. He began to seriously consider if he had been away from the human world for too long, resulting in a significant generational gap with today’s youth, perhaps this was some kind of internet culture expression of contemporary young people?
“Perhaps I really do have a generational gap with you young people.”
He still hadn’t suspected Ian’s mental state.
Brother Thomas is really so gentle.
“It’s okay, your son understands me. He likes me a lot and has invested in many of my projects that are ahead of their time. Clearly, he has a discerning eye for heroes.” Ian was adding ancillary facilities to the “New Land of Light” on the wall with chalk, including, but not limited to, “Demon Employee Canteen” and “Hell Health Insurance.”
Thomas looked at the developing plan behind Ian, where a section labeled “Ian’s Happy House” was particularly glaring. He hesitated to even think about what kind of happiness that entailed.
“Where is my Hellcat? Has she been found yet?” Ian felt he was lacking a foil at this moment, and Hellcat was better at flattering him than the Demon Head, Baal.
After all, it was a small car, so it was normal for it to carry people.
Hearing this.
Thomas Wayne’s mouth twitched subtly. He didn’t know how to express his emotions, firmly believing that no demon was as peculiar as those of the Ian lineage.
The head of a lower-ranking demon was like this, and so was that Hellcat.
“She’s out there hunting demons madly, as if she believes that if she becomes strong enough, she can save you. The radio has been playing recordings of ‘Ten Years West, Ten Years East.'”
“Yes, it seems to be some encouragement from you?” Thomas Wayne actually wanted to say “bewitchment,” but he ultimately chose a more tactful expression.
“This is loyalty!”
Ian’s eyes immediately lit up like two suddenly lit jack-o’-lanterns—Thomas Wayne watched Ian’s boundless emotion with a blank expression.
“Indeed loyal.”
The King of Hell of the Wayne family added to the narrative with emotion.
“However, I personally intervened and managed to catch her.” He spoke as if recalling the peculiarity of that demon car, whose attributes seemed to have a natural restraint effect on demons.
It was definitely not a normal demon car. Of course, considering its owner was this peculiar little imp in front of him, perhaps its abnormality could be considered reasonable.
“You caught her?”
Ian’s actions abruptly stopped.
“Where did you park her? She doesn’t like paid parking spots; she likes to fight for spots with other cars.” He was already well aware of the demon car’s temperament.
“I think I already know that. She ate all the other demon cars…” Thomas Wayne took out a pocket watch from his suit’s inner pocket and looked at it.
“Don’t worry, I’m currently feeding her live Hellhounds, and she’s temporarily not trying to escape the garage anymore. You can pick up your car before you leave.”
Thomas Wayne clearly also knew how effective the feeding method was.
“That’s great!”
Ian clapped his hands, once again affirming the Hellcat’s loyalty, “When I negotiate with my new aunt again, I’m going to ask my new aunt for some Aunt Flo to let her drink!”
As soon as these words were spoken.
The pocket watch slipped from Thomas Wayne’s hand.
It dangled and swung on its silver chain.
His pupils dilated to almost human size.
“Your… new aunt?” It wasn’t that Thomas Wayne’s reaction was unreasonable. After all, he knew something about Superman’s family situation, so the term “new aunt” couldn’t help but remind him of the photo Ian had shown him earlier—a picture of Martha and Old Jonathan, and the Martha in the photo was not Jonathan’s official Martha.
“Actually, it doesn’t matter.” Ian wasn’t aware that Thomas Wayne had such a strong sense of marital crisis. He remembered to keep secrets about dark matters.
The wilting of the demonic furniture in the room had already proven that darkness didn’t want others to know her affairs. Ian couldn’t possibly endanger his Brother Thomas because of this.
He was very considerate and thought of others. However, precisely because of this, seeing Ian acting somewhat furtively made Thomas Wayne’s imagination run wild.
“I want to go to Heaven! Really! I need to get to Heaven quickly!” Thomas Wayne was anxious. He took off his glasses and wiped them vigorously, as if that could erase the terrible associations forming in his mind.
“I’ll write to Bruce right now to treat his new uncle well.” It was evident he was in a state of extreme impatience. Indeed, children are always a surprise to their parents.
“But I haven’t started the experiments yet. I need to use some small demons for experimentation first.” Master Ian was very rigorous with his industries and didn’t want any guests to have accidents. It was also because of this rigor that a lightning bolt streaked across the sky outside, illuminating the wonderfully varied changes on Thomas Wayne’s face.
He took a deep breath, then another, and another—this continuous action was particularly rare in the sulfur-scented air of Hell.
The sulfur had almost pickled Thomas Wayne, but he finally calmed his turbulent, wandering thoughts and immediately snapped his fingers in the air.
A mass of black shadows appeared in the center of the room in response, twisting and writhing until they took shape. A dozen small demons bound by iron chains rolled onto the ground like screaming balls of yarn. Their bean-sized eyes were filled with fear, and upon seeing Thomas Wayne, they collectively lost control of their bowels, emitting a mixed odor of rotten fish and stinky eggs.
“Your experimental materials.” Thomas Wayne nudged the pile of demons with his toe disdainfully, “Now you should be able to take them back to the human world quickly and start your research, right?”
His voice carried a hint of urgency, and he was indeed quite self-preserving, not wanting to take risks himself—after all, he was the former number one master of Gotham.
The lives of small demons might not mean much to him. Ian crouched down, tapping the heads of the small demons one by one like selecting watermelons. He discovered that there were indeed a few good heads suitable for being trash cans.
“Don’t rush, I still need to wait for my King of Trash Cans, and for Belial—” Ian had promoted Demon Baal, and Demon Baal was no longer just a trash can.
He had become the king of trash cans.
“No need to wait for him! They will wait for you at the exit of Hell.” Thomas Wayne suddenly raised his voice, then forced himself to regain his composure, “How can something as important as the indulgence experiment be delayed by other matters? This is a truly big business, and the entire Hell will submit to you because of it.”
This was not flattery, but a statement of fact. There was no demon who didn’t want to immigrate to Heaven. For years, even the Kings of Hell had been planning to conquer Heaven.
“Have you also found my psychiatrist?”
Ian picked up a small creature with six ears from the pile of demons. The creature was using two of its ears to cover its eyes. This creature resembled a character from an alien monster cartoon he had watched before.
“Uh…”
Thomas Wayne hesitated to speak, as if he had reservations or was apprehensive of something. He looked indecisive and hesitant.
“Could it be that my psychiatrist has already been eaten? Uh, some demons probably really believe that eating a psychiatrist can cure their own psychological illness.”
