Chapter 21: What About My Huge Evil Spirit?
The black schemer entered the game with money.
He wanted Ian to serve as his “advisor” on tax matters.
But.
For such a proposal, Ian vigilantly shook his head.
“Wouldn’t that make me your accomplice?!” He was a true law-abiding citizen who wouldn’t prevent crime but also had no intention of becoming a formal accomplice in any form.
What a joke!
He was Ian!
Ian Kent!
Superman’s son absolutely could not associate with criminals! The train of thought was exactly like that, and in Ian’s view, it didn’t contradict his return just for a refund.
Refund only.
The only one suffering losses was the insurance company, that evil capitalism! It was venting anger for the working masses! Seen this way, it silently aligned in some form with Old Man’s superhero spirit.
Logic perfectly closed loop.
Ian refused very decisively.
But.
“Hurry up and calculate it for me! Damn kid!” The black robber clearly couldn’t guess Ian’s thoughts; he gestured with his tightly gripped pistol, threatening Ian again.
“Knowledge shouldn’t be used like this.”
And just as Ian continued shaking his head.
“Doot doot doot~ doot doot doot~”
Suddenly.
Police sirens blared outside the shop.
Clearly, a police car was approaching.
“？？？？？”
The black robber was immediately startled; he glared furiously at Ian, “It was you! You called the police! So you’ve been stalling for time all along!”
“I’d already agreed to refund you! And you still screw me over!?” The robber acted like the real victim, his grievance and anger reaching a peak.
Those who didn’t know would think he’d suffered some heinous betrayal.
“Huh?”
Ian was stunned for a moment.
“I didn’t!”
He was telling the truth.
“Didn’t? If not you, then who!”
The robber silently stared at Ian for a moment, then both turned to look at the cashier—the cashier reacted quickly and immediately grabbed the cash register in front of him and smashed it at the robber.
The robber was smashed straight to the ground, his biubiubiu falling to the floor. Sure enough, the cashier swiftly vaulted out and kicked the pistol flying under the shelves.
Not only that.
He also stomped hard on the robber’s head, not stopping even after the robber passed out, until Ian rushed forward to stop him, preventing the robbery from turning into a murder.
“He’s really about to be kicked to death by you.” Ian crouched down, checked the robber’s breathing, confirmed his merit +1, then looked up at the cashier leaning nearby, body still trembling.
“Are you excited or thrilled?”
Ian pondered thoughtfully.
“Hoo~”
The cashier let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Of course scared! That was really dangerous just now; we were the ones who nearly died.” He began lamenting the joy of being alive, with that post-trauma relief expression.
“Uh.”
Ian silently glanced at the unconscious robber, “He won’t die, not at all… It was a fake gun; didn’t you notice?”
Yes.
The reason Ian went in and out three times.
Was naturally because he spotted this detail that absolutely guaranteed his safety.
However.
“？？？？？”
The cashier was directly stunned; he clearly just learned about it.
“You could tell that? No way!” The cashier disbelievingly ran to the shelves, got down on the ground, and fished the pistol out from under the shelf.
He inspected it briefly.
“Hiss, you’re right! It really is a fake gun! Craftsmanship is top-notch, feels more expensive than a real one!” The cashier turned to Ian in astonishment.
“Does your family sell guns or something? How’d you spot something wrong?” The cashier asked curiously; it was likely the only explanation he could think of.
“Huh? Isn’t this basic daily life skill in Metropolis?” Ian looked surprised, his tone matter-of-fact, instantly leaving the cashier speechless.
Goddamn basic daily life skill.
Who learns that kind of thing!
It’s not like the city next door!
“…”
The atmosphere in the air was awkward; the two stared wide-eyed for a full minute. Ian thought for a bit, then returned the thirty dollars and forty-five cents he’d pocketed.
Integrity in life.
Ian had his own principles on taking advantage; now that the robber was down, his perfect three-win plan clearly had no room to implement.
“Keep it, you.”
But the cashier didn’t take it; he walked back to the cash register, bundled the already sorted money, and put it in a safe.
“I’m Tate Lanton.” Perhaps because they’d been through a robbery together, the cashier introduced himself, feeling like Ian was now a comrade-in-arms who’d shared hardship.
“Hello, Tate.”
