Chapter 166: God Captures The Despicable Ian
Relativity once told the world.
Where there is a Hidden Dragon, there will inevitably be a Phoenix Chick.
Obviously.
Madison is that Phoenix Chick. Her way of thinking can no longer be described by the phrase “bold to the point of recklessness”; she truly gives Ian a sense of a beauty that has never died.
“Stop!”
Ian’s eyes and hands moved quickly.
He crumpled the note into a ball and shoved it into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out as if he had transformed into a blender. Chewing, he spoke in a muddled voice.
“Little punk girl, you’re speaking in New-Age English, right? What you just meant was that we need to love God, donate more money to build a few churches, right?”
He winked frantically at Madison, but the little punk girl was still engrossed in writing and drawing, completely missing his survival instinct. So the girl’s response remained enthusiastic.
“No, I’m saying we should overthrow the old churches and establish a new one for you—how about I write the new Bible? Oh, I’ll definitely have the chance to be the first Pope!”
As a typical American girl, Madison’s brain is truly different from that of normal people. Normal people’s brains have folds, while the brains of girls like her are incredibly smooth.
“What? You want to organize classmates to polish the holy statues? What a pious idea!” Fine sweat broke out on Ian’s forehead, wishing he could sew Madison’s mouth shut right now. This was perhaps the consequence of his own actions; he had been bullying Madison all along, and now Madison had finally become wise enough to surpass him.
“I’m not talking about God! I’m talking about you! You!” Madison bit down on her pen cap and looked at Ian, who was wiping his sweat with a tissue. She handed him her portable fan.
“Oh, your ‘New-Age English’ is so smooth. Are you saying we should ‘overthrow’ those old religious rituals? Like burning incense, kneeling, and chanting scriptures? That’s great, modern people should indeed simplify the process of faith. You’re advocating for ‘spiritual worship’ of God, not just loving God with your mouth, right?”
Ian pretended that the words spoken by the other person automatically transformed into a different meaning in his ears.
“No!” Madison was still full of enthusiasm. She poked Ian’s throbbing temples, as if she expected something magical to emerge from his head.
“I mean overthrow in a physical sense! Blow it up! Burn it down! Let the old church become ruins!” This little punk girl should really go to Gotham to take advanced courses with Harley Quinn at university.
She would definitely become Harley Quinn’s star student.
“Oh, ‘become ruins’? Isn’t that the embryo of ‘ruin worship’? A form of postmodern religious art? You’re guiding people to find the true meaning of faith in God through ruins.
“Very profound, but I still think mixing concrete with pasta, using rebar produced by Wayne Enterprises as an additive, better reflects our pursuit of food.”
Ian couldn’t think of anything on the spot, so he had started to babble.
“Look at the totem pole I designed, with you stepping on God at the top.” Madison pushed her sketchbook towards Ian, who promptly ate it with mineral water.
“Yes, yes, yes! Build the top of the church’s drainpipe into a dove shape! It has a retro beauty, and doves symbolize the Holy Spirit in the Bible!” Ian wanted to grab Madison’s neck, but with many classmates fooling around nearby, he was mindful of his good student image at school.
“I said ‘God,’ not ‘gutter.'”
Madison looked at Ian, who seemed to be experiencing some kind of mental breakdown for some reason, with surprise.
“Yes, yes, yes! God bless you!” Ian clasped his hands in prayer. His Super Brain was trying its best. “You’re suggesting we distribute blessing cards at the church!”
Some yellow robes are truly something no one dares to think about wearing. Ian now felt a deep empathy for Liu Xie, Liu Kan, Shi Hong, Wanyan Chenglin, Zhao Huan, Louis XVII, Nero, and Charles I. He truly realized who was the most eager for progress in this classroom. He had heard of mothers gaining status through their sons, but today was the first time he heard of a deskmate wanting to gain status through Ian.
“I can really contact reliable stonemasons.”
“You want to hold a tea party with angels? Nice.”