“This is called ‘you are what you eat’…” Ian’s diet did not include his own kind, so even though he could understand this theory, he would not put it into practice.
A good husband knows what to do and what not to do.
This is the righteousness of Hell’s King of Ultra.
Just as he was about to say something else.
“Hannibal Lecter!”
Thomas Wayne interrupted him suddenly, speaking at an unnaturally fast pace.
“Yes, the psychiatrist you wanted.” His finger unconsciously rubbed the edge of the pocket watch. “I’ve confirmed his location. Yes, he’s the first one I’ve confirmed the location of.”
The old King of Gotham still appeared somewhat hesitant.
“And then?”
Ian put down the six-eared demon.
He brushed off imaginary dust from his hands.
Thomas Wayne’s expression became hesitant again. He looked out the window, then at the ground, and finally at the trembling small demons—he just wouldn’t look Ian in the eye.
“His… uh… situation is a bit special.”
The King of Hell finally managed to utter an ambiguous sentence.
“More special than my little kitty and my trash can?” Ian raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise. He wasn’t good at smiling faintly, but he was very good at raising his eyebrows.
Ian also didn’t like to show off the fact that he could even wiggle his eyebrows.
“He’s staying in those confession rooms, but the confession rooms he’s in are a bit unusual, and my people and I can’t get him out.” Thomas Wayne sighed.
He hadn’t expected to encounter such a situation when looking for a human soul.
“Can’t get him out?”
Ian sensed Thomas Wayne’s difficulty and became even more curious. Did souls of legal integrators from outer space have different afterlife treatments than indigenous souls?
Did the DC universe also offer preferential treatment to “international students”?
“This…”
Thomas Wayne suddenly turned and walked towards the door, as if he was apprehensive about mentioning certain things.
“You’d better see for yourself.”
Thomas Wayne’s Adam’s apple bobbed as if he had swallowed a piece of hot coal. His apprehension was palpable, and his black gloves continuously rubbed the edge of the pocket watch.
This was a sign of nervousness.
Ian became even more curious.
Before Ian could ask further questions, Thomas Wayne opened a plain-looking door, revealing a passageway that should not have existed behind it.
This was clearly a special ability of Thomas Wayne.
Entering it, the two ascended from the lower levels of Hell.
Hell.
This was not the land of fire and brimstone imagined by mortals, but a mad conglomeration of countless dimensions pieced together. It was like a child brutally tearing up picture books of different art styles and randomly sticking the fragments together into a new collage. Nearby, the spires of an 18th-century Baroque church pierced a futuristic metal city.
A floating golden slab connected to an inverted palace, the entrance to which led to a desolate snowfield. The entire Hell was like a three-dimensional labyrinth painted by a madman.
The sloped surface of an ancient Egyptian pyramid extended into Gothic flying buttresses, connecting to areas resembling Mayan civilization. All the buildings in each region were slowly wriggling, as if being kneaded by an invisible hand like plasticine. Logic was completely abandoned here; only strength and will could maintain existence.
The various boundaries of Hell were revealed.
Ian was not surprised by this. He had long known that the entire Hell was not a single space but a vast, layered onion.
Each layer enveloped different dimensions, different rules, different pains and orders. They passed through burning scorched earth, a sea of floating vengeful spirits, and twisted mirror cities, finally reaching the upper Hell—an area closer to the “ruling core” than anywhere else.
It was also the territory Ian had occupied before he fell.
Near Lucifer’s throne.
The throne floated in mid-air, surrounded by countless burning halos, as if the will of the entire hell was condensed on that throne. However, Thomas did not bring Ian closer to the throne, but pointed to a densely packed, neatly arranged row of square boxes. These were the confession rooms that trapped all human souls.
Those rooms were like giant coffins, entirely black, etched with ancient runes and seals on their surfaces. Each one was like an independent cage, or an entrance to another world. Looking inside from the window, in the inverted library, books were chained to scholars who were reading.
In a desert.
The merchant prostrated himself before self-replicating contracts.
This was what the scene looked like from the perspective of an observer, signifying the greatest obsessions in the hearts of trapped souls, which bound them and prevented them from leaving.
“Your doctor is in box number 0.” Sweat suddenly broke out on the suit Thomas Wayne had changed into, and screaming faces were etched onto the fabric.
It was obvious.
This hell-branded suit was terrified.
“No one knows who is in room 0, but even Lucifer has never dared to approach…” Before he finished speaking, Ian’s fingers were already on the doorknob of room 0.
“Click.”
It was a simple brass handle, as ordinary as any accessory in a human apartment, yet it caused Thomas Wayne to swallow in extreme tension.
The door opened.
There was no hellish scene as expected, no torrent of vengeful spirits gushing out. There was only a light—so soft, so warm, like sunlight filtering through sheer curtains on a winter morning, gently crossing the threshold. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was sitting on the sofa inside the door, wearing his signature impeccable suit.
His gaze was as calm as water.
As if he was doing his old job. A consultant’s notebook lay on his lap, and his pen cast a long shadow on the paper. Everything was as normal as if he were still alive in the human world.
“I think I’m beginning to understand everything,” Ian hesitated for a moment before stepping in. He looked across from Dr. Hannibal, where indeed no one was.
But it wasn’t entirely empty.
In this room, similar to Hannibal’s office, the sofa meant for the patient was filled with a light, purer and more vast than that overflowing from the door.
It had no fixed form, yet seemed to contain all forms; it made no sound, yet it was like a million orchestras playing simultaneously in the mind. As Ian gazed into it, he saw countless possibilities arise and perish—a smiling baby growing into a killer with a knife, a blood-dripping rose blossoming into a dove of peace.
Even the radiance of the entire universe rotated within the light.
It had no fixed form, yet it inexplicably evoked the image of a languidly reclining noblewoman, with fleeting glimpses of a feminine silhouette occasionally appearing as the light flowed.
“So, ma’am, are you very unhappy with your husband?” The psychiatrist was listening intently, his pen scratching on the notebook.
He hadn’t noticed the intruder behind him at all.
“He’s like a cold stone tablet!” The light, also focused on the conversation, didn’t notice Ian’s arrival. It suddenly fluctuated violently, its voice like a million wind chimes trembling simultaneously.
“That old stubborn man has been feigning deafness and muteness since he invented ‘free will’! When he created the universe, he could still say ‘Let there be light,’ but now he’s locked me up in this place!”
The light twisted into a furious vortex.
