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

Chapter 164 Return to Earth! Lucifer is in despair!
As soon as Thomas Wayne spoke, the room fell into a deathly silence.

It was really hard to describe Ian's complex emotions at that moment in less than 20,000 words. He opened his mouth, then thought he had misheard and closed it again.

"Excuse me, what did you say?" Ian kept gesturing to his mouth, his eyes wide open, revealing a hint of disbelief in his expression.

Ian found it hard to believe that a simp like that guy could be so capable. You know, that guy's simp vocabulary only contains a few mindless simp quotes over and over again.

How could such a wordless demon be able to deceive a king of hell with words?
"Your headed servant, it seems, convinced Belial, the King of Lies, through more than three hours of intensive conversation that you are the future of Hell, the successor truly favored by Lucifer." Thomas's expression became even more peculiar when he talked about this. He didn't believe that a mere low-ranking demon could deceive the King of Lies with lies.

Therefore.

This was the most unbelievable thing for Thomas Wayne. Even someone as cunning and intelligent as him couldn't imagine how that lower-level demon had managed to fool the King of Lies.

“Nonsense, Lucifer wouldn’t even share half of his magic with me. He clearly just wants to see me in Hell… Wait, who was that guy you said my trash can was fooling again?” Ian suddenly grabbed Thomas’s sleeve, the silk fabric of Thomas’s clothes sliding through his fingers.

Armani clothing.

It's obviously smuggled goods.

“Belial, the King of Lies!” Ian didn’t wait for Thomas Wayne to respond, after all, he had heard it clearly just now. The boy’s eyes shone unusually in the dim light.

His golden-red eyes were like 200-watt light bulbs.

Thomas was somewhat disoriented by the flash. As he snapped his fingers, a ghostly blue flame suddenly rose from the last bit of ashes in the corner of the room to counter Ian's gaze.

The two lights cast Thomas's face in alternating light and shadow.

"So? Why does a name excite you like a hellcat smelling dognip?" He leaned back slightly, avoiding Ian's suddenly approaching face.

Ian released his grip and began pacing around the room, his Nike sneakers crunching on the ashes. His grin widened, clearly overjoyed.

"This name is good, this name is wonderful!" Ian muttered as if chanting a spell, then suddenly turned around and said firmly, "This name sounds perfect for joining my new Land of Light!"

Ian is not only good at creating alternate accounts, but also at setting up shell companies. Anyone who has played Red Alert knows that a cunning rabbit has multiple burrows, and it's always good to have multiple bases.

obviously.

The new Justice League is no longer enough for Ian. Because of the "Ultra Bomb," he considers himself the first Ultraman on Earth, so he feels that the DC Universe should also have its own Land of Light.

"A great cause awaits me, something no one else can do—purify Hell. Fortunately, I'm here. When I transform Hell into the new M78 Nebula, it will be brighter than Heaven! This is a complete transformation, a complete change, a renewal, a metamorphosis... Uh, my vocabulary shouldn't be this limited, how come it's all gone... Anyway, there are many similar American idioms here, so I won't go into detail."

"My main concern is that you're not well-educated enough to understand. Anyway, this is me—the new king of hell, the king of Ultra, Ian, the new era's master of hell transformation, the soul beautician of demons, the terminator of evil, the purifier of darkness!" Ian was talking non-stop. He even took out a piece of chalk from his pocket and started drawing his project proposal on the wall, his words full of professional terms, but Thomas Wayne didn't understand a single word.

He had read many business plans in his past and present lives, but he had never seen anything as messy as Ian's. Even Bruce Wayne's scribbles when he was three years old were neater than this.

“No, are you really not worried at all? Are you really going to accept that devil’s allegiance?” Thomas Wayne pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiped his face.

The spittle was flying everywhere, like rain.

He even suspected that Ian was deliberately spitting in his face.

"Don't worry, Thomas, you're still the first Demon King to pledge allegiance to me, and no one can shake your position." Ian's expression was as sincere as a live-streaming salesperson shaking their foot.

Thomas's pupils dilated slightly at that moment.

"When did I swear allegiance to you?" Thomas Wayne was dumbfounded. No matter how hard he tried to recall, he couldn't remember making such an unwise choice.

"Didn't you want to go to heaven?"

Ian blinked, his eyes filled with confusion.

Thomas Wayne quickly explained, "Oh, no, no, no, I'm exchanging this New Gotham for indulgences, I'm buying something, not selling myself."

He was clearly afraid that if he explained too slowly, he wouldn't be able to explain clearly and the other party would make a final judgment. In fact, Thomas Wayne was perfectly aware of Ian's nonsense.

"I think you're just trying to shift the blame onto Bruce, aren't you?" He didn't look at Ian with suspicion, but rather exposed Ian's little scheme with an absolutely certain tone.

No mind-reading ability is needed; face-reading works very well with Ian.

"Um... Thomas, you're really smart." Ian chuckled awkwardly and took a step back. Even though he was very disappointed, he could only clumsily give a reluctant thumbs up.

Thomas Wayne remained expressionless.

"hehe."

He straightened his tie, each syllable seemingly filled with unspoken words, “Once you become a slave, your son will still be a slave. This rule is still the class division established by my ancestors.”

"You want to use my grandfather's methods against me?" I don't know what Thomas Wayne is showing off. To be honest, he probably already has a place in hell from the moment he was born.

Those who can thrive and manage a city like Gotham, at least superficially, are born to be demons in hell.

It doesn't matter anyway.

The Gotham Emperor demonstrated his family's scholarly tradition, belonging to the orthodox American Old Stars and Stripes, which Ian could not match, so the young man could only admit defeat.

"When my second brother needs my help, as long as he can give birth to a new Kryptonian, I can also become a Kryptonian king." Ian secretly vowed to find several more fertile wives for his second brother.

Thanos's potion should be used where it's meant to be used.

Black people are physically strong, so the Black women in America will definitely have more children. However, considering his second brother's sensibilities, Ian thinks My Little Pony might need a live-action movie or TV series.

Kryptonian centaurs aren't out of the question; they are, after all, a fantasy race. But calling a horse "sister-in-law" still feels a bit awkward, so Ian felt he had to correct his second brother's freakish tastes. Thomas stared at Ian, who was deep in thought again, a little worried that the other was still plotting some kind of scheme.

"Honestly, Ian, I hope you can resist the temptation to control the Demon King. He's the King of Lies, a master of deception and intrigue, with far more tricks than I do."

"God knows what he's trying to do to you with this bizarre decision," Thomas Wayne sighed, changing the subject while also revealing his own wariness.

It's obvious that he must have suffered at the hands of the King of Lies before.

"Don't worry, there won't be any problems. I have a labor contract, and I have a lot of magic effects... By the way, the King of Lies wasn't from the Great Ying Empire or the Capital of Abundance when he was alive, was he?"

Ian remained cautious, but Thomas Wayne didn't quite grasp the leap in his thinking and didn't understand what he was trying to say.

of course.

The old American woman with the American flag still gave an answer: "You may not understand, but Belial and his ilk are the embodiment of original sin, unlike me, who is a demon acquired later in life."

“They don’t have the concept of ‘before death’.” Thomas Wayne explained the classification of demons to Ian, but Ian had already figured this out from Crowley.

"That's good! I'm completely relieved. I have extraordinary wisdom, so his tricks are definitely not as numerous as mine. The only ones who can defeat me are the bears in those two places!"

