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

Chapter 167 Perfect Customer Service! God's wicked intentions never die!
Bats possess top-tier intelligence, comparable to DC's.

Bruce Wayne's mind raced faster than a car engine, and by the time he realized what information his intelligence had deciphered, it was too late—by the time he no longer wanted to believe in his own intelligence.

Gotham's daytime wasn't exactly dark, yet it still couldn't illuminate the ashen face of the Gotham Freak. The main culprit was the continued, clumsy voice of Ian Kent coming through the communicator in his hand.

"Brother Thomas is just too enthusiastic! Even though he didn't drink any fake alcohol, he still insisted on making me swear brotherhood with him. I postponed it three times in a row for Uncle Bruce's sake... In the end, Brother Thomas made such a fuss and threw a tantrum that I really had no choice but to accept his absurd request and become sworn brothers with him."

"To be honest, it feels a bit awkward for me to call Uncle Bruce 'Bruce's nephew.'" The emotionally intelligent Ian noticed that Bruce's mood was off.

So he began to express his intentions to Bruce, saying that in terms of seniority, he was willing to accept that each person should be treated differently, and that calling Bruce "uncle" would not prevent Bruce from calling him "uncle."

This is what is meant by the tolerance and concession of elders.

"?????????????" Bruce's face turned ashen, his fingers tightening on the armrests of his wheelchair, the high-grade carbon fiber creaking under the strain.

"I don't want to know what you're talking about." Batman's voice was no longer just low; it was also laced with gritted teeth. He truly wished he didn't know the truth about his father being in hell.

however.

Everything is too late.

Bat intelligence had already helped him understand everything; his brain, like Ian's, had its own thoughts, even if those thoughts were not accepted or acknowledged by the original body.

“I’m serious, Thomas is so enthusiastic, he even said he’d give Gotham to me.” Ian was talking non-stop, and every word he said contained at least a little bit of the truth.

The more Bruce Wayne listened, the more his head throbbed, and he snapped the emergency brake lever off his wheelchair. His breathing became heavy, while Ian continued his incessant chatter on the other end of the communicator.

Each word was like a pacemaker, slowly squeezing Bruce Wayne's heart. Every word Ian uttered possessed a terrifying lethality far exceeding that of the Joker. At this moment, Bruce Wayne realized that the Joker he was dealing with in Gotham might just be the uncolored Joker in a deck of cards.

The real "King" is in Metropolis! Bruce's finger hovered above the button to end communication, his knuckles white from the force. Three seconds later, he chose a more direct method—the entire communicator was slammed to the ground, shattering into pieces amidst the grotesque cries of the badly injured criminal who exclaimed that Batman was being incredibly wasteful.

"Ding Ding Ding ~"

Batman's spare phone rang. It was a text message from Ian, who wanted to prove his honesty and willingness to tell the truth. The message contained a photo and video that could be considered irrefutable evidence.

It was a photo of Thomas Wayne and Ian with their arms around each other, and a ten-second video played through an earpiece, allowing you to relive your dad's familiar voice.

“Bruce, my boy, you should listen to your Uncle Ian more often, okay?” Thomas Wayne had a hand on his shoulder, and he was smiling at Bruce Wayne off-camera.

Batman's gaze was fixed on the figure in the video, his fingers gripping the armrests of his wheelchair so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the force. The Thomas Wayne in the video was incredibly lifelike, down to the exact smile lines at the corners of his eyes—a relaxed smile that had never appeared in his childhood photo album.

The King of Gotham's expression and inner turmoil were complex, a mixture of joy at seeing his family again and unease and fear. His gaze was involuntarily drawn to the hand on Thomas Wayne's shoulder—just as Ian had predicted, Batman's uncontrolled intelligence had begun to analyze things involuntarily.

Bruce Wayne felt that even if his father didn't blink, he was definitely being threatened, and Thomas probably needed to befriend Ian for some reason.