“Please use the ‘I feel’ sentence structure,” Hannibal interrupted gently, “Do you remember our agreement?”
The light fluctuated unwillingly.
“Yes, I feel ignored, so I threw a few tantrums, but he shouldn’t have locked me directly in hell. I just want to destroy all of you humans.”
“Who told him to pay so much attention to you,” the light not only had a feminine voice but also carried a woman’s specific dissatisfaction, the image of a resentful wife was clearly palpable without needing to be shown.
“Creak—”
Ian’s leather shoes suddenly stepped on a loose floorboard.
Dr. Hannibal turned his head sharply.
“Ian? Ian Kent?” He was somewhat surprised and incredulous, unable to understand how his patient from the human world had tracked him down to this place.
“Sorry to bother you.”
Seeing that he could no longer eavesdrop on gossip, Ian strode over.
“I believe I was the one who made the appointment first.”
Ian had already made an appointment with Dr. Hannibal, and he had truly gone through great lengths to see his psychiatrist. Ian turned to the light and showed a professional smile.
“Auntie Goddess, you’re sitting in my reserved seat.” At this moment, the omniscient Ian was back online; he had recognized what kind of being the light on the sofa was.
Primordial Light.
The first ray of light in the world.
And God’s wife, the mother of Lucifer and all the archangels—yes, in terms of XP, figures like Jordan, Xu Xian, and Ning Caichen are weak.
Look at God!
He fucked Daoguang!
And had many children!
Based on this alone, it’s understandable why there are so many XP variations in the human world. After all, humans originated from the Creator, God, so there were already significant problems with XP at the source.
“???????”
The silhouette in the light stared at Ian.
It seemed surprised by the uninvited guest.
“How did you get here?”
Dr. Hannibal also couldn’t figure out if Ian had also died. If he understood Ian, it would be perfectly reasonable for Ian to come to hell.
“Well, my butler, Wayne, will explain the specifics. Let’s leave here first.” Ian didn’t dare to talk to Lucifer’s mother like he talked to the darkness.
This goddess was truly in menopause.
It’s known that humans are God’s most proud creation, which proves He bestowed everything He could upon humans. Therefore, human menopause could be seen as Him replicating His wife’s physiological state. Thus, it’s not that the goddess is too anthropomorphic, but rather that the goddess’s menopausal state preceded human menopause.
“Miss Misha is very worried, and I am too. Let’s go back to the human world. I have many medical conditions to discuss with you, Doctor. I’ll find you a handsome corpse when I get back.”
As he spoke, Ian tried to quickly take Dr. Hannibal away before the goddess noticed. However, he had barely managed to pull Dr. Hannibal up from the chair and push him out the door.
Ian himself hadn’t even taken half a step out.
“Snap~”
The door suddenly closed.
Lucifer’s mother had regained her senses.
“Auntie? Who are you calling Auntie?” The light instantly contracted into a dense point, its brightness increasing to the point of scorching the retinas. All shadows in the consultation room were expelled.
Even the mouse specimen in the corner showed its skeleton under the strong light.
As Ian turned, he saw that the light had condensed into a three-meter-tall humanoid silhouette, with countless light particles swirling violently around her, like a solar flare about to erupt.
“Human, how did you get in?” The light goddess’s voice was now clearly discernible—a mature alto with a social accent, but each syllable was as sharp as shattered glass.
“I just opened the door and walked in.”
Ian pointed behind him, quickly becoming Honest Ian. The humanoid light figure clearly flickered, as if this answer exceeded her capacity for understanding.
“I didn’t give you permission to enter! So, why could you come in?” The goddess’s volume caused the books on the bookshelf to shake violently, and then they all burst into flames.
Her light was much stronger than Ian’s.
Ultraman admits defeat.
“No, the world is so beautiful. Auntie Goddess, please don’t be so temperamental.” Ian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, trying to calm her emotions.
His sweat was really dripping.
“Don’t call me Auntie! You despicable human! Clumsy creation!” Menopause confirmed, a whip of light struck the floor by Ian’s feet, immediately creating a molten gully on the floor.
The heatwave singed the edges of Ian’s eyebrows, but he took a step forward instead, having made up his mind. Dealing with a goddess like this, one absolutely could not appear too timid.
“Lucifer and I are brothers, so his mother is my aunt. It’s perfectly reasonable.” Ian stated righteously, using his network entanglement skill again.
It was highly effective.
The light suddenly became still.
However, this stillness was more terrifying than the previous rage, like the absolute calm one second before a supernova explosion.
“Did Lucifer send you?” “Is he trying to have you torment me in Mazikeen’s place?” The goddess’s light form shrunk to the size of a normal human, and the brightness dimmed to a gentle candlelight.
Her voice suddenly became as soft as a feather brushing past, yet carried a chilling coldness that made one’s spine shiver—this goddess’s destructive power at this moment was likely greater than when she was enraged.
“Of course not. Lucifer didn’t say anything to me, but our communication is unspoken. Him not saying it doesn’t mean I can’t understand his intentions.”
“Dr. Hannibal is just like that. I charge more, so according to the super equation, my medical skills are naturally superior. He wants me to secretly come and take care of you.” Ian didn’t know why she had captured Dr. Hannibal, but he knew his best role right now was psychiatrist.
Lucifer likes seeing a psychiatrist.
His mother might have a similar hidden preference.
“Care?”
The goddess let out a cold laugh.
The sound caused all the glass objects in the room to develop web-like cracks simultaneously. These were materializations of her will, clearly indicating that the goddess’s emotions were experiencing some defensive breakdown.
She raised her hand and conjured a gem-encrusted calendar, densely marked with red crosses. “So-called care means sending demons every few days to give me some punishment?”
Upon hearing this.
Ian’s peripheral vision caught sight of several charred demon skeletons piled in the corner.
Judging by their uniforms, they were elites from Lucifer’s Royal Guard.
Honestly, Ian didn’t want to be one of them. He didn’t feel any malice from the darkness, but it was different when facing this goddess.
“There were reasons for all that.” Ian forced a distorted smile, blinking his right eye frantically. He swallowed, the sound of his Adam’s apple bobbing unusually loud in the silence.
“Yes, there were reasons, but I dare not say too much.” Ian also didn’t dare to speak ill of God, so he could only blink frantically. Fortunately, Lucifer’s mother was as smart as he was.
The goddess frowned and began to hesitate.
“Is he doing this for his old man? Does he still hope for his father’s forgiveness?” Lucifer’s mother’s thoughts were initially reasonable, but she was heading in a dangerous direction again. Ian’s temples throbbed. This question was like tap-dancing on a minefield; one wrong step could trigger a dual sanction from heaven and hell.