“I’m talking about blowing up the Vatican!”
“‘Blowing up for fries’ charity sale!?”
“Where are the fries? No, wait… we need to discuss serious matters. Think about it, believers must kneel! They must sacrifice! They must sing praises to you, how majestic! If all else fails, we can assassinate—”
“Embroidery! Embroider new vestments for the hardworking priests! Alright, I’m willing to pay!”
“Ian, we’re going to hold a coronation ceremony for you.”
“Ah! Coronation? You mean a ‘coronation ceremony’? Isn’t that a symbol of ‘taking on responsibility’? Are you reminding me that, as the Son of Superman, I need to bear more social responsibility and be crowned with justice, right? This also aligns with the core values of Catholicism, and I should become a moral model.”
…
Clouds drifted past the window. The two were talking past each other, her saying her piece, but it didn’t hinder Ian’s interpretation. He could always translate Madison’s audacious words into something about respecting God and erecting statues for God, using the excuse of New-Age English.
Madison was still persisting.
Due to the upcoming final exams, she had recently read history books and knew that this kind of push-and-pull was a necessary process.
Madison felt that she and Ian were cooperating perfectly.
However.
Unbeknownst to her, Ian’s Super Brain’s CPU was already severely overloaded trying to salvage the situation, about to smoke. Just then, the school bell rang harshly, which was a relief for Ian.
The history teacher entered the classroom, clutching his lesson plan.
The moment he pushed open the door, the constant whispers in the classroom came to an abrupt halt as if a pause button had been pressed. Madison reluctantly stuffed the note with “Steps to blow up the Vatican” back into her pencil case. Ian seized the opportunity and swallowed the three notes he had been holding in his mouth—which made him let out a burp with an inky taste.
During their middle school years, teachers still held considerable authority for normal students.
“Class.”
The history teacher, wearing a gray suit and gold-rimmed glasses, cleared his throat. His voice was deep and magnetic. “Today, we will discuss—the origins of World War II.”
The classroom was silent.
Only the sound of the first stroke of chalk on the blackboard could be heard.
The chalk made a harsh sound on the blackboard, writing the bold words “《 Soviet-German Non-Aggression Pact 》 1939”. Ian stared at the photo of Stalin and Hitler shaking hands in his textbook.
His brows furrowed involuntarily.
The textbook described how this pact “broke the strategic balance in Europe” with two full paragraphs but only mentioned the specific date of Germany’s invasion of Poland in a small footnote.
One had to admit, this was very American.
“On August 23, 1939, the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany signed the 《 Soviet-German Non-Aggression Pact 》…” the history teacher wrote while explaining according to the textbook.
“On December 7, 1941, the attack on Pearl Harbor occurred, and the United States officially entered the war, injecting immense strength into the anti-fascist alliance. It can be said that without the United States’ participation, the outcome of the war might have been completely different.”
“Actually, righteous America did not want to enter the war, but…”
During class, Madison still wanted to pass notes to Ian, but Ian didn’t even look at them, swallowing them all. He was so proficient that it made one feel pity.
The history teacher paced to the center of the classroom, his leather shoes tapping a hypnotic rhythm on the floor.
“As President Roosevelt said, good America was forced into the war.” His shadow stretched longer and longer in the sunlight. As he walked to the back, chalk dust fell from his suit. Suddenly, as his figure passed the large sign prepared for Christmas, his previously straight back had changed.
He had become an old man with white hair.
Wrinkles appeared on the old man’s face like knife marks of time.
At the same time.
Time in the classroom seemed to freeze into an oil painting. Madison’s ballpoint pen tip hovered three millimeters above the paper, and the black dots formed by dripping ink froze in mid-air.
Outside the window, a sparrow was frozen at the moment it took flight, every feather on its outstretched wings clearly visible. Ian could even see the dandruff falling from the hair strands of the students in the front row.
Like snowflakes that had been paused. Chalk dust hung suspended in the air, and unfallen dust solidified in the light. Students running on the playground outside the classroom, where the sports teacher was not sick, were frozen in mid-stride.