This was what truly unsettled Bruce Wayne, something that probably kept him up all night even after taking ten sleeping pills. He knew all too well that no one who needed Ian's help could escape being taken advantage of by him.

This is even more terrifying than Ian actually enjoying blackmailing others; there's no solution.

"Clark Kent!"

It's unclear why he was silently chanting Superman's name in his heart. To prevent Ian's scheme from succeeding, even though Bruce Wayne's face was ashen and his hands were trembling with anger, he still didn't reply to Ian, because he knew that was the result Ian wanted.

"Click~"

The Bat-Man simply used his bat-like hands and bat-like strength to crush his spare phone into pieces. The phone twisted and deformed in his palm, the screen shattered, sparks flew from the circuit board, and it ultimately turned into a pile of scrap metal. At that moment, Bruce Wayne secretly resolved to prevent Ian from ever attempting to meet him again.

The bat-like intelligence, which was reluctant to be used, was still telling him the truth he didn't want to accept—that the devil always had a trick up his sleeve, and he could actually make him call Ian "Uncle Ian" in person.

Bruce Wayne felt his hell was about to descend. He didn't move or speak. In the alleyways of the street, only the low hum of the wheelchair's engine could be heard.

however.

The criminal's voice broke the silence.

"Batman, if you don't want your phone, you can give it to me. I'll put it on [Zhuanyu], the recycling platform of Ian's Greatest Tech Company. The secondhand price is much higher than your company's recycling price. On-site payment, privacy wipe, hassle-free and convenient. We buy smart digital products and gold luxury items at high prices, with a maximum repurchase bonus of 1280 yuan."

"Limited-time flash sale, up to 200 yuan off on top of the promotion, official verification, buy and sell with more confidence." Hugo Strange lay on the ground, earnestly persuading them.

Even having his legs crushed couldn't stop his concern for Batman. Of course, this was definitely a case of deliberately bringing up a sore spot, and Batman reacted as if his sensitive skin had been touched.

"Crunch—crunch—crunch—"

Bruce Wayne remained silent, only slowly turning his wheelchair and aiming it at one of his old rivals on the ground once more.

"Crunch—crunch—crunch—"

The wheel rolled over Hugo Strange's legs again and again, the sound of bones shattering echoing through the alley. He upgraded Hugo Strange's comminuted fracture package for free.

no way.

Dealing with old adversaries is always more violent than dealing with Gotham's rookie criminals, since old adversaries don't have rookie protection, and Batman knows that Hugo Strange can always fix his own legs.

"Oh, Batman... this silent rage is perhaps the reason I can never truly replace you..." Hugo Strange is a psychologist at Arkham Asylum, obsessed with studying Batman, and adept at manipulating others to achieve his own ends. He has impersonated Batman multiple times to satisfy his desires.

and so.

His current idol is Ian Kent, the boy whose true identity he also uncovered, and who realized how successful Kent was at portraying Batman.

now.

Hugo Strange wanted to manipulate Batman's psyche, and he succeeded in having Batman crush his legs. Afterward, he began to exert psychological influence on Batman.

“Look, look, when we were feeling down, we were all the same… Now, I’m just like you. I’m going to get myself a wheelchair when I get back.” Yes, that’s why he wanted to lose both his legs too, because Batman is currently in a wheelchair.

“360 mph? You’re too conservative. I can do better than you!” Hugo Strange looked at his broken legs with satisfaction. He was already using his Gotham Universal High Intelligence to build a blueprint for a wheelchair. He felt that he was one step closer to surpassing Batman.

"Shut up!"

Bruce Wayne was already used to Gotham's various villains, and he had even been through Ian's ordeal, so this "psychological attack" from his old rival didn't really have much of an impact on Batman.

The person on Earth most skilled in psychological warfare is undoubtedly that weird boy, followed by the Joker. Having silently ranked them in his mind, Bruce Wayne punched his incessantly talking opponent unconscious. After sending Hugo Strange back to where he belonged, he began frantically trying to distract himself.

no way.