Indeed.
Family conflicts are really difficult to resolve.
Even the intelligent Ian found it tricky.
He took a deep breath and decided to take a risky gamble.
“I am the best psychologist in the human world. Lucifer brought me to hell, but not to heaven. Who weighs more in his heart is obvious, isn’t it?” Ian’s answer was irrelevant, madly implying various interpretations; he was truly a master of language.
At least he had the level of a civil servant from a major province known for its competitive exams.
This cunning false premise plunged the goddess into thought. Her light ebbed and flowed like a tide, sometimes showing the benevolent silhouette of a noblewoman, sometimes transforming into the delicate lines of a maiden.
Ian took the opportunity to wipe the sweat from his forehead, only to find that the sweat had already evaporated on his skin—he had been in the business for five or six years, and this was the first time he had encountered such a difficult situation.
“Interesting.”
The goddess’s attitude suddenly softened. She raised her glowing hand and lifted Ian’s chin, her fingers of light leaving fluorescent fingerprints on his skin.
“You’re much more interesting than those demons who just scream.” Based on my understanding of the American drama 《Lucifer》, this goddess’s mental illness is much more severe than Lucifer’s.
Heaven knows what she’s actually thinking at this moment.
“Are you lying to me?”
Lucifer’s mother’s voice suddenly became gentle.
The halo condensed into a pair of almost tangible eyes, staring directly at Ian. The gaze seemed to pierce his soul, making every hair on Ian’s body stand on end.
Ian’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he maintained his innocent smile: “You are so intelligent, if I were lying to you, you would surely discover it, wouldn’t you?”
As he spoke, he casually sat down in Dr. Hannibal’s previous seat, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest of the sofa, as if he were just a substitute psychiatrist.
Not a warrior who had stumbled into a domain forbidden by the gods.
“Hm?”
Lucifer’s mother’s halo flickered slightly, as if contemplating his words.
Ian struck while the iron was hot, blinking his eyes and saying sincerely, “Honestly, in my career, I’ve never had a bad review. How can you know I’m not a better choice if you don’t try?”
His expression was so sincere.
As if he truly believed he could better soothe the emotions of a creation-level goddess than Hannibal Lecter, a man with the genius to seamlessly switch between cannibal and top-tier psychiatrist. Lucifer’s mother’s halo fluctuated, clearly not entirely convinced.
“If you’re so good, why did you make an appointment with that… what’s-his-name doctor just now?” Even if she needed humans, Lucifer’s mother looked down on them. After all, humans were the culprits who led to her being confined in this place, and she had looked down on God’s proudest creation since their inception.
It was obvious.
The marital conflict of the Creation Goddess was similar to most human marital conflicts; the rift stemmed from one party’s failure to understand the other’s personal preferences.
“All true masters have the heart of a student.” Ian responded with a poker face, spreading his hands, his tone relaxed, even with a hint of genuine pride.
“If I don’t understand my peers, how can I know I have surpassed them?” His confidence was like some kind of supernatural phenomenon, even Lucifer’s mother was taken aback.
The Creation Goddess’s halo slightly contracted, as if reassessing the human before her.
“There is indeed something unusual about you… Hmm, very unusual.” She narrowed her eye of light above, appraising Ian with a meaningful gaze.
“So, can you quell my anger?” The Creation Goddess sat back on the sofa, willing to give Ian a chance because of his unique qualities.
After all.
That nascent power.
Reminded the Creation Goddess of the years before the universe was born. Perhaps this was God’s trick, but the Creation Goddess felt she needed to think about it.
Seeing that the goddess was no longer agitated, Ian immediately got into character, his expression serious: “No, no one can quell your anger, only you can overcome it.”
The youth said this while taking out a book from his bosom and pretending to flip through it.
“What are you reading?”
The goddess’s gaze fell on the book.
“That’s not important. What’s important is you. I only care about your situation.” Ian smiled slightly, not even bothering to hide the book’s title—《Parenting Handbook: How to Deal with Rebellious Children》. As expected, just as he had predicted, Lucifer’s mother, the Creation Goddess, disdained humans and thus never cared about human writing.
She disdained recognizing human text. She was the first light at the dawn of creation, an omniscient and omnipotent being, so how could she pay attention to the possessions of the beings she most detested? Simply put, due to her disdain for understanding, the Creation Goddess was functionally illiterate at an omniscient and omnipotent level.
She didn’t even glance at the title.
“You’re right, my situation is the most important. I have endless anger in my heart.” The goddess was clearly attracted by Ian’s voice and didn’t probe the item in his hands too deeply. The previous doctor also had something similar; perhaps humans liked to spread out a book on their knees.
“You said earlier that you felt ignored?” Ian’s fingers lightly tapped the armrest of the sofa, wearing the characteristic “I completely understand you” expression of a professional psychologist.
He asked in a gentle, guiding tone, stating some of what he had overheard earlier, while also quietly turning the book to the chapter on “Dealing with Separation Anxiety.”
“I can understand how you feel.”
“Of course, one gets angry when ignored.”
“It’s like fire, like a storm, it needs an outlet… Don’t hide it. If you have any dissatisfaction, you must express it, and I am willing to be a listener.”
Ian began his first official practice without a license.
“Don’t hide it. If you have any dissatisfaction, you must express it.” Ian’s voice was as gentle as coaxing a sulking child. He clasped his hands on his lap and leaned slightly forward—this was the “active listening posture” emphasized on page 37 of the 《Parenting Handbook》. Hearing this, Lucifer’s mother’s halo trembled slightly.
Like a candle flame blown by the wind. She seemed genuinely touched, and her halo suddenly expanded by a circle, causing the consultation room’s temperature to rise sharply. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Ian’s forehead.
But he maintained a professional smile. Fortunately, the Creation Goddess’s halo slowly stabilized, once again condensing into a clearer humanoid silhouette. Ian gave himself a thumbs-up in his heart—the Parenting Handbook was extremely effective against the Creation Goddess, and it was clear who Lucifer resembled more.
“It seems you have some skill; you didn’t advise me to be patient or to understand that scoundrel.” The goddess’s voice carried a rare hint of praise, as if she had finally found true understanding.
“We shouldn’t wrong ourselves, should we? Who is right and who is wrong doesn’t matter. What matters is that you feel ignored, so of course you have the right to express your dissatisfaction.”