“She’s drawn quite well.”
The aged voice that sounded in his ear was as gentle as the autumn wind.
However, Ian’s spine stiffened inch by inch. The old man who had suddenly appeared in the classroom was, at some unknown time, standing between him and Madison. His wrinkled finger was tapping on the “New Church Design” on Madison’s desk—next to the Vatican’s demolition point circled in red pen, there was also a smiling face of Ian drawn.
“…”
Ian’s neck made a “creaking” sound like rusted gears. He slowly turned towards the source of the sound, his movements as stiff as a robot that had just learned to imitate human expressions.
He had never been so constrained.
Even facing the King of Hell, the King of Lies, or the Creation Goddess, he could talk and laugh, but at this moment, facing this seemingly ordinary old man, he could no longer remain calm.
Yes, the old man looked ordinary. He was wearing a washed-out linen robe, and his silver-white beard hung down to his chest, with each tip shimmering with stardust-like light spots. He looked like a normal village pastor, if one ignored his deep eyes.
However, in the old man’s gray-blue pupils, Ian seemed to see the beginning and end of the universe, as well as the beginning or end of his own life.
“…”
Ian’s eyes, filled with terror, looked at the old man. His mouth wanted to speak, but his throat seemed to have a mind of its own. The entire classroom remained silent.
“You don’t have to be so nervous.”
The old man smiled gently, picked up Madison’s sketchbook, and flipped through it, the pages rustling softly in his fingertips. “In your heart, am I that petty?”
This was probably the real “death question.”
“No, of course not!” Ian’s voice suddenly returned, with a suspicious gulping sound. “I’m crying tears of joy; these are tears of excitement.”
He wiped his “tear-drenched” face, and the sweat droplets he flung out froze into tiny crystals in the air, while the old man merely watched his performance with a half-smile.
“The thing is, I was completely forced into this—” Ian, who had realized who he was facing, was more constrained and guilty than ever.
He began to explain frantically.
However, the other party raised a hand and interrupted him.
“You can actually relax a bit. I won’t hold it against you. It’s all my own fault; I messed some things up,” the old man said in a gentle voice.
Ian dared not believe it.
“You are incredibly busy, and your family doesn’t understand your efforts, but I completely understand—” Ian quickly flattered him, glad he knew how to do so.
However, before he could finish, the old man interrupted him again.
“Do you want to be a ‘green tea’ person? Pretend to be understanding and then talk about how we can have a ‘family’ bond?” the old man suddenly asked, his tone as if discussing the weather. He probably knew Ian very well and had even predicted Ian’s prediction, stopping him before things happened.
Ian chuckled awkwardly.
He felt a sense of exposure and guilt.
“I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare. I just want you to know that I’m simply the helpful Ian. I’m different from Napoleon, the French philosopher Sartre, and Zeus.”
After much deliberation, Ian decided not to use the brave little punk girl as a shield. The public relations skills he had learned from show business ultimately became useless due to his conscience.
“Of course, I’m willing to pretend to believe you,” the old man chuckled, and the temperature in the classroom rose a few degrees. The ink drops suspended in mid-air began to fall slowly.
But time remained eerily still.
“Oh, right, that book, is it useful?” His gaze swept over the half-exposed 《 Parenting Bible 》 in Ian’s pocket, the words “Guide to Dealing with Rebellious Children” on the cover were particularly striking.
“It’s quite useful.”
Ian responded dryly.
“Then I’ll go buy one when I go out.”
The old man spoke as if he were chatting with Ian about everyday family matters.
Thus, Ian also cautiously tested the waters.
“So, are we okay?”
As he spoke, he kept observing the old man’s expression. The old man looked at him deeply, a gaze that made Ian feel as if his soul were being scanned by an X-ray.
“If you mean my capricious wife, I hope it’s not just ‘okay’ between us.” The old man was not evasive, but his words still had a hint of indirectness.