An eerie silence fell over the room.

The last spark in the ashes went out with a soft puff. Thomas blinked three times slowly, his confusion undiminished. He began to seriously consider whether he had been away from the world for too long, resulting in a significant generation gap with today's youth. Perhaps this was a form of expression of contemporary internet culture among young people?

"Perhaps I really do have a generation gap with you young people today."

He still hasn't doubted Ian's mental state.

Thomas is such a kind guy.

“It’s alright, brother. Your son understands me. He likes me a lot and has invested in many of my groundbreaking projects. He clearly has a keen eye for talent.” Ian was adding “New Kingdom of Light” amenities to the wall with chalk—including but not limited to “Demon Staff Canteen” and “Hell Medical Insurance”.

Thomas stared at the gradually taking shape plan behind Ian, where a section labeled "Ian's Pleasure House" stood out starkly. He hesitated to even consider what kind of "pleasure method" it might contain.

"Where's my Hellcat? Has it been found yet?" Ian felt he was missing a straight man at this moment, and the Hellcat was even better at flattering him than Baal, the demon head.

It's a small car after all, so it's normal for it to lift people up.

Hear the words.

Thomas Wayne's lips twitched slightly, unsure how to express his emotions. He firmly believed that no demon could be as sinister as the demons of the Ian lineage.

The head of the lower-ranking demon is like this, and so is the Hellcat.

"It's out hunting demons like crazy, as if it thinks that as long as it becomes strong enough, it can come and save you. The radio keeps playing some kind of recording about 'Ten Years of Demon West, Ten Years of Demon East'."

"Hmm, it seems like it's some encouragement you gave it?" Thomas Wayne actually wanted to use the word "bewitch," but he ultimately chose a more subtle approach.

"That's loyalty!"

Ian's eyes lit up instantly, like two pumpkin lanterns that had been suddenly lit—Thomas Wayne watched Ian with an expressionless face, deeply moved.

"Indeed loyal."

The Lord of Hell from House Wayne added some details to the plot with a touch of melancholy.

"However, I managed to catch it myself." He seemed to be recalling the strangeness of that demonic vehicle, as if some attribute of it had a natural restraining effect on demons.

That was definitely not a normal demon car. Of course, if you consider that its owner is this strange little devil in front of you, then perhaps the so-called abnormality can be considered reasonable.

"Caught back?"

Ian's movements came to an abrupt halt.

"Where did you park it? It doesn't like to park in paid parking spaces; it likes to fight with other cars for parking spots." He had long been familiar with some of the devilish characteristics of this car.

“I think I already know that; it devoured all the other demon cars…” Thomas Wayne pulled a pocket watch from his suit pocket and looked at it.

"Don't worry, I've been feeding it with live hellhounds, and it hasn't tried to escape the garage again for the time being. You can retrieve your car before you leave."

Thomas Wayne clearly knew how effective the feeding method was.

"marvelous!"

Ian clapped his hands, once again affirming the Hellcat's loyalty, "When I negotiate with my new aunt again, I'm going to ask her for some of her period fluids to give it!"

As soon as these words came out.

The pocket watch slipped straight from Thomas Wayne's hand.

It dangled from the silver chain and swayed continuously.

His pupils dilated to almost human size.

"Your new aunt?" It's no wonder Thomas Wayne reacted so strongly. After all, he knew a bit about Superman's family, so the term "new aunt" made it hard for him not to think of the photo Ian had shown him before—a picture of Martha and old Jonathan. The Martha in the picture wasn't Jonathan's official partner, Martha.

“It doesn’t really matter.” Ian was unaware of Thomas Wayne’s deep sense of crisis regarding his marriage; he remembered to keep dark matters a secret.

The decay of the demonic furniture in those rooms was proof that Darkness didn't want anyone to know about her, and Ian couldn't let that harm his brother Thomas.

He was very understanding and considerate of others. However, precisely because of this, seeing Ian acting somewhat suspiciously only fueled Thomas Wayne's wild imagination.

"I want to go to heaven! Really! I have to go to heaven right now!" Thomas Wayne cried out in a panic. He took off his glasses and wiped them vigorously, as if that would erase the terrible images that were flashing through his mind.

"I'll write to Bruce right now and tell him to treat his new uncle well." It's clear he's already impatient. Indeed, children are always an unexpected surprise for their parents.

“But I haven’t even started the experiment yet. I need to test it on some little devils first.” Master Ian was very meticulous about his business and didn’t want any accidents to happen to his guests. Because of this meticulousness, a bolt of lightning flashed past the window at just the right moment, illuminating the fascinating changes in Thomas Wayne’s expression.

He took a deep breath, then another, and then yet another—this continuous action was especially rare in the sulfurous air of this hellish place.

The sulfur had practically marinated Thomas Wayne, but thankfully he finally calmed his turbulent, overthinking mind and immediately snapped his fingers into the air.

A dark shadow appeared in the center of the room, twisting and writhing as it gradually took shape. A dozen or so imps, bound by chains, rolled to the ground like a screaming ball of yarn. Their tiny, beady eyes were filled with terror, and upon seeing Thomas Wayne, they collectively lost control of their bladders, emitting a mixture of rotten fish and rotten eggs.

"Here are the experimental materials you wanted." Thomas Wayne disdainfully poked at the pile of demons with his toe. "Now you should be able to take them back to Earth and begin your research, right?"

His voice carried a hint of urging, but he was also clearly concerned with his life and had no intention of taking any risks—after all, he was the first Lord Master of Gotham.

The little devil's life might not really be a life in his eyes. Ian squatted down and tapped the little devil's head one by one like picking watermelons. He found that there were indeed a few good heads that were suitable to be trash cans.

"Don't rush, I still have to wait for my trash can king, and Belial—" Ian promoted the demon Baal, and Baal was no longer just a simple trash can.

It became the king of the trash cans.

“No need to wait for him! They’ll be waiting for you at the exit of Hell.” Thomas Wayne suddenly raised his voice, then forced himself to regain his composure. “I mean, how can something as important as the Indulgence Experiment be delayed by other matters? This is a real deal; the entire Hell will bow down to you because of it.”

This isn't flattery; it's stating the facts. Not a single demon doesn't want to immigrate to Heaven. For years, even the kings of Hell have been plotting to conquer Heaven.

"Have you found my therapist yet?"

Ian picked up a small creature with six ears from the pile of demons. The creature was using two of its ears to plug its eyes. It looked a bit like a character from an alien monster cartoon he used to watch.

"Forehead……"

Thomas Wayne hesitated after hearing this, as if he was worried or afraid of something, and he looked somewhat indecisive.

"Could it be that my therapist has been eaten? Hmm, some demons probably really believe that eating a therapist can cure their mental illness."

“This is called ‘you are what you eat’…” Ian’s diet doesn’t include any similar foods, so even though he understands the theory, he still won’t put it into practice.

A young man knows what to do and what not to do.

This is what is meant by the uprightness and integrity of the King of Hell.

Just as he was about to say something...

"Hannibal Lecter!"

Thomas Wayne suddenly interrupted him, speaking at an unusually fast pace.

“Yes, the psychiatrist you wanted.” His fingers unconsciously traced the edge of his pocket watch. “I’ve located him. Well, he’s the first guy I’ve located.”

The old king of Gotham still seemed somewhat hesitant.

"and then?"

Ian released the Six-Eared Demon.

Brush off any dust that isn't actually there.

