American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 136 Ian's Evil God Development Plan

above the moon.

The divine light is brilliant.

The sound of forging, inaudible to ordinary people, echoed throughout the universe.

"Clang—clang—clang!"

Next to the divine furnace.

Clark swung one piece of superalloy and smashed another, sending sparks flying. Although they were in a vacuum, the vibrations from that force seemed to penetrate the universe itself.

Ian floated cross-legged in mid-air.

A surge of divine power was constantly boiling above his head.

Golden light emanated from its head.

He was like a true celestial bodhisattva.

"This thing is too difficult. I don't think it can be completed in a day." Clark was very serious as he used the divine power that Ian had unleashed to forge the armor.

However, the progress is not ideal.

"How long is this going to take?" Ian glanced at the watch on his wrist, which was painted with a brush, and it was calculating the time on Earth with the precision of a flowing painting.

"Dad, I'm about to start school." If there's anything in this world that Ian values ​​more than paying taxes, it's going to school. He generally won't skip class unless it's something really important.

Despite the horrific incident that occurred just yesterday, many schools in the Metropolitan area have not suffered as a result, perhaps due to the low-society atmosphere in which few children die in DC.

In short.

The school is fine.

This means that on Tuesday mornings, students whose families have not experienced death or who are not homeless can still go to school. Of course, this is not a mandatory requirement for public schools.

It was just a normal class.

Whether or not students come is entirely voluntary.

Ian is very willing to volunteer.

"At least we need to get the basic framework out there, right?" Like most men in redneck families, Clark values ​​ability more and doesn't care much about whether his children are late for school.

He was a farm boy.

Her hand-forging skills are also exceptionally proficient. Anyone familiar with America knows she's a jack-of-all-trades, because hiring labor is extremely expensive.

Their expertise in various handicrafts was born out of necessity.

"Student Code of Conduct, Rule Number One: You may leave early, but never be late!" Ian began to stop his divine power burst, and his entire body transformed from a glass-like shell back into a handsome boy.

"alright."

Clark was just a blacksmith, so of course he couldn't debate with the real core of the team, the Forge Boy. Ian remembered that going to school actually made him quite happy.

At least he wasn't as arrogant as many people who are blinded by power.

"Come again tonight."

Ian tidied up and dug up some lunar soil to grow vegetables. Seeing that Clark had cooled the forged embryo, the father and son flew towards Earth.

The old father was flying much faster than Ian, but he slowed down to wait for Ian.

"You can come again tomorrow."

Clark wasn't in a hurry, of course; he didn't need the armor.

And he knows it too.

This is a long and arduous forging process.

It will take at least several weeks.

This is not something that can be accomplished overnight. On the way back,

“I have a feeling you’re up to something again.” Clark said as he flew, looking down at the armor embryo in his hand. Its surface was covered with complex patterns, like some kind of ancient runes or naturally formed cracks, but the arrangement was unusually neat, even a little eerie.

His super vision allowed him to clearly see, at a microscopic level, various images of Ian's facial expressions hidden within the patterns on the armor's surface, though he didn't know their purpose or significance.

"Just as Damascus steel blades have Damascus patterns, metals forged by Ian's divine power naturally also have Ian patterns. It's scientific, natural, and also very, very reasonable."

Ian responded confidently, without even blinking.

"Ok?"

Clark glanced suspiciously at his youngest son flying beside him.

"You tampered with Bruce's armor?" This wasn't really a question. Clark, of course, didn't believe Ian; the patterns were too strange, there must have been a lot of hidden designs mixed in.

He knew this very well.

Unfortunately, his recent cramming on occult knowledge didn't seem to have enabled him to discern any clues.

“Dad, you’re being paranoid. You should go see Dr. Hannibal.” Ian immediately raised his hand and swore, “My skull was open just now, so I couldn’t think straight.”

"I simply enchanted this armor as a way of repaying Young Master Wayne's generosity. It's a supreme enchantment that's so powerful that it would make Young Master Wayne so satisfied that he would cry tears of joy and kneel down to call me Lord Ian!"

“If Aunt Diana heard about this, she’d be knocking on my window every night begging me to enchant her,” Ian said, his voice brimming with confidence.

He really did work hard to strengthen the Hell Armor, just as he did strengthen the Lasso of Truth, but Wonder Woman obviously hasn't yet seen the gratitude he owes her.

Also normal.

If a person is a little ahead of the times, he will be regarded as a genius. But if he is many, many steps ahead of the times, most people will hardly realize what kind of wisdom he is.

of course.

Ian firmly believes that the Justice League is full of experts.

Anyone who uses his equipment to fight an evenly matched enemy will realize his greatness.

The boy became more and more excited as he thought about it.

Clark's super hearing clearly detected that his son's heartbeat accelerated by 0.3 seconds.

Seeing this, he didn't dare to ask any more questions about the enchantment details. After all, if Ian really did something bad, he could only better face Bruce if he knew nothing about it.

Having made this judgment in my mind.

Clark then asked another form of question with suspicion.

"Didn't they leave a back door on the armor?"

He tentatively opened his mouth.

"I have always been honest and trustworthy, young and old!"

Ian got angry.

Upon hearing this, Clark frowned.

"Really not?"

He turned his head, his eyes filled with profound depth.

"Really not." Ian affirmed once again with a firm tone.

"..."

Clark remained silent for a moment.

When it flew into Earth.

He suddenly said something that left Ian completely bewildered.

"This is definitely a good option."

It's hard to imagine that Superman could say such cunning things.

"what?"

Ian's flight path paused slightly as he turned incredulously to look at his elderly father. The young boy had thought that hiding money was the worst thing Superman had ever done.

I never imagined Superman would have such a crooked idea.

“I’m serious.” Clark’s expression was grave. His ears twitched, but he didn’t detect any listening devices. “Do you know who Bruce is going to use this suit of armor against?”

"alien?"

Ian answered tentatively.

“That’s right,” Clark nodded. “And who is the alien he’s fought the most?”