Bruce Wayne didn't want his Bat Intelligence to start doing unnecessary work again after he had a moment's peace, so he "drove" his throne wheelchair and went on a crazy rampage in Gotham in broad daylight.

This is absolutely unprecedented.

Many villains have been thrown off balance by Batman's unconventional schedule.

Screams echoed across Gotham Pier.

this day.

A terrifying legend about a "wheelchair bat" began to circulate. Some said that Batman no longer used the Batmobile, but instead roamed the daytime in a wheelchair capable of crushing bones.

This legend quickly spread through black markets, bars, and slums, becoming a new symbol of fear. Meanwhile, new Gotham ghost stories began to circulate in Blackgate prison.

legend.

Batman, in his electric wheelchair, would repeatedly run over criminals until they could recite the entire history of Gotham City and hurl a hundred insults at Superman and his family. Because Batman was temporarily unwilling to use his Bat-like intelligence, he didn't realize that the photograph was just the beginning.

His decision to crush all his spare phones instead of checking his text messages caused him to miss the opportunity to prevent an even bigger "crisis"—a revolution in film and television was brewing on the internet.

A documentary about "The Fall of the King" is being uploaded to the "Documentary Section" of the "Superhero Popularity Center," and the distribution rights were immediately snapped up by a user named "I Want to Be Richer Than Bruce Wayne" for $300 million. It seems Green Arrow really enjoys being active online when he has nothing better to do.

The revamped Superhero Popularity Center now features a film and television channel, with three categories for users to upload their own videos: 3D, Chinese, and Documentary.

The review process for the "Domestic Zone" is the most demanding, as it is a legitimate website. However, ever since the fall of Heaven's Gate, a user named "Batman, Love Me Again" has been uploading ten million illegal fan-made videos of "Batman's Tragic Love Story" every day, suggesting that the power of some archangel has been misused.

of course.

Ian was unaware of this; he only discovered that the black box could not track the user's IP address, and the account could not be banned, so he had met a worthy opponent.

After fiddling with his phone for a bit, Ian continued his meeting. The fun of being a boss lies in holding meetings; what kind of boss are you if you don't hold meetings?

Putting aside the fact that his employees love working 24/7, he is already much better than most bosses. At least he doesn't hold meetings during employees' off-hours, but only during their working hours. To reiterate, the fact that the angels love working 24/7 has little to do with Ian.

They always felt that working a little longer would earn them more angel points. Ian had advised them to rest for at least half an hour, but the angels' reactions made Ian want to name them Xiangzi No. 1, Xiangzi No. 2, Xiangzi No. 3, and so on. The angels really still had a long way to go in terms of experiencing life.

Inside the New Paradise Technology Factory.

Ian's PUA session resembled a cult performance. Behind him was a huge holographic screen scrolling with the words "Strive! Fight! Persevere! Surpass!" The background music was an AI-remixed version of "Symphony No. 5," with the rhythm deliberately lengthened and each drumbeat as heavy as a heartbeat.

Ian picked up the microphone again.

The voice is deep and powerful.

"Angels!"

He spoke.

The sound instantly penetrated the entire factory.

"who are you?!"

There was no answer, only a silent wait.

"I ask you—who are you?!"

Ian's voice suddenly rose, almost roaring. This time, thousands upon thousands of angels responded in unison: "We are the light of the new heaven!"

The angels suppressed their shame and shouted as Ian had asked. They had definitely grown, and in any case, they would be much thicker-skinned after leaving the factory.

"No! You are not light, you are just angels fallen to earth!" Ian waved his hand abruptly, but instead of following the expected pattern, he turned around and pressed a button on the remote control. The holographic screen instantly switched to a series of tired human faces—programmers, cleaners, food delivery riders, and construction workers.