Ian was polite but didn’t introduce himself. On this point, the cashier Tate didn’t mind; he just grabbed a few packs of premium “family planning” supplies from the shelf.
“This shop actually belongs to my father.” He first explained why he’d fought back against the robber, then explained to Ian what operation he was performing.
“You’re right earlier; my father really does have insurance.” After hesitating, the cashier grabbed a few packs of Camel cigarettes, equivalent to domestic Hua Zi in America.
“…”
Ian looked around but couldn’t find surveillance cameras, so he understood what this guy was doing.
Embezzlement!
The seemingly honest glasses guy wasn’t honest at all! This guy definitely planned to frame the already “taken down” robber! Sigh! He really was still a white lotus in Metropolis! This robbery didn’t achieve three wins, just win-win, with the innocent world directly rewritten for the robber!
“Awesome!”
Ian felt deeply shocked, gaining new insight into Metropolis daily life; he even began doubting if the shop owner was really the cashier’s father.
And at that moment.
“People inside! Hands up!”
The sirens had been blaring for a while, the robber nearly catching a cold on the ground, yet the police outside arrived late; this wasn’t the first time Ian encountered after-the-fact police.
To be fair.
They seemed to have the superpower to predict if the incident was over.
“We’re the victims! We need blankets!” The cashier raised his hands and called out to the gun-wielding police entering; he’d already hidden plenty of “stolen goods”.
His experience handling robberies was far richer than Ian imagined.
“I’m traumatized; I need a ride home!” Ian put it to use, also raising his hands and seizing the chance to get free transport home.
…
Police generally wouldn’t play good Samaritan. But under the “justice by face” modeling attached attribute, Ian ultimately got kind help from a female police officer.
The police car stopped at the home doorstep.
“Thanks.”
Ian bid farewell to the female police officer who’d urged him several times along the way to try his luck in Hollywood. He patted his pocket; his assets were even one US dollar more than before buying food.
Yes, the cashier refunded Ian thirty dollars and forty-five cents, but he’d forgotten that before that, after Ian’s shopping, he’d already given him one US dollar in change.
Ian’s actual spend was only 29.45 US dollars. What could be said—facts proved the cashier had some smarts, but math talent was clearly at America’s average level.
“Like someone spent one US dollar to treat me to a bunch of pre-made dishes!” Ian achieved logical consistency again; he stared at the nearby front door, slightly hesitant. Not because he hadn’t figured out how to explain coming home so late, but whether to bring the evil spirit home.
Not only a hazard, but bad if Superman Old Man discovered such a thing. Mainly, Ian hadn’t figured out how to explain carrying an evil spirit home.
Should he use his heaven-sent talent, walking down the main road and accidentally entering a mystical mage temple, taken as disciple by 【Sorcerer Supreme Wang Defa】 in a cool story script, or the silly sweet script of thinking he’d picked up a “magic lamp”—um, either way smelled like plagiarism.
“Where’s my writing talent! Get moving! Give me a reasonable origin story!” Ian racked his brains; he believed his changes could fool first grade but not sixth.
As for whether to confess the truth, Ian had considered it carefully. But compared to saying he was a transmigrator with a system.
He felt his “origin story” should still respect the current version.
“But getting tricked by Constantine’s accomplice is something I can still tattle about…” Ian thought as he pulled out the thermos Charles had used to smash him earlier.
The thermos’s dented body was proof of Ian’s iron head.
“My head still faintly hurts, and this evil spirit is nasty too… Wait, what’s going on!” Ian wanted to shake the evil spirit inside a few more times to vent, but suddenly discovered the thermos seemed ineffective; not only had the inscriptions become blurry.
Even the evil spirit inside was gone!
“Where’s my huge evil spirit!? It escaped?” Ian was greatly astonished; he pressed his eye to the glass to spy, but the thermos was indeed empty now.
The evil spirit’s trick?
Or did it really escape?
As Ian grew suspicious.
“Hm?”
He unexpectedly noticed his chest flashing.
No idea how long it had been flashing.
Ian hurriedly pulled out the thing under his shirt—there, the pendant Madison gave him was now emanating dark ghostly light.
Very similar to the evil spirit’s body color.
〔ps: Thanks to several big shots’ tips, rolling on the ground begging for follow-up reading, favorites, reviews, and comments—even scold me is fine〕
