Chapter 170: Genesis And Homelander!
Silence.
Still silence.
Ian truly didn’t expect to hear such unjust words from his maternal grandfather, who had always preached “America First.” Was this the same America General who said “America First” hundreds of times a day? Clearly, his grandfather, General Sam Ryan, had growing political ambitions, wanting to place the crown on young Ian’s head.
Just as Ian was stunned by this so-called New America, Sam Ryan’s relentless speech continued, his radical ideas making the bewildered Ian’s expression increasingly peculiar.
Sam Ryan was an elder who had experienced multiple economic cycles.
He possessed profound insights into the American economic system. At this moment, he was recounting the current societal problems and possible solutions to Ian in a calm and firm voice.
“Ian, look at America today. While the economic data appears good on the surface, if you observe closely, you’ll find that the public’s fatigue with life is increasing. The unemployment rate may not be high, but the quality of employment is declining; many can only find low-paying, unstable jobs.”
“Working three jobs a day just to survive—this is not the life a developed country should have. Our nation is already on the verge of collapse.”
“Let’s talk about the most critical issue: debt. 36 trillion dollars, with each American owing $10,600. The interest alone is higher than military spending. The government is robbing Peter to pay Paul. Yellen’s ‘tipping point’ is not just fear-mongering. But what about those politicians in Washington? They claim to cut deficits while frantically funneling benefits to specific companies.”
“The money saved goes into the pockets of tycoons and politicians. Ian, we both know that our country’s current economic system is like a building that is magnificent on the outside but riddled with holes within. The officials are always boasting about pretty data, but the people’s feelings are the only things that don’t lie.”
“Take necessities, for example. The Bureau of Labor Statistics data shows that grocery prices have increased by 24.6% in the last four years. Milk, eggs—things every household needs daily—have more than doubled in price! People’s income growth is nowhere near matching the rate of price increases!”
“In New York, about half of adult residents’ income cannot even cover basic living expenses.”
Sam Ryan was able to produce actual data; these insights were definitely not spur-of-the-moment thoughts. Even a Super Brain couldn’t calculate this in such a short time!
“Uh… this doesn’t really concern you, does it?” Ian felt his grandfather’s passion, which seemed different from ordinary people’s keyboard warrior rants.
Sam Ryan, Ian’s maternal grandfather, seemed truly intent on doing something with his passion.
“Listen, kid. In America today, the price of a gallon of milk in the supermarket can make a veteran curse. University tuition is so expensive that students would rather be mercenaries in Afghanistan to pay off loans. Medical insurance? Ha! A middle-class family can go bankrupt from a single illness!”
“Do you know what ordinary Americans fear most now? It’s not alien invasions or superhero battles—it’s getting a hospital bill!” Sam’s voice suddenly rose. “Last week, a soldier under my command, who lost his leg to a terrorist, didn’t cry until he saw the skin graft surgery quote! He fainted!”
“Because he couldn’t prove his leg was blown off by terrorists, all subsequent medical treatment beyond emergency care had to be paid for by himself!”
Sam Ryan’s tone was filled with indignation about his soldier’s situation, but he truly had no solution, as the finances in this area were controlled by those disgusting politicians.
“My family’s medical insurance has a reimbursement rate of sixty-five percent, which is considered pretty good.” Ian subconsciously touched his medical insurance card.
Although Ian’s treatment methods usually involved cutting off whatever was wrong, he still cared about his medical insurance, as it was a rare symbol of prestige among native Americans. Even though America’s insurance denial rate was high, the good news was that very few people in this country could afford proper medical insurance.
“And then there’s the housing problem.”
On the other end of the phone, the old general continued his tirade.
“Apartments in Manhattan are so expensive that even university teachers are starting to sleep under bridges. What do the tech nouveau riche on the West Coast think about this? They’re now calling tents ‘mobile micro-homes’!”
“How ironic!”
“This is not the fairness and freedom we fought for back then. Therefore, to eradicate these issues, we must overthrow everything and build a new order from the ruins.”
The sound of a glass cup being slammed onto a table came from the phone. Ian guessed his grandfather must be drinking bourbon—because some powerful figures he’d read about in the past enjoyed it.