The elderly father was patiently guiding him.

Ian wasn't stupid, and of course he realized it immediately.

"It's you, Dad!"

Ian's forehead lit up with a "ding".

This is a new ability he unlocked after his divine power was fully restored.

It can express that one's family had a sudden flash of inspiration.

It is very vivid and lifelike.

“It’s us. Our whole family are aliens in Bruce’s eyes. Even your mother, who married me, is a Kryptonian. That’s much closer to him than Darkseid.”

"You can choose not to use backdoors, but you can't be without them. And you need to create at least thirty, no, three hundred, and distribute them in layers so that Bruce can discover about two hundred and fifty of them himself."

"The remaining fifty are a buffer zone. He will eventually discover all the backdoors, so after this suit of armor is forged, you will need to maintain it for him regularly."

Over the past forty years, Clark has clearly experienced his fair share of Batman's schemes. He seems to have matured into a superman, outwardly great and righteous, yet also possessing targeted defenses against internal threats.

Although such precautions are not very effective most of the time, it doesn't mean they shouldn't be taken. After all, people always need to grow—in fact, his explanation to Ian was just a superficial one.

This was to make Ian take it seriously.

A deeper reason is that Clark has another concern—the King of Gotham has many plans targeting other heroes, and he is always worried that others will get out of control.

however.

This means that if Batman loses control, he could become a disaster even more terrifying than Superman. Superman took to heart Batman's warning during the post-disaster reconstruction.

“You’re right, Dad. I’m still too young.” Ian actually quite enjoys getting hit, but he knows this isn’t the time to talk about that.

The nine backdoors I had prepared were definitely not enough.

Older gingers are more spicy.

Dad's three hundred-plus backdoors sounded very secure, and adding another zero would probably make it even more secure. Just when Ian thought he had definitely surpassed his father...

"Jingle Bell!"

Clark's phone rang.

"Clark! Why did you take so long to go to the bathroom?! Do you know there's a giant light bulb in the sky?! This is big news!" An angry voice came from the other end of the phone.

It was Clark's newspaper owner who was roaring.

Superman instantly switched to the panicked tone that only Clark Kent would use, "I was indeed in the bathroom, yes, the kind of severe constipation. Oh, of course I know that."

“And I also got close-up photos of the big light bulb from my informant.” Clark said, glancing at Ian, who could only silently let his head light up slightly again.

It's not too bright, perfect for a staged photo.

"Exclusive photos? Hahaha, then go on, go on. Oh, I'm not supervising your work, it's just that sometimes, being the boss is really not an easy job."

The newspaper owner's attitude changed instantly.

Clark quickly gave a few more perfunctory replies and hung up the phone.

"Click~"

I don't know where he pulled out the camera, but professional reporters are different. After taking a few pictures of Ian's skull from all four directions, he instantly swooped down from the clouds.

"Don't cause any trouble outside today. Your mother and I both want to get a good night's rest." A figure sped away and disappeared into the horizon, leaving Ian silently turning off his phone.

"Ding dong~"

Because they returned to Earth.

Ian's half-broken phone also received a delayed text message.

A bank notification popped up.

[Adam Keaton's transfer has been received: $1,000,000,000] This is clearly one of Batman's aliases; heaven knows how many identity accounts he has on Earth.

It has to be said that the King of Gotham is really straightforward when it comes to payments. He paid the money immediately before the goods were even produced, which is much more straightforward than many bosses who delay payment for several months.

Ian guessed that young Master Wayne was afraid he would forget about this little thing once he turned his back.

"Mom probably doesn't know the house is gone yet. I need to buy a big house right away, or Mom will definitely kill me." Ian's gaze turned towards the direction of the house.

The new site is completely charred black.

The fire has long been extinguished.

A faint aroma of burnt food lingered in the air.

The original home is now just a pile of broken walls and ruins.

But in the middle of the ruins, the two older brothers were busy setting up a barbecue grill and skillfully flipping the meat skewers, as if this was not their bombed-out home, but a newly built commercial district.

"???????"

Ian rubbed his eyes.

That’s right.

His two older brothers weren't sleeping in the Hellcat, but were eating barbecue and dividing their spoils—yes, Ian could clearly see Jordan holding a stack of money.

"I paid for Jordan's hospital visits! How does this guy have so much money?!"

Ian was very indignant.

I don't understand why I wasn't included when the family property was divided.

He immediately listened attentively.

Let's see what kind of "battle for heir apparent" Jordan is up to. We see Jordan counting money for Jonathan while simultaneously brainwashing him.

“We’re minimizing the damage! Yes, Ian blew up the house, we’re just making good use of the accident scene. He’s the one who should explain this to Mom and Dad, not us.”

"God knows how desperate we were when we saw our house burning after he rescued you and ran away," Jordan said, his voice rising and falling, his face still covered in dark, smoky makeup.

In this regard.

Jonathan didn't respond; he just clutched his large box, still shaken. "Thank goodness the statue is alright. It must be divine protection!"

The eldest brother still cares so much about his idol.

“Don’t be superstitious.” Jordan shook his head. “Like Ian said, there’s only one God in Metropolis, and that’s the Father. He’s just too smart, which is why he blew up our homes.”

"I bet he's in his room researching that nuclear bomb that fuses and then breaks apart." Jordan's physics skills don't seem that great, but thankfully he's now a Kryptonian warrior.

Otherwise, with this level of knowledge, it would be very difficult to get into university.

"Oh? Superstition?"

Jonathan didn't correct Jordan's distinction between nuclear fusion and nuclear fission; he's a football player who's now starting to think about using mystical methods to make a blunder.

"Then how do you explain that our barbecue has never burned since we put up the Hestia statue?" The older brother asked Jordan, holding his collection of statues.

"That's because I'm good at cooking. Ian said I also have a super brain. A super brain can learn anything quickly. I was just kidding with you," Jordan said confidently.

"That's the protection of the gods!"

Jonathan, however, persisted.

The two argued until their faces turned red.

