Chapter 215: Awkward Misunderstanding! Tyrant Enraged!
Ian’s logic is always so impeccable.
Raven could also realize what Ian meant by the middleman—he always wanted to touch her forehead, and she knew he was coveting the power inside her forehead.
This power originally came from Sangong Mo, so Ian’s suggestion to go directly to Sangong Mo was skipping the middleman, which was indeed a reasonable and vivid metaphor.
Precisely because Raven’s logic was clear and her wisdom exceptional, she couldn’t find a direction to refute for a moment, her entire brow twisting into a big knot.
Just like a pretty little old lady.
Even thinking carefully, Raven also discovered that she seemed to be “infected” by some terrifying thought meme—the guy in front of her dared to treat even the seventy-two demon gods of Solomon as a buffet, and having such an attitude toward Sangong Mo… seemed not entirely incomprehensible?
“Damn it! I can’t think like this!”
Raven frantically shook her head, as if trying to shake out some invisible thing. The head-shaking worked well, and soon her thinking returned to normal.
“He acts like this, perhaps because he’s a hybrid… Lois Lane’s bloodline is probably not simple, otherwise how could she give birth to such a child.”
“Feeding on demons…” Raven looked deeply at Ian, her gaze seeming to pierce through his apparently human exterior to see what shocking species was really inside.
She obviously couldn’t investigate Ian’s true background, after all, that was a project personally handled by Batman, and even beings from the magic side would find it hard to uncover that truth.
Stop standing there, sister! Let’s go, go, go, come home with me! Go get Baal’s head… uh, I mean, go ask my Abyss Magic Bucket to take on another job!
On the other side, Ian was already impatiently starting to urge her.
Raven was led astray by his eager demeanor and subconsciously asked: “Did you seal it in some special container? Do we need to prepare any unsealing ritual?”
She imagined some holy urn heavily sealed with magic or a cursed box.
However.
Hearing this, Ian tilted his head and thought for a moment, saying uncertainly: “Container? Um… sort of. But there’s definitely not even a tiny bit of sealing.”
“I just put Baal in the refrigerator—the big double-door one in our kitchen, the zero-degree freshness layer. Recently, I don’t know which bastard keeps stealing my chicken breast, so I had Baal guard it for me, to bite hard whoever tries to steal!” He said it as if it were the most natural thing, full of righteous indignation.
Raven: “???”
Put… in the refrigerator? Guard chicken breast? Bite thieves?
She was completely stunned, momentarily unable to tell if Ian was talking about a Minotaur Demon from hell or a pet watchdog.
“Are you sure we’re talking about a Minotaur Demon, not some hellhound?”
In the end, Raven couldn’t hold back from asking, mainly because she felt Ian’s way of thinking was a bit off, so some things needed careful confirmation.
“Of course.”
Ian felt Raven was doubting his memory.
“Aren’t you afraid he’ll rebel? Take the chance to cause trouble, body snatch one of your neighbors, then hide in the crowd and vanish?” Raven had a long period of understanding about demons.
Her expression as she looked at Ian was very strange.
“If you had kingly aura like me, you wouldn’t worry about that.” Ian chuckled, his voice carrying a deliberately casual tone.
His posing skills were still not very polished.
“What do you mean?”
Raven shook her head in confusion.
Kingly aura?
What was this about?
Ian kindly didn’t criticize her limited cultural knowledge.
“No problem if you don’t know now! My company is preparing to take on Hollywood head-on recently, so once my Green Fruit short dramas launch, just binge a bunch of the short dramas my company produces and you’ll get it!”
“They’re full of knowledge points!”
Ian even kindly gave guidance and provided a direction for Raven to learn, as he was such a gentle person, though Raven didn’t seem to feel this gentleness.
“?????”
Raven completely couldn’t keep up with this leaping thought process.
“Do you even remember what we were talking about? I suspect you’re taking the chance to advertise.”
Before she could figure out the inevitable connection between “kingly aura,” “Green Fruit short dramas,” and “demon in the refrigerator,” Ian was urging her again.
“Alright, no more on that, stop dawdling, hurry home with me to get my Abyss Magic Bucket! Don’t keep Sangong Mo waiting! That would be disrespectful to your father!”
Ian’s expression even took on a hint of seriousness.
