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

Chapter 174 Chaos Invasion! The Devil Descends!
The Paradoxical Lady spoke with a certain firmness.

There was absolutely no room for negotiation.

It was as if I were stating an ending that had to be achieved.

“You also have a responsibility to guide him to his end. You are death itself, and you shouldn’t have your own preferences.” The woman spoke softly, the shadow under her umbrella swaying slightly.

It was as if countless afterimages of timelines were constantly surging and emerging within it.

"Hmph, lecturing?"

Miss Death's smile gradually turned cold.

The temperature in the studio suddenly dropped to freezing point, and the various biological specimens on the display shelves began to tremble restlessly. The eyeballs suspended in the glass jars all turned towards the woman in the white dress.

"You want to give Ian Kent a destined death?"

Miss Death repeated the word softly, her fingertips tracing her lips as if savoring some unfamiliar taste. "Darling, you seem to have misunderstood something."

"Who should live and who should die is never your decision... Standing here, who do you think you're talking to?" Her voice was no longer languidly sweet.

Instead, it transformed into the deep bass of millions of souls roaring simultaneously. The black veil of Lady Death fluttered without wind, and the concept of death swept over her like a black tide, heading straight for Lady Paradox, the Lord of Time.

In Miss Death's realm, all life will eventually end, and all existence will eventually return to nothingness—she is not a killer, she is the embodiment of the end.

"The erosion of death?"

The woman in the white dress's pupils contracted slightly, but her stance remained as steady as a rock. The runes on the umbrella flickered wildly, resisting the corrosive power of death.

The air between the two began to distort, and the laws of time and death clashed violently at that moment.

Miss Death wasn't using her full strength.

She made a series of probes.

as predicted.

The tangible concepts turned to ashes the moment they touched the edge of the umbrella, and the shadow cast by the umbrella seemed to form its own world, isolating the concept of death from it.

That seemingly ordinary black long-handled umbrella might actually be the Paradox Lady's greatest asset. The Death Lady's attacks were like mud sinking into the sea, swallowed, distorted, and reversed by the "paradoxical space" beneath the umbrella.

Her power not only failed to reach the Paradoxical Lady, but was instead reflected as a "resurrection force," causing a character who had long since died to open his eyes again in a broken mirror.

"Tsk."

Miss Death's expression grew even colder.

"You dodged quickly."

As she spoke, she raised her hand again and closed the lucky man's eyelids, allowing the briefly resurrected lucky man to return to where he belonged.

"Calm down, I hope you can calm down."

The Time Lord's voice still carried a forced calm.

"Believe me, I'm absolutely not here to provoke you. I'm just doing what I have to do—fulfilling a promise." She slightly lifted the edge of the umbrella, revealing her delicate jawline.

There is a golden crack there, flowing with the energy of time.

"So you think you can convince me?"

Miss Death suddenly smiled.

"Time Lord...you are using a power that does not belong to you. It may be able to temporarily isolate me from your influence, but you and I will eventually meet at the end of your life."

She didn't make any further moves, but instead probed the power represented by the umbrella. It contained many universes and timelines, and it was this "moat" that blocked her invitation.

“My life is stuck in a bug, so that time will never come,” the Paradoxical Lady said softly, her tone neither boastful nor wistful.

"Oh?"

The walls of the studio began to melt, revealing an endless void behind them, where countless undead slept—Ms. Death floated to the same height as Ms. Paradox.

She tilted her head slightly, a hint of amusement flashing in her dark pupils.

"interesting."

Miss Death did not deny the other party's statement. It is unknown what she observed, but her fingertips lightly traced the surface of the umbrella, leaving a scorching mark that emitted black smoke.

“I can sense that you’re afraid of Ian Kent, but you don’t hate him, yet you want him dead… It’s really contradictory.” Her voice suddenly took on a mocking tone.

"If you want him dead, you shouldn't be asking me, but rather seeking out the one who truly decides everything. What? Don't you have the courage to confront our Creator?"

Miss Death's tone was incredibly playful.

The shadow under the umbrella swayed slightly.

The Paradox Lady's golden pupils shimmered behind her veil, and grains of time trickled down from the cracks at the corners of her eyes.

"This is an agreement with only one possible ending."

Her voice was as calm as if she were announcing a given fact.

