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

Chapter 141 God! God has intervened!?
The sunlight in heaven seemed to be filtered through a soft veil.

It gently sprinkled down in a tranquil garden.

The air is filled with the faint fragrance of flowers and the chirping of birds. There is no hustle and bustle of the world here, nor is there pollution like mountains of corpses and seas of blood; there is only tranquility and harmony.

"Holy shit!"

In heaven.

Unable to utter ordinary profanities, Ian could only utter sacred profanities in shock. Beneath his feet lay grass that would never wither, and the scene thirty yards away truly astonished him.

Who would have thought?

Ian has just entered heaven.

He saw his grandfather next to a white, carved wrought iron coffee table.

That is, Superman's adoptive father.

Of course, this wasn't what alarmed Ian; his emotions were quite turbulent, mainly because old Jonathan Kent was having afternoon tea with an elegant lady.

The woman was wearing a long dress that looked like it had stepped out of a 1940s fashion magazine, and her every move exuded elegance. It was clear that she was not from an ordinary family before she went to heaven.

Martha Wayne!

Bruce Wayne's mother, Batman's mother. Perhaps no one in Gotham doesn't know her, and even the most dangerous Joker wouldn't dare mention her in front of Batman.

at this time.

Batman's mother appears to be having a pleasant conversation with Superman's father. Such a scene would leave anyone speechless; Ian's emotions, at least, are truly indescribable.

His grandmother, Martha, is still alive, and his grandfather has fallen in love with another Martha in heaven? Is it that his grandfather was too devoted, or that he really wanted to improve himself so he tried to find a rich woman to be with?

The problem is they all went to heaven.

There's no need to try any harder!

“Oh, my rich Uncle Bruce, is he really going to become my uncle…” Ian rubbed his eyes, and just as he was lost in thought, old Jonathan suddenly turned around.

Those eyes, weathered by life's hardships, still shine brightly in heaven.

“I already have a feeling you’ll say something outrageous when you get back, kid. Come here, let me give you a spanking first.” Old Jonathan didn’t seem surprised by Ian’s appearance.

He teased Ian with a seemingly fierce expression, his graying sideburns neatly combed behind his ears, and a smile on his rosy cheeks that Ian had only ever seen in the videos Clark had kept.

The souls in heaven can choose their age and appearance in the eyes of others. Clearly, the image that Jonathan Kent has chosen now is that of a grandfather.

That was the last image that was etched into Clark's mind shortly before his death. People who live on farms always age faster, and time had left deep marks on old Jonathan very early on; every wrinkle etched on his face recorded the sunshine and rain of the Kansas farm.

“Oh, Grandfather… spanking me is fine, but spanking Ms. Martha Wayne is not.” Ian was mainly worried that his still-living grandmother, Martha, would be heartbroken if she knew about this. Of course, this didn’t stop him from instinctively pulling out his camera and snapping photos of the two of them more than a dozen times.

In this regard.

Ms. Martha Wayne shook her head with a wry smile. “If you want my child to send you money, I’ll write you a letter. That would be far more effective than spreading rumors about me and your grandfather.”

The two seem to have a somewhat innocent relationship.

However, it could also be a disguise.

Ian approached the long table where the two were sitting with suspicion.

“It seems I misunderstood. Well, I am just a child, so it’s normal for me to judge adults with a child’s mind.” Ian looked at Martha Wayne, holding the pearl necklace in his hand.

“I think this is yours, Mrs. Wayne.” He had already realized who had slipped the pearl necklace into his pocket—Bruce Wayne, the Batman who always liked to sneak around and cause trouble.

Bruce Wayne must have practiced his skills a lot. Ian still can't recall when the necklace was placed in his hand, which clearly means Bruce knew the necklace could guide him to Martha.

He then touched the other pocket.

Ian pursed his lips.

His own father, Clark, wasn't smart enough to leave him any mementos. Fortunately, not only was Martha Wayne unharmed, but his grandfather, Jonathan Kent Sr., was also spared from the contamination.

Look around again.

It seems that the most polluted places in the entire heaven are the holy city of the angels and the gates of heaven outside, where the souls living still receive God's protection.

Just as Ian was deep in thought.

“Kid, they didn’t send you in here just so you could stand there dumbfounded.” Old Jonathan ruffled Ian’s slightly messy hair.

His rough hands exerted a very gentle pressure.