Thomas Wayne's expression faltered again. He looked out the window, then at the ground, and finally at the trembling little devils—he just wouldn't look Ian in the eye.

"His...uh...case is a bit special."

The King of Hell finally managed to utter a vague statement.

"More special than my kitten and my trash can?" Ian raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. He wasn't good at giving a faint smile, but he was very good at raising his eyebrows.

Ian doesn't like to brag about even his eyebrow dancing.

“He’s been staying in those confessionals, but the ones he’s in are a bit unusual, and my men and I can’t get him out,” Thomas Wayne sighed.

He never expected that finding a human soul would lead to that kind of situation.

"Can't you bring it out?"

Ian sensed Thomas Wayne's predicament and became even more curious. Did these legitimate infiltrators from the outer universe receive different treatment after death than other native souls?

Does the DC Universe also offer preferential treatment to "international students"?
"this."

Thomas Wayne suddenly turned and walked toward the door, as if he was hesitant to bring up certain things.

"You'd better see for yourself."

Thomas Wayne's Adam's apple bobbed, as if he had swallowed a piece of burning coal. His apprehension was palpable, and his black glove rubbed incessantly against the edge of his pocket watch.

This is a sign of nervousness.

Ian became increasingly curious.

Before Ian could ask anything further, Thomas Wayne opened an unremarkable door, revealing a passageway that shouldn't have been behind it.

This is clearly some kind of ability of Thomas Wayne.

Upon entering, the two began their ascent from the lowest level of hell.

hell.

This is not the fiery and sulfurous land of mortal imagination, but a mad aggregate pieced together from countless dimensions. Like a child roughly tearing up picture books of different styles and then randomly piecing the fragments together to form a new collage. Nearby, the spires of an 18th-century Baroque church pierce into a futuristic metal city.

A floating golden stone slab connects to an upside-down palace, whose entrance leads to a desolate snowfield. The entire hell is like a three-dimensional maze drawn by a madman.

The sloping facades of the ancient Egyptian pyramids extend into Gothic flying buttresses, connecting to areas reminiscent of Mayan civilization. All the buildings in these areas seem to slowly creep along, like clay being kneaded by an invisible hand. Logic is utterly abandoned here; only power and will can sustain existence.

The boundaries of hell are being revealed.

Ian wasn't surprised by this. He already knew that Hell wasn't a single space, but rather like a giant, layered onion.

Each layer contains a different dimension, different rules, and different pain and order. They traversed burning scorched earth, floating seas of vengeful spirits, and distorted mirror cities, finally arriving at the Upper Hell—a region closer to the "core of domination" than anywhere else.

This was also the area where Ian had been before he fell.

Near Lucifer's throne.

The throne hovered in mid-air, surrounded by countless burning halos, as if the will of all hell was concentrated on it. However, Thomas did not lead Ian closer to the throne, but instead pointed to a densely packed, neatly arranged array of box-like rooms. These were the confessionals, trapping all human souls.

The rooms resembled enormous coffins, entirely black, their surfaces engraved with ancient runes and seals. Each one was like an independent cage, or perhaps an entrance to another world. Looking through the windows, one could see inside the inverted library, where books were chained to scholars who were reading.

In a desolate desert.

The businessman knelt before the self-replicating contract.

This is what an observer sees, and the images presented represent the greatest obsessions in the hearts of trapped souls, which bind them and prevent them from leaving.

“Your doctor is in Box 0.” Thomas Wayne’s suit, which he had changed into when he arrived, suddenly broke out in a cold sweat; the fabric of the suit was etched with a screaming face.

obviously.

This hellish suit is in a state of panic.

“No one in room 0 knows who it is, but even Lucifer has never dared to approach…” Before he could finish speaking, Ian’s fingers were already on the doorknob of room 0.

“Click.”

It was a simple, unadorned brass handle, as ordinary as any accessory in a human apartment, yet at that moment it made Thomas Wayne swallow hard with extreme tension.

The door opened.

There was no hellish scene as expected, no gushing torrent of vengeful spirits. Only a ray of light—so soft, so warm, like sunlight filtering through sheer curtains on a winter morning, gently spilling across the threshold. Dr. Hannibal Lecter sat on the sofa inside, wearing his signature tailored suit.

His gaze was calm as still water.

He seemed to be doing what he always did. His counselor's notebook lay open on his lap, the pen casting long, thin shadows on the paper. Everything was so normal, as if he were still alive.

“I think I’m starting to understand everything.” Ian hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. He looked across at the opposite side of Dr. Hannibal, where there was indeed no one.

However, it is not completely empty.

In this room, which was similar to Hannibal's office, a beam of light filled the patient's sofa, purer and more vast than the light emanating from under the door.

It has no fixed form, yet it seems to contain all forms; it makes no sound, yet it's like a thousand symphony orchestras playing simultaneously in the mind. When Ian gazes at it, he sees countless possibilities arising and disappearing within it—a smiling baby growing into a knife-wielding murderer, a bleeding rose blooming into a dove of peace.

Even all the brilliance of the universe swirls within the light.

It has no fixed form, yet it inexplicably evokes the image of a languid, reclining noblewoman, with fleeting glimpses of her feminine silhouette occasionally appearing amidst the shifting light.

"So, ma'am, are you very dissatisfied with your husband?" The psychiatrist listened intently, his pen scratching across his notebook.

Completely unaware of the intruder behind them.

“He’s like a cold stone monument!” Guangmang was focused on the conversation and didn’t notice Ian’s arrival. Suddenly, she fluctuated violently, her voice trembling like a thousand wind chimes.

"That old fogey has been turning a deaf ear ever since he invented 'free will'! He'd say 'Let there be light' when he created the universe, but now he's locked me up in this place!"

The light twisted into an angry vortex.

“Please use the ‘I feel’ sentence structure,” Hannibal interrupted gently. “Remember our agreement?”

The light flickered reluctantly.

"Yes, I felt ignored, so I threw a tantrum, but he shouldn't have just locked me up in hell. I just wanted to destroy all of you humans."

"Who told him to pay so much attention to you?" The voice emanating from the woman was not only feminine, but also carried a uniquely feminine discontent. The image of a resentful woman was palpable even without being explicitly stated.

"Squeak—"

Ian's leather shoes suddenly stepped on a loose floorboard.

Dr. Hannibal turned his head sharply.

“Ian? Ian Kent?” He was somewhat surprised and incredulous, wondering how his patient in the human world had managed to track him down to this place.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you."

Seeing that he could no longer snoop on the gossip, Ian simply strode over.

"I should have been the one who made the appointment first."

Ian had already made an appointment with Dr. Hannibal; he had truly traveled a long way to see his therapist. Ian turned to the beam of light and gave a professional smile.

"Goddess Auntie, you've taken my reserved seat." At this moment, the omniscient Ian re-entered the scene, and he had already recognized the species of the light on the sofa.

The Primordial Light.

The first ray of light in the world.

She is also God's wife, the mother of Lucifer and a host of archangels—yes, when it comes to XP, Jordan, Xu Xian, and Ning Caichen are all weaklings.

Look at God!

Damn it!

She also had many children!

Based on this point alone, it's understandable that there's so much freedom for fantasy in the human world. After all, humans come from the creator God, and fantasy has already caused significant problems from its very origin.

"?????"

The silhouette in the light stared at Ian.

They seemed surprised by the unexpected visitor.

"How will you be here?"