Of course, as this was a critical moment, Ian’s Super Brain went into overdrive, and he immediately understood the meaning. He nodded like a chick pecking for rice, frantically expressing his inner thoughts: “I understand, I understand! Between me and Auntie Goddess, there is only the purest doctor-patient relationship! It will never change!”
He really didn’t like older women.
Especially not a “mafia” wife like this. If one were to compare who could be the most ruthless, no being in the universe could surpass the one before him.
“Then we are okay.”
The old man still didn’t hide what he cared about, but beings like them had their quirks, and after saying it, he still had to ask Ian, feigning ignorance.
“Do you think I’m petty?”
This sudden question was inevitably another death question. Fortunately, Ian, being one step ahead, immediately realized the seriousness of the matter and shook his head like a rattle drum.
“How could I misunderstand you? Everything has its deep meaning! Just like… just like” He glanced at the World War II chapter in the history textbook and used a perhaps more appropriate analogy.
“Like Churchill saying they would fight on the beaches, but secretly preparing for the Normandy landings!” This was truly a stroke of genius, and his Super Brain had not failed Ian’s trust.
“A nice flattery.”
The old man stroked his beard and smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Actually, I’m not just worried about her seeking revenge on me; often, I can’t understand her thoughts,” he sighed, his voice making the light in the classroom dim slightly.
Hearing this.
Ian was stunned.
He hadn’t expected to hear such a human-like confusion from the Creator.
The old man reached out and brushed over the frozen desk. The half-drawn inverted cross emblem by the girl Madison suddenly transformed into a seemingly proper design for Ian’s Grand Cathedral.
“Women are like that, hard to understand,” Ian said quickly, his fingers unconsciously curling the edge of the textbook, the paper making a faint rustling sound.
This was due to extreme nervousness.
“Then it seems I was very realistic when I created women,” the old man said, revealing the true reason why human women are difficult to deal with. His jocular remark seemed to unveil an astonishing truth.
All the strange personalities of human women originated from the imitation of the Creation Goddess.
From this, it could be seen.
What kind of personality the Creation Goddess had. Thinking this way, Ian looked at the old man with more sympathy. One had to admit that when it came to endurance, the inventor of endurance was the strongest. The old man paid no attention to Ian’s mumbled thoughts. After a brief jest, he fell into reminiscing.
“I actually remember the first time I saw her…” Sunlight slanted through the window onto the old man’s silver-white beard, each strand reflecting a different sheen.
Ian’s Super Brain immediately entered high-speed operation mode. He quietly took out his notebook and began scribbling something on the desk, clearly entering the state of “Dr. Ian.”
The old man continued to reminisce.
“At that time, there was nothing, only endless empty void. Then she appeared… Not long after, we created and lit our first universe.”
“That was a truly wonderful time, but happy lives are always short. When she created the first galaxy, she added too much pink to it, saying it didn’t conform to celestial aesthetics, so she directly created a supernova explosion, turning the planet into a fireworks display.”
The old man spoke as if talking to himself, or perhaps he had finally found someone to vent his troubles to. Ian’s mouth twitched as he tried to maintain a serious expression.
He finally understood how the concept of 【marriage is the tomb of love】 came into being. It all originated from metaphysics, from the trivial matters of the Creator’s family.
“Later, we had a few children. Our favorite, of course, was Samael, yes, Lucifer,” the old man’s gaze pierced through the wall, looking towards a distant dimension.
“‘She said the Morningstar should shine,’ so she gave that child six luminous wings,” the old man shook his head helplessly. “And the result? He went through a rebellious phase for a full three trillion years.”
Ian really didn’t want to hear these things, but he had a strong sense of déjà vu when listening to the old man. It sounded like his old man, Clark, often complained to Ian about how he had once scorched the Christmas turkey with his heat vision when he was a child. Indeed, with that sour complaining tone, Superman dad truly had the demeanor of God!
“This sounds like you need some family counseling,” Ian blurted out inexplicably, his mouth moving too fast, and he immediately wished he could bite off his tongue.