“The funniest part is the education system,” Sam’s cold laugh continued. “Half of the children educated in our public schools think ‘evolution’ is some stock market term, and the other half believe the Earth is flat. Do you know where the 3,680 genders come from? Our educational problems show how many idiots we’re letting run wild!”
“I bet you, if you brought a Yuanmou man here, their cognition would be higher than our teachers in those schools. With teachers like that, why would we worry about not having enough idiots in our country?”
Sam Ryan’s critiques were incisive; he truly understood every current problem in America. However, most of the people who understood this would certainly not be able to change anything.
There was no other way.
This was reality; stronger powers would always drown out the voices of the wise.
“Actually, it’s 3,699 genders.”
Ian quietly corrected his grandfather’s outdated data.
“????”
Sam Ryan was clearly silent for a few seconds.
“Damn it! Nineteen more genders overnight! Even God creating the world didn’t move this fast!” he exclaimed, his voice full of annoyance and disgust for the five-star “Mutant” General in the military.
“Look at that country across the ocean. We should learn from them. If there’s a right path to take, why shouldn’t we?” Sam Ryan’s voice was very, very red.
This made Ian sense some of Sam Ryan’s political leanings.
New America?
The United States of America was going to become the Republic of America!
The scene was truly beautiful.
Ian dared not imagine.
He feared he might be tempted.
“Well, Grandpa, you’ve misunderstood. My technology company actually has another purpose… it’s for my Kryptonian magic.” Ian knew when to name his magic.
However.
His explanation was not heard by the high General Sam Ryan—he might truly love his country, which was why he increasingly hated it now.
“I thought your father would be that hope, but what happened? Utterly disappointing. Your father is just a man playing house with superheroes in Metropolis!”
The old general’s cold laugh sounded like a gun being cocked. Ian’s phone suddenly became hot. He instinctively wanted to lower the volume, but that wouldn’t seem to hinder Clark’s Super Hearing all the way in Africa.
“I didn’t hear anything!”
Ian felt that Clark wouldn’t dare to hit his grandfather, but hitting him would feel very satisfying. He wanted to hang up, but he feared Sam Ryan would show up that night and try to persuade him to establish a New America in front of his father. He had fully grasped his grandfather’s emotions and knew that his grandfather wasn’t joking around.
“Fighting crime syndicates? Deterring villains? Clark doesn’t understand. The reason these scum are endless like cockroaches is because we are living on the eve of the Roman Empire’s fall!”
The sound of a heavy book being slammed on the table came from the phone. Ian imagined his grandfather standing before a sandbox of world history, using a general’s finger to poke at the decaying specimens of various dynasties.
“Land annexation into Wall Street’s hands, wealth disparity steeper than Mayan pyramids, a bureaucracy more bloated than Byzantium, currency devaluation faster than the Weimar Republic’s Mark—we already have all the ailments of the late stages of every ancient dynasty on Earth. The reason crime syndicates and villains keep emerging is precisely here!”
“This is the true end of the American Dynasty. Your father is an alien, unaware of learning from history, so he cannot understand our current situation either.”
“We Americans need a true man of destiny, a savior. But your father, your father only knows how to hang bank robbers from the Metropolis clock tower!”
The old general’s breathing became heavy, his voice sharp as a scalpel. His words made Ian fear that the next moment he would hear something like “Aquaman and Wonder Woman, slightly inferior in strategy; Superman and Green Lantern appear short-sighted; the peerless Batman, only knows to shoot clowns in Gotham.”
Fortunately, Grandpa Sam Ryan did not have Ian’s Pinduoduo eloquence.
He was just shouting.
Roaring.
“Only a true hero can create true peace. A true hero doesn’t bandage wounds; they amputate to let the country be reborn!”
“When your singular power surpasses everyone else’s, then a prosperous era of equality under one ruler will arrive!” Sam Ryan clearly understood the essence of the world.
He was speaking a brutal truth, a truth more fundamental than universal gravitation.
Precisely because of this.
Every word his grandfather spoke was like a surgical knife cutting into America’s skin, exposing the rotten tissue beneath—and the most terrifying thing was that Ian found himself nodding.
His heart agreed with Sam Ryan’s viewpoint. This was more terrifying than the bewitchment of the Lord of Hell; it was because Sam Ryan was stating a correct viewpoint! The analysis was damnably correct! America was indeed like a terminally ill giant, and Clark was still busy putting band-aids on this giant.