Ian looked up at his grandfather, whose face was full of amusement, and couldn't resist snapping a few photos. Perhaps his grandmother Martha would like these pictures.

"Let me fix my hair." Jonathan was surprisingly cooperative, running his fingers through his already neat silver hair and even adjusting the collar of his plaid shirt.

He seemed to know what Ian wanted to do.

When the photograph from heaven was captured on camera, Ian noticed that old Jonathan looked like a handsome young man in the picture, perhaps the way he would have wanted his loved one to see him.

"So...you two really aren't on a date?" Ian asked cautiously, his camera still held up, ready to capture any valuable footage.

“My dear, there is no such thing as ‘dating’ in Heaven. We are just very good friends, and your grandfather and I both happen to be interested in things on Earth.”

Martha Wayne rolled her eyes gracefully.

Ian had never known that anyone could roll their eyes so perfectly.

"More or less." Old Jonathan took a sip of tea and pointed into the distance. "We live close by, sometimes we chat about everyday things, sometimes we check on the children."

Following the direction Old Jonathan was pointing, Ian saw a farmhouse and a small villa that wasn't exactly a mansion; the two areas seemed to be quite close to each other.

It was as if an unseen hand was planning the settlements for the inhabitants of paradise.

"Okay, I believe it."

Ian didn't want to cause trouble. He felt that no matter what the truth was, he should be a simple child and not meddle. After all, being in heaven meant he should understand that God had already arranged everything.

"Sigh~"

Think of this.

Ian thought the air in heaven might be poisonous.

When will I reach such a philosophical level of thinking?

“I knew this kid’s thinking was so unhealthy.” Ms. Martha Wayne rolled her eyes again, pointing to the teapot and two teacups on the coffee table.

Ian leaned closer and discovered that the liquid in the teacup was not ordinary tea, but rather a mirror reflecting the world—superheroes busy saving the earth.

Gotham's streets are deserted, leaving only broken concrete and twisted steel bars. The once bustling crime capital is now only filled with the howling wind amidst the ruins.

It sounded like some kind of indescribable lament.

Those once towering buildings are now just ruins, desolate and lifeless, as if even the wind is filled with fear and dares not linger in this desolate place.

The fallen angels seemed to take root in the earth; they no longer sang, but emitted a low-frequency moan that seemed to echo directly in the depths of the human brain.

It's mentally devastating.

Even more terrifying—their bodies and songs are corrupting the earth. Black slime seeps from the angels' wounds, spreading across the ground like a living thing, devouring buildings, soil, metal, and even the air.

The steel bars were wriggling as if they were living flesh.

A monster formed from black liquid emerged, its form constantly changing, sometimes resembling a human face, sometimes a snake's body, and sometimes a mass composed of countless eyeballs.

It let out a piercing scream, and Superman Clark rushed forward instantly, smashing the monster's head with a single punch. But the next second, it reformed as if it hadn't been hurt at all.

"I need someone to take me to analyze these substances!" Faced with countless twisted and animated ruins and black liquid creatures around him, Batman successfully contained some of the black liquid substances.

The worst part is actually the shed feathers. Each shed feather takes root and sprouts upon landing, growing into a deformed life form that resembles both a plant and an animal.

They were trying to stuff Wonder Woman into their mouths—luckily, Wonder Woman was slippery enough that after the Vulcan sword proved ineffective, she swung her God-Slaying Whip.

Thunder is surging.

It has some effect, but not a significant one.

After all, Ian only possessed a tiny fraction of Thor's power when he modified the Lasso of Truth. Nevertheless, it at least allowed Wonder Woman to mount some effective defense.

"Bang~"

Batman threw a bomb.

All matter was drawn towards the center of the bomb.

then.

He then discovered that the bomb he had thrown had come to life—combining with the surrounding matter that had been drawn to its center, it had become a colossal object, giving the impression that the difficulty had been artificially increased.

"Damn it! Where's the water?! Give me some water!"

Neptune is relatively weak on land.

He ran frantically around, seemingly oblivious to everything around him. The behemoth appeared quite interested in him and relentlessly pursued him, almost becoming one of its own.

"Bruce, I'll take you to your base!"

Superman flew over.

He reached out and grabbed Batman's skull. Batman froze, too afraid to move, and the two of them flew towards a certain place in this eagle-catching-chicken pose.