Ian offered a gentle smile, turning to the “Positive Affirmation” page. Her halo fluctuated joyfully, like a cat being stroked, so the youth seized the opportunity again.
“An eye for an eye! Auntie, your husband ignored you because he likes humans, so I suggest you find a new hobby and ignore him.”
“By the way, let me distract myself.” Ian continued to practice medicine strictly according to the knowledge he possessed, and his words received strong agreement from the Creation Goddess.
“An eye for an eye! You are right!” The Creation Goddess’s voice sounded very excited, repeatedly saying the same thing.
“Wait, I didn’t mean that—” Ian’s smile froze on his face. He had clearly said “find a hobby,” but how did it turn into a declaration of revenge in the Goddess’s ears?
“I know what you mean!”
The Goddess looked at Ian, her gaze unreadable.
“Hiss~”
A strange drawing sound came from the air.
The next moment, Ian found that he had only blinked, and without any warning, he disappeared from the room. When he came to his senses again, he was already standing outside the house where the Goddess was imprisoned.
“Damn it! Give me back that doctor!” The Goddess’s roar came from the house, shaking the ground. “You won’t even spare a human for me!”
At this moment.
The cold wind of Hell blew across Ian’s sweaty back. The air that smelled of sulfur had never been so fresh. Ian reacted quickly and immediately pulled a roll of A4 paper from his pocket.
It was densely printed with neat handwriting, about 20,000 words. This was his pre-prepared 20,000-word standard apology letter, specifically for dealing with similar emergency situations.
“Amen!”
Ian squatted down and burned the paper.
In the firelight.
The ordinary text on the ordinary paper turned into golden flowing light and rushed straight into the sky.
Thomas Wayne and Hannibal were still standing there, stunned.
Ian grabbed them, one in each hand.
“Wait, what happened—”
Thomas’s words were interrupted by Ian before he could finish.
He fled very quickly and very abjectly.
“Run! There’s a real dirty thing inside! Hell is dangerous! I need to hurry back to the human world!” Ian shouted as he ran, and he began to frantically apologize to God in a pious voice.
However.
After muttering a few words.
He suddenly and sadly discovered that his vocabulary was not as rich as that of a Minotaur Demon.
“So you don’t want New Gotham anymore?” Thomas frowned, his Bat Family-esque suspicious nature immediately kicking in. “You’re not going back on your word, are you?”
It wasn’t that New Gotham was too suspicious; he was too familiar with Ian’s kind of capitalism.
“It’s New Land of Light! I want it, of course I do! You go back and reform it for me first. I have a brilliant plan for this city.” Ian wrote a proposal as he fled. The cover of the document read 《New Land of Light Five-Year Development Plan》, with a small note below: “Note: The final right of interpretation belongs to Ian Kent.”
“You call this city planning?” Thomas looked at the contents. Even though he had been prepared, his voice still trembled a little at this moment.
“Now is not the time to discuss this, lead the way!” Ian grabbed his sleeve, and the dimension of Hell twisted and shifted beneath their feet.
Thomas led Ian through layers of spatial folds, each step feeling like stepping on the boundary between different worlds. Soon, they returned to the area that Thomas had briefly “ruled.” A prosperous but sinister Hellish city, with energy made from soul batteries flowing in the streets.
The air was filled with the smell of sulfur and Hell-level hope.
“Do you really want to torment my city like this?”
Thomas Wayne was still very concerned about the proposal.
“Where is the Hellcat?”
Ian interrupted him, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. “Find my cat first!”
Thomas sighed and turned towards a path emitting sulfurous steam. At the end of the road was a neon sign labeled “Pet Paradise,” with “Also Demon Technology Research Center” written in smaller font below.
The moment the garage door opened, a black shadow pounced on Ian.
“Meow—!”
The Hellcat’s meow sounded like tires screeching on the ground.
“Hey, old friend.”
Ian smiled, walked over, squatted down, and gently patted the Hellcat’s front.
“Miss me?”
He was very happy to have recovered his third mount. The Hellcat rubbed against his hand, purring, its lights shining like cat eyes.
“Alright, alright, let’s go home.”
Ian opened the trunk—and then casually shoved Hannibal inside.
Silence filled the car.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter adjusted his rumpled suit tie and calmly asked through the gap in the trunk, “Is this your attempt to retaliate for my overly aggressive treatment of you on a daily basis?”
“Sorry! Occupational hazard!”
Ian quickly opened the car door.
“A psychiatrist should sit in the back.”
He invited Dr. Hannibal inside.
They were immediately ready to leave.
“Who is inside?”
He was still curious about what had terrified Ian.
“You wouldn’t want to know.” Ian jumped onto the roof of the car, and the Hellcat’s engine roared with excitement. “Don’t go near there again, it’s a real super mental patient.”
The Hellcat’s tires left four burning marks on the ground.
They shot towards the upper dimension like a bolt from a bow. When they reached the exit of Hell, Ian slammed on the brakes—his attendant Baal was floating in mid-air, facing a demon three stories tall. The Hellcat’s high beams shone on the demon’s crown inlaid with gems of lies.
“So Lucifer also has a crush on your master?”
The King of Lies, Belial’s voice was filled with disbelief. Baal nodded honestly—everything it said was true, and this was precisely the best way to gain the trust of the King of Lies.
“Let’s go! Hurry!”
Ian performed a drift, simultaneously lowering the window to scoop up the Demon Head. Just as the Hellcat was about to rush out of the portal, Belial suddenly knelt on one knee and shouted frantically.
“Emperor of All Laws Ian God! Accept me! I’m good at intelligence and espionage, the Kent Family definitely needs its own CIA!” The Demon Head said something.
He frantically pledged his loyalty.
This hit Ian right in the heart.
The Hellcat screeched to a halt at the edge of the dimensional rift.
“Come in, keep the doctor company.” Ian, reversing, threw him a 【Labor Contract】. Having already learned from the Demon Head that this was the same as an Archangel’s, the King of Lies signed his true name without a second thought. Seeing the car door open, the King of Lies consciously shrunk himself to the size of a chihuahua and crawled in.
He was excited.
Firmly believing that he was not getting on a pirate ship.
But on a flight to a new era.
“Fasten your seatbelts.”
Ian abruptly patted the Hellcat’s roof.
“We’re going to race!”
The Hellcat broke through layers of dimensional barriers and sped towards the human world. The entrance coin once again played its part, and a light appeared ahead. Ian, as if fleeing for his life, rushed back to the human world.
No choice.