“Look at the products in your hands! The quality has improved, but the production speed is still not enough. I have put aside my pride and relied on the support of the younger generation to open up the market for your products.”

"And the result is that you have let down my efforts and sacrifices, and you have let down New Paradise."

“I’ve heard that some people are starting to slack off, thinking that the work is too hard. But compare yourselves to them. Are you really working too hard? You don’t have to be exposed to the scorching sun. You have air conditioning while you work, and there are brand-name snacks nearing their expiration date in the rest area. The mineral water you drink is all bottled by me from my dimension and is free of nuclear radiation.”

"Isn't this much happier than most humans? Angels, you can't only love your work when you have divine power! Look at your hands! That's not light, that's responsibility! That's mission! That's—the ultimate love for humanity! Every microwave oven you make means one more poor person can have one."

"And the Ministry of Science and Technology over there, although they don't have production equipment and raw materials for the time being, that's not a big problem. Humanity has gone from eating raw meat to technological prosperity. As angels, great angels, what's so difficult about you making a few F-35s by hand? I promised my grandfather that I would deliver ten F-35s to him by the end of the year!"

"If you can't make it, how will my grandfather take kickbacks? If my grandfather can't take kickbacks, how will I get the rebates he gives me? America's future—no, I just finished my history class today, I should say the future of the Earth depends on these ten F-35s. Listen to me, after you finish making the nuclear reactor, come and make this F-35."

“I know your divine power has recovered a little bit… Yes, I have spies everywhere in the factory. You can’t believe how quickly you betrayed your own people.”

"Now I understand why humans also possess these admirable virtues that capitalists find quite appealing." Ian offered some encouragement after his swift and decisive action.

"We want every product to be a gift from God! Every mobile phone to carry the will of angels! Every pair of headphones to play hymns from heaven!"

"Striving is not a choice, it's destiny!"

"Striving is not just a slogan, it's a daily practice!"

"Persistence is not a virtue, it's an instinct!"

"Effort is not a virtue, it is existence itself!"

"From today onward, we have only one goal—to make New Paradise Technology products used in every corner of the world, in every family, and in every soul!"

"This is how you show your love for humanity! God is watching us!" Ian said sincerely, prompting everyone to read the company slogan again.

He ignited the emotions in all five hundred angels.

"If you don't work hard today, Lucifer will laugh at you to your face tomorrow!" This is a real slogan. After all, for an excellent company, a slogan is definitely not just empty talk.

Lucifer was happy to take on this part-time job.

“Lucifer…”

Michael stood at the very end of the angelic formation, a pure white aura flowing between his palms, appearing extremely restrained. This archangel lowered his eyes, seemingly submissive, but his knuckles were clenched tightly.

The fingernails were almost embedded in the palm.

Ian's inflammatory speech still echoed in his ears, each "service upgrade" slogan like a thorn piercing his dignity as an archangel. He glanced at the brainwashed "white angel broadcasters" before him—their faces beaming with fanatical smiles, vying to show how hard they would work.

This situation distressed Michael. As a superior race, the angels were actually doing such things. He would never have even considered such a scene in the past.

however.

Fallen to the mortal world.

Everything has changed.

Even he could only passively accept reality. Michael roared inwardly. He had once commanded the heavenly army, yet now he was reduced to a salesman for this technological cult? No, he would fight back. He would climb to the top within Ian's rules, using even more extreme methods—not through divine power, but through cunning.

"Bottom-of-the-line performance? Absolutely not!"

Michael wanted to prove himself, that even without divine power, he was still the most outstanding angel. He couldn't help it; he could clearly sense that Ian truly possessed a divine aura.

It's true that the other person said he had tea with God in the morning—he's never had tea with God in his life, and perhaps his current experience is God's way of testing the angels.

Michael pondered in his heart, having already figured out how to increase his fame. A domineering CEO? No! As the most powerful angel in Heaven, he had a better plan!

Thinking like this.