"Zizzizi~"

A scene resembling a television screen glitching appeared on the tea.

“It seems Bruce has taken precautions to prevent Heaven from spying on that place.” Martha Wayne was not surprised at all; she knew how severe her son’s paranoia was.

“Yes, I have to find the source of the pollution.” At this moment, Ian also thought of the reason why he wanted to go to heaven. He needed to solve the problem of the notebook that was causing the pollution from the source.

of course.

While you're at it, try the flowers, plants, birds, animals, bricks, and even the water from the so-called sacred lake... Wherever a gourmet goes, he must always remember that he is a gourmet.

“It’s tasteless.”

Ian plucked some flowers and put them in his mouth. He was slightly disappointed because he didn't receive any experience points from the system. This scene made old Jonathan look a little embarrassed in front of Martha Wayne.

Fortunately, Martha Wayne just chuckled and didn't judge Ian's pica behavior further.

“Your wealthy Uncle Bruce might be willing to spend a lot of money to buy some photos of his mother.” Martha Wayne straightened her clothes before Ian prepared to leave.

“Excellent, excellent, Mrs. Wayne, your suggestion is brilliant.” Ian’s eyes lit up upon hearing this, and he couldn’t help but think that Martha Wayne was indeed a woman who married a capitalist.

As he snapped a series of photos of Martha with his camera pointed at her, he was already mentally calculating his sales strategy: a profile view is one price, a full-face view is another, and a smile is yet another.

What is this called?

This is called "drawing inferences from one instance to another".

Mr. Ian has always had a natural talent for being a capitalist!

“Mrs. Wayne, I have a business proposal that’s guaranteed to make a fortune.” Ian had finally found someone with a business mind, so of course he wanted to seize this hard-won opportunity.

Martha Wayne gracefully set down her teacup.

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Oh?"

She didn't see old Jonathan silently put on his headphones.

next moment.

Mrs. Wayne immediately sensed Ian's extraordinary wisdom. Ian's eyes lit up, his expression filled with anticipation for the future, and his tone was brimming with excitement.

“Perhaps we should sell indulgences together. I’ll be in charge of smuggling people across the border, and you can take care of their accommodations—I’m about to go rescue the angels, so it’s really not unreasonable for me to sell some indulgences on Earth!”

Ian clasped his hands together.

It's like announcing a great invention.

"..."

Mrs. Wayne was stunned for a long time.

She turned to look at old Jonathan, who was drinking tea with his head down.

Why is this child in heaven?

The question was asked bluntly, with Mrs. Wayne's surprise on her face. However, old Jonathan, wearing his Heaven-made headphones, didn't hear a word of it.

He was still drinking his tea with his head down.

in silence.

Completely oblivious to the subtle tension, Ian continued his enthusiastic pitch: "We don't sell to criminals or murderers; we specifically target wealthy capitalists who have been pardoned."

"Doesn't this prove that I'm kind enough and deserve to go to heaven as if I'm going home?" He genuinely felt that he was a good person.

This perfectly meets the self-judgment criteria for going to heaven.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Mrs. Wayne sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead. “Ian, if you really want to sell indulgences… you’ll have to go to Bruce’s father.”

She ultimately showed Ian the right path.

“Where is my Uncle Wayne? Is he under the table?” Ian crouched down and lifted the tablecloth, but couldn’t find Batman’s father. He looked up at Mrs. Wayne, puzzled.

"..."

Martha Wayne opened her mouth, but ultimately couldn't say anything. Her eyes dimmed, and after a moment of silence, she simply shook her head at Ian without saying a word.

Old Jonathan coughed and patted Ian on the shoulder.

"Don't ask anymore, child."

Whether he had music playing in his wired headphones or not, only he himself knew. Hearing this, Ian blinked, his exceptionally high emotional intelligence allowing him to understand Old Wayne's situation at that moment.

It seems he'll have to go to Hell to find old Wayne, but perhaps that's not such a bad thing. He's almost at the entrance to Hell, and the price of the Indulgence Scroll must be even higher there.

Maybe even the devil will make a bid.

While thinking about it.

Ian patted the bull's head that was pretending to be dead behind him. It turns out that even demons can go to heaven; this world is still one where shortcuts outweigh difficulties.

“Perhaps you should go and save the world, child.” Mrs. Wayne seemed to have been stirred by some emotion. She wasn’t angry, but she still reminded Ian that it was time to leave.