“To lure out Sangong Mo, honestly, I wouldn’t mind dyeing my hair blond to go meet your father with you.” As he spoke, he subconsciously swallowed.
Willing to sacrifice his own reputation.
It was clear Ian was going all out for the gains Sangong Mo could bring. He did have a grudge against Sangong Mo, having been schemed against by him in hell before.
It had cost him the rewards from a demon god, so of course it wasn’t gentlemanly not to get revenge—Ian planned to recover all the lost experience points from Sangong Mo.
Of course, he couldn’t say it so pettily in public; Ian remembered he was a superhero, so he had a reasonable excuse ready: he’d become a Star Eater possessed by eternal hunger in his brain.
Ian had already prepared a draft in his mind for how to quibble.
Right now, his mind was full of thoughts of a huge harvest—if he could somehow summon Sangong Mo to the human world, even just a clone… how much experience points feedback would that be?
He didn’t dare think too much! Even a little thought made him excited!
“You really need to wipe up your drool, please.”
Raven looked at the undisguised “appetite” in Ian’s eyes toward her father and weighed once more the urgency of her pursuit of Sangong Mo’s conspiracy.
She finally made up her mind.
“But you’re right, I don’t want my father waiting too long either—there are too many scores to settle between us, he must pay the price for everything he’s done.” Raven took a deep breath, suppressing her complex emotions, her tone turning ice-cold and firm, carrying bone-deep hatred for Sangong Mo.
“You’re absolutely right! Demon father-son… father-daughter traditions should be like this!”
Ian played the straight man for a moment.
The two reached a weird consensus.
Just as Raven was about to cast magic to take them away.
Ian suddenly leaned in again.
“Although we’re no longer ordinary strangers but strangers who’ve met once, I still need to make it clear: after finding Sangong Mo, I want a thirty-seventy split.”
Ian proposed in a serious, earnest tone.
Raven was stunned for a moment.
“If we can really take him down… everything of his, all of it is yours. I want nothing.” Raven’s answer was without hesitation, her tone holding no longing to inherit that terrible power, only a pure and twisted “daughter’s love” wanting Sangong Mo’s complete destruction.
Hearing this, Ian was deeply moved.
“I knew it!”
“Sangong Mo is a demon after all, just like the son of a mouse will burrow, and as Superman’s child I am Superman too—whatever Sangong Mo gives birth to is definitely a little demon!”
He gave Raven a thumbs up.
“Since you hate Sangong Mo so deeply, don’t use his surname anymore; I thought up a new surname for you, and next time we meet, just call me your benefactor.”
“And I’ll call you Rachel Jiahao.”
Ian’s suggestion was too avant-garde; Raven still couldn’t understand it.
“???”
She was just about to ask which nerve Ian had hit this time when his follow-up correction interrupted her thoughts. The youth’s gaze was very firm.
“Oh, right, about that earlier thing, I think you misunderstood my phrasing; the thirty-seventy split I meant is actually the common modern split ratio.”
“Meaning you cook him medium-rare three parts, and I eat over seven days—don’t worry, I already have double digits in age, no need for you to feed me.”
Ian didn’t want Raven to take advantage of him on age.
So he chose a vague way to reveal his age.
“…”
Raven fell completely silent.
Her whole body entered a constipated-like rigid state.
She opened her mouth, but found any language pale and powerless before this “plan,” so a wave of frustrated red heat surged to her cheeks and ears.
“Let’s go, let’s go! Time waits for no one!” Ian was already fully immersed in the anticipation of Raven treating him to a “medium-rare father feast.”
He completely didn’t notice Raven’s mood change, grabbed the wrist of the still red-hot rigid Raven, and then activated his Superman family exclusive ability.
Flight.
Of course, although many superheroes could fly too, Metropolis skies only allowed those with the same surname to stand there; Ian was already having people bribe the local officials for the relevant traffic rules.
Bang!
Ian crashed through the church’s beautiful stained glass window, and amid the sound of shattering glass, the two shot into the sky, instantly turning into a small black dot disappearing into the night sky.
On site, only Jonathan, Jordan, and Damian remained firmly tied to the pillar.
“Hey, we’re still tied up!”
The night wind blew through the broken window, bringing a chill and flickering the candle flames. The three unfortunate brothers exchanged glances, completely forgotten in this suddenly desolate and quiet church.