Dr. Hannibal couldn't understand whether Ian had also died. Based on his understanding of Ian, it would be perfectly reasonable for Ian to have come to Hell.

"Well, my butler Wayne will explain the details to you. Let's leave here first." Ian dared not communicate with Lucifer's mother as he did with the darkness.

This goddess has truly reached menopause.

It's important to understand that humans are God's most prized creation, proving that He has bestowed upon them everything He could. Therefore, isn't human menopause simply a replication of the physiological state of His wife? This is why it's not that the goddess is overly anthropomorphic, but rather that the goddess's menopausal state existed first, and thus, humans developed menopause.

“Miss Misha is so worried, and so am I. Let’s go back to the human world first. I have a lot of medical issues to discuss with you, Doctor. I’ll find you a handsome corpse when we get back.”

As he spoke, Ian tried to take advantage of the goddess's inattention and quickly leave with Dr. Hannibal. However, he had only just pulled Dr. Hannibal up from the chair and pushed him out the door.

Ian hadn't even taken half a step out yet.

"Crack~"

The door suddenly closed.

This is when Lucifer's mother came to her senses.

"Auntie? Who are you calling auntie?" The light instantly contracted into a dense point, its brightness increasing dramatically to a level that could burn a retina. All shadows in the consultation room were banished.

Even the old laptop in the corner showed its skeleton under the bright light.

When Ian turned around, he found that the ball of light had condensed into a three-meter-tall humanoid silhouette, with countless light particles swirling wildly around her, like a solar prominence about to erupt.

"Human, how did you get in?" The voice of the Goddess of Light was now clearly audible—a mezzo-soprano with a mature social accent, but each syllable was as sharp as shattered glass.

"They just opened the door and walked in."

Ian pointed behind him, quickly adopting the honest Ian persona. The luminous humanoid figure visibly swayed, as if the answer was beyond her comprehension.

"I didn't give you permission to come in! So, what gives you the right to come in?" The goddess's voice caused the books on the bookshelf to shake violently, and then they burst into flames.

Her light was much stronger than Ian's.

Ultraman backs down.

"No, the world is so beautiful, Auntie Goddess, please don't be so irritable." Ian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, trying to soothe her emotions.

His sweat was truly dripping.

"Don't call me auntie! You despicable human! You inferior creation!" Menopause was confirmed. A beam of light lashed out at Ian's feet, and a molten trench immediately appeared in the floor.

Ian's eyebrows curled from the heat, but he took a step forward, already having made up his mind. He absolutely couldn't show any fear when dealing with a goddess like this.

“Lucifer and I are like brothers, and his mother is my aunt, which makes perfect sense,” Ian said matter-of-factly, once again using his network of connections skill.

Outstanding effect.

The light suddenly stopped.

However, this stillness is more terrifying than the previous rage, like the absolute calm in the second before a supernova explodes.

"Did Lucifer send you? Does he intend for you to come and torture me in place of Mazekin?" The goddess's radiant form shrank to the size of a normal human, its brightness reduced to the gentle glow of a candle flame.

Her voice suddenly became as soft as a feather, yet it carried a chilling coldness that sent shivers down one's spine—this goddess was probably more lethal at this moment than when she was enraged.

"Of course it's not like that. Lucifer didn't say anything to me, but our communication was unspoken. Just because he didn't say it doesn't mean I couldn't understand what he meant."

“Dr. Hannibal is nothing special. I charge more, so according to the super equation, I am naturally more skilled. He wants me to secretly take care of you for him.” Ian didn’t know why the other party wanted to capture Dr. Hannibal, but he knew that his best identity right now was that of a psychiatrist.

Lucifer liked to see a psychologist.

His mother might also have this latent hobby.

"care?"

The goddess let out a cold laugh.

The sound caused spiderweb-like cracks to appear simultaneously on all the glass objects in the room. These were manifestations of the other party's will, clearly indicating that the goddess's emotions had faltered.

She conjured a jewel-encrusted calendar, densely marked with red crosses. "So-called concern is just sending demons to punish me every now and then?"

Hear the words.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian caught sight of several charred demon skeletons piled up in the corner.

Judging from their uniforms, they were all elite members of Lucifer's personal guard.

To be honest, Ian really didn't want to be one of them. He didn't feel any malice from the darkness, but it was different when he was facing this goddess.

“There’s a reason for all of that.” Ian forced a twisted smile and blinked his right eye frantically. He swallowed hard, the sound of his Adam’s apple bobbing loudly in the silence.

“Yes, there’s a reason for it, but I dare not say more.” Ian didn’t dare to speak ill of God, so he could only wink frantically. Fortunately, his mother Lucifer was just as smart as him.

The goddess frowned and began to hesitate.

"Is he doing this for his father? Does he still hope to get his father's forgiveness?" Lucifer's mother was initially alright, but it seemed she was heading in a dangerous direction again. Ian's temples throbbed. This problem was like tap dancing in a minefield; one wrong step could trigger a double punishment from heaven and hell.

really.

Family conflicts are really hard to resolve.

Even someone as intelligent as Ian sensed the predicament.

He took a deep breath and decided to take a risky move.

"I am the best psychologist on earth. Lucifer brought me to hell, but not to heaven. Isn't it obvious who holds more weight in his heart?" Ian answered irrelevantly. His madness could be interpreted in various ways; he was a man who had truly mastered the art of language.

The minimum required level is equivalent to that of a civil servant in a province with a high demand for civil service exams.

This cunning false proposition plunged the goddess into deep thought. The light rose and fell like the tide, sometimes revealing the benevolent outline of a noblewoman, and sometimes transforming into the delicate lines of a young girl.

Ian took the opportunity to wipe the sweat from his forehead and found that the sweat had already evaporated on the surface of his skin—he had been in the industry for five or six years and this was the first time he had encountered such a tricky situation.

"interesting."

The goddess's attitude suddenly softened. She reached out her glowing hand and lifted Ian's chin, leaving fluorescent fingerprints on his skin with her fingers of light.

"You're much more interesting than those screaming demons." According to the American TV series "Lucifer," this goddess's mental illness is much more severe than Lucifer's.

God knows what she was thinking at that moment.

Are you lying to me?

Lucifer's mother's voice suddenly softened.

The halo coalesced into a pair of almost tangible eyes, staring intently at Ian. That gaze seemed to pierce his soul, making every hair on Ian's head stand on end.

Ian's Adam's apple bobbed, but his innocent smile remained: "You're so smart, if I were lying to you, you'd definitely notice, wouldn't you?"

As he spoke, he casually sat down in the seat that Dr. Hannibal had previously occupied, tapping his fingers lightly on the sofa armrest, as if he really was just a psychologist filling in for someone else.

Rather than a warrior who mistakenly entered a place forbidden by the gods.

"Ok?"

Lucifer's mother's aura flickered slightly, as if she were pondering his words.

Ian pressed his advantage, blinked, and said sincerely, "To be honest, I haven't received a single bad review since my debut. How will you know I'm not a better choice if you don't give it a try?"

His expression was so sincere.

He seemed to genuinely believe he was better than Hannibal Lecter, the genius who could seamlessly switch between cannibalism and top-tier psychiatrist, at calming the emotions of a creator goddess. Lucifer's mother's aura flickered; she was clearly not entirely convinced.

"If you're really that good, why did you book that appointment with that... what's-his-name doctor?" Even if Lucifer's mother had something to do with humans, she still looked down on them. After all, humans were the culprits who had caused her to be imprisoned in this place, and she had despised God's most prized creation since the beginning of humankind.

obviously.