“Yes, yes, Mrs. Wayne, Grandfather, I really have to go save the world. The MVP will always be the MVP.” Ian picked up his teacup and drank it all in one gulp with great gusto.

Old Jonathan smiled with satisfaction.

"Keep it up, kid. We'll see you save the world again. You look like you're much better than your dad." He encouraged Ian in a gentle tone.

Hear the words.

Ian's golden eyes lit up again.

"Wait! Grandfather, say that again! I want to record it!" He quickly pulled out four or five cameras, ready to record at the same time, in case one camera lost data due to quality issues.

"No problem at all."

Old Jonathan repeated it with a smile, and Ian checked the video with satisfaction, making sure the picture was clear and the sound was loud. This was valuable material that could be used to spur on his father.

"Dad needs to work really hard and prove himself." Ian knew he needed to use his influence on his father more often to make him genuinely believe that he was a superhuman.

Martha Wayne watched this scene, sighed softly, and then said gently, "Ian, if you can... please pass on a message to Bruce for me."

Ian immediately raised his camera and pointed it at her.

“No problem! You tell me, I’ll record! It’s much better for you to say what you want to say yourself than for me to relay the message.” This small favor doesn’t cost any money, so Ian is always happy to help.

Seeing this, Martha Wayne straightened her clothes.

“Bruce, you know we love you. So please, never give up hope.” Martha Wayne’s tone was extremely heavy and serious.

She seemed to be giving Bruce Wayne some advice about something she was very worried about.

"Could you please say a few more words to Uncle Bruce?" Ian asked Martha Wayne after she finished speaking, without stopping the recording.

In this regard.

Martha Wayne did not refuse.

She made another recording at Ian's request, repeating what Ian wanted him to tell Bruce Wayne, and Ian got a new video as he wished.

"Perfect!"

Ian was overjoyed. This place truly lived up to its name as paradise. The moment he entered, he gained the means to rival Batman. Paradise truly did fulfill everyone's desires and wishes.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Wayne, and my hardworking grandfather! Once I've trained my father to be a superhuman, I'll have him come to see you!" Ian closed the dozen or so cameras with satisfaction.

He waved to the two of them, knowing he needed to hurry—Bruce might be able to find a way to solve the Kryptonite contamination, but ultimately he would still need to eliminate the source of the contamination.

Otherwise, it will come back to life with the spring breeze.

God knows when the source of pollution will spread from the restricted area. No one can fathom God's intentions; the best solution is to let the evil god devour the source of the evil Cthulhu pollution.

"We'll meet again, no need to rush." ​​Old Jonathan smiled kindly. He watched Ian glance back before flying straight up and heading towards the now terrifying and eerie Holy City.

Under the watchful eyes of the two, Ian's figure gradually disappeared at the end of the garden. A gentle breeze swept by, the petals swayed softly, and the tranquil courtyard returned to silence.

"We'll meet again someday."

Martha Wayne lowered her head and took a sip of tea.

She felt the tea was a bit bitter.

This is a rare sight in heaven.

The woman's fingertips unconsciously traced the rim of her teacup, her expression slightly dazed. A complex emotion flickered in her eyes as she thought of Bruce, her husband, and her son, whom she hadn't been able to truly embrace since that rainy night.

Old Jonathan noticed her emotions and comforted her, saying, "Not just us, I believe you and your husband will see each other again, and of course, your son too."

Martha Wayne sighed softly, a faint smile barely appearing on her lips.

"maybe."

Her voice was soft, and her smile remained elegant.

“That kid’s personality doesn’t seem to resemble Clark’s at all.” This was clearly a change of topic, and old Jonathan didn’t bring up Martha Wayne’s worries again.

“Clark and I aren’t like each other, but that doesn’t affect our relationship. Family will always be family,” old Jonathan laughed and responded.

His laughter was deep and warm, like the ever-shining sun over the Kansas plains. Martha Wayne nodded in deep agreement and chuckled softly in return.

“You adopted a Kryptonian, and then your Kryptonian child adopted an archangel… Now I just want to know what kind of outrageous things your family will produce in the future.” Martha Wayne raised an eyebrow, her tone wistful, noting that wealthy families were perhaps a bit inferior to the Kent family.

"Ian is not an archangel."