The intelligent Ian had already realized that the power of the 《Parenting Handbook》 was acting up. That mad Creation Goddess was no longer just wanting to have a crush on him—the gates of Hell slowly closed behind him as Ian, riding the Hellcat, shot out of the rift like a meteor and re-entered the human world.
The night wind howled.
Ian took a deep breath.
Feeling the familiar air.
Accompanied by a piercing screech of brakes, he stopped in front of the Murder House. The cat’s eye headlights on the front of the car flickered with a dark green light, making the blood writing on the dilapidated mansion’s outer wall even more horrifying.
The ghosts in the Murder House instantly erupted.
Blood handprints on the walls moved wildly, the chandelier swayed without wind, and screams echoed from the basement—the souls trapped in this place trembled. They sensed something more terrifying than Hell: a genuine Demon King of Hell was curled up in the back seat of this car.
That was his true form!
How could he enter the human world so easily!
All the souls were terrified.
They screamed, shouting that the apocalypse had arrived.
“Quiet!” Ian, due to his extreme emotional fluctuation, impatiently honked the horn. The Hellcat let out a deafening engine roar, and the entire house fell silent.
“Oh, human world, the air is filled with the smell of lies.” Realizing that his strength was merely suppressed by the rules of the human world but not rejected, the King of Lies once again believed in his choice.
He wagged his tail like a real chihuahua. Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s face was pale; after all, he was just a mortal, and next to him was a great demon of Hell.
“Where are we going?”
Hannibal tried his best to maintain his composure, but the trembling in his voice betrayed him.
“Let’s go to my place first, my place first. I need to find my Eldest Brother to pray and communicate with him…” Ian started the Hellcat again. The Hellcat seemed to have unlocked new abilities in Hell. It directly phased into space, achieving flight similar to warp drive. In the blink of an eye, it took Ian to his doorstep.
Sometimes things are just that coincidental.
Ian’s words, which he was about to say, stopped abruptly at this moment.
“Boom~”
On the horizon.
A familiar mushroom cloud was slowly rising.
Their new home had exploded.
It had exploded right in front of Ian.
“It’s definitely not me this time! I just got back!”
Ian froze on the spot.
Sweat slid down his nose.
How to put it, he couldn’t pretend at all. That perfect parabola, that just-right yield, that precise explosion timing really felt like a professional-level warning.
The Hellcat’s speakers automatically played 《Homeless》, mournfully. Seeing a bewildered old man flying in the sky, Ian turned his head and instinctively wanted to run.
The outcome was obvious.
He was once again caught by his true Achilles’ heel.
“It wasn’t me, it really wasn’t me!”
Ian quickly offered a defense.
But his reputation was too excellent.
“Jonathan and Jordan are not here, Ian. There’s no one else. Did you deliberately blow up our new home, wanting to get your big house out?”
Superman’s voice had a grinding quality.
He hadn’t even seen, heard, or sensed the situation… The answer was perhaps obvious. Ian suspected that the explosion of the new home was the work of some beings in the unseen.
But he dared not have proof.
……
Inside the box-like houses of Hell, the lights were on, but it was silent.
Each confessional booth had its door tightly shut, like countless coffins neatly arranged in the void. Suddenly, a darkness condensed in front of one of the doors and seeped in without a sound. Inside, Lucifer’s mother’s halo flickered slightly as she faced the cycle of Hell—that eternal moment of betrayal.
The little imps around her mimicked Archangels.
Mechanically repeating the same sentence.
“You are banished.”
They had experienced this cycle of Hell for countless years. Anyone who had been to Hell knew that those who stayed there would constantly relive the moments they most wished to forget from their past lives.
Lucifer’s mother’s moment was clearly her past banishment from Heaven.
Seeing a group of imps transform into angels and God, about to inflict this endless cycle on her, the Creation Goddess was naturally not truly affected.
“Get lost!”
Lucifer’s mother’s halo suddenly surged, so blinding that the imps retreated.
“You’re not even acting properly!”
She could clearly see the true nature of the imps and was not tormented by the repeated cycles of Hell, but precisely because of this, she always felt a peculiar discomfort.
“Uh…”
The imps looked at each other.
They dared not be as arrogant as they were in front of mortals.
One of them timidly spoke.
“Oh, Venerable One, but the King’s orders are hard to disobey.”
Their king was, of course, Lucifer, who actually had a love-hate relationship with his mother and thus always ordered these imps to torment her.
“Then pretend I’m still there!”
The Creation Goddess scolded, and her words were, of course, an oracle. The imps understood how to be Hell’s civil servants, so they immediately began performing for the air.
All the angels disguised as Archangels and God began to mechanically recite lines to the air: “You are banished, you are banished.”
The level of perfunctory work was very high.
Lucifer’s mother’s halo gradually dimmed.
She floated to a corner, her thoughts churning.
“An eye for an eye, that’s a good method.” She was still thinking when she suddenly heard a slight sound at the door of her sealed space.
“Click.”
The seal had loosened?
The Creation Goddess sensed something unusual and found it hard to believe. She floated to the door and found that the shackles that had confined her for millennia had actually been unlocked.
“Ian Kent, it must be that doctor. He knows that to cure my mental exhaustion, he needs to let me out.” Her halo trembled slightly, and her tone carried a hint of gratitude.
Less contempt.
The next second.
This Creation Goddess rushed out without hesitation.
Turning into a stream of light.
The next second.
This Creation Goddess rushed out without hesitation.
Turned into a beam of light.
towards the human world.
Hospital
In the intensive care unit, a dying old man suddenly opened his eyes.
“Ian Kent!” She （ him? ） suddenly sat up, her voice so loud it was completely unlike someone on their deathbed.
Doctors and nurses recoiled in terror, watching as the old man, who should have been breathing his last, ripped off his breathing tube, got out of bed, and sprinted down the corridor.
“Ian Kent?!”
Ten minutes later.
A runaway ambulance collided with her（him? ）.
A few minutes later.
A motorcyclist, who had been thrown into the air, opened his eyes.
“Ian Kent! Does anyone know who Ian Kent is?” She（him? ） adjusted his posture in mid-air, landed steadily, and then began to sprint.
Before he could finish speaking.
A runaway oil tanker ran him over.
This was another failed attempt at possessing a human.
Immediately after.
Not far away.
In one of Los Angeles’s worst bars, neon lights crackled, the smell of cheap whiskey mingled with the scent of blood in the air, and a drunken woman suddenly stood on the bar.
Her eyes emitted a blinding light.