Miss Death suddenly moved closer, so close that she could see the foundation clinging to the other person's eyelashes.

"With whom was the promise?"

Her breath formed frost flowers on her veil.

"Could it be that old guy who's always patching up the timeline?"

Miss Death chuckled.

The woman in the white dress silently turned the umbrella handle, and countless projections of the universe appeared and disappeared on the umbrella surface.

"You can't stop me."

She finally spoke, her voice echoing, "Soon, God will disappear, and I will step forward and personally deliver Ian Kent's destined death."

Suddenly, a dazzling golden light burst forth from the tip of the umbrella.

The influence of Miss Death's words was dispelled. Suddenly, the studio's windows shattered simultaneously, countless shards floating in the air, each reflecting a different scene of death.

Ian struggled at the edge of the black hole, was pierced by a kryptonite spear, and vanished in a time paradox... Suddenly, Miss Death reached out and crushed the nearest piece of glass into dust.

"My dear, it seems you've forgotten who the embodiment of death truly is?" Her black gauze gloves were covered in glistening shards as she spoke with unwavering disdain to the Time Lord before her.

"What if I say no to your request?" Miss Death's black glove suddenly rose and pressed down on the other person's umbrella, and the somewhat surprised Paradoxical Lady finally let out a muffled groan.

But he still held the umbrella handle very firmly.

The studio seemed to be plunged into endless darkness.

Only the umbrella still emitted a faint light, illuminating the Paradoxical Lady's delicate jawline. She slightly raised her head, her golden pupils appearing like two shrunken suns in the darkness.

“I know you’ll agree.” She raised her left hand and gently placed it on Miss Death’s chest. “After we’ve gone to the end of time together.”

Before Death could speak with great interest, the woman in the white dress suddenly looked up and shouted.

"TARDIS! Now!"

The words fell.

The blue police booth on the ceiling suddenly lit up with a blinding light, and the rotating police lights released huge force field ripples. The entire death workshop began to shake violently, and the glass specimens on the display shelves began to shatter one after another. The glass shards floated in the air, each reflecting the silhouettes of two women facing each other.

How dare you—

Miss Death's furious roar was drowned out by the buzzing of dimensional jumps.

Countless golden streaks of light projected from the British police box, enveloping the entire space like a spiderweb. With the final flash, the studio and the police box underwent a kind of leap.

The police booth, the small shop, Miss Death, Lady Paradox… everything vanished without a trace. The dimensional rift returned to silence, as if no one had ever spoken there.

Along with the figures of the two supreme beings, they were completely erased from the sight of all observers.

Inside Gotham's Batcave.

Clark's pupils contracted sharply, and he lost sight of the dimensional rift he had been peeking into. Not only that, but after withdrawing his gaze, Clark felt a slight strain in his eyes from overusing them.

“They disappeared. I can’t hear what they were saying. But the two women had an argument and now they’ve disappeared from my sight together, as if they’ve done some kind of spatial jump.”

Clark's ears haven't evolved to that level yet, so it's like he's watching a silent film, or at least one where his field of vision is limited and he can't use his lip-reading talent.

“My tracking didn’t work either.” Bruce looked up from the console, his fingertips rapidly swiping across the holographic projection. Dozens of monitoring screens projected based on superhuman bio-science simultaneously flashed “signal lost” warnings. He seemed thoughtful, then performed some more operations on the console.

“They’re not invisible. The force field fluctuations indicate that they may have already left this universe.” Bruce Wayne finished speaking and stopped the pointless investigation.

The existing bat technology is still somewhat insufficient.

“Clark, you should find a way to further evolve your eyes.” Bruce Wayne knew that improving his bat technology in a short period of time would be troublesome.

The best approach is to urge and remind Superman to evolve quickly. Just as Superman treats Batman as his external brain, isn't Superman also part of Batman's Battechnology?

As I said before, this is probably what true friends are like.

"With great power comes great responsibility." Bruce said without changing his expression, borrowing Ian's famous quote, "Since you can see the dimensional rifts, you should be able to see even further, such as all the multiverses, or even beyond the multiverses, the fictional universe depicted in Ian's comics."

"Then I'll acknowledge that you're a true superman."

Batman uses his superb bubble voice to spur Clark on.

"..."