“This ‘one person’ you’re talking about… it wouldn’t be—” Ian, bewitched by his demonic grandfather, felt his heart tremble. He cautiously probed.
As expected.
His grandfather didn’t hesitate for a second.
“Jonathan has no grand ambitions, Jordan… let’s not talk about Jordan. So, naturally, it can only be you.” Sam’s voice was deep and filled with cunning.
He might have been contemplating and planning such things for a long time, to the point where some of Ian’s actions led him to a misunderstanding. This grandfather suddenly felt that Ian was his most spirited grandson.
“Are we supposed to rely on your father, who thinks ‘world peace equals saving three to five people a day’?” Sam Ryan retorted, once again met with Ian’s feigned deafness.
However.
This did not affect the passionate great-grandson who wanted to be a Grand Marshal.
“Remember, Ian.”
The old general concluded, “Americans don’t trust the government now, but they will always believe in two things—free WiFi and a savior who can reimburse medical insurance.”
“Your cheap supermarkets are good, but not enough.”
“Therefore, you must not only provide affordable daily necessities for the public but also grasp some key areas to bestow favors upon the people,” Sam suggested. “For example, in healthcare, you could consider introducing some affordable healthcare plans or establishing pharmaceutical factories to lower drug prices, making basic medical services accessible to more people.”
“And in education, you can set up scholarships or grants to help talented but financially struggling students complete their studies. You can also invest in vocational training to improve the competitiveness of adult workers, giving them an advantage in the future job market.”
“In addition, there are things that can be done regarding housing… Of course, regarding the military, as I said before, if the existing benefits are doubled, I can send you to the White House. And if they can be increased by three to five times, with guarantees for medical care, pensions, and daily meal allowances.”
“Even if they aren’t my soldiers, they will help you blow up the White House.” Sam Ryan clearly had an eagerness to try, like the world’s most dangerous instigator.
“When you bring hope to despairing people, they will elevate you—you will become a true hero.” These words, full of social philosophy, made Ian swallow hard.
Ian’s vision suddenly blurred, as if he saw himself being crowned—demons scattering flowers on his left, and his grandfather leading a hundred thousand troops saluting on his right.
And in the distance… in the distance, Clark was sprinting with a sign that read “Public Spanking”!
Hiss!
Ian immediately snapped out of his grandfather’s grand scheme. His kindness and simplicity had equally unique anchors, and the youth did not want to be treated as a villain by his father.
“Hello? Grandpa? The signal… the signal is bad,” Ian suddenly held his phone far away, exclaiming with exaggerated acting skills, “I can’t hear… Let’s talk about these adult topics another day.”
Hell would surely have a place for his grandfather. The moment the call ended, the young man still felt a stir in his heart. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sigh of emotion.
Even Ian, who was audacious enough to be Master Ian, only wanted to use his influence to send his mother to the White House, but his usually serious and patriotic grandfather wanted to blow up the White House.
“I’ve become a radical mocked by the conservatives!” Ian exclaimed emotionally, drenched in sweat. The two nearby demons, with their keen hearing, were unsure whether to call him King Ian.
“…”
Dr. Hannibal remained speechless. As a ghost, he had heard Ian’s phone call with Sam Ryan, so he felt he had indeed underestimated the mental state of Ian’s family.
The grandson was obsessed with a New Heaven, a New Justice League, while the grandfather yearned for a New America. This family, from oldest to youngest, might all have a bit of a mental disorder?
“I have to tell Mom!”
Ian pondered for a long time.
He finally utilized his traditional skill as a top student.
Meanwhile.
In an office at a secret military base, General Sam Ryan sat upright, staring at the portrait of Washington on the wall, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
“I’ve finally found my chance!”
The old general muttered softly.
“As expected, this is what being close to grandchildren is all about, isn’t it?”
He recalled Ian as a child, sitting on his lap and smashing all his trophies with marbles. Thinking back now, that child probably had the temperament of a disruptor from birth!
And now, this talent could finally be put to good use. Sam Ryan, believing he had grasped Ian’s intentions, happily drank his unsweetened black tea. Yes, he felt he had completely seen through Ian’s ambition—that so-called technology company was not just about wealth and power.