No one noticed that the little brother in the sky was silently observing all of this.

"Alas, what an eventful spring."

Ian knew he wasn't the one to take the blame.

He did indeed blow up the house.

He didn't say much.

Now all he can do is try to salvage the situation by relying on his financial resources.

"Let me find a new house."

With half an hour to go before school, Ian's gaze swept across the city, and soon he spotted a real estate agent diligently handing out flyers on the street early in the morning.

He was a middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt with an overly enthusiastic smile.

People who are able to come out to work at this time are obviously very hardworking.

Moreover, this person seems quite clever to seize the opportunity presented by the many people who lost their homes last night to promote real estate. Ian prefers dealing with smart and hardworking people.

"It's him!"

Ian dove to the ground.

"Armor Hero! Transform!" The mimicry armor quickly writhed on his body, transforming into ordinary school clothes. When he emerged from the alley, he was already a harmless-looking teenager with a schoolbag on his back.

at this time.

Real estate agents are still pitching to commuters heading to work in the early morning. On the streets of the metropolis, the morning sun has just begun to shine on the sidewalks, and the air still carries a trace of the warmth of last night's fireworks.

"I'm Phil Dunphy! A professional real estate agent, your best choice!"

"Buying a house? What you need isn't location, or school district, but me! Because—I can change your life." Real estate agent Phil was a kind-looking man.

His smiling face gave him a somewhat henpecked look.

He held a thick stack of flyers he had printed himself.

As Ian approached.

It also warmly wishes Ian a wonderful school time.

Of course, normal people wouldn't try to sell real estate to children, but that doesn't stop children from actively approaching them.

"I want to buy a big house with a big garden, several garages, several studies, and preferably some cats and dogs. Although my pet is not a dog, my mother's pet is a cat."

Ian got straight to the point.

They didn't even look at the flyer in the other person's hand.

After all, the real estate information prepared for working-class people is not suitable for wealthy Mr. Ian.

Billionaire.

They should live in a big house.

"Huh? You want to buy a house?" Phil was taken aback. He looked at the boy in front of him, who looked to be under fifteen years old, and his very professional smile seemed to be a little amused.

"Buying a house should be a decision for adults, right?" Phil didn't mean to send Ian away; he figured Ian was probably a kid from a family that was preparing to move.

of course.

Perhaps he was dissatisfied with his current living conditions; vain young people are not uncommon these days, but Phil didn't intend to mock or scold him. He enjoyed playing with children, so he had prepared a set of arguments to persuade Ian that he needed to study hard if he wanted to live in a better house.

however.

In this regard.

Ian tried to make the Dragon King smile, but his crooked mouth gesture was a bit clumsy.

"I bought the house as a gift for my mother. That's how rich people are." Knowing he was a nouveau riche, he showed his bank transfer information without any hesitation.

There's also the backend of the bank's app.

have to say.

Ian perfectly embodies the arrogance of the nouveau riche.

It doesn't rely on acting skills.

It all comes down to talent.

"!!!!!!"

Real estate agent Phil's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

His mouth was so wide open it could almost fit a baseball.

He blinked, then blinked again, and even swiped the app on Ian's half-broken phone to try and make sure it wasn't some kind of prank using a fake app.

But everything is real.

"One, ten, one hundred..."

His voice grew softer and softer, and by the time he counted to "hundred million," it had become a breathy sound, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

That's quite normal. After all, it's really hard for someone like Phil, a middle-class person, to imagine what kind of family would give a child $1.09 billion to squander.
Compared to his wealthy father-in-law, he was practically living in a slum!

Suddenly, he stood up abruptly, his movements so precise it was as if he were possessed by a West Point instructor, his voice unusually serious, "Mission accomplished, sir!"

Phil didn't want to miss out on such a big deal.

Even if he doesn't have any properties available.

Through persistent pleading and cajoling, he was able to obtain similar listings from others.

Ian blinked. "It would be best to find it today. You know, we rich people's time is very precious—yes, that's a line I saw in a TV show."

He was ruthlessly exposed by Phil.

But I'm really anxious.

After all, Ian could wait.

But my mom and family couldn't wait.

Unless his father builds a new cabin, but Ian doesn't really like living in a cabin. He's been a savage paladin outside and doesn't want to go back home and experience the ordinary daily life of a savage.

“No problem!” Phil responded quickly, almost like a reflex, but his brain was still processing the visual shock he had just experienced—the string of numbers was long enough to make his mortgage look like a convenience store receipt.

"Okay, okay, my call has been sent to your phone." Ian said, then turned and left, his school uniform jacket billowing in the morning breeze.

"But you haven't seen my flyer yet."

Phil couldn't stop Ian from going to school.

He frantically pulled out his phone.

Sure enough, a new notification popped up on the lock screen.

[New Contact: Mysterious Tycoon]

No phone number, no email address.

There is only this one contact information that can be dialed.

"Oh, I knew Men in Black technology really existed!" Real estate agent Phil was stunned. It took him a long time to come to his senses, and a lot of wonderful ideas popped into his mind.

A mysterious child with advanced technology wants to buy a luxury mansion!
He could tell this story to his children for a lifetime!

“I need to get this job done. Hehe, if this deal goes through, Claire will definitely give me a big reward tonight!” Phil picked up his phone and dialed a few numbers of his colleagues.

"Hey buddy, I'm looking for a place with a big garden, several garages, several studies, and preferably some cats and dogs."

He reiterated Ian's request.

"The kind of big house only rich people would consider?" There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a low chuckle: "You're not looking for that Wayne family mansion, are you?"

"Which mansion?" Phil asked instinctively.

"The one Bruce Wayne just listed is right on the lakeside in the East End. It's a three-story building with a private garden and underground parking, and I heard it also has a hidden wine cellar."

The other person's voice was full of envy.

Phil was slightly taken aback upon hearing this.

"Bruce Wayne? That reclusive billionaire living in Gotham? Didn't he just announce that he'd taken on the reconstruction work for the disaster-stricken area of ​​Metropolis? He must be under a lot of financial pressure, right? Is this to raise money?"