Old Jonathan looked down at his teacup, where the image had reappeared—Clark was standing on the ruins of Metropolis, looking up at the sky as if searching for something.

Upon hearing this, Martha Wayne paused for a moment.

"Don't lie to me, he is dazzling and radiant, shining with a glory more brilliant than any angel, but it seems that he himself cannot see how he appears in our eyes."

Her gaze was deep and penetrating.

The vision of the Heavenly Soul allows her to see many things that she could not see when she was a mortal.

"Perhaps that was just the glory of a hero?" Old Jonathan chuckled twice, clearly hiding something, his guilty look suggesting he was uncomfortable lying.

Mrs. Wayne gave old Jonathan a deep look.

No further questions were asked.

A subtle silence fell between them, broken only by the rustling of the breeze through the flowers. Finally, their gazes returned to the reflection in their teacups.

The gardens of Paradise remain serene, while on Earth, the tales of heroes continue. Of course, Ian's story is no exception; he is drawing ever closer to the holy city of Paradise. The radiance of Paradise should be pure and flawless, but as he draws nearer, a thick, unsettling atmosphere begins to permeate the air.

That was the old capital of the angels, but now it has become a breeding ground for Cthulhu corruption—a city that has been alienated, twisted, and devoured, like a rotten, abandoned land of God in the universe.

"How disgusting." Ian could even see that the clouds above the Holy City were no longer pure white, but had a sickly purplish-black hue, as if they had been contaminated by some indescribable force.

Unnatural tentacles were even churning within the clouds, clearly a sign of Cthulhu corruption.

"God must be a slob, not even minding that his backyard is diseased."

Ian couldn't help but complain in his mind.

He felt nauseous at the sight.

Just like his previous attempt to inhale the Cthulhu black mist, [Error Data] accompanied by physical nausea, the evil god lord is, after all, on a completely different path from Cthulhu.

"In the end, I still have to risk my life. This time, Lord Evil God has suffered a huge loss for Earth." He frowned and was about to speed up when he suddenly heard an anxious shout from below.

"Where is Mom? Where is Mom?"

The voice sounded strangely familiar. Ian looked down and saw two familiar figures darting around in the flower grove on the edge of the holy city, as if searching for something like headless flies.

“Sam? Dean?” Ian blinked, making sure he wasn’t mistaken—it really was his classmate Sam Winchester, and Sam’s brother Dean, who never used protection when hooking up with women.

"Your mother isn't in heaven, she's in your old house... No, you went to heaven when you were fourteen?" Ian landed in front of the two astonished people.

Although these two are destined to fight against heaven and hell, they're only teenagers now. Ian suspects the two brothers are dead, otherwise this pace is truly outrageous.

"who!"

Dean was startled by Ian's sudden appearance and instinctively reached for his waist—of course, his weapon wasn't on him, so he just found nothing and awkwardly pretended to be calm.

"who are you?"

Since Dean was unconscious when Ian first met him, and Ian had never seen Ian before, the young man only felt unfamiliar with Ian when he saw him.

"An angel? A guide?"

Dean tentatively asked, somewhat puzzled.

Before Ian could answer, Sam took a closer look, rubbed his eyes, and then rubbed them frantically several times before finally realizing what was happening and exclaimed in surprise.

"Ian Kent?"

His expression was filled with disbelief.

Upon hearing this, Dean was taken aback at first, then his expression became quite interesting: "You mean that Ian Kent who took down the school bully, brought down several principals, and was so incredibly powerful?"

He began to scrutinize Ian in front of him with a frantic gaze.

Is this how you usually introduce me?

Ian raised an eyebrow and looked at Sam.

Sam took a few steps back, looking very nervous.

“I only mentioned it briefly! I didn’t say anything bad about you!” He grabbed Dean’s arm. “Let my brother go. He’s so young, he shouldn’t go to jail just because he offended you!”

This guy has always had a very deep prejudice against Ian.

Perhaps it was because of Ian's initial threat.

"Yes, yes, I absolutely didn't mean any disrespect!" Dean quickly nodded, swallowing hard, his voice nervous. Mainly because he was unemployed.

Still the Witcher.

They arrived at the courthouse.

Forget about Ian's outstanding record, just the fact that Ian is a little boy would mean the jury wouldn't listen to his explanation, and the judge would probably have already reached a verdict in the first second.