Constantine, with a half-smoked cigarette in his mouth, tapped a sinister rhythm on the bar counter. His windbreaker collar was turned up high, as if he were ready to flee from something terrible at any moment—a usually accurate assessment.
In the corner.
A woman who should have been dead for three hours suddenly opened her eyes.
“Ian Kent!”
Her voice echoed through the entire nightclub.
“I know you’re in the human world!” The woman’s scream was like glass fragments scraping against everyone’s eardrums. Everyone looked at her in horror, as if they had seen a madwoman.
Hearing this cry, Constantine’s cigarette fell into his whiskey with a “hiss.” His fingers froze in mid-air, his spine feeling as if it had been filled with liquid nitrogen.
Without the slightest emotion.
Purely reactive.
The Creation Goddess moved the wrists of her new body. A faint golden light emanated from beneath the already foul-smelling skin. She looked around, her gaze sweeping over each shivering drunkard like a searchlight.
Finally, the Goddess’s keen gaze locked onto the man in the windbreaker—he was trying to hide his face with a newspaper, but unfortunately, the headline photo of the Joker laughing on the front page of the 《 Gotham Daily 》 was far from discreet.
“Constantine, do you know Ian Kent?” The Goddess’s voice appeared in Constantine’s ear. When Constantine looked up, he saw the woman who should have been dead standing before him.
The essence within the other person made him tremble with fear. Constantine swallowed. Through the gaps in the newspaper, he saw curiosity flickering in the eyes of the walking corpse.
“Uh…”
As a bastard who had long traversed between heaven and hell, he immediately recognized the level of disaster this was—the kind that would make Satan himself hastily revise hell’s fire prevention protocols overnight.
“What do you need Ian Kent for?” He slowly lowered the newspaper, revealing a perfect smile of a seasoned con artist. Any magical means would be out of the question at this moment.
At this time.
Constantine just wanted to probe the other party’s situation.
“He helped me a lot, I want to reward him.” The fingers of the body possessed by the Creation Goddess brushed across the bar, and mold bloomed into golden flowers.
Constantine’s brain whirred at near-explosive speed.
Hearing this.
He immediately knew what he should say.
“That saint! Brave! Decisive! A model of morality!” Constantine recalled his first meeting with Ian, who dared to steal their car even in his mortal body.
Wasn’t that brave and decisive?
Obviously.
The exorcist detective had also mastered the art of honesty.
Recalling how he went to sell his car, only to be chased by Ian and end up in a sorry state, he spoke of Ian’s enthusiasm, and how at the end, when he was left hanging, Ian’s henchmen and followers had callously left him with only his underwear. He then commented that even Ian’s friends were helpful.
All true.
The Goddess’s eyes lit up, as if she had heard a touching story.
“I see. It’s no wonder he possesses such qualities when he dares to help me at such great risk. It seems all of humanity’s scarce kindness and beauty are concentrated in him alone.”
The Creation Goddess, having formed a preconceived notion, believed Constantine’s assessment.
Constantine was about to breathe a sigh of relief.
He still wanted to ask something.
However.
“Crack~”
The chandelier on the ceiling crashed down without warning.
“Bang!”
When Constantine crawled out from the pile of broken glass, the corpse had already become a true corpse. The bar was so quiet that he could hear the sound of ink leaking from his pen.
“Oh… my god, what has that boy gotten himself into.” He lit a new cigarette with trembling hands and suddenly realized that all the bar patrons were cowering in the corner, looking at him as if he were a plague.
Old Jack, who was usually drunk and unconscious, soberly held up a cross.
The bartender silently pushed a glass of milk towards him.
“This is on me. Don’t come back here again.”
“I have to run, I have to run to another planet, does anyone know how to get to a parallel universe? Damn it, even that might not help!” Constantine stared at his own pathetic reflection in the milk glass, suddenly feeling a great, great desire to call Ian Kent—he really wanted to know how many gallbladders the man had to have such audacity.
In the underground laboratory of Luthor Industries, the blue flames of the incinerator roared lowly. Two workers in protective suits were pushing today’s failed experiment into it.
“Number 47 failed again?” The young assistant looked at the humanoid creature on the cart.
The older employee flicked his cigarette and waved his hand: “Burn it, burn it. The boss said all of this batch of Kryptonian gene-modified subjects are to be—”
The “corpse” on the cart suddenly opened its eyes.
“Ian Kent!”
The test subject sprang up, its decaying vocal cords emitting a high-pitched scream. Its eyeballs melted rapidly in the high temperature, but it still precisely grabbed the young assistant’s protective mask.
“It’s alive!—”
The young assistant was greatly alarmed.
The older employee reacted quickly and kicked the cart.
The metal cart carrying the berserk experiment slid with a clang into the incinerator. As the furnace door automatically closed, they could still hear muffled shouts from within.
“Ian Kent! I know you’re—”
The incineration program automatically activated, and the three-thousand-degree heat instantly turned everything into smoke.
The young assistant collapsed onto the floor: “What, what was that thing?! Who is Ian Kent?”
The older employee took a long drag of his cigarette, his trembling fingers crushing the butt: “Listen, kid, although the boss has been missing for a few days… there are some taboos you need to understand.”
He lowered his voice: “If you still want to collect your salary this week, never mention the surname ‘Kent’ in our company again. That will make the boss, upon hearing that surname, make you evaporate.”
These words startled the young employee.
And at this moment.
A dull “thump” echoed from the ventilation duct.
Both of them stiffened their necks and looked up, seeing the vent cover shaking rhythmically, as if something was crawling from the depths of the duct. They could vaguely hear…
“…Kent. Ian Kent.”
The older employee threw down his cigarette and ran.
“Damn it, it’s a ghost! A ghost! I’m requesting a leave of absence! I’m applying for leave!”
The young assistant froze for two seconds, then suddenly noticed a glowing handprint slowly appearing on the incinerator’s observation window—he also fled in great alarm.
Until they ran out and relaxed, the young employee realized his crotch was starting to get wet. In the laboratory, after the corpse had lost all possibility of existence, the Creation Goddess had once again lost her vessel.
At the same time.
Invisible light flowed once again towards a new corpse.
In an abandoned factory in the eastern district of Metropolis, gunshots rang out like popping popcorn. One gang was engaging in “friendly communication” with another, bullets tracing beautiful parabolas in the air, occasionally interspersed with polite greetings like “Your mother was great last night.”
Suddenly, all the gunshots ceased.
“What the hell…” A bald strong man with a skull tattoo trembled as he pointed to a corner. “Boss, that, isn’t that the traitor we just shot?”