The conflicts in the Goddess of Creation's marriage are actually quite similar to those in most human marriages; the cracks arise from one party's failure to understand the other's personal preferences.

“A true master always has the heart of an apprentice.” Ian responded without changing his expression, spreading his hands, his tone relaxed, even carrying a sense of genuine pride.

"How can I know I've surpassed my peers if I don't get to know them?" His confidence was almost supernatural, even stunning Lucifer's mother.

The aura of the Goddess of Creation contracted slightly, as if reassessing the human before her.

“There is something unusual about you… well, very different.” She narrowed her eyes of light above Ian, giving him a meaningful look.

"So, you can appease my anger?" The Goddess of Creation sat back down on the sofa, willing to give Ian a chance because of his special qualities.

after all.

That still very immature power.

This reminded the Goddess of the ages before the birth of the universe. Perhaps this was a trick by God, but the Goddess of Creation felt she needed to think about it further.

Seeing that the goddess had calmed down, Ian immediately got into position, his expression serious: "No, no one can quell your anger; only you can overcome it."

As the boy spoke, he pulled a book from his pocket and pretended to flip through it.

“What are you looking at?”

The goddess's gaze fell on the book.

"That's not important. What's important is you. I only care about your situation." Ian smiled slightly, not even bothering to cover the book title—"The Parenting Bible: How to Deal with a Rebellious Child." Sure enough, just as he expected, Lucifer, the creator goddess, despised humanity and therefore never cared about human writing.

She utterly disdained to understand human writing. She was the first light at the dawn of creation, an omniscient and omnipotent being; how could she possibly concern herself with the things possessed by the very creation she despised? Simply put, because she disdained to understand, the creator goddess was an illiterate being on a level of omniscience and omnipotence.

She didn't even glance at the book title.

“You’re right, my situation is the most important. I have endless anger inside me.” The goddess was clearly distracted by Ian’s voice and didn’t bother to examine what he was holding. The doctor had something similar; perhaps humans all like to have a book open on their laps.

"You just said you felt ignored?" Ian tapped his fingers lightly on the sofa armrest, his face bearing the "I completely understand you" expression typical of a professional psychologist.

He began by asking questions in a gentle, guiding tone, revealing some information he had overheard earlier, while quietly turning the page to the chapter on "Dealing with Separation Anxiety."

I understand how you feel.

"Of course you'll feel angry if you're ignored."

"It's like a flame, like a storm, it needs an outlet... Don't hide it, if you have any grievances, you should speak out, and I'm willing to be a listener."

Ian began his first official unlicensed medical practice.

“Don’t keep it to yourself; if you have any complaints, speak up.” Ian’s voice was as gentle as if he were coaxing a sulking child. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward slightly—this was the “active listening posture” emphasized on page 37 of the parenting guide. Hearing this, Lucifer’s mother’s aura trembled slightly.

Like a candle flame flickering in the wind. She seemed genuinely moved; the halo of light suddenly expanded, and the temperature in the consultation room rose abruptly. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Ian's forehead.

But he maintained his professional smile. Fortunately, the aura of the Goddess of Creation gradually stabilized, coalescing once more into a clearer human figure. Ian mentally gave himself a thumbs up—the parenting manual was proving incredibly effective against the Goddess of Creation; it was now obvious who Lucifer resembled more.

"It seems you do have some skill; you didn't advise me to tolerate or try to understand that bastard." The goddess's voice carried a rare hint of approval, as if she had finally gained genuine understanding.

“We can’t wrong ourselves, can we? It doesn’t matter who is right or wrong. What matters is that you feel ignored, so you certainly have the right to express your dissatisfaction.”

Ian smiled gently as he turned to the page on "positive affirmation." A pleasant glow rippled around him, like a cat being stroked. The boy pressed his advantage once more.

"Take the bait in their own hand! Auntie, your husband neglects you because he likes humans, so I suggest you find a new hobby and then ignore him for a while."

"And also to distract myself." Ian continued to practice medicine strictly according to the knowledge he had acquired, and his words received strong approval from the Goddess of Creation.

"An eye for an eye! You're right!" The voice of the Goddess of Creation sounded very excited, repeating the same sentence over and over again.

"Wait, that's not what I meant—" Ian's smile froze on his face. He clearly said "find a hobby," how did it become a declaration of revenge in the goddess's ears?
"I know what you mean!"

The goddess looked at Ian with an inscrutable expression.

"Hiss~"

A strange hissing sound came from the air.

The next moment, Ian found himself disappearing from the room without warning after just blinking. When he came to his senses again, he was standing outside the house where the goddess was imprisoned.

"Damn it! Give me back that doctor!" The goddess roared from inside the house, shaking the ground. "You can't even give me a human being?!"

At this moment.

A chilling wind swept across Ian's sweat-soaked back; the sulfurous air had never felt so fresh. Ian reacted quickly, pulling a roll of A4 paper from his pocket. It was densely covered with neat handwriting, approximately 2 words—a standard apology letter he had prepared in advance, specifically for handling similar emergencies.

"Amen!"

Ian squatted down and burned paper money.

In the firelight.

Ordinary words on ordinary paper transformed into golden rays that shot straight into the sky.

Thomas Wayne and Hannibal were still standing there, stunned.

Ian had already grabbed them, one in each hand.

"Wait, what's happening—"

Thomas was interrupted by Ian before he could finish speaking.

He escaped very quickly, but in a very disheveled manner.

“Run! There’s real filth in there! Hell is dangerous! I have to get back to Earth!” Ian shouted as he ran, and he began to frantically apologize to God in a devout voice.

however.

He muttered a few words.

He suddenly realized with dismay that his vocabulary was not as extensive as that of the Minotaur.

"So you don't want New Gotham anymore?" Thomas frowned, his Batman-like suspicious nature immediately kicking in. "You're not going to go back on your word, are you?"

It's no wonder that the Gotham Emperor is suspicious; he's all too familiar with Ian's form of capitalism.

“It’s the New Land of Light! I want it, of course I want it! Go back and help me fix it up, I have a brilliant plan for this city.” Ian wrote a proposal as he ran. The cover of the document was titled “New Land of Light Five-Year Development Plan,” with a note in small print below: “Note: The final interpretation right belongs to Ian Kent.”

"You call this urban planning?" Thomas glanced at the contents, and even though he had been prepared, his voice still trembled slightly.

"This is not the time to discuss this, lead the way!" Ian grabbed his sleeve, and the dimensions of hell twisted and shifted beneath their feet.

Thomas led Ian through layers of spatial folds, each step feeling like treading on the boundary between different worlds. Soon, they returned to the area Thomas had briefly "ruled"—a bustling yet eerie hellish city, its streets flowing with energy created by soul batteries.

The air was thick with the smell of sulfur and hellish hope.

"Do you really want to mess with my city like this?"

Thomas Wayne still cared a lot about that proposal.

Where is the Hellcat?

Ian interrupted him, his eyes darting around, "Find my cat first!"

Thomas sighed and turned onto a path emitting sulfurous steam. At the end of the path was a neon sign that read "Pet Paradise," with the words "Also a Demon Technology Experiment Center" written in smaller print below.

The moment the garage door opened, a dark figure lunged at Ian.

"Meow—!"

The sound of a hellcat is the sound of tires rubbing against the ground.

"Hey, old buddy."