Upon seeing the two exorcist boys, one big and one small, both trembling with fear, Ian genuinely felt the majesty of his evil god, though he outwardly feigned helplessness.

“I’m already very open-minded,” Ian said. “I’m just curious why you’re here.” Ian truly hadn’t expected to run into acquaintances from school in heaven.

His gaze fell on the boxes that Dean and Sam were holding.

They are not very big.

It has a very rustic feel, about the size of a sneaker box, and is made entirely of some unknown material with a texture that is somewhere between metal and leather.

There were many runes on it that Ian couldn't understand, but could translate with his spellbook. They were clearly imbued with some kind of magic. I wonder if the two boxes brought them to heaven.

“No, you two seem to still be alive…” Ian’s eyes were somewhat fixed, not because he had poor eyesight, but because he was trying to discern the aura emanating from the two people.

See this scene.

Dean and Sam both felt a chill run down their spines.

"Here you go! Here you go!"

Dean assumed that Ian had his eye on the box in his hand.

He quickly handed the hot potato to Ian—no matter what was inside, Dean felt he didn't want to get involved in any unnecessary trouble.

"what is this?"

Ian looked down at the box.

The box is dark gold in color, with some traces of rust, as if it has been eroded by a long period of time. It is inlaid with a circle of fine runes around the edges. These symbols do not belong to any known language system, but they faintly exude a sense of oppression that is beyond the scope of human cognition.

Whenever Ian tries to stare for too long.

His gaze would unconsciously drift away, as if his brain instinctively refused to understand the words, or perhaps he was influenced by the runes on them and wanted to subconsciously ignore them.

“I don’t know. This is something that some mysterious angel entrusted to us for safekeeping. Can you tell me what you meant when you said our mother was in the old house?”

Dean shook his head in response.

Incidentally, I also want to minimize the losses.

He remembered that Ian had mentioned him and Sam's mother before.

"I'll give you mine too."

Sam was quick-witted in school, and he was just as clever in this unfamiliar environment. Seeing his older brother hand over the box, he quickly handed over the box he was holding as well.

"That's our old man's treasure!"

Dean wanted to stop it.

However, Sam had his own reasons.

I just really wanted to know about my mother.

“We’re asking him to tell us the answer now, aren’t we? We’re in heaven now, and to see him here, his background must be incredibly terrifying.”

This statement clearly implies that Ian is not qualified to go to heaven.

Sam has such low emotional intelligence.

He publicly criticized Ian.

Although he himself may not have realized it, it still made Ian feel uncomfortable. However, seeing the two boxes in his left and right hands, Ian chose to be magnanimous.

Sam's box was also very old-fashioned; it was an ancient wooden box eroded by time, its dark brown surface covered with cracks, as if it had been asleep for countless centuries.

The edge of the box lid is engraved with intricate runes, suggesting it might be a magical item or a valuable antique. Either way, it's worth Ian showing his generosity.

“Your mother, after being killed by a demon, remained in the old house and became some kind of special earthbound spirit,” Ian explained.

"what?!"

The two brothers exclaimed in unison.

My brain is buzzing.

This was an answer they absolutely hadn't expected.

"Do you know who killed our mother?" Dean pressed urgently. He didn't completely believe Ian's words, but he knew that the little boy who could appear in heaven must be no ordinary person.

"It's the yellow-eyed demon, Azazel. He's a powerful demon in Hell, a demon prince. But don't be afraid, there are many demon princes in Hell."

"My toy car loves to eat the devil prince."

Ian gave a concise and clear answer.

"You actually knew that!" Dean stared at Ian in shock, utterly astonished that Ian knew the demon had yellow eyes. "How did you know so much?"

Neither he nor Sam asked about the car.

This left Ian slightly disappointed.

There was no longer any opportunity to show off.

“That’s what an omniscient mind is like.” Ian tapped his temple. He even knew that the two brothers were vessels, vessels for the archangel and the lord of hell.

"I think what he said is true."

Sam looked at Dean with some excitement.

Dean, who was older, had constantly changing expressions.

My mind is making some kind of judgment.

And at this time.

Ian had already begun examining the two ancient boxes. Yes, each box was older than the last, and the way they were opened was somewhat puzzling.

"What are you doing here? Were you brought here by angels?" Ian asked, trying to change the subject and prevent the two boys from realizing the terrible fact that they couldn't even open a box.