It was a blueprint for reshaping the world.
He, Sam Ryan, would become the most crucial promoter behind this blueprint. He was no longer just an old general bound by the system but a prophet about to witness and participate in a great change.
“Things are looking up!” Realizing this, Sam Ryan abandoned the bourbon. He no longer wanted to drink, as he wanted to preserve his health to witness Ian’s glory.
“Almost forgot, Lois asked me to do something.” Sam put down his teacup, patted his forehead as if remembering something, and put on his military uniform before leaving his office. In the corridor, both high-ranking officers and ordinary soldiers stood at attention and saluted him, respect etched on their faces.
“Sir, hello!”
“General Ryan!”
Sam smiled and nodded in greeting.
He strode with firm steps towards the most core restricted area of the military region—【Top Secret Building】. Officers passing by felt that General Sam’s steps today were lighter than usual.
Old Sam passed through three security checkpoints.
He finally stopped in front of a gray building with no markings.
“Retinal scan complete. General Sam Ryan, clearance level: Alpha.”
A mechanical female voice announced coldly.
Sam Ryan passed through three heavy blast-proof doors with facial recognition and entered a brightly lit, futuristic underground laboratory. The air was filled with the scent of ozone and unknown chemical reagents.
“General Ryan?”
The laboratory supervisor, a middle-aged scientist wearing gold-rimmed glasses and an arrogant expression, looked up from a pile of data screens. “What brings you here? We are conducting a critical experiment. General, unannounced visits are a violation of regulations. I believe you should also abide by the rules you set.”
Although the man’s tone was respectful, he inherently looked down on high-ranking officials like Sam Ryan, believing they couldn’t grasp knowledge he had learned in his teens.
Both scholars and literary figures seemed to have similar personalities.
“Hand over the cat that my people captured with a Kryptonite weapon.” Sam Ryan didn’t care about the researchers’ disdain.
He spoke solemnly and made his demand.
“The orange cat?”
The supervisor frowned, then reacted, his face showing distress. “General, that’s not just a cat. It’s currently the only terrestrial creature that can stably withstand Kryptonite radiation, and it’s an excellent specimen for studying the weaknesses of Kryptonian life! Just like ‘that dog,’ its value is immeasurable! The research plan has been submitted, you cannot take it.”
This supervisor’s acting skills were quite impressive. Although he didn’t seem to want to offend Sam Ryan, his tone left no room for negotiation.
“Listen, Major, someone I absolutely cannot afford to offend is pressuring me. So, if you don’t want me to pressure you, give me that damned cat.”
Sam’s voice suddenly lowered, carrying an undeniable authority. He stepped forward, his presence like a mountain pressing down, his eyes sharp as knives.
“Oh?”
The supervisor was stunned by the sudden oppressive aura and involuntarily took half a step back. His mind raced—who could make Sam Ryan so wary, even calling them “unaffordable”? Could it be those true power families hidden in the shadows of America? Those who even the President had to show deference to?
Thinking this, the supervisor’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He quickly waved his hand and instructed his subordinate: “Quick! Go bring the Kryptonian orange cat from the cage in Zone B7 to General Ryan! Hurry!”
Soon, an ordinary, dull-colored orange cat was brought in a special radiation cage. Through the Kryptonite glass, a comatose orange cat could be seen curled up inside, its belly rising and falling with shallow breaths. Without a word, Sam took the cage containing the unconscious orange cat and turned to leave.
“A word of advice, Major,” Sam stopped at the doorway. “The one who is truly violating regulations is you. Although I haven’t caught any evidence, I advise you to stop conducting those illegal biological experiments.”
He looked back deeply at the laboratory supervisor.
“This area is not within your jurisdiction, General Ryan. You are just a general, aren’t you?” Dr. Supervisor smiled at Sam Ryan without a hint of guilt. He also had forces backing him, so he naturally wasn’t afraid of the admonition, even secretly warning Ian’s grandfather.
“Yes, I am just a general. I can’t compare to those politicians behind you who seek power. Believe me, I know this better than you think.”
Sam slowly turned.
His eyes were as cold as the Siberian permafrost.
The moment the door closed, the supervisor, whose back felt chilled from being stared at, finally withdrew his gaze. He quickly adjusted his breathing and hurried towards the restricted area deep within the laboratory.