His confusion made his friend chuckle.

"You underestimate that person."

"They're just selling their old house to buy a new one. Do you think they're short of money? They probably just want a place to live that they can barely afford. Maybe their new mansion is already on the blueprints for the disaster area's reconstruction."

The colleague on the other end of the phone sounded very emotional.

What countless people crave but cannot obtain, the wealthy may only make preparations on a whim for possible convenience. This is the difference between people in the capitalist world.

Phil was also stunned.

I was amazed.

The world of the wealthy seems increasingly unfathomable.

“Okay, I’ll take my client to see it later.” Phil thanked his friend first, then received the message his friend sent, and spoke quietly as he checked it.

Hear the words.

The other party immediately gave a reminder.

“Okay, but we need to hurry. Three groups of people have already made reservations. You know, many wealthy people would love to get in touch with Bruce Wayne and become familiar with him.”

This is a common practice in high society that many people are familiar with.

Phil understood.

However, he could only sigh helplessly.

"What's wrong? Is your client usually very busy?"

Phil's friend on the other end of the phone noticed his predicament.

Phil scratched his head.

"I suppose he's a bit busy? My client is rushing to school. By the way, how long do private high schools usually let out?" Phil clearly misunderstood the school Ian attended.

His words were very informative.

He directly silenced his friend.

"Outrageously rich people."

The voice on the other end was filled with emotion.

“Who says otherwise?” Phil shrugged as well. The two real estate agents sighed simultaneously and began asking each other what the wealthy were thinking. They eventually came to the same conclusion: the world of the rich is like quantum physics—you think you understand it, but you haven’t even gotten a foothold in it.

This is true enlightenment.

at the same time.

Ian arrived at his school right on time.

He always knew that a superhero could lack great abilities, but he absolutely had to have an outstanding academic background. Most of the popular superheroes were highly educated individuals.

"I wonder if that agent is reliable or not." Ian was still thinking about the mansion he had bought to please his mother, unaware that Phil had already found a very suitable property.

There is no such thing as true omniscience.

The kind-hearted boy could never have imagined that even though he was in the metropolis, the money he earned from Master Wayne would eventually flow back into Master Wayne's hands.

of course.

This is not the problem Ian is facing now. He has returned to his student life, and even though he has become a billionaire, he has not bought a plane to land in the school parking lot.

"I'm not a person who likes to be flashy. At most, I will just buy the opportunity to create exam papers so that everyone can create exam papers that are truly valuable."

It's not just about not being flashy.

Ian also has a lot of consideration for his classmates.

Enter the campus.

Most students have not yet arrived.

Sunlight streamed obliquely through the window onto the desks, casting a dazzling arc of golden light across the classroom ceiling. Ian sat in the classroom, idly twirling his pen.

He couldn't wait for Madison, the delinquent girl, to come to school, and naturally, he couldn't use his status as a billionaire to condescend to personally trick her into signing the New Justice League induction agreement.

"Why isn't that delinquent girl here yet?" Ian was just a little suspicious, but he didn't have any worries about the money. He thought that the delinquent girl wouldn't be smart enough to run away with his money and move to another city.

Eager to show off to his best friend, Ian looked at the back door of the classroom for the 108th time, but still didn't see that familiar figure who always loved chewing bubble gum.

Logically, Madison should have already come to show off his designer bags and shoes, only to be slapped in the face by Ian's bank account balance. Ian was quite unhappy that he failed to show off.

Just at this time.

"Attention, students."

Student counselor Ms. Misha tapped on the podium. Today she was wearing a T-shirt with "LOVE & PEACE" printed on it, and she looked more like a student who had not yet graduated than usual.

Miss Misha has a good reputation for authority.

The entire classroom fell silent when she entered.

“First, we must mourn Mr. White…” Miss Misha’s voice lowered. “The police have confirmed that the previous laboratory explosion was an accidental suicide caused by Mr. White’s experimental error.”

A moment of silence fell over the classroom.

Ian's thermos suddenly vibrated slightly.

“So,” Miss Misha suddenly glared at Ian, “please, some of you who are good at making up rumors, stop spreading rumors like Mr. White ascending to the Steroid Planet.”

Her voice clearly carried a hint of hostility.

Ian knew why Miss Misha was targeting him.

"The person who said you would start teaching me a lot about sex after class was Madison!" He remembered that it was two years ago, and Miss Misha had been investigated for it.

Hear the words.

Miss Misha's lips twitched involuntarily.

“In fact, you were the one teaching me, and I benefited greatly from it.” Miss Misha covered her forehead helplessly. “Besides, the child protection agency said that the person who filed the report was a little boy.”

“They report me every day… Good heavens, only God knows that I chat with you just because I'm worried about you and constantly monitoring your mental health.”

Perhaps Miss Misha was truly wronged, because she actually argued with Ian in front of the other students. In fact, this incident was not a secret to the students.

It was just another achievement that made the school bullies tremble with fear of Ian.

of course.

Ian was not lying.

This achievement wasn't something he made up himself; he really enjoyed exchanging psychological and physiological knowledge with Miss Misha.

"Madison is an actress! Who remembers she could even play the ghost in Hamlet! A genius actress like that could certainly dress up as a little boy!"

Ian was truly wronged.

But what can you do when the delinquent girl didn't come to class today?

We can't force the delinquent girl to admit this fact to Miss Misha herself.

It is indeed true.

"Is it really Miss Montgomery? Don't we all know why the school has changed principals three times?" Miss Misha was clearly still not convinced by Ian's words.

The story of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" is becoming increasingly valuable.

This left Ian speechless.

Such actions are indeed very much in line with everyone's stereotype of him.

Just as Ian was about to say that he was different and that he was now only declaring positive energy, suddenly, a coughing sound came from outside the classroom door, obviously someone had been waiting outside for too long.

Miss Misha, reminded of her earlier actions, then realized why she had come to the classroom in the first place.