To his surprise, the old man just nodded gently.
“What are you writing?”
He was definitely asking a rhetorical question.
“Uh, solutions to your family conflict!” Ian slammed the notebook shut and quickly added, “I mean, it’s also about the crisis I’m currently facing!”
“Oh? Your crisis?”
A hint of playfulness flashed in the old man’s eyes.
“No,” Ian quickly corrected, “it’s *our* crisis.”
The old man chuckled at this.
God looked at Ian with amusement, but silence was equivalent to a response.
He appeared curious.
In reality, he was prompting Ian to continue speaking.
“My solution, of course, is for you to reconcile! She loves you, you love her! Now all that’s needed is a catalyst. Even without Mixue Bingcheng, it should be sweet!”
Ian swallowed and hesitated before continuing, “Now all that’s needed is a catalyst, and… you could bow your head slightly.”
This was an absolutely audacious statement in the eyes of all believers. The old man neither affirmed nor denied, merely tapping the lectern with his fingertips, each tap causing a subtle change in the atomic vibration frequency in the classroom. Ian knew this was a signal of tacit approval, and he quickly organized his thoughts, much like interpreting Batman’s silence.
“Of course, we all know you always win, you are the true progenitor of the Winning Sect,” Ian secretly glanced at the old man’s expression, confirming no thunderclouds were gathering before continuing.
“So, we can make some small precautionary measures.”
Ian paused again, waiting for a response. However, the old man was the most authentic Riddler and, of course, didn’t speak. Outside the window, the clouds began to form question marks.
Only then did Ian dare to speak again.
“Firstly, you still have feelings for your wife, you just can’t save face…” As Ian spoke, he used his foot under the desk to kick Madison’s “Pen of Sin” further away. He was certain that pen had led God to visit, and while secretly blaming it, Ian didn’t stop talking.
“So, to save face, we can arrange for you to ‘lose’ your belt,” Ian continued to draw and write in his notebook with his own pen of virtue.
“Belt?”
The old man was slightly taken aback.
“Yes!”
Ian became more and more excited, as if a switch had been flipped. As a fellow writer, God listened attentively, not interrupting Ian’s train of thought, merely letting him elaborate.
“You just have to pretend you didn’t notice it was missing. This isn’t outrageous, because even Taishang Laojun to the east hasn’t noticed his house is empty, so you can also fail to notice your belt is missing.”
“This belt fell to the mortal world, and then a mortal picked it up – for example, any forty-year-old man, but not a little boy like me.”
“Immediately after, this mortal will be influenced by God’s will, becoming gentle and affectionate. He will go dancing with Auntie Goddess, reminiscing about the past. That line you mentioned earlier about ‘the first meeting’ should also be included… but you shouldn’t say anything about the supernova explosion or anything like that afterwards.”
Ian not only wrote the script but also drew storyboards in his notebook. Many writers actually have a director’s dream, regardless of whether they are writers who are only one-and-a-half meters tall.
The light in the classroom flickered as he described.
“You can express a little more apology for neglecting her at the dance,” Ian’s speaking speed was as fast as if he were reciting the Declaration of Independence. “If my Auntie Goddess accepts, then everyone is happy, and the mortal is your avatar; if she doesn’t accept, then the one who found the belt is just a mortal influenced by divine power.”
Ian’s considerations were quite thorough.
“Do you understand what I mean?”
He looked at the old man standing by his desk.
The old man was also silent for a moment after listening.
“If I haven’t gotten so old that I’m senile, I won’t forget – logic, that’s something I invented.” What an authoritative statement.
The old man’s response was impeccable. He even pointed to the portrait of Einstein on the wall behind him, as if implying that Einstein was also his invention.
God’s voice was always incredibly gentle.
However, his way of speaking always required others to decipher the hidden meaning. Ian disliked playing games with such riddlers, but he still had to pretend to enthusiastically inquire.
“Then what do you think of my plan?”