Ian smiled and walked over, squatted down, and gently touched the front of the Hellcat.

"do you miss me?"

He was overjoyed to have his third mount back. The Hellcat rubbed against his hand, purring softly as if it were being affectionate, and the lights shone like cat eyes.

"Alright, alright, let's go home."

Ian opened the trunk—and casually shoved Hannibal inside.

The carriage was completely silent.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter straightened his wrinkled suit and tie, and calmly asked through the gap in the trunk, "Is this your way of retaliating against me for my overly aggressive treatment methods?"

"Sorry! It's just a professional habit!"

Ian quickly opened the back door.

"Psychologists should sit in the back row."

He invited Dr. Hannibal in.

We immediately prepared to set off.

Because of some problems he had just noticed, he didn't want to stay in this godforsaken place for another second.

Why are you walking in such a hurry?

Thomas leaned against the car door, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Who is inside?

He was still curious about what had frightened Ian.

“You wouldn’t want to know,” Ian jumped onto the roof of the car, and the Hellcat’s engine immediately roared with excitement, “Don’t go any closer. There’s a real super psychopath inside.”

The Hellcat's tires left four burning marks on the ground.

They hurtled towards the upper dimensions like arrows released from a bow. As they reached the exit of Hell, Ian slammed on the brakes—his servant Baal was floating in mid-air, facing a demon three stories tall. The Hellcat's headlights shone on the demon's crown, inlaid with the Jewel of Lies.

"So Lucifer also has a crush on your master?"

Belial, the King of Lies, spoke with disbelief. Baal nodded honestly—every word he spoke was true, and that was precisely the best way to gain the King of Lies' trust.

"Let's go! Quickly!"

Ian executed a drift maneuver, simultaneously rolling down the window and retrieving the demon's head. Just as the Hellcat was about to burst out of the entrance passage, Belial suddenly knelt down and screamed madly.

"Ian, the Emperor of All Laws! Take me in! I'm good at intelligence and espionage, and the Kent family definitely needs their own CIA!" The demon head said something else.

He frantically pledged his loyalty.

These words struck a chord with Ian.

The Hellcat braked suddenly at the edge of the dimensional rift.

"Come in, keep the doctor company." Ian, who had backed up, tossed the other person a "labor contract." Having already learned from the demon's head that it was the same type as the archangel's, the King of Lies signed his real name without a second thought. Seeing the car door open, the King of Lies obediently shrank to the size of a Chihuahua and crawled inside.

He was very excited.

I firmly believe that I haven't been tricked.

Instead, they boarded a flight bound for a new era.

"Fasten your seatbelt."

Ian slammed his hand on the roof of the Hellcat.

"We're going for a race!"

The Hellcat broke through layers of dimensional barriers and sped towards the human world. The ticket coin worked again; light appeared ahead, and Ian fled back to the human world for his life.

no way.

The clever Ian had realized that the power of the "Parenting Handbook" was malfunctioning, and that the mentally ill creator goddess wanted more than just a crush on him—the gates of hell slowly closed behind him, and Ian, riding his hellcat, burst through the crack like a shooting star and stepped back into the human world.

The night wind howled.

Ian took a deep breath.

Feeling the familiar air.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the murder house. The cat-eye headlights on the front of the car flashed an eerie green light, making the blood-stained words on the dilapidated mansion's exterior walls even more chilling.

The ghosts in the murder house instantly erupted into chaos.

Bloody handprints roamed wildly on the wall, the chandelier moved on its own without wind, and screams echoed from the basement—the souls trapped in this place were trembling, sensing something more terrifying than hell itself: a real demon king of hell was curled up in the back seat of this car.

That's the real body!
How could it be possible to enter the human world so easily!

All the souls were terrified.

They were screaming and shouting that the apocalypse was coming.

"Quiet!" Ian, his emotions running high, impatiently honked the horn, and the Hellcat roared to life, silencing the entire house.

"Oh, the human world, the air is filled with the smell of lies." The King of Lies, who realized that his power was only suppressed by the rules of the human world, but not rejected, once again became convinced of his choice.

It wagged its tail like a real Chihuahua. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, on the other hand, turned deathly pale; after all, he was only human, and beside him stood a demon from hell.

Where are we going?

Hannibal tried his best to remain calm, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

"Go home first, go home first, I need to ask my older brother to pray and communicate with me..." Ian activated Hellcat again, and it seemed that Hellcat had unlocked a new ability in Hell. It directly entered the space, achieving a warp-like flight, and in the blink of an eye, it brought Ian to his doorstep.

Sometimes things just happen by chance.

Ian's words, which he was about to say, were abruptly cut short.

"Bang~"

On the horizon.

A familiar mushroom cloud is slowly rising.

Xin Xin's house exploded.

It just exploded right in front of Ian.

"This has absolutely nothing to do with me! I just got back!"

Ian stood frozen in place.

Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose.

Well, he couldn't quite fake it. The perfect parabola, the just-right yield, the precise timing of the explosion—it really did seem like a professional-level warning.

The Hellcat speaker automatically started playing "Homeless," its shrill melody inexplicably mournful. Seeing the bewildered old man flying in from the horizon, Ian instinctively turned to run away.

The result is obvious.

He was once again truly caught in the crosshairs.

"It wasn't me, it really wasn't me!"

Ian quickly offered his explanation.

However, his reputation is exceptionally good.

"Jonathan and Jordan aren't home, Ian, there's no one else here. Did you deliberately blow up our new house to try and take your big house away?"

Superman's voice had a hint of gritted teeth.

He didn't see, hear, or sense anything... The answer is perhaps already obvious. Ian suspects the explosion at his new house was the work of some unseen force.

But he dared not have any evidence.

……

Inside the boxy house in hell, the lights were on, yet there was no sound.

Each confessional room was tightly shut, like countless coffins neatly arranged in the void. Suddenly, a darkness coalesced before one of the doors, silently seeping in. Inside, Lucifer's mother's aura flickered faintly; she faced the cycle of hell—that eternal moment of betrayal.

The little devils around them were mimicking the appearance of archangels.

They mechanically repeated the same sentence.

"You have been exiled."

This cycle of hell has been going on for countless years. Anyone who has been to hell knows that people there will constantly relive the moments they least wanted to recall in their previous lives.

This moment in Lucifer's mother's life clearly represents the time when she was banished from Heaven.

Seeing a group of little devils transform into the appearance of angels and God, intending to continue this endless cycle upon her, the Goddess of Creation was naturally not truly affected by it.

"Get out of here!"

Lucifer's mother's aura suddenly intensified, becoming so dazzling that the little devils all retreated.

"Your acting is completely unconvincing!"

She could clearly see the true nature of those little devils and was not tormented by the endless cycle of hell, but precisely because of this, she always felt a different kind of discomfort.

"Forehead……"

The little devils looked at each other in bewilderment.

They wouldn't dare to be so arrogant in front of ordinary people.

One of them spoke up timidly.

"Oh, Your Majesty, but the King's command is difficult to disobey."

Their king is, of course, Lucifer. Lucifer actually has a love-hate relationship with his mother, so he always orders these little devils to torment her.

"Then let's pretend I'm still there!"

The Goddess of Creation gave a stern rebuke; her words were, of course, divine pronouncements. The imps, knowing exactly how to be Hell's civil servants, immediately began their performance, mimicking thin air.

All the angels posing as archangels and God began mechanically reciting lines to thin air: "You've been banished. You've been banished."