Looking at Bruce's serious face, Clark suddenly had an urge to shove kryptonite down his throat, but thankfully he was now completely sober.

The alcohol taste is gone.

Even if you want to pretend to be drunk, you just need that one perfect opportunity.

"Stop with the sweet talk. The most important thing right now is to find out who that woman is. My gut feeling tells me she's not a 'good person'."

Inside the Batcave, a red and blue cloak draped across the cold metal floor, its shadow intertwining with the bat emblem. Clark Kent stood before the control panel, his brow furrowed.

His gaze lingered once more in the direction of that "disappeared dimension."

“If intuition worked, the world wouldn’t need investigation, analysis, research, or reasoning.” Bruce Wayne stood in front of the terminal, his fingers flying across the keyboard, expressing his distrust of Clark’s intuition without even looking up. That’s understandable; Batman only trusts his Bat-intuition.

"Then what do you think?"

Clark turned to look at Bruce Wayne.

“If you want the answer, you’ll have to let me see your brain.” Upon hearing this, Bruce stopped what he was doing again, slowly turned around, and locked his gaze on Clark like a probe.

"Using this as an excuse to study me again, huh?" Clark sighed, but resignedly stood up. His exceptional vision allowed him to see from his seat that Batman had already activated a certain device.

This means that the other party wasn't actually asking for my opinion.

“Ian has always praised the Kent family’s super intelligence, and it’s truly well-deserved.” Bruce added a little emotional value, then led Clark to a newly revealed device in the corner, one that Clark had never seen before—the machine was shaped like a metal chair, with a complex neural interface helmet connected to the top, covered with shimmering quantum nodes.

"When did you build this thing?" Clark sat on the device that looked like it came straight out of a science fiction movie, letting Bruce put the helmet on him. But the moment the helmet was on, he couldn't help but ask, "When you were probing Barry's dreams before, did you realize that one day you would need to probe my memories and dreams?"

It has to be said that after all these years, Superman is still that innocent young man. Upon hearing this, Bruce's fingers paused for a moment on the connector.

“Clark, do you remember the first time we met?” He looked up, answering a question that seemed unrelated to the one he was asking. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, appeared exceptionally deep in the dim light.

Clark hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded.

"You beat me up so badly, of course I can't forget it." He gave the embarrassed Batman a death stare, and Batman quickly shook his head, saying it wasn't this time.

He guided Clark to recall, and Clark finally realized the truth.

"Oh, right, if we're talking about our first informal meeting, I remember it was on a cruise ship. I was on vacation at the time and was assigned to the same cabin as you on the same cruise ship. Thinking about it now, that might not have been a coincidence." Clark hadn't lived in vain all these years.

We have made some progress in utilizing our super brain.

“Yes, that was many years ago.” Bruce Wayne replied with deep emotion as he continued adjusting the instrument’s wiring.

"So, it was around that time that you had already built these instruments targeting me?" Clark asked thoughtfully, his tone somewhat speechless.

"Do not."

Bruce Wayne shook his head.

“It was a little before that… probably when you were still in college.” Batman continued the call, revealing a secret he had kept buried for many years.

"."

Clark was certainly caught off guard.

It felt as if ten thousand alpacas with bat heads were galloping through my mind.

"What does this have to do with our first meeting?" He rolled his eyes in annoyance and looked at Batman with a strange tone, while Batman continued to work on his circuitry.

"It's not really a big deal, but I just wanted to remind you of our years of friendship, so you won't get too angry about it." Batman's voice remained calm.

Clark paused for a moment again.

A warm feeling suddenly welled up in my heart.

Just as he was about to marvel at how Batman actually cared about other people's feelings,

Batman added another sentence.

“Getting angry will affect the operation of this machine.” Batman arranged the wiring, walked to the control panel, and gestured to Clark with his eyes to sit still and not move.

"..."

Clark's smile froze, his fists clenched instantly. Batman hadn't used his fists, but had shattered his dream of friendship with just a single sentence, which truly made him grit his teeth.

Of course, unlike Ian, Clark was good at assessing the situation. Because he was wearing the other party's device and was worried about retaliation, he could only show a very forced smile.

"let's start."

Clark sighed softly, deciding that once everything was over, he would pretend not to see Ian moving Wayne Enterprises' satellite orbit to the far side of the sun when Ian launched the satellite.