Michael was full of confidence. Just as Ian's speech was coming to an end, an angel strode forward, his face plastered with a fawning smile he had only recently learned.

"The data for the first batch of home appliances from the 'Gratitude Series'—the greatest being under God, Ian, is out! The shelves at Walmart were emptied in almost three seconds!"

"Your strategy of giving away eggs with the purchase of home appliances is really clever." The sales angel was holding a tablet computer, which Ian took from her. On the screen, housewives were frantically grabbing microwave ovens with his smiling face printed on them in a supermarket. One old lady even knocked over a shopping cart with her cane.

"well done!"

Ian snapped his fingers.

The sales department's angels all received the "Little Red Flower" badge reward—which can be used to exchange for points. However, the angels' most direct feeling was that their glory seemed to be recovering faster.

"What products are currently on sale?" Ian had created many groundbreaking designs that were ahead of their time, so he wanted to know how much of his wisdom had been felt by the world.

Upon hearing this, the sales manager of Angel cleared his throat, "The feedback on the first batch of 'Gratitude' brand microwave ovens has been very good. The version that can start up in 30 seconds is the best-selling home appliance."

"Secondly, there's the Loyalty Bracelet, which is a new-era children's smartwatch with features like location tracking, calling, and homework reminders. But every night at 9 p.m., it automatically plays Ian's bedtime story."

"There's also the heated sofa with a 500-word praise letter written on the armrest. I see that the furniture stores are doing a great job with it. It can definitely be used in new energy vehicles. Combined with the solution you mentioned earlier, where devout believers can turn on the accelerator and floor it, it should also attract a lot of high-horsepower sports car users for you."

……

The sales manager of Angels gave a very detailed report, and Ian started imitating the Dragon King's crooked smile again.

"I only sell a microwave for ten dollars, what can other companies do to compete with me?" He felt his smile wasn't wicked enough, so he manually tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Now that his mouth is being pulled all the way to his ears, that's really enough to make the Dragon King furious.

“My savior angel, I also have a new product proposal.” The angels in the creative department weren’t really that useful to Ian, but they did give him a little surprise.

I saw.

A few angels awkwardly pulled out their product design.

It's a heated toilet. Every time the user says "Thank you, Ian, for giving me a good flush," the seat heats up by one degree. You also need to thank Ian for making your bottom clean when you wash it.

"..."

This is truly a case of the student surpassing the teacher. Ian doesn't particularly like the divine power gained in this kind of atmosphere, but it's not entirely impossible to try releasing a niche product.

"Let's focus on new energy vehicles next. I found the real new energy last night... You guys design the in-car navigation system first, and I hope to guide every car owner in the right direction."

"By the way, at the farm, I also want people all over the world to be able to eat real one-dollar fried chicken. You guys need to speed up your research on how to modify the [Pious Chicken]." "Make good use of the little bit of divine power you've regained!" After giving instructions on the production direction, Ian remembered his promise to God, so he hurriedly left the factory.

The remaining angels busily resumed production. Black angels, white angels—anyone who worked was a good angel, and even Michael returned to his livestream.

"Family! The microwave oven at the New Paradise Factory is only ten dollars! Can you hear me? Ten dollars! Add one dollar, and while your microwave is running, you can hear us singing for you!"

"Limited to 10,000 units, getting one is a true reward!"

"Now I want to recommend this praise sofa. Just sincerely praise the company's boss for thirty seconds, and it will activate the massage chair mode!"

True comfort is the reward of faith!

"No, I'm really not a shill. I'm just recommending this product to my family. Order now and receive a signed photobook as a gift!"

……

The live-streaming e-commerce model has arrived in the world.

Led by Ian.

Angels are the leading actors.

Their outstanding looks make them a natural fit for this industry.

Michael listened to the commotion in the surrounding live streams and sneered. He decided to join this race because his archangelic wisdom had led him to discover a bug in the human world.