In the corner, the corpse that should have had its head blown open slowly sat up. Bullets tinkled out of the bullet holes in her temples, like winning a slot machine.
The Creation Goddess moved the jaw of her new body, and her shattered jawbone automatically reset with a click. She looked around, her gaze quickly locking onto a figure humming a tune—
“Tanghulu~ Tanghulu~ A bullet strung on a skewer~”
The witch, clad in a purple cloak, was using magic to hang the gang members one by one on the streetlights, making them look like she was selling human meat tanghulu from afar. With each one she hung, she hummed a cheerful tune, like a kindergarten teacher playing games with children.
“You.”
The Goddess’s voice caused the three nearest gang members to have a heart attack on the spot. “Fortune teller?”
The witch’s humming abruptly stopped. She slowly turned around and saw a corpse with half its head rotten floating towards her—literally floating.
Because the corpse’s feet were constantly growing.
“Strictly speaking, I’m a witch, but I do practice divination. I’ve bought quite a few divination books.” The witch’s “wand” quietly pointed at the corpse’s chest. “Miss… Madam? Are you sure you don’t need to call an ambulance first?”
She was still brave, having seen too much.
“I want to find Ian Kent.”
The Goddess’s rotting fingers drew through the air.
“Predict his location.”
She commanded.
The witch’s brow furrowed, and she instantly became alert.
“Why is a corpse like you, with half its head rotted and now resurrected, looking for Ian Kent?” The witch strategically leaned back, her eyes filled with wariness.
“I want to thank him for freeing me.” The Goddess tilted her head, her rotting head healing rapidly, though her still-healing neck nearly detached.
“He helped me a lot.”
This was a sincere expression.
Despite the somewhat condescending tone.
The witch’s expression instantly changed from vigilance to understanding.
“Oh—you should have said so earlier! Ian is like that, he loves helping strangers.” She casually pointed to the smoking mushroom cloud in the distance. “He lives over there, yes, the one who blows up his house every day. We call that the ‘Kent brand chimney.’ He often plays with mushrooms at home. It’s a shame he won’t let me play with mushrooms together.”
The witch’s tone carried a hint of regret.
“Very well, you are very kind.” The Goddess turned to leave, then suddenly floated back. Her fully healed face leaned close to the witch, so close that the witch could count the bloodshot veins in her eyeballs.
“You’re human, aren’t you? A human woman?”
The Creation Goddess asked.
“As genuine as can be?”
The witch didn’t know why she felt so uncertain.
She felt a lot of pressure.
It was all she could do to resist the urge to tap the other’s head with her wand.
“Do you know the best way to get revenge on someone?”
The Creation Goddess asked.
“That depends on the person.”
The witch tilted her head and responded.
“For example, my husband who fell out of love with me.”
The Creation Goddess said, gritting her teeth.
The witch’s eyes suddenly lit up. She grabbed the Goddess’s blood-stained wrist.
“Sister! I know this one!” Her tone suddenly became like a late-night chat between best friends. “You should go sleep with the person he fell out of love with! I haven’t tried this move yet, but it’s sure to work every time!”
The witch, displaying her true nature as a manipulative green tea, was very excited and animated.
“Hmm, it seems you are actually a smart human.” The Creation Goddess hesitated for a moment, then patted the witch’s head like one would comfort a cat or dog.
She intended to leave.
However.
An anomaly occurred once again.
“BOOM!!!”
Then.
In the sky, a Boeing 747, off its flight path, precisely crashed onto the Creation Goddess. The shockwave sent the witch flying more than twenty meters. When she groggily got up, she only saw an arm stubbornly struggling from the wreckage of the plane. However, this arm soon stopped moving.
Because the Creation Goddess was unharmed after being hit.
She had, miraculously, become a comatose vegetable.
This scene.
The fleeing gang members will not be discussed further, but within the ranks of the extraordinary, not only was the witch dumbfounded, but there were others who were truly stunned.
Los Angeles.
【 Los Angeles, Metropolis, New York: Multiple bizarre deaths reported today! The deceased were all heard shouting “Ian Kent” before they died! 】
The news was rolling. Lucifer, second only to the devil, sat at the bar, holding a glass of tequila, his eyes fixed on the television screen. The broadcast cut to a hospital, where surveillance footage showed an elderly woman, who should have been dead, suddenly leaping from her hospital bed, shouting at the top of her lungs, “Ian Kent! Where are you?!” and then sprinting out of the room, only to be hit by an ambulance.
“Oh! No!” Lucifer abruptly covered his face, or rather, his eyes. His emotions were extremely volatile, and the liquor in his glass rippled from his trembling. At this moment, certain emotions overwhelmed his fear of his mother’s escape.
Primarily, a greater fear was growing.
“I don’t want to see this!”
Lucifer the Third appeared, wanting to be a coward.
He was omniscient.
But because he hadn’t wanted to pay attention before, he didn’t know what had happened in that room where his mother was sealed in hell, making her so fixated on Ian.
This truly made the Demon King shudder at the thought.
“This is already the seventh one today,” the female bartender said, wiping a cup, and commented with interest, “Your mother is quite persistent. All of Hell knows your mother was locked in the confessional, and now she’s out, shouting a man’s name all over the world…”
She paused and revealed a meaningful smile. “Isn’t it obvious?”
The female demon looked quite gossipy.
Lucifer’s expression was as if he had been stuffed with lemons.
“No, things are absolutely not what you think!”
Lucifer quickly denied.
“Stop deceiving yourself. Think about it, he only went to Hell for one day, just one day! I really want to know what ability he used to make your mother so unforgettable,” the female bartender’s tone carried a sense of emotion.
“Don’t shake your head. I’m helping you understand the current situation. If you refute me, then you explain why every time she’s resurrected, the first thing she does is call his name? She doesn’t even want to get revenge on you and me!”
The female bartender’s eyes held wisdom that saw through everything.
“Shut up! Maizi!”
Lucifer looked up sharply.
His eyes were blood red.
The terrifying oppressive force made the female bartender step back a few paces.
However.
She didn’t intend to dwell on Lucifer’s emotional outburst.
“Okay, I’ll shut up. Anyway, it doesn’t affect some people getting an extra dad.”
The high emotional intelligence female bartender flicked her rag.
She laughed heartily.
She took out her mobile phone and started frantically filming the television. She was perhaps preparing to mail the video to major churches around the world.
The thousands of resuscitations in the middle were actually free words, so they weren’t redundant. Because it was uploaded to enrich the plot and reach 20,000 words, it was later supplemented for free and not charged.
