Chapter 219: Full Flex In Michael’s Mouth
Ian’s exclamation was especially loud at the entrance of the empty factory.
There aren’t many people in this world who can make Ian Kent, someone so experienced and with such an unparalleled spirit, turn pale with shock.
This little punk girl in front of him is truly the number one person to blame. Even he, with his sky-high imagination, could never have thought of such a way to “save and generate income”!
Look at the food boxes being lugged by the workers!
The boxes are printed with blurry Russian labels and a sickle and hammer emblem that’s very characteristic of the era. These are definitely old relics from the former Soviet Union! Judging by their rusty, weather-beaten appearance, they’re probably older than Ian’s long-dead grandfather!
Ian considers himself a capitalist, and although he’s black-hearted, he at least has some “conscience” and a bottom line, like not feeding his employees things that would clearly kill them.
But Madison is different; Ian’s bottom line seems to be her limit.
To save money, she really dared to go for it! Even if it’s zombie meat, it shouldn’t be meat that’s been buried underground for so long that it’s practically become zombie meat!
Hearing Ian’s exclamation, Madison, who was energetically giving orders, turned around. Even her smoky makeup couldn’t hide her astonishment at that moment. She blinked her big eyes and the first thing that came out of her mouth was: “Ian? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”
“You said it yourself that sleeping too late stunts your growth!” It was clear she knew a lot about Ian’s sleep schedule and his obsession with naturally growing to be a tall, six-foot-three man.
“Uh…”
Ian was choked by the sudden concern and sighed helplessly, waving his hand: “Can’t be helped, who made my useless brothers like to cause trouble…”
Speaking of which, he suddenly remembered that Jonathan, Jordan, and Damian were still tied up in the church, forgotten by him.
A bit careless.
However… this matter isn’t particularly urgent. They’re tough anyway, especially the two Kryptonian boys. Tying them up for a while won’t kill them or turn them into dried meat.
Right now, Ian is more concerned about Madison’s heaven-defying operation.
He pointed at the boxes still being unloaded from the truck, exuding the dust of history, and forcibly steered the conversation back on track.
“No explanation, Miss Madison?”
Ian used a formal address, mainly because there were workers moving goods around, and he had to give his deskmate some face by not directly calling her a little punk.
This was Ian’s attention to detail, finer than a needle. Seeing this, Madison’s face immediately showed an expression of “I understand,” or at least she felt she did.
She puffed out her chest and explained proudly, as if seeking praise: “Ian, don’t worry! I always strive for excellence in both quality and quantity!”
“This isn’t Cold War goods, these are World War II goods, they’re even older and cheaper. How about that, I saved a lot this time, right?” Madison looked like she was seeking commendation.
Ian was once again shocked.
“!!!”
He had thought it was premium zombie meat, but he never expected Madison to bring him a Corpse King! World War II goods?! Then this meat is probably older than Grandma Martha’s age!
Can this stuff even be called food anymore? This is clearly a historical relic! If an ordinary person ate it, wouldn’t they immediately awaken their past life memories and become a soldier from Stalingrad?!
Writing too many novels had had some effect on Ian’s brain. At this moment, he was beyond shocked. He opened his mouth, trying to express “you’ve saved too much” in a tactful way: “Um… my friend, what I meant by ‘saving money’… wasn’t like this…”
However.
Ian’s words weren’t finished.
The dark-skinned truck driver beside him, who had been quietly driving, suddenly reacted to hearing this sentence!
“No! Have you two learned any history at all!” The driver uncle suddenly turned his head, his face filled with collapse and frustration. “I really couldn’t find any World War I goods! Flip through a history book! Even as a black person, I know there wasn’t even a refrigerator or cold storage back then! Where am I supposed to find you compressed rations from World War I?!”
This reaction clearly indicated that he had been bothered by Madison, the underachiever in history, countless times, asking him to search for “older” and “cheaper” “antique food.”
And because of this.
Perhaps he felt that Ian’s request would be just as difficult as Madison’s.
“What the heck?”
Ian was stunned by the driver uncle’s sudden outburst and looked at him. Ian recognized this guy as a small fry superhero active in Metropolis, codenamed Black Lightning. He seemed to be working with his Second Brother Jordan recently, and somehow Madison tricked him into becoming the logistics manager.
However, this guy did have some unconventional methods and could always get “good stuff” that wasn’t available on the market—although this time the good stuff was a bit too “good.”
“Don’t rush, listen to me.”
Ian looked at the agitated Black Lightning and asked tentatively: “So… did you get these goods from the warehouse of a history museum?”
He suspected Black Lightning had robbed a military museum’s storage. It wasn’t exactly a stereotype, after all, black men on American soil were synonymous with Zero Dollar Purchases.