"Alright, let's get down to business. Although Mr. White has left us and we are all very saddened by his passing, life must go on, and he has successors who will carry on his will and continue to teach you."

“Let us welcome our new chemistry teacher—Mr. Jesse Pinkman, a former student of Mr. White.” Miss Misha raised her hand, drawing the students toward the door.

Upon hearing the name, Ian's body trembled slightly.

Jesse Pinkman?
Breaking Bad's star pupil has also arrived?

Ian looked down at the thermos he carried with him.

This cup is no ordinary water cup; it's a magical container he obtained from the outside world, containing Mr. White's soul, while the Kryptonian Old God is kept in another thermos.

Just as Ian was feeling relieved that his classmates had found their career paths, he realized that...

"Click~"

The classroom door was pushed open, and a young man wearing frameless glasses and a plaid shirt walked in. He looked somewhat nervous, his fingers tapping incessantly on his lesson plan.

"Hello everyone."

The young man greeted the students.

Miss Misha gave everyone a brief introduction before leaving the classroom. She was a counselor and a psychological counselor, and had many other things to do. (Back in the classroom...)

The new teacher and the students stared at each other blankly.

The atmosphere was slightly awkward.

"Cough cough."

Mr. Pinkman seemed to cough a lot. He went up to the podium and began distributing single-page test papers. "Let's do a short test to see how well everyone is doing in chemistry."

This is a common practice for many new teachers when they take over students from other teachers.

The questions were not difficult.

The main purpose is to enable new teachers to quickly grasp the basic knowledge reserves of each student.

"Basic, too basic." After the test papers were handed out, Ian only glanced at them before losing interest—the questions were as simple as asking "Is the water drinkable?"

It didn't even help him much in gaining professional experience as a "student".

You might as well read other books while taking the test.

"Fortunately, I have my former chemistry teacher with me." Ian poured out Mr. White, who looked like a Lego miniature and had been living in constant anxiety these past few days, from his thermos.

The witch-like delinquent girl wasn't there either.

Therefore, no one but Ian can see this soul.

“You probably don’t need me to help you cheat, do you?” Mr. White knew Ian’s level of knowledge very well, so he looked up at his evil god student with some confusion, leaning on the table. In fact, among the many beings Ian knew, only Mr. White truly believed that Ian was an evil god.

"What cheating? I answered the questions using my own [Spirit Binding and Commanding] skills, and no one can find fault with me." Ian grabbed the little figure and stuffed it into his pen.

"I am just an ordinary soul!"

Mr. White screamed, but no one could hear him.

"No, from today onwards, you'll be working part-time as a Ouija board user."

Ian did not fail; he actually managed to stuff Mr. White into the pen. Knowing that he would be in trouble if he did not satisfy the evil god, Mr. White moved on his own.

He has begun to regret why he sold and manufactured those addictive and illegal substances.

If not.

God certainly wouldn't punish him like that.

"Swish, swish, swish~ swish, swish, swish~" Ian let go of the pen, and it immediately stood upright on its own, scribbling furiously on the test paper. In less than three minutes, the entire test paper was filled with answers.

The entire test paper was quickly filled out, the answers precise and even more detailed than the standard answers. Ian nodded in satisfaction, glancing around to make sure no one else had noticed.

The main reason was that Ian had put up plastic partitions around his test paper—it would have been strange for anyone else to do that, but his classmates were quite used to it.

As for the new chemistry teacher.

He, on the other hand, kept playing on his phone on the podium.

Listen to the sound of the keys being pressed.

It's like an online romance.

"Teacher, I've finished writing. I need to go to the restroom." Ian pulled Mr. White out of his pen, threw it back into his thermos, stood up, and walked directly to the podium with the test paper.

"So fast?"

Mr. Pinkman was somewhat surprised. He had thought he had encountered a poor student, but instead he saw a full set of answers and instantly realized that the boy in front of him must be one of the top students in the class.

The new teacher quickly and carefully read and approved the document.

His expression gradually became somewhat dazed.

"Kent, what's your answering style?"

He stared at the exam paper.

"These word choices... these problem-solving approaches..."

His tone was hesitant, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

"Is there a problem?"

Ian blinked his innocent-looking big eyes.

Mr. Pinkman looked up, a slight smile appearing on his face. "No, it's no problem. It's just that seeing these formal terms reminds me of my late teacher."

“I think you must have been Mr. White’s favorite student at school,” Mr. Pinkman said with a sigh, making a reasonable assumption about this strange situation.

Upon hearing this, Ian immediately straightened his chest.

"Yes, yes, Mr. White likes me very much." He said without batting an eye, holding the thermos to his chest, inside which Mr. White was slumped over, sighing.

however.

Only Ian could hear it, and he shook the thermos vigorously.

moment.

The thermos fell silent again.

"Very good, it's clear you've truly mastered your teacher's teachings." Mr. Pinkman, perhaps testing Ian, put down the test paper and agreed to let him go to the restroom.

how to say.

Ian certainly doesn't need to go to the toilet.

He was just bored in the classroom, so he went straight to the school library, which was rarely visited.

[Student Career Experience Points +1]

[Student Career Experience Points +1]

[Student Career Experience Points +1]

……

You still need to study hard at school.

Ian was flipping through books that even teachers might not read.

[Student] The experience points for the profession are gradually increasing.

Counting down the time until lunchtime, Ian stopped studying. He slowly walked out of the library, straightening his school uniform collar as he pondered which window to go to for lunch.

Newly minted billionaires should pay attention to their diet.

Not a bad idea.

They are indeed "trying" to improve their quality of life.

however.

As Ian stepped into the hallway, he found the classroom empty, even the teacher was gone. He frowned and glanced at his watch—11:47, it wasn't time to leave school yet!
"?????"

Ian caught a girl running past.

"Where are they? Where are my classmates and teachers?"

He was already wondering if there was some new conspiracy, a major event looming over his life, resulting in the kidnapping of people at school, and that some clever person was going to use his classmates to threaten him.

only.