After passing through three airtight doors, the lab supervisor stopped before a massive glass enclosure. Inside, a soft light floated, seeming to “breathe” gently as if alive.
“Once I research this secret I dug out of the missionary’s body…” the supervisor pressed his face against the cold glass, his eyes burning with fervent ambition.
“No one will ever glare at me like that again… They will worship me and consider me the only god. As soon as I command them to, they will become that!” The supervisor’s breathing was exceptionally clear in the silent laboratory. He stared at the light mass in the glass cover, his fingertips trembling with excitement.
His glasses reflected a strange light, and his shadow was cast on a nearby specimen cabinet—where many items “harvested” from outside by this special military organization were displayed.
In a bulletproof glass case, an alien embryo covered in slime wriggled slowly; in a sealed sandbox, an ancient Egyptian high priest’s mummy wrapped in old bandages lay quietly.
However, his finger seemed to twitch slightly.
Unnoticed.
Perhaps it was the influence of the mummy, but a power fluctuation not recorded by some laboratory equipment was occurring. Suddenly, a harsh metallic twisting sound came from behind the supervisor. A triple-protected sealed iron box exploded as if crushed by an invisible giant hand, its special steel tearing apart like fragile tin foil.
The alarm had no time to sound before it was extinguished in the air by some older power.
The dust slowly settled.
Revealing what was sealed within.
“What’s going on?”
The supervisor, who knew that this place was sealed with mysterious things, was like a startled bird, his face full of shock. He instinctively looked back, his pupils suddenly dilating from the fear that arose after his consciousness reacted.
There was no choice.
The supervisor understood his laboratory very well, so the statue reflected in his pupils at this moment made him stiffen instantly, not daring to blink.
In the center of the shattered container, a stone statue stood quietly. It had an elegant feminine silhouette, long hair scattered, hands covering its face, as if weeping silently. Every carved detail was perfectly eerie—these were not lines that humans could carve, but rather a snapshot of some life instantly petrified.
And now, it was facing him, making eye contact.
When you look at it, it’s just stone, but after you look away, that’s not necessarily true.
The trembling supervisor’s mind flashed with information about the statue. His eyeballs began to ache from not blinking, and cold sweat flowed down his spine.
It soaked through his white coat.
Just then, the lights overhead suddenly flickered.
On.
Off.
In that instant of darkness, the supervisor swore he heard the sound of stone grinding. When the lights came back on—the statue’s arm had already extended half an inch forward.
This is a mysterious entity temporarily named the Weeping Angel, an ancient, perfect being in the universe whose lifespan is the same as the universe’s. It uses “quantum locking” as its ultimate defense mechanism—it instantly petrifies any creature that looks at it, making it impossible to kill, but when the creature blinks or turns its head, the statue moves at super speed to approach its target.
It will absorb the target’s life, and the essence of its existence.
“Damn it! Quick! Find a scapegoat!” The supervisor wanted to shout to his subordinates, but no one responded—the alarm system for this high-risk laboratory should have sounded immediately.
But as the supervisor’s shouts echoed in the confined space, the only response was a deathly silence—some ancient, sinister power had already severed all contact between this place and the outside world.
“No! No! I can’t die under my own research subject!” The supervisor’s eyeballs were bloodshot from staring too hard. He remembered what the British agent said when he handed over the statue’s file.
“You Americans always collect things you shouldn’t touch.” This sentence resonated strongly with the supervisor at this moment, yet he hadn’t suddenly awakened; he just knew he was going to die.
Don’t blink. Absolutely do not blink.
The supervisor dared not take his gaze off the stone statue in front of him, not even for a second.
But human instinct is ultimately cruel. The moment physiological tears welled up, his peripheral vision caught a more terrifying sight—in the sandbox, the mummy labeled “licking it boosts virility” was slowly sitting up. Decayed bandages rustled and fell off, revealing the black, withered skin beneath.
It turned its head, its hollow eye sockets fixed on the supervisor. As its jawbone moved, it uttered ancient Egyptian words that were difficult to understand, a field of linguistics that truly touched upon the knowledge blind spot of a biology doctor.
“Save me! Save me!”
The supervisor’s scream almost tore his throat.