“Huh? No! What history museum?!” Black Lightning’s eyes widened even further upon hearing this, looking at Ian as if he were a potential madman.
“Boss, you’re not going to ask me to find some mummies from a museum to stew next, are you?!” His voice carried fear and symptoms of paranoia.
His imagination was truly too rich. Clearly, working under Madison and Jordan for the past few weeks had given him severe PTSD regarding the “scope of business” and the thought processes of the bosses, exhibiting typical “Arkham” symptoms and beginning to doubt the mental state of those around him.
“…”
Ian had always known he was normal. He now felt that everyone around him was abnormal. He realized that he and Black Lightning were not on the same wavelength at all.
The other party could always develop rather fantastical associations from his very normal statements.
“Black people don’t understand each other?”
In Ian’s opinion, the value of this statement was steadily increasing. He helplessly covered his forehead, looking at Madison, who had an expectant look as if waiting for praise.
Then.
Ian forced a smile, remained silent, and looked again at the zombie meat labeled “Soviet Bitch” that was as old as fossils.
He felt a deep sense of powerlessness.
“My friend, I understand your intentions, saving money for the company, very good. But… you really don’t have to save to this extent…”
Ian was indeed not stingy to this extent. He walked forward, picked up a can, and found it heavy and cold. The production date on it was almost illegible.
“This thing… it doesn’t look like it’s edible at all. I’m afraid if the angels eat it, it won’t be a case of diarrhea, but they’ll die on the spot and return to heaven.”
Ian expressed his literal concern.
He picked through the frozen meat that looked “freshly opened,” and at a glance, he could tell that after thawing, it would undoubtedly ooze green liquid.
However, he couldn’t criticize Madison too harshly for this, because although his deskmate had a peculiar way of thinking, her starting point was genuinely for his company’s benefit.
Such loyal people are rare.
This “loyalty” was even a bit touching. But… Ian really didn’t dare touch this meat. Even someone as unpicky as him noticed how unappetizing the visible frozen meat looked.
Madison listened to Ian and tilted her head in thought. She seemed a little regretful but immediately proposed a new “money-saving” plan: “Then… how about getting some Cold War goods? I know a warehouse administrator in Ukraine who said they still have a lot of inventory from the 70s. It’s a bit more expensive than this, but it’s definitely cheaper than fresh meat on the market!”
She seemed to have a peculiar obsession with the land of the Soviet Union.
“…”
Ian stared at Madison’s pure eyes and thought hard for a long time, trying to find a compromise that would satisfy the need for saving money without being too anti-human or anti-angel.
As he said before, he, Ian Kent, was just a capitalist. He didn’t want to get involved in the kind of stunts entrepreneurs pulled. He didn’t even want to open a Bessie restaurant with this frozen meat.
Finally.
After much deliberation, Ian spoke, his tone conveying the difficulty of trying to communicate: “Little punk, look, our angel employees, although they are super beings, they are still humanoid and have a certain level of intelligence and aesthetic sense… shouldn’t we at least respect their humanoid rights a little?”
“At least in terms of diet?”
Ian deeply understood the principle that you have to feed the horse if you want it to run. He tried to organize his words: “So, the age of this meat… it should at least be younger than us, right?”
The guiding Ian was rarely seen in this version. Madison nodded as if she half-understood, and took out a small notebook to start recording.
“Oh… meat younger than us…”
He truly hoped she hadn’t misunderstood this sentence. Since Ian only saw this one line as he looked, he was still somewhat apprehensive about how Madison understood it in her mind.
“How about seafood? We know Aquaman, so the wholesale price would definitely be low.” Madison looked up and asked, completely unaware that Aquaman was also “a fish.”
However.
Her sudden idea also inspired Ian.
“Seafood? Seafood is fine, seafood is good. Get some Fukushima seafood for the angels to eat. I want to see if angels who eat Fukushima seafood will glow again at night!”
Ian knew that the various radiations wouldn’t kill angels. Besides his well-intentioned desire to help the angels regain their “light,” he also wanted to see if the angels’ chests would spin.
“Good, good!”
Madison listened to Ian’s “grand blueprint,” her eyes glowing brighter and brighter. She thought Ian truly lived up to his title of New God; his ideas were more advanced and avant-garde than hers!
She quickly wrote furiously in her notebook.
“Right.”
Madison’s eyes seemed to have opened to a new world with Ian’s “glowing Fukushima angels” and “spinning chest angels” plans. She extrapolated from it.
Her mouth babbled, offering more inexplicable ways to obtain ingredients.