"You're home now."

The girl from the next class gave a rather unremarkable response. She looked at Ian with a bit of infatuation and raised her hand to pinch Ian's cheek, but Ian dodged it.

despite this.

Slightly disappointed, the female student explained the situation to Ian: "The school gave a last-minute notice that there would be no classes this afternoon because the disaster that happened yesterday was too sad. A group of so-called 'people who care about students' mental health' are very dissatisfied with having to go to class today, saying that students should not be made to study while suffering from psychological trauma."

“There are demonstrations everywhere in the streets, with people holding signs and chanting things like ‘Oppose the enslavement of students’ and ‘Give children a happy childhood.’ Our principal is afraid that things will escalate.”

The female classmate patiently flirted with Ian at the same time.

Ian pretended not to see it.

"So, we're not getting lunch?" Ian was waiting for lunch, and he didn't expect this unexpected turn of events. Such a ridiculous situation is definitely typical of America.

"And another thing, and another thing, the principal is too timid to keep you quiet." The female student said with a suppressed laugh, revealing a complicated school situation that she probably wouldn't see in other schools.

In this regard.

Ian was extremely satisfied.

His efforts to rectify the ills of capitalism over the years seem to have been quite effective.

"I'm going to eat now, bye-bye." Ian thanked his female classmate and turned to rush towards the cafeteria, his school uniform jacket billowing happily behind him.

"and many more!"

The girl suddenly wanted to call out to him.

Could you please provide your contact information?

She clearly wanted to develop a relationship with Ian.

I'm really looking forward to it.

However, Ian, who has super hearing, did not turn around.

Seeing that Ian had disappeared without a trace, the female classmate, who shouldn't even have a name, could only sigh, turn around and leave, disappearing from the spotlight. This disappearance might last a lifetime.

In this regard.

Ian was unaware of this.

He jogged into the cafeteria and found it was indeed quite crowded, even more so than usual.

"Yes, merit +1. My merit over there is also +1, and the same goes for this side." Ian knew that it was because of him that everyone was able to have another paid lunch.

Instead of being embezzled by America's school.

While queuing for food, he silently counted the students coming and going in his mind.

Merit +1.

"Another one I don't know, +1."

"This guy who was cursing the school yesterday is eating well today, plus one more."

After eating and drinking enough.

Ian picked up his thermos with satisfaction and followed the crowd out of the school.

The sun shines on my face.

He couldn't help but hum a song.

"Today is another day full of good deeds." That's what it means to like doing good deeds; even good deeds done in the past will continue to bear fruit.

Merit begets merit.

Merit is boundless and inexhaustible.

"The real merit is yet to come."

Because school ends too early.

Ian didn't receive a call from real estate agent Phil.

So he decided to do something big.

of course.

Ian still kept in mind Clark's warning that "no one is allowed to go out and punish evil today," so he wouldn't cause any big trouble. At least today, he would definitely behave like a good boy.

"Lord Ian wants to spread kindness throughout the world."

Ian glanced at his bank balance on his phone again. He already had a plan for how to spend the money. He whistled, and the Hellcat sports car pulled up in front of him with a beautiful drift.

The door opens automatically.

The Coke on the cup holder was still steaming.

Obviously.

The hellcat knew that its owner had become a billionaire.

It is adapting.

"Well done." Ian patted the dashboard in front of him, sat down in his special seat, picked up an ice-cold Coke and took a big gulp, then shook the can.

"Once I find a way to link to Hell and create my own demon summoning spell, you'll have plenty of oil every day," Ian began to paint a rosy picture for Hellcat.

His ride was quite swayed by this. The Hellcat's engine roared merrily as it carried the capitalist god through the streets of the metropolis, finally stopping in front of an old apartment building.

get off.

Go upstairs.

Knock on the door.

Ian didn't try the broken elevator. Instead, he took the stairs to a front door. He heard rustling sounds coming from inside, followed by the sound of slippers dragging on the floor.

"Who is it—in the middle of the afternoon?"

Leonard rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted as he looked at the boy standing outside the door: "Oh, it's you, the rich kid who said he'd hire us and had a full ten million in pocket money!"

He was a little surprised.

But more than anything, I was surprised.

"Who?"

Sheldon's voice came from inside the house.

No one responded.

Neither Leonard nor Sheldon are ordinary NPCs.

They weren't sacrificed to the heavens last night.

However, both of them were sleeping in the living room, as if catching up on sleep. Perhaps college students are not protected by DC's minor protection law—their school was bombed last night.

I have nowhere to work.

“Now I’m a billionaire, not a multi-millionaire. Mr. Wayne gave me more money than his closest relatives. He must really think highly of my startup project.”

Ian didn't forget to show off his bank account balance.

He knew he still had to rely on Uncle Bruce's name.

This is what enabled him to successfully hire useful scientists.

"!!!!!!"

Another person with eyes that looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets appeared.

Leonard was completely stunned.

Is the US dollar really just a number for those ultra-wealthy individuals?
Such an outrageous amount of "pocket money" made him begin to suspect that it wasn't that Ian's father had saved the King of Gotham's life, but rather that the King of Gotham would die if he lost Ian for some reason.

If not.

This makes no sense at all!
"Forehead……"

Leonard was so shocked he couldn't speak.

I held it in for a long time.

He finally managed to utter the question he'd wanted to ask earlier.

"Did Mr. Bruce Wayne tell you that we live here?" Even though Leonard's memory wasn't great, he still remembered that he hadn't given Ian the address.

His previous encounter with Ian was truly magical, so the otaku actually remembered it very clearly.

“No, I found this place purely through intelligence.” Ian grinned. He could find his aunt even without the black box, let alone now that he has Marvel's cutting-edge technology at his fingertips.

"..."

Leonard was momentarily at a loss for words. He had expected to hear about cutting-edge technologies like "satellite positioning" and "facial recognition," or even conspiracy theories about Wayne Enterprises monitoring the world.

"wisdom?"

This word seemed to have triggered some kind of switch.

inside the house.