Jordan blinked, struggling to speak: “So, we’re just abandoned like this? That woman took our crazy little brother to find that woman’s old man?”
“No wonder he’s my idol, sigh, I hope one day Ian the great god will take me to fry my dad too, best to fry him till he’s screaming and begging for mercy like crazy.”
The real little demon was actually still here.
Damian’s sigh was full of filial piety toward Batman.
“I knew last night when I opened the fridge… something bit me, almost took off my finger, I thought I was half-asleep and hallucinating.”
Jonathan felt guilty for eating Ian’s chicken breast.
Of course.
Guilt was temporary.
When the fear of losing muscle occupied his brain again, he’d still lose control of his hands and mouth. Athletes were like that, especially fitness-loving ones.
“We need to rescue ourselves!”
Jordan struggled hard, to no avail; Raven was good at tying.
“Jordan! My belt is over there!” Jonathan hurriedly said to his brother, “Quick, use your super telekinesis to get it for me! I can transform and use my ability to cut this unreasonable magic rope!”
His gear was nearby, about twenty meters away, close yet he couldn’t grow an infinitely extendable rubber hand like Ian.
“Mine too! My gear bag is over there too!” Damian Wayne nearby immediately chimed in, clearly assuming Jordan had this convenient ability.
Only Jordan himself didn’t know he had it.
“…” Jordan looked at his two companions’ matter-of-fact, expectant gazes, his face showing extreme helplessness and a wry smile.
“Do you guys have some misunderstanding about me? If old dad doesn’t have it, how could I? If I had that ability, my pre-bed cortisol-lowering routine wouldn’t need…”
He didn’t finish his words.
Leaving infinite room for imagination.
“Anyway, even if I did have that ability… that woman put more than one piece of kryptonite on me! Me even being able to talk now means my constitution is good!”
The human form of the 【 God of Suppressed Showoff 】, Jordan Kent, timely changed the subject, stating in a dejected tone the fact that he was now worse than an ordinary person.
The three exchanged glances again.
A sense of desolation arose spontaneously.
After a moment of silence, big brother Jonathan sighed again, his face showing resolve: “If that’s the case, then I can only bring out my trump card.”
Hearing this, Damian’s eyes lit up under his bat mask, with curiosity and an “as expected” tone: “I knew it! You’re the eldest of the Kent family, you must have some hidden, unknown ultimate move! Some Kryptonian secret art that requires a price to activate?”
His mind had flown to classic hero comic tropes. Jordan also looked at his brother expectantly, waiting for Jonathan’s bottom-of-the-box skill.
Jonathan took a deep breath, sinking his energy to his dantian, chest slightly bulging, as if brewing some earth-shattering energy—at this moment, Damian and Jordan both held their breath unconsciously.
Tense anticipation.
The next second.
Jonathan opened his throat and shouted with all his strength, producing a earth-shattering, highly penetrating cry for help.
“Great God! Kind old father! Whoever’s free, come save us quick?” His voice echoed repeatedly in the empty church.
Shaking dust from the ceiling, even transmitting far through the broken windows.
Meanwhile, near the Orion Arm, inside a twisted star domain that struck terror into countless advanced civilizations and was seen as an absolute forbidden zone.
There should originally have been a massive living planet covered in lava rivers and terrifying spires—Apokolips. But now, there was only a void of dead silent space with lingering terrifying energy fluctuations. As if a giant eraser had wiped Apokolips completely from the universe’s canvas.
Not even a speck of debris dust left.
In the empty silence.
Only two outsiders floated in the vacuum.
One wore the classic blue bodysuit and red cape, the “S” emblem on his chest shining even in cosmic vacuum—the old father of the Kent family’s three kids.
Clark Kent.
He scanned the empty space with furrowed brows and a grave expression.
“Did you analyze anything?”
Superman turned his head.
Beside him was Batman Bruce Wayne in pitch-black heavy Hellbat Armor with spikes and demon-wing structures, emanating hellish aura.
Lois suspected the reason Superman often dated Bruce behind her back was this.
The two had been teaming up frequently lately.
“Soon.”
Batman responded in a deep voice.
This ultimate armor, meant only for the most critical moments, was now constantly operating, red lights flashing on the faceplate, seemingly analyzing the surroundings.
At that moment.
Superman’s ears twitched slightly.