“Ian, then can we also consider mushrooms from the Chernobyl radiation zone? Maybe we can cultivate angels that can spew spore clouds!”
She still had a special fondness for the Soviet Union.
The more she spoke, the more excited she became, the light in her eyes comparable to searchlights. Black Lightning, standing beside her, listened to these plans that sounded more and more like a supervillain’s conspiracy, and his face turned green. He felt his already dwindling sense of superhero justice was screaming alarms. If he listened any longer, he was afraid he wouldn’t just resign but would directly call the Justice League to take down this suspicious factory.
Huh?
Justice League.
Black Lightning’s expression turned even uglier. He realized he might be acting foolishly. The other party was the second generation of the Justice League, so going to the Justice League might not be very reliable…
Realizing this.
A sense of powerlessness washed over Black Lightning.
“Uh… the cargo is unloaded! I have other routes to run, I’m leaving now!” Black Lightning almost snatched the opportunity to speak, and before Ian and Madison could respond, he scrambled into the driver’s seat and yelled at the other equally stunned unloading workers, whose worldviews seemed to have been impacted.
“Get in the car quickly! Let’s go!” The workers felt as if they had been granted amnesty. They scrambled onto the truck. The truck let out a roar and sped away from this base of crazy creative incubation for ingredients, almost as if fleeing for their lives.
All that was left was a trail of dust and World War II zombie meat and cans labeled “Soviet Bitch” scattered on the ground, and Ian and Madison staring at each other in the wind.
“Forget it. Let’s find some World War II military enthusiasts online, or bloggers who do retro survival challenges, and have them recycle these things as ‘hardcore experience packs.’ Maybe we can even sell them at a high price.” That’s why they say a qualified capitalist can turn waste into treasure.
Truly excellent capitalists have the ability to turn waste into treasure.
It’s not that the products have no value.
It’s that the target audience hasn’t been found.
“Should we sell them?”
Madison, however, looked at the cans with a reluctant expression: “We already bought them… it’s a waste to throw them away. Ian, I think I might have a way to let them… be reborn!”
She was eager to try, volunteering.
Ian raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh? Have our technology and tricks developed to this extent? Can they turn fossilized meat back into fresh meat? Do you have such good stuff, can you give me some?”
He thought Madison had mastered some incredible food additive technology.
He was quite greedy.
However, Ian’s hope for an upgrade was soon dashed. Madison shook her head and lowered her voice mysteriously, as if afraid of being overheard.
“It’s not technology, Ian, it’s… magic.” As she spoke, she walked forward, extended her hands, and pointed them at a box of zombie meat that looked very “pre-death” on the ground. Then, a soft and strange energy fluctuation began to emanate from Madison’s hands.
Unlike Raven’s deep purplish-black, this energy had a… “pearly luster” often seen in high-end skincare advertisements?
Anyway, the pearly luster energy enveloped several boxes like a thin mist. Something amazing happened—the zombie meat really started to become plump and tender.
As if it had just been slaughtered.
The cans were also affected by this power.
The originally rusty and historically aged can exteriors became as bright as new at a visible speed! As if they had just come off the production line!
Even the blurred Russian labels on them became clearly visible!
“See!” Madison proudly displayed her results. “I use beauty magic! I accidentally discovered this while doing skin treatments for washed-up celebrities in Hollywood! It can make things look revitalized and feel incredibly smooth!”
She clearly didn’t realize what she was doing.
But Ian was an experienced person. He felt the unique fluctuation emanating from the energy and his eyes widened, his expression becoming somewhat incredulous.
“No! This is clearly time magic!” He had been to the End of Time in the Marvel Universe and was all too familiar with the aura of controlling the flow of time!
This wasn’t beauty magic by Madison at all; it was localized time reversal!
Although the range was small, only acting on the surface of objects, it was undeniably the power of time!
“Is that so?” Madison tilted her head, looking at Ian with a bewildered expression, seemingly completely unaware of how terrifying an ability she possessed.
“Am I not a born beauty witch…”
She even gave herself a new title.
Ian looked at Madison’s “unappreciative” demeanor, heartbroken and envious, and grabbed her shoulders: “Little punk! You’re a genius!”
“With this technology applied to fossils, you could film Jurassic Park in full realism tomorrow. Also, by selling youth, you could become a time merchant. Both are good avenues.”
“The application prospects of this technology are vast! Aircraft carrier maintenance! Directly reverse the time of worn decks back to their brand-new factory state! Polishing nuclear submarines! Make rusted hulls instantly smooth again! And restoring famous paintings, maintaining antiques… My heavens! This ability of yours is practically a gold mine!”
To be fair, Ian’s thinking was indeed very sharp.