“Aren’t you supposed to be all-knowing? Then you should know why we’re here, right?” Sam frowned, looking at Ian with a surprised expression.

Ian paused.

“My omniscient brain isn’t always in use! It needs rest too!” Even when he was furious, Ian could always find a suitable excuse for himself.

That makes sense.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

I was truly speechless, so I didn't dare to refute it.

"So, what's the answer?"

Ian sat cross-legged on the grass of Paradise, with two boxes in front of him. He picked up Sam's box first, examining it from all angles, his fingers feeling along the seams.

Trying to find the mechanism to open it.

He first carefully examined the box Sam had given him, his fingers gently tracing the edge of its surface. The mysterious runes gleamed faintly in the sunlight.

It seemed as if it might come back to life at any moment.

"Um...it feels like you're interrogating us."

Dean crossed his arms, wanting to yell at someone, but also afraid that the other person might really be an angel.

“A big black angel suddenly attacked our house, knocked out my dad who was trying to ambush him with one punch, and then dragged Sam and me straight to this damn heaven.”

His displeasure was clearly evident.

Sam added, "The angel also said that chaos was about to break out on Earth, but we can't let anything happen to us, and the things in the box can't be harmed either, even the box my brother gave you."

His gaze fell upon the box, which had a metallic and leather-like texture. The edge of the lid was indeed wrapped in a band of worn, dark brown leather, which remained sturdy despite the passage of time.

It exudes a faint fragrance and a metallic chill.

"Looks like someone in Heaven realized something big was about to happen, which is why they chose to protect you two... handsome guys." Ian stopped himself in time.

It wasn't that he was unwilling to tell the two people the truth, but rather that they certainly couldn't bear the truth right now. Dr. Hannibal had earned too much; he couldn't refer any more patients to Dr. Hannibal.

"Who knows? That guy's been acting strangely, and I don't know why he cares so much about us." Dean rolled his eyes. Luckily, the angel who captured them was a big black guy.

Otherwise, he would really doubt whether the father he thought he had was actually his father.

Ian didn't respond.

"Click~"

Because he finally found the latch on the box.

Sam opened the box.

Gently lifting the lid, a musty and chilly aura wafted out—inside lay a gleaming black revolver, or more precisely, a Colt revolver.

Its metal barrel gleamed with an eerie dark light, as if it had absorbed the resentment of countless souls. Several strands of dried blood were wrapped around the handle, like a curse frozen in time. A light touch could even feel a faint pulse, as if it were not merely a weapon, but some extremely terrifying living thing.

"Cuckoo~"

Ian's breath caught in his throat for a moment.

He swallowed.

His pupils suddenly dilated a tiny bit.

"Godslayer Gun, Colt!"

Ian is a discerning person; he knows that what lies in the box might be the artifact from that evil force, and some say that this gun can kill anything.

Whether it's true or not.

This gun once ended the lives of angels and demons, and even threatened the balance of the entire universe. Now, it has reappeared, sleeping in this ancient box.

It awaits the next person who dares to grasp it.

"Where's the other one! Where's the other blind box!" Ian quickly hugged the metal and leather-textured box to his chest, and after some searching, he tried to find the opening mechanism.

however.

"This box has no opening; it's a single, seamless piece. We've tried, and it's impossible to open it," Dean cautiously reminded Ian as he slammed the box on the ground.

“It’s very hard, not even a hammer can break it, let alone a stone…” Dean hadn’t finished speaking when he and Sam heard a very crisp sound.

Sam and Dean's expressions froze instantly.

I saw.

Under their incredulous gaze, the sturdy box was bitten open by the impatient boy, who not only that, but also swallowed all the remains.

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +11]

[Entropy Annihilation Lord Experience Points +888]

Ian chewed with relish, and of course, he didn't forget to take out the contents of the broken box. As he threw the last piece into his mouth, he also grasped the contents inside.

It was a short sword.

It caused Ian's pupils to dilate slightly and then shrink slightly again.

"Sending supplies before the great battle... This is Lucifer's sword, that holy sword." The moment Ian grasped the short sword, its blade suddenly burst into a blazing holy flame.

The flames were burning very brightly.

It was an intense, almost overwhelming force, as if it could burn down the entire heaven.

"Damn it, I only like pretty girls, God forbids me from having a crush on someone!"

The bright white light illuminated the little boy's bewildered face.

(End of this chapter)