This level of procrastination is quite impressive.

Lucifer's mother's aura gradually dimmed.

She drifted to a corner, her thoughts churning.

“The way of man is to return to man himself, that’s a good idea.” She was still thinking when she suddenly noticed a slight noise coming from in front of the gate to her sealed land.

“Click.”

The seal has loosened?
The Goddess of Creation sensed something amiss and found it hard to believe. She suddenly floated to the door and discovered that the shackles that had imprisoned her for millions of years had actually been unlocked.

“Ian Kent, it must be that doctor. He knows that to cure my mental breakdown, he has to let me out.” Her aura trembled slightly, and her tone carried a hint of gratitude.

There was less contempt.

next second.

The goddess of creation rushed out without hesitation.

Turned into a stream of light.

It rushes straight into the human world.

Hospital
In the intensive care unit, a dying old man suddenly opened his eyes.

“Ian Kent!” She (he?) sat up abruptly, her voice booming as if she were not a dying man.

The doctors and nurses backed away in horror, watching helplessly as the elderly man, who should have been dying, ripped out his breathing tube, rolled off the bed, and strode briskly into the corridor.

"Ian Kent?!"

ten minutes later.

An out-of-control ambulance hit her (or him?).

A few more minutes passed.

A motorcyclist who was thrown into the air by the impact opened his eyes in mid-air.

“Ian Kent! Does anyone know who Ian Kent is?” She (or he?) adjusted her posture in mid-air, landed steadily, and then began to run wildly.

The words have not yet fallen.

An out-of-control tanker truck ran over it.

This is yet another failed attempt to possess a human.

Followed by.

not far away.

In one of Los Angeles’ worst bars, neon lights whirred, the smell of cheap whiskey mingled with the stench of blood, and a drunken woman suddenly stood on the bar.

Her eyes flashed with a blinding light.

Constantine, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips, tapped his fingers on the bar counter with an ominous rhythm. His trench coat collar was turned up high, as if he were ready to flee from something terrible—a judgment that was usually quite accurate.

in the corner.

A woman who should have been dead for three hours suddenly opened her eyes.

“Ian Kent!”

Her voice echoed throughout the nightclub.

"I know you're still alive!" The woman's scream pierced everyone's eardrums like shards of glass. Everyone stared at her in horror, as if they were seeing a madwoman.

Upon hearing the shout, Constantine's cigarette fell into the whiskey with a hissing sound. His fingers froze in mid-air, and his spine felt as if it had been filled with liquid nitrogen.

There was not a trace of emotion in it.

It was purely a stress response.

The goddess of creation moved her wrists, which were now covered in a foul odor, and a faint golden light shone through them. She looked around, her gaze sweeping over each trembling drunkard like a searchlight.

Finally, the goddess keenly focused on the man in the trench coat—he was trying to cover his face with a newspaper, but unfortunately, the clown laughing photo on the front page of the Gotham Daily was not discreet enough.

"Constantine, do you know Ian Kent?" The goddess's voice appeared in Constantine's ears. Constantine looked up and saw the woman who should have been dead standing in front of him.

The essence within the other body sent shivers down his spine, filling him with fear. Constantine's Adam's apple bobbed. Through the gaps in the newspaper, he saw curiosity flickering in the eye sockets of the walking corpse.

"Forehead……"

As a scoundrel who had spent years traversing between heaven and hell, he immediately recognized the level of disaster—the kind that would make even Satan revise hell's fire prevention plan overnight.

"What do you want with Ian Kent?" He slowly put down his newspaper, revealing the perfect smile of a professional conman, a smile that made him hesitant to use any magic tricks at this moment.

at this time.

Constantine only wanted to test the other party's situation.

“He did me a huge favor, I have to reward him.” Where the finger of the corpse occupied by the Goddess of Creation traced, small golden flowers bloomed on the mold on the bar.

Constantine's brain started working at a near-explosive speed.

Hear the words.

He immediately knew what he should say.

"That saint! Brave! Decisive! A moral exemplar!" Constantine recalled the first time he met Ian, a mere mortal who dared to steal their car.

Isn't that brave and decisive?
obviously.

The exorcist detective also mastered the art of being honest.

Recalling his experience of selling a car and being chased by Ian, leaving him in a sorry state, he described Ian's enthusiasm and how Ian's henchmen and lackeys abandoned him when he was hanging there, leaving him only his underwear. He commented that even Ian's friends were helpful.

It's all the truth.

The goddess's eyes lit up, as if she had heard a touching story.

"I see. It's not surprising that he would have these qualities to help me at such a great risk. It seems that the rare kindness and goodness that humanity has is all occupied by him."

The goddess of creation, preconceived notions, believed Constantine's assessment.

Constantine was just about to breathe a sigh of relief.

He wanted to ask something else.

however.

"Click~"

The chandelier on the ceiling fell down without warning.

"boom!"

When Constantine crawled out of the pile of broken glass, the body had become a real corpse. The bar was so quiet you could hear the ink leaking from his pen in his pocket.

"Oh my god, what did that boy do to deserve this?" He lit a new cigarette with trembling hands, only to find all the other patrons huddled in the corner, looking at him like he was a plague.

Even the perpetually drunk and unconscious old Jack was soberly holding up the cross.

The bartender quietly pushed a glass of milk towards me.

"Consider it my treat, but don't come again."

“I have to run, I have to run to another planet. Who knows how to get to a parallel universe? Damn it, that probably won’t help!” Constantine stared at his disheveled reflection in the milk glass and suddenly really, really wanted to call Ian Kent—he really wanted to know how many gallbladders the other man had to have such audacity.

Inside Luther Industries' underground laboratory, the blue flames of the incinerator emitted a low rumble. Two workers in protective suits were pushing in today's failed test subject.

"Number 47 failed again?" The young assistant looked at the humanoid creature on the cart.

The veteran employee, a cigarette dangling from his lips, waved his hand dismissively: "Burn it, burn it. The boss said all of these Kryptonian genetically modified bodies should be disposed of—"

The "corpse" on the cart suddenly opened its eyes.

“Ian Kent!”

The test subject sprang up abruptly, its rotting vocal cords emitting a high-pitched scream. Its eyeballs melted rapidly under the intense heat, yet it still managed to precisely grip the young assistant's protective mask.

"He's alive!—"

The young assistant was horrified.

The veteran employee reacted very quickly, kicking the cart.

The metal cart carrying the berserk experimental subject slid into the incinerator with a clang. As the furnace door closed automatically, they could still hear muffled shouts coming from inside.

“Ian Kent! I know you’re here—”

The incineration process started automatically, and the 3,000-degree high temperature instantly turned everything into smoke.

The young assistant slumped to the floor: "What...what was that thing?! Who is Ian Kent?"

The veteran employee took a deep drag on his cigarette, his trembling fingers crushing the butt flat: "Listen, kid, even though the boss has been out of contact for a few days, there are some taboos you still need to know."

He lowered his voice, "If you want to get paid this week, never mention the surname 'Kent' in our company again. Any boss who hears that surname will just make you disappear."

These words frightened the young employees.

And just then.

A muffled "thump" suddenly came from the ventilation duct.

The two of them craned their necks and looked up, seeing the vent cover vibrating rhythmically, as if something was crawling up from deep inside the pipe, and they could vaguely hear it.
".Kent Ian Kent"

The veteran employee threw down his cigarette butt and ran away.