Madison was stunned by Ian’s description and murmured: “It… it can be like that?”
She had never imagined that her little tricks for removing wrinkles from celebrities and “beautifying” cans contained such immense potential.
“As expected! You have the wisdom!”
She was once again impressed by Ian’s “business acumen” to the point of prostration.
Just as Ian was lost in his contemplation of how “time magic” would change the world, suddenly, from the direction of downtown Metropolis, an extremely dazzling crimson light erupted.
A gigantic, complex magic array, exuding a heart-pounding evil energy, appeared out of thin air above the city like a brand, slowly rotating!
The powerful magical fluctuations could be clearly felt by Ian and Madison even from a great distance!
Madison was startled by this sudden sight and cried out: “What’s happening again?! What crisis is this? Alien invasion or dimensional collapse?”
It was clear that she had completely gotten used to Metropolis making big news almost every other night. After the surprise, there was even a sense of anticipation, like “opening a blind box.”
“Oh, right!”
Seeing the familiar crimson magic array and the Sangong Mo aura contained within it, Ian suddenly patted Madison’s head, pretending he had patted his own head and thus realized.
“I was so busy being your life mentor, I almost forgot the main business!” At this moment, he finally remembered what he had come to the factory for!
“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Ian quickly explained to Madison, who was about to rush forward, “This isn’t a crisis this time, it’s a buffet! And a top-tier one at that!”
He didn’t really want Madison to go.
After all, the habit of guarding food might be Ian’s only flaw.
After speaking, Ian rushed into the factory door beside him like a gust of wind, heading directly for an area deep inside the factory marked with a sign that read “Live Stream Area, No Unauthorised Personnel.”
“Bang!”
He could open his own door however he wanted. Ian chose the fastest way to open it, kicking open the door to Michael’s live stream room.
He saw.
A golden-haired man with faint holy light flowing behind him, with extremely handsome features, or perhaps a woman, anyway, this guy was wearing a ridiculously ill-fitting Lolita dress and shaking his hips while dancing to the camera.
“Thanks ‘Hell’s Good Brother’ for the rocket~ Mwah~ Next song 《Learn to Meow 》 for everyone~” This Archangel was oblivious to Ian’s arrival.
His eyes were only on the computer screen.
After all, he needed to accumulate enough points to return to Heaven.
“Michael! Lend me some fur!”
Ian couldn’t be bothered to comment on the eye-sore scene anymore. He rushed forward in a flash and, under Michael’s terrified gaze, reached out and vigorously tickled his armpits!
“Aaaargh! What are you doing?! You damn capitalist! Let me go!” Michael screamed, and as a reflex, a pair of pure white wings, radiating a warm glow, burst out from behind him with a *bang*!
Now!
Ian, with quick hands, grabbed one of Michael’s largest and most beautiful feathers and yanked hard!
“Aooowww—!!!” Michael let out a piercing scream, feeling like a piece of his soul had been ripped away! The spot where the feather had been forcibly pulled out instantly oozed golden blood.
“How dare you!”
Michael roared in anger.
Ian didn’t care about his anger, which was limited to just one line.
Ian stuffed that large bunch of feathers, still warm and exuding a holy aura, into his embrace and turned to run, leaving Michael, who was in a dress and had a bald spot on his wings, in the live stream room, flustered and cursing.
Rushing out of the factory.
Ian shouted to Madison, who was still diligently applying “time beauty magic” to the canned zombie meat, “Oh, right! Whatever you do, don’t eat this meat yourself! Give it all to Michael! Stuff it all into Michael’s mouth. He was talking a lot of trash to me just now, and I bet he was thinking the same about you.”
Ian truly excelled at not being a human.
Holding a grudge, he issued “special attention” to Michael. Then, energy surged around him, and he flew straight up, preparing to head towards where Raven and that giant magic array were located.
The flight speed was very fast.
After all, Ian was no longer the same as before.
However.
He had just flown out of the factory.
Before he could even accelerate, the very next moment, he felt an indescribable, terrifying pressure coming from directly above, as if the entire sky were about to collapse.
Ian stiffened all over, his movement instantly halting. He slowly, somewhat stiffly, raised his head and looked up at the night sky.
In the dimly moonlit night sky, a massive figure, like a mountain, floated silently. He had rocky gray skin, wore pitch-black armor, and his crimson eyes, burning with the Omega Effect, were like the entrance to hell, coldly looking down below.
Darkseid!
The Dark Lord, one hand gripping another figure’s neck as if he were pinching a chick—it was a man whose S-marked chest emblem was dim and whose mouth was bleeding.
Yes.
It was the severely injured.
The near-death Superman Clark!