A real man's revenge is so silent.

"Ah."

Bruce Wayne, whose Bat Intelligence failed to detect the Dark Superman's thoughts immediately, did not succeed in reading his mind. After giving him a hint, he immediately started the refurbished old machine.

moment.

Clark felt a moment of disorientation.

The memory projection began to play—Batman's pupils contracted slightly. On the screen, in Clark's dimension of consciousness, countless starlight streaked past as he plummeted, passing through layers of fragmented spacetime. And at the edge of that void, the woman in the white dress stood silently, a mysterious smile playing on her lips beneath her veil.

He certainly noticed the familiarity of that smile.

The instrument stopped operating.

Clark took off his helmet.

"So? Any discoveries?"

Superman noticed Bruce Wayne's changing expression and asked him a question with some unease, but Bruce Wayne did not answer him immediately.

The Gotham Freak kept his eyes on the recorded memories, but he didn't dwell on the woman's smile. Instead, he zoomed in on the umbrella she was holding, as if he had discovered something.

No one knew what information he had noticed, but when Clark looked over, he immediately deleted the recording backup file from his computer.

Some files are simply sealed away in Bruce Wayne's own mind.

That was the safest archive room.

The memory palace, which Sherlock Holmes was so proud of, was used to perfection not only by the Lord of Gotham, but also by some of Gotham's little-known villains.

"what happened to you?"

When Clark walked over, he only saw a blank control screen. Batman was staring at the screen, seemingly deep in thought, and even his philtrum was furrowed.

This is much harder than frowning.

Bruce stared at the screen, remaining silent for a long time.

After Clark shook him, asking if he was being disturbed by something again and threatening to find a crowbar to crack open his skull and see if there was any new extraterrestrial contamination inside, Bruce Wayne, who knew that Superman's jokes only accounted for 49%, immediately forced himself to break free from thinking.

"Do you think it's possible that Ian Kent has a twin sister?" He slowly turned around, his gaze sharp as a knife, staring directly at Clark, who was already testing the crowbar.

Here with Batman.

Clark's decisiveness was always earnest.

"What? Why are you suddenly asking this?" Clark looked slightly disappointed as he saw Bruce Wayne speak human language again. He threw away the crowbar he had used to scare Batman and was somewhat bewildered.

"Something strange has been discovered."

Under Clark's watchful gaze, Bruce Wayne offered only a brief explanation, without going into detail about the reason for his discovery of something strange.

He'll get his head smashed by Clark sooner or later; he's definitely not innocent. "The Riddler, huh? Gotham style, huh?" Clark was used to Batman's personality; he knew he could crack the other man's skull but not his mouth.

He pondered for a moment, about to say that he couldn't answer the question either, but felt it was unlikely. A very clear and violent tremor came from underground.

Even an ordinary person could feel that commotion.

"earthquake?"

The thought only flashed through Bruce Wayne's mind before he immediately dismissed the possibility of an earthquake, while Clark had already used his vision to see through the underground.

It's too late.

Suddenly, the floorboards bulged, sending rubble and dust flying everywhere. Batman and Superman both took a step back, speechless as they watched the collapsing ground. The next moment, a mud-covered hand emerged from the ground, followed by messy black hair, and finally a smug, disheveled face.

"Haha! I knew the mere foundations of Gotham couldn't stop me!" Ian Kent crawled out of the hole, dusted himself off, and exuded a mix of pride and dishevelment, like someone returning from a long expedition.

There were still fragments of alloy remaining in his mouth. Clearly, Bruce Wayne's alloy foundation was inferior to God's eternal foundation, and it only ended up crunching in Ian's mouth.

It tastes almost as good as dim sum cookies.

[Entropy Annihilation Lord Experience Points +21]

[Entropy Annihilation Lord Experience Points +19]

[Entropy Annihilation Lord Experience Points +23]

……

Ian knew that he would always be warmly received when he came to Batman's house.

He emerged from the ground, his mouth full of genuine steel scraps, and, thirsty, looked around, hoping to find some fitness drinks that couldn't be bought elsewhere.

“Uncle Bruce, your Uncle Ian needs your help. Quickly make me an iron crotch that even God can’t open. I know that if you really want to make one, you can definitely make one.”