"Family members, I have something to tell you..." He turned on the microphone, his voice clear and firm, but at the last moment, it suddenly changed gently.

"Actually, I am a girl."

Michael used his limited divine power to confirm his gender in the real world. He had already investigated and found that the female streamers who skirted the edge of the rules received the most donations and support.

now.

He invested his divine power, determined to become a leader and reap truly greater rewards. He possesses a face even more beautiful than a stunningly handsome man; using that face to become a domineering CEO would be utterly foolish. He should use this asset to cross-dress as a female anchor—that's the only way to truly grasp the essence of humanity!
"Don't panic, everyone. Really, really, I have a big bulge here. How could I possibly be a man dressed as a woman?" It's clear that Michael has indeed lived a second life.

Mijiale has officially launched.

……

Walmart, Carrefour, Sam's Club.

Crowds surged like a tide in front of the shelves of major supermarkets.

"Mommy! That TV screen is so clear! I can even see people's pores!" A little girl in a faded coat tugged at her mother's clothes, her face flushed red.

"Shall we buy that one?"

The girl looked at her mother pleadingly.

"A special price of $99?"

The mother stared at the price tag in disbelief, her fingers trembling slightly. The old television had broken down three years ago, and they had been listening to the news on a radio given to them by a neighbor.

High taxes, six children, three jobs a day, and various insurance expenses have already exhausted this family, making it difficult to even hope for any spare money in this day and age.

The eldest daughter even had to work part-time while at school.

Fortunately, there are kind-hearted rich kids at the middle school offering low-interest lunch bags, so the middle school children aren't malnourished. This mother had wanted a new TV for a long time.

however.

The reality is that even with hard work, you can't afford to support your family. Who would have thought that a new 4K high-definition TV could be had for just $99?

If you don't have enough money, you can even use the manufacturer's "Praise Loan"!
“Okay! We’ll buy one! And a microwave, an electric kettle… oh, and even Grateful brand sanitary napkins!” She finally had the confidence to respond to her youngest daughter’s cravings.

"Honey, let's go pay." Like most consumers, this housewife felt it was unreal to get high-quality goods at a low price when she was short of money.

It was like pizza falling from the sky.

Long lines formed at the checkout counters, each person's shopping cart piled high with gleaming "New Paradise Made" products—washing machines that could play hymns, smart rice cookers that could say "Ian bless you." As long as the discounts were good enough, these people weren't averse to turning on their devices to listen to speeches and praising a stranger.

Not to mention there are free eggs to collect.

People all over the world are the same.

It's worth noting that eggs, an everyday commodity, are a rare commodity in America for several months each year.

"This price is practically free!" A college student excitedly held up his newly purchased "Loyalty" brand laptop. "The specs are even better than the flagship models, and it's only 199!"

His friend looked down at the instruction manual.

"I just have to write a 100-word praise diary entry every day and save it on my desktop. But it doesn't matter!" He grinned. "Anyway, the thesis is just made up, so what's a few more compliments?"

Young people are more receptive to it. In the dilapidated apartment, a little girl and her mother carefully carried the new television onto the coffee table. The moment the switch was pressed, the screen lit up with a soft golden light.

[Please state the activation code: Thank you for your kindness, Lord Ian]

The mother cleared her throat: "Thank you, Lord Ian, for your kindness?"

"Ding! Authentication successful!"

Suddenly, the TV started playing cheerful music, and an audio message announced today's special offer: watch "Ian's Wisdom Lecture" for ten minutes or more and enjoy a free one-day premium channel membership.

"We have a new TV! And we can watch pay-TV cartoons!"

The little girl cheered and ran into her mother's arms.

The mother stroked her daughter's soft hair, her eyes welling up with tears. She didn't know who Ian was, but at that moment, she was genuinely grateful to this stranger.

the other side.

