Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 519 Art is
I really like a line from a blond guy with a non-mainstream ponytail and a flamboyant hairstyle.

“Art is Patrick!”

Oh no, I remembered it wrong.

“Art is an explosion!”

"Wow, that's really high!" Watching Homelander fall from three massive mushroom clouds of explosions, Ma Zhaodi rubbed his chin and clicked his tongue in amazement: "I've never used a Destroyer Mushroom before, but now that I see it, the artistic element is really high."

"It's as tall as three or four stories."

Amidst these sighs, he slipped away and vanished into the alley. Clark and Queen Maeve, who had just thawed, paid him no heed; both stared blankly at the sky, at Homelander falling to the ground.

The bizarre explosion seemed terrifyingly powerful, capable of knocking a Homelander unconscious; yet its impact range was remarkably small, only a kilometer, with just a shockwave beyond that distance and no debris—it seemed that all the power was concentrated within that short range of a few hundred meters, without spreading outwards.

Neither of them had ever seen a bomb like this in their lives, but the only thing they were certain of was that its power was strong enough for the blond guy to call it a high art.

A moment later, Maeve finally recovered from her shock and excitement and noticed Homelander's situation—at that moment, Homelander, propelled by the blast wave, was hurtling towards the ground like a cannonball, headfirst.

More precisely, face down.

"Quick! Get the civilians off the ground to prevent them from getting hit!"

Before he could finish speaking, Clark had already shot off. He was only momentarily stunned by his surprise before he reacted. In an instant, a sharp sonic boom rang out, and he disappeared from his spot at a speed many times faster than Homelander, grabbing several citizens near Homelander's landing point and moving them aside in a flash.

Boom!
Homelander landed as soon as he was moved, and a crisp thud sounded as his solid head hit the concrete pavement, accompanied by cracking sounds and flying gravel of all sizes.

Does it sound good? What sounds good is a good start.

"What a waste of such a good road."

Maeve then stepped forward, sighing at the damaged road and checking on Homelander's condition; Clark, however, didn't even glance at Homelander, but instead walked into the surrounding crowd, carefully checking for any civilians injured by the violent explosion.

Of course, there was no result. Or rather, a few people's clothes were indeed torn and they had a small amount of blood on their bodies, but none of them were injured—or rather, they were healed within moments of being injured.

The faint fragrance of herbs and the sweet scent of honey in the air had just dissipated. The convenience of the honey worm lies in the fact that it does not actually need to be ingested; it can be cured simply by being enveloped by the miasma of healing liquid in the air. It is a way to leave without a trace, keeping one's identity hidden.

Those people were completely unaware that they had already been treated.

"I feel a little dizzy."

The hoarse voice finally came from the ground. Homelander rubbed his head and struggled to sit up. He felt weaker than ever before, with intense burning and pain all over his body. His internal organs seemed to ache as well, as if the explosion had impacted his internal organs and bones.

"Oh my god, how are you?"

Maeve's concerned voice came from the side, and a hand grabbed Homelander's scorched arm, pulling him up from the ground: "That explosion was terrifying. That person must have been a superhuman." "I know."

Homelander, having recovered, had a grim expression. He glanced at the surrounding citizens, who were also getting up from the ground. But none of them paid any attention to Homelander; instead, they scattered in panic, their cries and screams filled with terror.

This is normal. New Yorkers have lived with superheroes for so long that they have long since developed a survival instinct to seek advantage and avoid harm.

When faced with a serious incident that has already been resolved—we watch, cheer, applaud, and admire the hero; when faced with a serious incident happening around us—we flee, hide, and find the nearest safe corner to cower in; when faced with a serious incident that even superheroes would be defeated—frankly, I've never encountered one.

So when that terrifying and violent explosion suddenly occurred in the sky that day, everyone subconsciously looked for a second, and when they saw three mushroom clouds in the sky, the quick-reacting citizens were already preparing to run—but they couldn't run, as they were all blown away by the shock wave.

When they saw Homelander's figure falling from the sky, everyone was stunned for a moment, and then only one thought remained in their minds.

The people of our motherland have all lost, run! Are you still watching this spectacle? Don't you want to live?

Therefore, after Homelander got up, he saw all the citizens running away desperately. The occasional glances they gave him were no longer filled with the worship, respect and unconditional trust they once had.

Everyone saw how Homelander fell.

So all that remained in their eyes was fear, sympathy, and expectation.

Panic at the fact that the high-powered superhuman had shed his first blood, sympathy for Homelander being beaten so badly by a powerful enemy, and hope that he would get back up and fight again—at least hold off the criminal so that they could escape first.

These looks, when they fell on the eyes of the man from the motherland, drove him to a frenzy.

Does God bleed?
At least he doesn't think he would.

As Madeleine had told him countless times, God should be pure, flawless, indestructible, without weakness, and as perfect as marble.

Those who consider themselves to be from God's homeland cannot accept appearing before others in such a tattered state, for it signifies the demise of mythology.

A god who bleeds is not a god. So, if the Fatherlander is not a god, then what is he?

He subconsciously refused to think about the question, which itself terrified him.

"I'm going to kill you! You bastard, I'm going to kill you!"

He roared as he broke free of Maeve's grasp, soaring into the sky, his eyes blazing with crimson fury as he surveyed everyone on the ground. He no longer cared about interrogation, secrecy, or superhuman obstruction; he now had only one intense desire: to ensure that masked man met a gruesome end.

However, after an angry gasp and swallowing two mouthfuls of rusty-tasting blood, Homelander found that even though his eyes were practically spinning like windmills, he couldn't spot a trace of the other person in the crowd or in the buildings.

There was no ghost mask, no two-headed snake tattoo, and not even a person with two gunshot wounds. The other party vanished without a trace, like a real ghost or phantom.

(End of this chapter)