While searching for a small drink, Ian tried to manipulate Bruce Wayne. He was genuinely terrified; heaven knows what would happen if the Goddess of Creation really did come after him.

And what if God, in a fit of anger, wanted to sleep with him again—that would mean Ian would be slept with twice, and he didn't want that kind of sexual harassment to happen to him.

If Bruce can get out of his wheelchair so quickly, then Bruce will surely be able to perform the Batman miracle and create the iron crotch that Ian wants. This is Ian's respect for Batman!

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +88]

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +96]

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +87]

……

However, after taking the opportunity to drink a lot of small beverages, Ian noticed the atmosphere in the room—Clark Kent sat in a chair, his cloak dull and his eyes tired.

Bruce Wayne stood in front of the control panel, expressionless, watching as Ian drank many of his poisons as if they were enhancement drugs. However, he did not get to see Ian collapse and spit bubbles as he had hoped.

This boy.

After drinking the poison, he became even more energetic.

"Wait! Dad, what are you doing here? My black box tells me this is a secret garden known only to Batman, a place he uses to hide from pests and the like." Ian saw Bruce and his father, and in shock, he quickly asked.

"Dad! Are you having a secret rendezvous with Batman behind Mom's back?" After all, living in the free United States, Ian had to consider the worst-case scenario.

This is the way of thinking that "The Guide to Getting a Head" taught him.

"????"

"?????"

Clark and Batman both reacted quite strongly, their expressions quite entertaining. Batman wanted to create a real sewing machine to sew Ian's mouth shut, while Clark simply slapped himself on the forehead.

A crisp sound, the kind that comes from a good brain, filled the air. Clark didn't want to answer that kind of question, so in response to Ian's persistent questioning, he could only point to the large bed in the room.

Louise, drunk, was fast asleep on top of it.

"!!!!!!"

Ian reacted strongly, almost jumping up to the ceiling. His questioning stopped abruptly as he finally noticed Louise, who was lying unconscious on the bed.

this moment.

Ian, who had always thought his parents were very traditional, was stunned. However, before he could even utter a nuclear blast, Batman had already silently slipped to the front door, his finger about to touch the emergency escape button. Seeing that the Batman was about to escape, Ian used Tyrant's Leap to instantly block his path.

“I knew I heard that earlier! Someone said they wanted to have a sister for me! Damn Uncle Bruce! Are you hiding from your Uncle Ian because you're too ashamed to face anyone?”

Ian was truly furious.

Fortunately, Clark immediately explained the situation, clarifying the whole story, which prevented Ian, who wanted to protect his family's happiness, from jumping up and ripping Bruce Wayne's head off. Clark didn't know if Bruce Wayne had any backup plans; he just didn't want Ian to clash with Batman because of a misunderstanding.

"So that's how it is... A mysterious woman... stole my smile, but didn't pay me any royalties. These days, I have to pay to post an emoji."

Ian's expression gradually became serious.

However, his focus was clearly not on the right thing.

"That's not the point, is it?"

Clark sighed and looked at his youngest son.

"Yes, yes, the main point is that I failed to save God's marriage. The Goddess of Creation is looking for me all over the world. The most urgent thing is to get Uncle Bruce to make an invincible iron crotch for his Uncle Ian." Ian reacted instantly and wanted to slap Bruce on the head, but Bruce dodged it.

"Could you please stop calling me 'uncle' all the time?"

Bruce Wayne is just as exhausted as Clark. To be fair, if Ian were truly wicked and wanted to do something really bad, he could still find a way to punish him.

Unfortunately, the boy only wanted to be an uncle and had no other evil intentions whatsoever, which made Bruce Wayne, who knew the other party was not lying, feel like he had met his nemesis.

By contrast.

My own little rascal is just so innocent, pure, and naive!
"An iron crotch that even God can't open? Aren't you overestimating me? To be honest, make your wish on someone else. I think your old man is pretty good."

"Let him try his best to evolve an iron crotch for you to inherit." Bruce Wayne was already studying Ian's brain circuitry, and now he was trying to get closer to it.

however.

Ian tilted his head and thought for a moment.

Suddenly, he pulled out a handful of colorful alchemy materials from his pocket: "Then I'll go find Brother Thomas! He can definitely make it, after all, older bats are more chewy... I mean, they're smarter."