He turned his head, as if hearing something extremely distant and faint. Helplessness and headache mixed into his grave expression.
“Bruce.”
Superman turned, looking toward the distant Milky Way.
“I need to head back to Earth.”
His tone was full of old-father fatigue. Batman didn’t respond immediately, focused on operating the complex instruments extending from the armor’s arm bracer, scanning the void. Data scrolled rapidly on the screen, with faint beeps.
Gotham’s king’s expression grew graver.
“Wait a bit longer, Clark.” Batman’s voice came through the faceplate with metallic buzz and unprecedented seriousness.
“The scan is almost done… I must confirm…”
Seconds later, the instrument let out a long beep, final results on screen. Batman stared silently, then sighed deeply and heavily—the sigh inaudible in vacuum but clear via internal comms to Superman.
“As expected… completely gone.” Batman’s voice held disbelief and huge pressure, “Not even molecular-level residue detected… Apokolips, and everything that might have been on it… totally annihilated. Without evidence, we need to prepare for being blamed.”
His hands sweated, fists clenched; Darkseid’s terrifying Justice League all knew that back then, even Steppenwolf as a mere pony minion nearly wiped them out.
“Is that so.”
Hearing this, Superman’s helplessness deepened; he rubbed his brow.
“So… we’re taking the blame for some unknown guy who casually erased Apokolips? Earth has enough chaos already…” Thinking of Darkseid’s vengeful nature and possible mad revenge, even the current idealism Superman felt it tricky.
After all, he’d fought Darkseid alongside Golden Superman before, only repelling him thanks to Ian’s equipment—who knew how fast Darkseid grew.
If Darkseid hid in a time rift for a while then emerged, even Clark couldn’t guarantee his growth would match Darkseid’s speed.
You know.
They’d already researched Darkseid’s situation.
That guy was just a juvenile form.
Who knew how terrifying adulthood would be.
“Battle is probably inevitable.” Batman’s voice was cold and rational: “Priority is ensuring Darkseid’s revenge doesn’t hit our turf directly.”
“We need to…”
Before he finished, Superman suddenly looked up sharply at the direction behind Batman, his super vision catching something approaching at alarming speed from deep space, emanating infinite wrath and destructive aura. Superman paused silently, then his voice came via communicator:
“Yeah, the battle won’t be on our turf… I can ensure that now.” He raised his hand, pointing behind Batman.
“What! How unlucky!” Batman’s alarms blared; Hellbat Armor entered max alert instantly, and he whipped the armor around.
Sure enough!
Then, he saw—Darkseid.
Apokolips’s tyrant, dark world’s ruler, now floated in the nearby void. His rocky face, usually eternally cold, was shattered, left only with ultimate shock and inexpressible endless fury as if to burn the entire universe!
He’d obviously just completed a circle across countless galaxies, having prudently detoured extra after shaking Superman before heading “home.”
However, Darkseid truly hadn’t expected waiting for him not subjects’ kneeling or planet engines’ roar, but… utter emptiness.
Where’s home?
Where’s my huge Apokolips?!
No!
You couldn’t find me, so you stole my house?
Who taught you to steal houses like this!
“You—!!!” Darkseid’s roar was like billions of supernovas exploding, terrifying sound waves distorting surrounding space, shaking multiverse dimensional barriers.
“How dare you!!!” Having run a big loop only to find home gone, Darkseid totally lost it! He naturally vented all his wrath on the two guys in the whole universe he hated most, who happened to be at his home’s ruins—Superman and Batman!
To say Apokolips’s destruction had nothing to do with Superman and Batman.
Darkseid wouldn’t believe it a million times over.
No way it was this coincidental!
“Damn! I knew he’d think that!” Facing this sudden cosmic-level misunderstanding and fury, Batman’s reaction was even faster than Superman’s!
Almost the instant Darkseid roared, without hesitation, a card slot popped from Hellbat Armor’s bracer; he whipped out a black bank card with Wayne Enterprises logo and swiped it on the armor’s reader!
【Funds confirmed sufficient! Welcome to use!】
The armor’s interior gave a gentle prompt—for this armor co-built with Ian’s input, Ian had drawn from shock new energy brands had given him.
Voice pack was a paid feature. Not making Batman’s armor charge flight or braking paid was already Master Ian’s capitalist conscience.
Master Ian’s kindness.
Known to all.