He knew it was absurd to ask a mummy for help, but compared to the statue in front of him that could move and erase him, at least the mummy seemed to have a brain and could communicate.
However.
The mummy did not respond to his plea.
It only let out a hoarse laugh, like a whimper of wind blowing through the cracks of a pyramid. Then, the mummy slowly stepped out of the sandbox. Its body, composed of dead, silent sand, made a creaking sound of bones rubbing together as it slowly stood up, its tall figure casting a huge, distorted shadow in the dim light.
The mummy didn’t look at the supervisor or the advancing stone statue. It simply dragged its bandages through the fine sand and walked directly towards the glass cover in the center of the warehouse containing the mysterious light core.
Yes.
The glass cover sealed the light that the supervisor had been staring at with a lecherous face—perhaps, if there was someone knowledgeable here, they could call out its true name.
Unfortunately, there was no one knowledgeable.
“No! That’s my treasure—”
The supervisor’s words were cut short.
The mummy’s fist smashed through the reinforced glass.
“Bang!”
The glass cover shattered, and pale blue liquid poured out. The gentle light pulsing within the liquid, seemingly containing the origin of the universe, was freed from its confines and floated in the air, like a miniature star.
The light cluster did not escape.
It seemed curious, expectant, and eager to be wrapped by the bandages without resistance. Then, they saw the mummy open its mouth.
It wasn’t devouring, but inviting.
The light cluster immediately went inside, as if in response, and was swallowed into the mummy’s dry throat. Instantly, dazzling light erupted from the mummy’s seven orifices.
In an instant, a sudden change occurred!
The mummy’s body began to swell and transform. New skin covered its entire head at an astonishing speed, becoming firm, smooth, and gleaming with a healthy, almost metallic luster. The bandages broke apart inch by inch, revealing a new body underneath, with strong muscles, smooth skin, and a shiny bald head.
The wrinkles on the mummy’s face, the marks of wind and sand, the imprints of death, were all smoothed out. In their place was a young, handsome, and majestic face.
“Imhotep.”
The supervisor collapsed to the ground, his eyes still not daring to leave the Weeping Angel. However, he was so terrified that he uttered the name found in the ancient texts from which the mummy was excavated. The newly formed bald man moved his neck and smiled with satisfaction. He looked at the supervisor, who was still restrained by the statue, and greeted him in fluent English.
“May your death be a pleasant one. Oh, a spoiler in advance, Hell is not a pleasant place.” With that, he turned and walked towards the door. As he walked, the entire warehouse seemed to be infused with a strange vitality—the alien embryos in the culture tanks suddenly accelerated their wriggling, and the Godzilla heart in the freezer began to revive.
Inside a containment unit labeled “Dangerous Lifeform,” a mass of slime began to rhythmically strike the glass. The supervisor’s despair reached its peak. He realized he had made a fatal mistake—perhaps the creatures imprisoned in this laboratory were never “specimens,” but predators disguised as prisoners.
It’s just that.
By the time the supervisor realized this, it was clearly too late.
Now.
The cages were opened.
In a moment of distraction, the statue’s finger was another inch closer to his eyeball. Outside the laboratory, the bald man, as if no one could see him, broke through layers of containment.
He hummed an ancient Egyptian folk song and walked into the sunlight.
“I said, let there be a carriage to take me away.” As soon as the words fell, it was as if the command became law. In the sky, as if a cheat code had been entered in the game Grand Theft Auto, a carriage descended.
The bald man got in.
His shadow cast on the ground was not human-shaped.
……
Ian sneezed violently, almost dropping his phone.
“Grandpa must be talking about me again,” he muttered, rubbing his nose and swiping through his contacts, he unhesitatingly dialed his mother’s number—when it comes to complaining, you have to get ahead.
The phone connected faster than he expected.
“Mom! Grandpa he—” Ian instantly switched to a wronged tone, “He actually encouraged me to be Napoleon! He knows I’m still growing, isn’t he deliberately trying to stop me from reaching 1.8 meters?”
The sound of a glass cup colliding with ice cubes came from the other end of the phone. Lois Lane was clearly dealing with a family crisis with whiskey: “Did your grandfather really say that?”