He didn't mean it; he was just multitasking, and his super brain couldn't keep up. Ian then pulled out alchemical materials and began setting things up in a rather professional manner.

Bruce Wayne tensed up instantly.

He wasn't ready yet! But a teleportation array emitting purple smoke lit up on the ground, and a smell resembling sulfur began to permeate the bat cave.

"etc!"

Bruce rushed back and stomped on the magic circle.

"Let me think about it."

He stared into Ian's expectant eyes and added with difficulty.

"It may take some time." The King of Gotham used military tactics, a delaying tactic, but at least it wasn't just empty promises; he simply gritted his teeth and stopped Ian's actions.

He only mentioned a timeframe, not a specific one, so it wasn't exactly a lie. Ian had already figured this out, but that didn't stop him from expressing his gratitude.

With Batman carried in a sedan chair, Ian believed Batman would not disappoint him. Unlike The Flash, Batman was someone who would almost always be able to save his loved ones in time.

Of course, this attribute is an exception when it involves parent-child relationships.

"I knew Uncle Bruce could do it! Go for it!" Ian instantly switched from "angry mode" to "grateful mode," making Bruce feel like he had found a savior and immediately began to act.

First, I put away the materials.

Then one side began to make a decision.

Followed by.

Under the astonished gaze of his father, Clark, Ian didn't say a word and plopped down—not kneeling, of course, but rather "supporting" himself on his elbows.

This is a way of expressing gratitude that only a superbrain could come up with.

"Boom!"

He slammed his elbows to the ground with a dull thud. With his elbows on the ground and his knees bent and suspended in the air, Ian perfectly embodied the astonishing talent that "a man's knees are worth gold, but a man's elbows are not."

This wave represents a high level of wisdom.

"..."

Clark was speechless as he watched his son's fluid movements. For a moment, he couldn't tell whether he or Ian was the strange alien.

“You felt my sincerity, and I felt yours. So—stop crawling in the shadows on the ground. If I remember correctly, it’s almost time for you to go to sleep.” Batman looked at Ian, who was supporting himself on his hands as he “stood” up, and felt like his muscles were about to twitch into a twenty-four-pack.

"Huh?" Ian was taken aback and quickly pulled out his watch, which had a different graffiti style every day. It had a grinning skull and the symbol "Zzz" on it.

This is a manually adjusted graffiti watch face, which is much more user-friendly than a digital watch.

“That’s right, I need to go to sleep. Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy.” He immediately pulled out a sleeping bag with the words “Ian’s Special” printed on it from his four-dimensional pocket, his movements as practiced as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times.

Since his last nap, Ian had made some civilized preparations. Ian turned back to Bruce, reminding him to be careful in this regard, saying things like, "Uncle Ian's innocence depends entirely on your brain," before crawling into his sleeping bag and wriggling it under Louise's bed.

As Ian peacefully closed his eyes.

The sleeping bag fell completely silent.

The laboratory suddenly became eerily quiet.

Clark and Bruce stood there, staring at each other.

"Don't speak." Bruce broke the silence first, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded. He had anticipated Clark's prediction, so he gave him a heads-up in advance.

"Your youngest son is not my uncle."

His tone was firm, his voice resolute, and he possessed a stubborn handsomeness.

“To be fair, Bruce, that was your father’s choice,” Superman suddenly said thoughtfully, patting Batman on the shoulder.

“We all need to respect our fathers, don’t we?” It’s hard to imagine how Clark was able to hold back; he shut Bruce Wayne up with an impeccable justification.

Bruce's lips twitched.

Clark, however, became even more serious.

"Oh, by the way, does this mean our relationship needs to be redefined?" He deliberately counted on his fingers, his tone carrying a rather exaggerated sense of bewilderment.

“If Ian is your uncle, then I should be yours.” He didn’t finish his sentence, but stared at Bruce Wayne with his eyes that could emit heat rays.

this moment.

Superman's silent gaze seemed more intense to Bruce Wayne than a heat ray.

He was in extreme distress.

“I’ll go check on Ian.” Bruce Wayne changed the subject, turning decisively and striding toward Louise’s bed, then kneeling down to reach for the sleeping bag.

however.