Sheldon Cooper emerged from the tent in the living room.

His tent still bore the word "shelter," and his hair was a mess, as if he'd been struck by lightning: "The earth really needs enough wisdom to create enough things to defend against disasters—mainly to protect me."

“What happened yesterday was terrible, worse than the worst disaster in Star Trek.” Sheldon’s tone was filled with the worry of a frightened bird.

If Leonard hadn't taken his bank card, he would have bought a ticket overnight and headed to the African savanna—the scientist's conclusion after conducting research was that it was the safest place.

“Disaster! Yes! Disaster!” Ian seized on this key word and squeezed through the crack in the door into the apartment, which was otherwise spotless except for the chaotic living room.

"I came here for this very reason!" Ian looked like a pyramid scheme leader, his eyes shining, and if he weren't afraid of scaring others, his head would be glowing too.

"Everyone, because of yesterday's incredibly mysterious apocalyptic crisis, I believe you have realized the crisis facing Earth. If it weren't for Pantyhose Superman stepping forward, Earth would be gone!"

"However, while the Pantyhose superhero could save us once, he was powerless to save us a second time. This is not a simple accident, but a manifestation of the lagging development of human technology and the serious lack of safety protection mechanisms."

"Humanity must take action!"

"And we will be the pioneers!"

"To prevent the world from being destroyed, to safeguard world peace, and to uphold love and genuine kindness—Ian's Greatest Protector Technology Group is about to be established!"

"Our group is committed to advancing Earth's technological development—from civilian to military applications, from the Earth's surface to outer space! Imagine what a wonderful scene that would be!"

Ian is eloquent.

He took a step forward.

His voice was loud and infectious.

"We need to establish a disaster prevention system, develop a disaster early warning network, create emergency rescue robots, and even build a defensive shield for Earth that can withstand asteroid impacts!"

"Heroes will no longer die in battle, because countless technologically advanced armors will protect every corner of the earth for us. This is not a fantasy, but the future we will eventually usher in!"

"Project Ultron can only succeed, it can't fail!" Ian became more and more excited as he spoke, even jumping onto the coffee table. He was Tony's student, and this wasn't about stealing ideas, but about the true transmission of knowledge.

"Join me, join this grand destiny, and become a part of it." It must be said that Ian does have a tiny bit of talent when it comes to channeling that mustache.

He spoke in glowing terms.

Leonard and Sheldon were both stunned by Ian.

“Actually, Mr. Bruce Wayne has already invited us.” Leonard didn’t know why he was so excited, and he said to Ian with a slightly embarrassed smile.

This is clearly telling Ian that he doesn't need to keep fooling the two of them.

A billion is a lot.

But Leonard also knew he couldn't do those things.

"My Uncle Bruce is so thoughtful?" Ian was also taken aback and jumped off the coffee table. He watched as Sheldon took out disinfectant and began to frantically disinfect the coffee table.

He was still muttering to himself.

“I understand Klingon. There are no biohazards or tetanus bacteria on my shoes. I’ve checked,” Ian whispered to Sheldon.

Where is your microscope?

Sheldon was taken aback at first, then spoke seriously.

"Here it is."

Although Ian could identify microorganisms with the naked eye, he preferred to interact with others as an ordinary person, so he actually pulled a microscope out from under his clothes.

Anything can be stored in the extra dimension.

"?????"

Leonard was completely stunned.

"!!!!!!"

Sheldon was stunned.

"You actually had a biological microscope hidden under your clothes?" He had always known how meticulous and unique he was, and he never expected to meet another person as extraordinary as him in all these years.

"Now let's get down to business. My Uncle Bruce isn't going to send you guys to spy on me, is he?" Ian casually put away the microscope, his expression immediately turning suspicious.

“Yes,” Sheldon nodded.

“Hey! Spies can’t be revealed!” Leonard turned around and glared at Sheldon speechlessly.

"Huh? Why not? I'm a multi-faceted spy."

Sheldon remained calm and composed. "Let him think we've surrendered first. In reality, we're still Bruce Wayne's men. Leonard, you're really not cut out for being a spy."

He even started criticizing his roommate.

"Is that so?" Leonard was stunned.

“I’m still listening! I’ve been listening all along!” Ian protested, raising his hand.

Sheldon smiled.

"Oh, in that case, we're actually surrendering, but pretending to still be Bruce's people. Triple spies! Do you think a high school kid like you understands what I mean?"

He looked at Ian with the eyes that were ready to test Ian's intelligence.

"Of course I understand."

Ian curled his lips.

"You're using nesting dolls."

He made a summary.

"clever!"

Sheldon gave a thumbs up.

“You can get Bruce Wayne to find my mom to persuade me—that’s vicious, but effective, so I can reluctantly give you a chance to work for you.”

"But you have to decorate my office exactly like it was when I was at school. I have photos. I sent them to the school this morning, but they shamelessly rejected them."

talking.

Sheldon rushed toward the table.

"."

Leonard felt somewhat out of place on the topic.

Are you really going to start a tech company?

He still couldn't quite believe it. Although many geniuses and legends become famous at a young age, it was really hard to believe that fourteen years old was such a young age.

Facing Leonard's lack of trust.

Ian only said one sentence.

“I’m very rich. I don’t understand scientists, but I know how to respect them. So, I can offer you a million-dollar annual salary.” He held up one finger.

The kind that represents one million.

The directness of the nouveau riche can sometimes be so shocking.

Leonard's expression changed from doubt to loyalty.

"The school just happened to explode!" He suddenly stood up straight. "It's time we switched jobs."

Leonard's eyes were resolute, and Penny's words, "I like men who can make money," resurfaced in his mind.

Sheldon was organizing his office's limited-edition, unreleased photos when he heard this, and he turned around and said, "Leonard, you betrayed us faster than my mother betrayed God."

He has never respected God.

Leonard remained unmoved by these words.

“Honestly, boss, I’m not like him. I don’t like being a spy. I can even complain to you. Sheldon is so easy to talk to because he insulted the principal this morning, so he was laid off by the school.”