Ian maintained his enthusiastic demeanor, like a professional matchmaker. He knew that if this deal went through, his status in the world of psychiatrists would be undisputed.
“Heh, a DC director, huh?”
God looked down at his linen robe, which indeed had a belt. “Just like the example you gave, I might be able to pretend I didn’t notice my belt was missing.”
Another response that required decoding. Ian’s temples throbbed, but he immediately followed up: “Then it’s settled! Give me some time to prepare!”
“Let’s end this farce!” He extended his hand to the old man, wanting to reach an agreement, but then immediately retracted his hand as if he thought of something.
“Are you worried I’ll crush you while shaking your hand and then put you back together?” The old man could see through Ian without needing eyes. Of course, it was mainly because Ian had a personality that couldn’t hide anything and wore everything on his face.
“Do you think I’m that cowardly in your eyes?”
Ian, his thoughts exposed, tried to remain calm.
“What? You want to turn into a mouse?” The old man suddenly feigned deafness like Ian. He raised his finger, scaring Ian into quickly using a few unfamiliar classmates as a shield.
“See, do I need to say more?”
The old man didn’t actually make a move. He looked more like a mischievous old rascal who had played a prank. After openly stating his opinion of Ian, he walked towards the classroom door.
Just as he was about to disappear through the doorway, the old man suddenly turned back and looked at Ian. Then, he raised his hand and his gaze swept over Madison, who was still frozen in time.
“This interesting girl didn’t lie to you; she does know an old stone mason who can keep a secret.” Seeing that Ian was about to shed tears from his entire body, God laughed and disappeared through the doorway. By the time Ian finished wiping his sweat and wanted to explain, the old man had already vanished into the halo outside the doorway.
“Class, we’ll continue with World War II.”
Time resumed its flow.
The history teacher’s voice suddenly rang out again, as if the previous conversation had never happened. Ian froze for a second, then noticed a line of gilded text on his notebook.
【I left the belt in your school locker】
Just as Ian was staring at the writing, secretly relieved that he had finally overcome a difficult situation, Madison, who had also returned to normal, suddenly came to her senses.
She looked confusedly at her half-finished explosion diagram, which had turned into an architectural design.
“Huh? When did I enroll in an architectural design class?” Perhaps Madison was similar to Kogoro Mouri; she seemed to think the blueprints were the manifestation of her talent during her sleep.
“Forget your architectural plans, let’s talk about something else.”
Ian silently stuffed the notebook with the script into the innermost layer of his backpack, suddenly missing the days when he only had to deal with aliens – at least then he didn’t have to be a marriage counselor for a creator god.
“Huh? Why do you seem to be cheerful again?” Madison gnawed on the cap of her pen, observing Ian. She could always sense Ian’s emotional changes.
“I’m always cheerful!” Ian suddenly straightened his back, his voice an octave higher, clearly entering the “stubborn denial” mode. “I am Cheerful Ian every day!”
He forced an exaggerated smile, his mouth almost reaching his ears.
“Secretary Mai, don’t wait until tonight. Let’s skip class this afternoon! Skip class to teach the angels, and you skip class to find the old stone mason who promised you.”
Ian had a change of heart.
Upon hearing this, Madison’s blue eyes instantly brightened like real gems.
“You’ve finally thought it through? I knew history books didn’t lie to me!” she excitedly lowered her voice, tilting her head, her golden ponytail sweeping across another draft paper filled with explosion plans.
“What made you change your mind so suddenly?” Madison felt that Ian looked completely different from before after this sudden change.
Ian’s gaze unconsciously drifted towards the classroom door – a lingering afterglow remained there.
“The real DC director made me change my mind.”
He said softly.
“What?” Madison looked bewildered, but quickly became excited again. Ian’s words confused Madison a bit, but she was used to this kind of confusion.
“So, how do we trick angels? Come up with three hundred plans quickly.” Madison had always believed in Ian’s wisdom, thinking he could come up with three thousand plans if needed.