"Damn it, it's a ghost! A ghost! I need a time off! I request a time off!!"

The young assistant froze for two seconds, then suddenly noticed a glowing handprint slowly appearing on the observation window of the incinerator—he too was terrified and fled in panic.

Only after running outside and relaxing did the young employee realize that his crotch was now damp. Inside the laboratory, after the corpse had completely lost its possibility of existence, the Goddess of Creation once again lost her body.

at the same time.

The invisible light flowed again toward the new corpse.

In an abandoned factory in the eastern part of the metropolis, gunshots crackled like popcorn. One gang was having a "friendly exchange" with another, bullets tracing beautiful parabolas in the air, occasionally interspersed with polite greetings like "Your mom was great last night."

Suddenly, all the gunfire stopped.

"Damn it." A bald, burly man with a skull tattoo pointed tremblingly to the corner. "Boss, isn't that...that traitor we just killed?"

In the corner, the corpse, whose head should have been blown apart, slowly sat up. Bullets clattered out of the bullet hole in her temple, like winning a prize in a slot machine.

The goddess of creation moved her chin in her new body, and the shattered jawbone snapped back into place with a crack. She looked around, her gaze quickly settling on a figure humming a song—

"Candied hawthorn berries~ Candied hawthorn berries~ One bullet on a skewer~"

A witch in a purple cloak was using magic to hang gang members one by one on streetlights, making it look like she was selling human flesh candied hawthorns from a distance. She hummed softly with each one she hung, a cheerful tune like a kindergarten teacher playing a game with children.

"you."

The goddess's voice caused the three nearest gang members to stop breathing on the spot. "A fortune teller?"

The witch's humming stopped abruptly. She slowly turned around and saw a corpse with half its head rotten floating towards her—floating in a physical sense.

Because the corpse's feet were still growing.

"Strictly speaking, I'm a witch, but I can indeed tell fortunes. I've bought quite a few fortune-telling books." The witch's "wand" stealthily pointed at the corpse's chest. "Madam? Are you sure you don't want to call an ambulance first?"

She's still quite bold and unfazed by what she's seen.

“I’m looking for Ian Kent.”

The goddess's rotting fingers swept across the air.

"To divine his position."

She is issuing orders.

The witch frowned, instantly becoming alert.

"What do you want with Ian Kent when you're a corpse with half your head rotten and now you've come back to life?" The witch leaned back tactically, her eyes full of wariness.

"I want to thank him for freeing me." The goddess tilted her head, her rotten head was healing rapidly, but her neck, which was not yet fully healed, almost fell off.

"He helped me a lot."

This is a very sincere expression.

Despite the somewhat condescending tone.

The witch's expression instantly changed from wary to knowing.

“Oh—you should have said so earlier! Ian is like this, he really likes to help strangers.” She casually pointed to the mushroom cloud still smoking in the distance, “He lives over there, yes, the one that blows up houses all the time. We all call it ‘Kent’s Chimney,’ he often sets mushrooms on fire at home for fun. It’s a pity he doesn’t want to take me with him.”

The witch's tone carried a hint of regret.

“Very good, you are very friendly.” The goddess turned to leave, but suddenly floated back. Her fully grown face came close to the witch's, so close that the witch could count the blood vessels in her eyes.

"You're human, right? A human woman?"

The goddess of creation spoke up to ask a question.

"Is it guaranteed to be replaced?"

The witch didn't know why she felt so insecure.

She felt a lot of pressure.

I barely managed to resist the urge to hit the other person on the head with my wand.

Do you know what the best way to get revenge on someone is?

The goddess of creation spoke up to ask a question.

"That depends on the person."

The witch tilted her head in response.

"For example, my husband who fell in love with someone else."

The goddess of creation spoke through gritted teeth.

The witch's eyes suddenly lit up. She grabbed the goddess's bloodstained wrist.

"Sis! I know the answer to this!" Her tone suddenly became like a best friend having a late-night chat. "You should sleep with the girl he's falling for! I've never used this trick before, but it's sure to work every time!"

The witch was thrilled and excited as the true nature of the "green tea" woman was revealed once again.

"Hmm, it seems you're actually a smart human after all." The Creator Woman hesitated for a moment, then patted the witch's head as if she were soothing a cat or dog.

She wanted to turn around and leave.

however.

The abnormal situation occurred again.

"boom!!!"

I saw.

In the sky, a Boeing 747 that had veered off course crashed precisely onto the goddess of creation. The shockwave threw the witch more than twenty meters, and when she scrambled to her feet, dazed, she saw only a tenaciously struggling arm protruding from the wreckage. However, the arm soon came to a standstill.

Because the goddess of creation was unharmed after being hit.

Miraculously, he became a vegetable, unable to move.

This scene.

Leaving aside the fleeing gang members, let's just talk about the extraordinary ones. It wasn't just the witch who was dumbfounded; there were others who were truly astonished as well.

Los Angeles.

[Los Angeles, Metropolitan Area, New York: Multiple bizarre deaths reported today! All victims shouted "Ian Kent" before their deaths!]

The news was playing on repeat. Lucifer, the second-best in the world, sat at the bar, a glass of tequila in his hand, his eyes glued to the television screen. The footage cut to a hospital, where surveillance footage showed an elderly woman, who should have been dying, suddenly springing up from her bed and shouting with a booming voice, "Ian Kent! Where are you?!" She then rushed out of the ward, only to be struck and killed by an ambulance.

"Oh! No!" Lucifer suddenly covered his face, or rather his eyes. His emotions were in turmoil. The wine in his glass rippled because of his trembling. At this moment, certain emotions overwhelmed his fear of his mother's escape.

The main fear is growing.

"I don't want to see this happen!"

Lu San Sui is online, wanting to become the master of hiding.

He is omniscient.

However, because he hadn't wanted to pay attention to it before, he didn't know what had happened in his mother's sealed room in that hellish place that made her so obsessed with Ian.

This truly terrified the Demon King.

"This is the seventh one today," the bartender remarked with interest as she wiped the glasses. "Your mother's quite persistent. The whole of Hell knows she's locked in the confessional, and now she's escaped, shouting a man's name all over the world..."

She paused, then gave a meaningful smile. "Isn't it obvious?"

The female demon had a very gossipy expression.

Lucifer looked as if someone had stuffed a mouthful of lemons into his mouth.

"No, things are definitely not what you think!"

Lucifer quickly denied it.

"Stop fooling yourself. Think about it. He only went to hell for one day. One day! I really want to know what kind of power he used to make your mother so obsessed with him?" The female bartender's tone was tinged with emotion.

"Don't shake your head. I'm trying to help you understand the situation. If you disagree, then explain why the first thing she does every time she resurrects is call his name. She didn't even intend to take revenge on you and me!"

The female bartender's eyes held a wisdom that seemed to see through everything.

"Shut up, Wheat!"

Lucifer suddenly looked up.

His eyes were bloodshot.

The terrifying pressure made the female bartender take a few steps back.

but.

She didn't intend to hold Lucifer's emotional outburst against her.

"Okay, I'll shut up. Anyway, it doesn't affect some people wanting to have another dad."

The female bartender with high emotional intelligence tossed the rag aside.

lol.

She pulled out her phone and started frantically filming the TV, perhaps preparing to mail the video to cathedrals around the world.

　There are over a thousand words in the middle that describe the resurrection, which are actually free words, so they are not superfluous. They were added later for free to enrich the plot and reach the 2-word update limit.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)