“He implied it!” Ian added fuel to the fire righteously, “He also said Clark’s fighting crime is child’s play, that America is like the late Roman Empire now, and that I should be the Augustus of a new Rome.” He deliberately omitted the most crucial part about political subversion.
Another long sound of ice cubes shaking.
“Come home first.”
Lois’s voice carried a strange tone.
“And then we’ll confront Grandpa face to face?”
She mentioned home.
Ian broke out in a cold sweat.
The youth said cautiously: “Um. The house was blown up this morning. So. Actually, I bought you a villa!”
He tried to compensate with material possessions and salvage his image.
“The kind with a climate-controlled wine cellar!”
This statement did not achieve the desired effect.
Unexpectedly.
His mother’s drunken laughter erupted from the other end of the phone.
“Your friend has already helped us fix up our new home.”
Lois’s voice suddenly became cheerful, “I have to say, his taste is much better than yours—the whole house is Baroque style, the master bedroom ceiling is a starry sky dome, and even the kitchen is equipped with an anti-magic barrier. Yes, our home finally has a device to prevent mage sneak attacks, so we no longer have to worry about your dad not being sensitive to magic ambushes.”
She said with emotion.
The family played a joke on themselves.
“My friend?”
Ian suddenly had a bad premonition.
“Oh, right.”
Lois seemed to have just remembered.
“And he brought his very… enthusiastic mother.” Her tone suddenly became playful, “That lady kept asking me what color bed sheets you like.”
Hearing this.
Ian’s phone clattered to the ground.
How could his Super Brain not understand what Lois was saying?
“It’s Lucifer and the Creation Goddess!” The more he thought, the more likely it seemed to Ian. Given Lucifer’s personality, after being bewitched by maternal love from the Creation Goddess a couple of times, he might even lead the charge in drugging him.
“Um, no, no, you run, you run! That friend’s mom is seriously ill!” Ian was about to argue further when he suddenly heard the sound of a door opening on the other end of the phone, followed by Lois’s surprised exclamation: “Jonathan? You finally decided to come back! This bouquet of roses is… Oh my god, you actually bought flowers?”
Ian’s blood instantly froze. Eldest Brother is home? With flowers? Jonathan Kent, who believes “romance is a capitalist trap”? There must be a trick here!
Ian made a decisive move, hung up the phone, and called Jordan.
“Jordan! Run! Don’t go home!”
Ian felt he should save who he could.
However, all he heard from the earpiece was the noisy sound of a film set.
Interspersed with the excited shouts of the director.
“Jordan! I told you this profession was meant for you. The moment I spotted you in school, I knew it. Do Moon Fang Heaven-Piercer again! You’re acting so well! It doesn’t look like acting at all!” The other party was clearly an international director who had seized a business opportunity for investment.
“Ian? What’s wrong with you now? I’m filming. I’ll call you back later.” Jordan’s voice sounded helpless and busy.
As soon as he finished speaking, Jordan, who had hung up the phone, was once again engaged in filming the role of Homelander, who had come to find him. The copyright for this comic is said to have inexplicably fallen into the hands of Quinn Industries.
It was this group’s film and television company that suddenly came to Jordan’s high school and, from hundreds of high school students, with a discerning eye, selected him and Jonathan.
However, Jonathan refused, so the opportunity to debut in Hollywood fell to Jordan. In fact, as someone with social anxiety, Jordan didn’t want to be an actor at first.
However, the other party offered too much, and flattered him so much, saying he was the embodiment of Homelander himself. He couldn’t even explain that the original work of this comic was his younger brother’s achievement, and that the prototype they referred to was not himself. Confused, he was tricked into joining the crew.
As soon as he joined the crew for filming.
Jordan found that he seemed to have a natural talent in acting, with several consecutive takes without any NGs. Thus, he became very invested in this inexplicably obtained opportunity.
Just before Ian called, Jordan had already achieved financial freedom. He made a fortune from the preparations for the series’ merchandise—the early operation of film and television merchandise is also normal.
After all, if production were to begin after the series became popular, it would not be enough, and Quinn Industries did not have cooperative factories for special merchandise production in Asia.
Yes, special merchandise. Throughout history, Jordan, as a Hollywood actor, created something unique—a one-to-one gold-ratio, living body double of Homelander, with realistic touch, extracting patriotic genes.
You who crave love deserve to have it!