Retired teacher Robert was troubled by his newly bought "Qianxin" brand smart air conditioner remote control. He squinted his presbyopia, unable to find the temperature adjustment button.

"Fine, I'll try customer service."

He dialed the 24-hour hotline listed in the instruction manual. The elderly teacher had lived in this area for many years, and he expected to wait half an hour, but the call was answered almost instantly.

Moreover, the man opposite them wasn't speaking with an Indian accent, but rather a man speaking with an Indian accent who was pretending to be a woman.

"Hello~ This is New Paradise, Ian's greatest technology, customer service Xiao Nuan is at your service~" A sweet female voice, like honey melting in the sunlight, came through.

"Your breathing sounds a bit rapid. Is the air conditioner malfunctioning?" The other person was clearly not using a voice changer; their voice was genuinely sweet as honey, and for some reason, it had a comforting quality.

They might even make jokes.

"You... can remotely know what problem I'm encountering?"

He became somewhat wary.

The daily life of an America conspiracy theorist begins with the frantic worry that their information is being collected by a mysterious big data system and then used for illegal activities.

"Of course not. There are no surveillance cameras in the air conditioner, and it doesn't transmit data online. I just understand you. Please trust our professional training."

The customer service representative spoke in a very playful tone.

"Come on, I'll teach you three steps to turn off night mode. By the way... would you like to hear a bedtime story? I know you haven't been sleeping well lately."

The service was so good that the retired teacher felt like he wasn't living in America. He never imagined that customer service could make a customer so happy just by talking about how to use a product.

Ten minutes passed, and the old teacher not only learned all the functions, but also chatted with Xiao Nuan about work pressure, his deceased wife, and the cat he kept that always scratched the sofa.

The customer service representative is a great listener and knows how to comfort people.

"Please press and hold the little heart on the remote control, yes, the one with my new boss's smiling face on it." The customer service representative chuckled, offering advice to the lonely old man.

Robert did as instructed.

The air conditioner immediately blew out warm air with the scent of gardenias.

"Oh my god!"

He stared in surprise.

"You really understand me! This is the flavor my late husband loved the most." The old teacher looked incredulous. He suddenly realized that he might really have been out of touch with the times for too long.

The development of technology may not be such a bad thing.

"Of course I understand you~ You signed the authorization form, so I understand your spouse too. If I don't understand you, then no one else will." The customer service representative's voice was as gentle as if coaxing a child. "Our service motto is 'Thinking of what you think!' By the way, it's going to get colder in your hometown tomorrow, remember to switch to—"

"Wait!" Robert suddenly interrupted, speaking somewhat shyly, "Do you... offer a paid chat service? Like, the kind where you chat occasionally?"

The older teacher was clearly embarrassed to say such a thing. It wasn't because he was a lecherous old man and felt ashamed, but because lonely people always want someone to listen to their troubles.

Society is too cold these days. You might live with your neighbors for years without exchanging more than a few words. And America's neighbors weren't actually as warm as she had imagined when she immigrated from Germany. When she complained about her life, the neighbors would only offer superficial comfort while secretly criticizing her for being rude.

Even when you go to the hospital to see a doctor and tell them about your pain, the doctor will charge you extra for emotional distress. America's society is like this: seemingly warm on the surface, but cruel underneath.

There's a reason why America's paid chat phone service is thriving to this day. This isn't the country the old man envisioned when he participated in the atomic bomb program, but what could he do? He could only leave his original research institution and become a physics teacher at a university.

His resistance was futile.

This is also the reason for their current downfall.

"Would you like to chat with me more?"

Regarding the elderly person's request.

A light laugh came from the other end of the phone.

"No need to pay~ I've learned a bit about you based on the questionnaire you filled out, so you'll have plenty of time to chat with me in the future~"

The customer service representative even knew that the elderly woman had about three more years to live, but she had received professional training and did not reveal this information. Little did the elderly teacher Robert know that at that moment, the so-called "customer service representative Xiao Nuan" on the other end of the phone was waving her goat hooves and using her tail to curl a pen and tick off items on the "premium customer" list.