“This guy is basically an unemployed bum now.” Leonard not only betrayed his class, but also his roommate. Sheldon looked at him with shock and anger, but it didn’t stop him from swearing allegiance.

“Actually, I could also take Uncle Bruce’s spy. I don’t do anything shady.” Ian waved his hand generously; he was the magnanimous Ian today.

When can I start work?

Leonard asked the question that concerned him most.

He was indeed drawn to the grand vision that Ian had conceived.

This dangerous world.

It's not just about needing superheroes.

"Not urgent."

Ian then pulled a tablet computer out from under his clothes.

"To protect the Earth, we must first dominate the market in civilian technology!" The Ultron Project was actually a plan to cultivate evil gods. Ian showed the two some blueprints for civilian technology.

"Televisions, computers, new energy vehicles, all of them." Ian had had similar ideas before, and now he was simply implementing his evil god cultivation plan step by step.

Oh.

Incidentally.

Ian himself is that evil god.

"Um, I might need some help from my engineer friends with these design drawings." Leonard could certainly understand the design drawings, but he wasn't familiar with the actual operations in many areas.

He is, after all, a physicist.

"Come on, come on, I have plenty of money! It would be best if your engineer friends could find ready-made factories for me to buy, buy, buy. The sooner my technology products go into production, the better."

Ian also remembered that Leonard and Sheldon had an engineer friend, an engineer named Howard, who was indeed an excellent engineer when he wasn't having an episode.

Let me explain the reversed Heavenly Gang.

This engineer is comparable to the little black guy downstairs.

He has an extensive network of connections.

Ian felt that even if he didn't manufacture products, he would be suitable to be the head of human resources.

"Um, in such a hurry? Is Wayne Group eager to expand its business? Wayne Group's food delivery app has been really useful lately," Leonard asked curiously.

Ian immediately refuted this.

"It has nothing to do with Wayne Enterprises. It's Ian's Greatest Technology Group that's about to rise. I will provide many job opportunities for everyone. I can even make America great again."

Ian still loves to have spirits possess him.

The man with the mustache has finished.

The Emperor of Ten Thousand Victories was invoked.

Leonard immediately felt a surge of pride and ambition.

"Uh... um?... oh!" Sheldon didn't care about the business empire. He sat in his seat and began studying the civilian technology blueprints that Ian had shown him.

As a highly gifted theoretical physicist, he has a wide range of interests.

"This resolution...is more than three times higher than the current flagship model! And this operating system architecture allows for a much better integration with my game console!"

Ok.

He was clearly thinking about something off-topic.

but.

I finally understood all the blueprints.

"I didn't expect you to actually have something good." Leonard listened to Sheldon's detailed explanation and completely understood. He was genuinely amazed by Ian's blueprints.

"Of course."

Ian gave a crooked smile.

I'm so happy!

Sheldon then offered serious advice: "They're all good stuff, but I suggest you build a factory in Asia. Producing these things in the US is very expensive."

This is indeed a very valuable suggestion.

however.

"I said it! I will make America great again!"

Ian immediately rejected the idea.

He didn't want to disturb the peace of Asia.

"Actually, I can sell it at a loss."

Ian certainly didn't care about the cost, and his main goal wasn't to make money.

Leonard and Sheldon were taken aback.

"So how do you make money?"

Leonard asked, puzzled, not thinking Ian was a philanthropist.

"You want to capture the market first? That's certainly a good choice." When Sheldon isn't acting crazy, he can actually offer some insightful opinions on many things.

“It’s not just about capturing the market. I can still make a profit even if I sell at a loss. For example, with televisions, you have to watch them for five minutes after turning them on. Of course, you can also choose to praise Ian for thirty seconds.”

Ian pulled out all the stops and revealed his grand vision: "It's the same with new energy vehicles. They need to show me tons of ads for features like ventilated seats and heated air conditioners, and then they'll be cursing me for not putting ads on the brakes too. My only advice to them is to let them praise Ian for thirty seconds."

"A minute of praise is worth half an hour of advertising; this is the most cost-effective choice."

This is Ian's astonishing, open scheme to gather magical power. He doesn't care how much money he makes; he has already learned from Bruce Wayne how to convert his financial power into substantial combat strength.

Why not go to Asia, the world's factory?
This tactic would be labeled a cult in Asia.

The Americas are different.

Cults are everywhere here, and Ian's actions are far more normal than those of real cults.

"!!!!????"

"!!!!!!!!!???"

Upon hearing Ian's business empire plan, both Leonard and Sheldon fell silent. They believed that Ian no longer wanted to make money, and that perhaps this guy just wanted to torment the people of America.

"Is this... legal? I mean, won't I really end up in jail?" Leonard's eyes widened, his face flushed red as he hesitated, wanting to say something but unable to.

“In America? Of course it’s legal.” Ian patted him on the shoulder and uttered a resounding, enlightening statement. “We can even apply for religious tax exemption.”

As soon as these words came out.

The entire room fell silent once again.

Ian was very satisfied with this.

obviously.

Leonard and Sheldon had truly witnessed his extraordinary wisdom. Looking at the time, Ian knew he had achieved his goal and it was time to move on to the next matter.

Help the Dream God find the Dream God's sandbag.

And before that.

He needs to find the delinquent girl first and retrieve his navigation map.

……

at the same time.

Inside an abandoned factory.

Bound and terrified, Madison watched as the minotaur entered the dimly lit room.

"Shh~"

The minotaur, whose body was pieced together from an unsuitable form, raised a hand that it had torn from a corpse and made a gesture to the witch bound in a magic circle, as if to speak privately to her.

The bull is untying Madison.

They were very careful and cautious.

He keeps looking back.

It seemed to be wary of being discovered by something.

[P.S.: Readers advised me to write 16000 words a day for six consecutive days to avoid breaking my promise, and I think they have a point. It's the end of the month, please vote with your monthly tickets.]

(End of this chapter)