“Clever Ian has his own tricks. I just need to tell the truth, and the angels will believe me.” Ian remembered that God had personally declared him the second DC director.
It’s a rounding of sorts.
The angels will have to work for him for life. The morning class continued, sunlight filtering through the glass onto the desks, and the air was filled with the approaching Christmas atmosphere.
When the dismissal bell rang, Lillian in the front row suddenly turned around, her red pigtails brushing against Ian’s desk.
“How are you guys spending Christmas?” She swayed her phone, which she had secretly brought to school, the wallpaper a sparkling Christmas tree. “My dad said he’s taking us skiing in Switzerland.”
“Switzerland? That’s a good place too, but this year my dad promised to take me to the North Pole to find Santa Claus.” Madison would never miss an opportunity to compete.
“There’s no Santa Claus in the world.”
Lily, but Miss Potter rolled her eyes.
“Who says there’s no Santa Claus? My mom still believes in Santa Claus.” Mark from the football team, chewing gum, interjected, “My dad is also outrageous. To appease my mom, he’s preparing an absurd party this year, requiring everyone to dress up as Santa Claus – even our golden retriever has to wear a red hat.”
It was unclear if the guy was complaining or bragging about his happy family.
“Metropolis will definitely have Santa Claus this year.” Ian, feeling a bit more relaxed, joined the small talk, his tone filled with resolute conviction.
“Dude, how old are you that you still believe this? Last year, I waited until 3 AM and only managed to photograph my dad putting a game console in my sister’s stocking.” Mark chuckled, recounting his experience.
“I believe it!”
Madison suddenly looked up, her utility knife snapping open with a “clack,” startling Mark and Lily into retreating from the classroom. Everyone knew there was a crazy, manipulative girl in the local junior high.
Seeing everyone else leave.
Madison also lowered her voice, her eyes shining.
“Ian, are you going to be Santa Claus?”
Her eyes lit up as if she had discovered a new continent. “You give gifts to good children, and to disobedient children, you give AIDS bombs.”
Miss Witch still enjoyed playing with AIDS.
“It’s the traditional Santa Claus who gives gifts.” Ian rubbed his forehead. He turned to Madison, deep in thought, and then his voice suddenly lowered as he extended an invitation.
“Want to come along? The Santa Claus who appears at Christmas should take an apprentice. Santa Claus can train a witch for the girls.”
Ian thought his plan was brilliant. He was mainly worried about the increasingly politically correct America, where perhaps this year or next, some feminists would sue Santa Claus for sexual harassment.
Ian’s invitation made Madison conflicted. Her expression was like being stuffed with sour lemons with a lemon flavor. “I want to go too, but I probably won’t have time.”
She pulled out her phone and scrolled a few times. The schedule on the screen was packed, with Christmas day being particularly dense, and almost all destinations on her schedule were Los Angeles.
“Did Crowley schedule so many movie shoots for you?”
Ian asked in surprise.
“Actually, there are only 6 for now, but I’ve finally stepped into Hollywood, which has caused some problems.” Madison showed Ian the details of her schedule.
“Ever since I became greedy and went astray, but then found the right path and helped a kind big sister get pregnant, many celebrities now ask me to help them conceive.”
“Those guys seem to have chuunibyou. Many have booked to get pregnant on Christmas Day, thinking they can give birth to Jesus.” Madison’s voice carried a tone of weary fatigue.
“What?”
This time, it was Ian who was dumbfounded.
“Didn’t expect that, did you? I didn’t either.” Madison proudly spun her phone, the talisman on the case rustling. “I’m thriving in Hollywood with pregnancy magic.”
Fortunately, it wasn’t the situation Ian had imagined. Thanks to his Super Brain’s premonition, he hadn’t let the witch next to him learn gender-swapping magic in his magic notebook.
This is why many master teachers are reluctant to teach their true skills. The potion Ian got from Thanos hasn’t even debuted yet, and it feels like it’s already been superseded by the witch.