Behind her, in the customer service center, hundreds of demons wore headphones and spoke the most tender words in the gentlest voices—the electronic screen on the wall scrolled through the service guidelines set by Ian.

[First tip: You can contact the customer's deceased relatives and do everything in your power to make each customer feel that you are their long-lost friend.]

Ian outsourced his customer service to the devils of hell. Of course, the customers were unaware of this; they only knew that they received high-quality customer service.

This is actually a win-win employment opportunity for the demons. Perhaps only Batman is hurt; in a dark monitoring room in Gotham, Batman is unhappy.

“These customer service representatives…” Bruce Wayne’s fingers tapped out an almost violent rhythm on the keyboard, his black cloak hanging down on either side of his wheelchair like a pair of broken wings.

The supercomputer in the Batcave hummed, and countless communication link analysis diagrams flickered on the holographic projection screen. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the communication path.

The terminal for all customer service calls is unknown.

Bruce frowned as his wheelchair rolled over the scattered batarangs on the ground.

“It’s impossible to be completely without a trace! Unless it really came from hell—” He wheeled himself back and forth in the bat cave, his voice muffled, his pupils flickering beneath his mask.

Alfred gracefully set down the tea tray.

"Young master, would you like to try the old-fashioned method?"

He pulled out an antique rotary dial telephone.

"Should we just ask that 'Uncle Ian'?"

The old butler was also making jokes.

After all, there's nothing more satisfying than knowing your best friend is doing well, even if it's hell. But isn't Gotham just another hell?

It's perfectly reasonable that his master is thriving in hell.

"Go ask him."

Bruce's knuckles turned white from clenching his fists, but he still chose to compromise. Of course, he wouldn't personally call Ian to ask how he managed to do it.

This requires a middleman.

Avoid things that keep you up at night.

The call was connected surprisingly quickly.

The old butler coughed lightly and repeated Bruce Wayne's doubts.

Get a response.

He considerately covered the microphone and whispered towards the wheelchair.

"What did that child ask you?"

Isn't this a modern version of burying one's head in the sand?

“Ask him how he established this connection with Hell.” Batman’s voice still had that bubbly quality, but there was a hint of helplessness in it. Alfred perfectly repeated the question, even retaining the original’s gritted teeth. Ian’s exaggerated gasp came from the other end of the phone.

He gave an answer.

The old butler's expression froze for a second.

His expression was very strange.

"What did that guy say?"

Batman couldn't help but ask a question.

The old butler hesitated for a moment before giving an answer.

He said, "Don't ask, the answer is—Wayne Technology."

The bat cave suddenly became eerily quiet.

Alfred witnessed the miracle of human body temperature firsthand—his young master turned tomato red from his neck to the tips of his ears at a speed visible to the naked eye, and the armrests of his wheelchair emitted a metallic groan of fatigue.

"Young...Young Master? Your gloves are smoking. Oh, no, Young Master, don't cry! You haven't cried in so long...Can I go get a camera?"

That day, Batman seemed to have returned to his youth, like a child. Inside the Batcave, Red Heat and psychic energy erupted simultaneously, causing chaos throughout the entire underground base.

Meanwhile, Ian was riding on the roof of a Hellcat, enjoying the metropolitan afternoon. The car drifted to a stop in front of the church; he had wanted to have a final conversation with God about the details.

however.

Something unexpected happened.

Ian saw his older brother Jonathan come out of the church.

Happy smiling.

He was still clutching a statue of God in his hand. Ian was also a man of extraordinary intelligence, so he suddenly had a flash of inspiration and, like his uncle Batman before him, was completely frozen in place.

"Oh! No!"

Ian's super brain was telling him.

Something terrible is happening!

Old Deng is a lazy bum!
I want to use a ready-made belt!

(End of this chapter)