Bruce Wayne's fingers, however, pierced through the surface of the sleeping bag.

Even the sleeping bag was blurred, completely untouchable. Bruce frowned and tried a few more times. The sleeping bag was like a holographic projection, untouchable and its surface rippled with eerie waves.

This is not invisibility, nor is it an illusion; rather, it is a shift in the level of existence—it is no longer within the physical space of this dimension, but has entered some kind of "pre-sleep reality bubble."

Only Ian can enter and exit.

"Just as Barry said... What kind of phenomenon is this? His self-protection mechanism?" Batman Bruce Wayne muttered to himself in surprise.

He didn't understand.

So he immediately got up to drag over the testing equipment, hoping to test on-site for any unknown abnormal data related to Ian.

at this time--

Hahahaha!!!

A burst of maniacal laughter suddenly echoed throughout the Batcave. The laughter sounded like Bruce Wayne's voice, yet it also had a chilling quality.

Before Clark and Batman could react...

boom! ! !
All the alarms inside the bat cave went off instantly!

A red light flashed, and an alarm blared, engulfing the entire space. All the computer screens lit up simultaneously, the images distorted, and finally froze on a familiar face—Clark Kent's face.

But that wasn't Clark.

"do you miss me?"

Injustice Superman's face appeared on every screen, his emotionless, almost mindless eyes staring directly at Clark and Bruce in the real world.

at the same time.

Inside the sleeping bag.

Amidst the resounding chimes, Ian miraculously didn't experience a lengthy time travel; he was instantly transported into the Marvel Universe, just like before. He had initially thought he would be "refreshed" back into the black hole he had been in before.

However, he found himself standing in the rain on Earth. Raindrops pattered against Ian's face, cold and real. He blinked and looked down at his hands—there was no black hole tearing at him, no dimensional distortion; he simply stood there abruptly in the rain, as if he had been precisely "dropped" there by some force.

"It seems that Professor New Tony's calculations were incorrect..."

Ian looked up at the gloomy sky, rain streaming down his cheeks.

The streets were empty and silent, with only the sound of rain echoing in his ears. The streetlights in the distance flickered, as if their electricity was being interfered with by some force. Just as Ian was about to go to the original form of New Tony to borrow another spaceship to return to space and save his followers with the unparalleled power of his second playthrough.

“Ian Kent…”

A hoarse, deep voice came from the end of the street, accompanied by the rhythm of a cane tapping the ground.

“I know you, yes, Ian Kent, the world’s first superhero, people call you Superman… and you are the one who ultimately freed us all.”

"I'm your fan."

His voice was old and tinged with a hint of humor.

Ian turned his head to look.

Through the rain, an elderly man in a well-tailored suit walked slowly. Each time his ruby ​​cane touched the ground, it created an unnatural ripple in the puddles.

"I've been keeping an eye on you."

The old man had a smile on his face.

But his eyes burned with hellish flames.

Right now.

A blinding flash of lightning suddenly tore through the night sky, illuminating the entire street as if it were hell. In an instant, the old man's kind face was revealed in perfect detail, and beneath his loose skin emerged the true face of a demon. Sulfur-colored flames danced in his eye sockets, and his mouth twisted from ear to ear.

Two rows of fine, sharp teeth were exposed.

The moment the lightning disappeared, the face returned to its human form.

"what?"

Ian was stunned.

"Scared?"

The old man blinked and gave an overly friendly smile. At that moment, raindrops hung suspended in mid-air, each drop reflecting his previously devilish face.

"Don't worry, really, don't worry." The cane tapped the ground lightly, and all the raindrops simultaneously burst into tiny green flames. "It's just a little surprise at the fan meeting."

He walked step by step toward Ian.

Raise your hand.

He wanted to touch Ian's cheek.

“Your fans want to give you a small gift, perhaps…” Before the old man could finish speaking, he saw Ian’s eyes light up and he bit into the old man’s palm.

“Mephisto! It’s you! Chicken flavor! Crunchy! Ten times the nutritional value of an ordinary demon!” Ian’s teeth were no fewer than the terrified demon’s.

This is what the evil god looks like.

You can grow as many rows of teeth as you want.

DC's teeth have been personally tested by God; anyone who gets bitten by them knows!
(End of this chapter)