“It’s also fortunate that Master Ian doesn’t care about money and never likes to touch it.” Ian comforted himself. As the lunch bell rang, Madison had already packed her bag full of dangerous items.
“I’ll go contact the old stone mason.”
Madison was different from Ian. She didn’t understand the principle of hard work. Therefore, she wouldn’t eat her entitled lunch at school even if she was very rich, unlike Ian.
Ian watched the girl’s golden ponytail disappear around the corner of the corridor, then blended into the cafeteria. After eating his fill, consuming the equivalent of fifty people’s portions, he then skipped the afternoon class.
“I didn’t expect that, in the end, I’ve also gone bad.” Ian never dared to imagine missing any class before. He felt he might have lost his mind in power lately.
He needed to drink two bottles of disinfectant from King’s Brand to cleanse his soul.
【Berserker Experience Points +1】
【Savage Tyrant Experience Points +2】
【Berserker Experience Points +1】
【Savage Tyrant Experience Points +2】
…
As the saying goes, every little bit counts. Nothing major happened in the past two days, and Ian, unable to open treasure chests, found cheap substitutes. It was a wise choice, better than nothing.
Soon, Ian arrived at his 【New·Heaven】 factory in his Hellcat. He inspected the 【Angel-Made】 products, which were certainly more exquisite than those made in Hanyang.
The product pass rate was very high. Ian was very satisfied, so he decided to reward the angels with a large meeting, summoning all the angels through their supervisor.
“I just had afternoon tea with my Uncle God, and he said you’ve been performing well recently, but you need to keep striving!”
Ian jumped onto a temporary platform made of stacked packaging boxes and clapped his hands. Five hundred angels immediately folded their wings and formed ranks. Some even took out small notebooks to record.
He started with a bang.
A commotion arose from the angel formation.
Ian snapped his fingers.
A holographic projection displayed the 【Heaven Factory Five-Year Development Plan】.
Under the “Employee Benefits” section, it was written in bold: “Sunday overtime can be exchanged for Heaven Points. 100 points for 1 minute of meeting with Saint Ian.”
“We will build an innovative enterprise that surpasses Silicon Valley!”
Ian’s speech was progressing well. “Don’t ask what New·Heaven can give you, ask what you can contribute to New·Heaven! The target for the next quarter is to increase our market share…”
His speech on struggle and hard work was learned from Twitter while Ian was in the car, and it was highly effective. Except for Michael, who was living a second life and wearing greasy CEO attire, all other angels were extremely excited. Just as he was at a crucial moment in his speech, his phone rang, interrupting his impassioned words.
The caller ID showed a Batarang icon.
“Hello, Bruce?”
As soon as Ian answered the phone, he began to change his form of address.
“Your marketing director, Don Draper, said…” Batman’s voice came through a voice changer, with the sounds of criminals screaming in the background. “You canceled our outsourced customer service and replaced it with a more ‘down-to-earth’ team?”
Ian gestured to the angels to “continue clapping.”
He walked to the edge of the new holy water pool in the corner.
“It’s literal. Don’t worry, the new customer service still uses Wayne Enterprises.”
He gave his assurance.
“I screened all qualified outsourcing teams.”
Batman’s voice carried a dangerous calm, but also a hint of confusion. “None of the qualified outsourcing teams have ever received your order.”
This was, of course, something the unimaginative Batman couldn’t possibly find out.
Ian didn’t know how to explain.
He could only speak softly in a tactful tone.
“Uh, Bruce, find a place to stop your wheelchair. You have poor health, so you don’t need to kneel. Your Uncle Ian has something to tell you.”
This was the first time Ian had acted as an elder, and he was a bit embarrassed, not speaking boldly enough.
Of course.
Even so.
“?????????”
On the other side.
The sound of Batman’s wheelchair running over a criminal’s hand could be heard.
He didn’t speak.
He just started breathing heavily, as usual.
It was mainly because Bat Intelligence made the King of Gotham feel that something bad was about to happen.
