I, the younger brother of Superman, ended up with a Thanos template.

The new book, "Gwen Spider: I Come From Prototype," is even worse. It plagiarized another author's book, "Anti-Hero of a Certain American Comic," by copying and pasting chapters. Because this incident caused a stir, Qidian's official staff took notice and investigated both parties.

The result is that both of his books have been banned and removed from shelves, but this book is still available.

Finally, I want to clarify something.

The other party initially posted on social media that I was a fairy, good at socializing, and had gathered a group of male authors to support me, trying to create gender antagonism.

Regarding this, I am a man, a genuine man... I don't have that kind of charm.

In addition, the other party claimed on a certain platform that I and my author friend who helped me belong to a studio, which infringes on the interests of the studio, so they all joined forces to smear him.

For some reasons, I haven't been updating very frequently.

Has anyone ever seen a studio that pays four or five thousand a day and updates at a near-guaranteed minimum? Which studio would hire a writer like that? They'd starve to death...

Actually, at first I was indifferent to what was said, and when I heard about this, I felt baffled, believing that the innocent would clear themselves.

There are always discerning people among the passersby who can see that his so-called color palette is all based on the original plot, but most people probably just like to gossip, and things didn't turn out the way I expected.

At first, it almost infuriated the authors of Purple Sweet Potato. They were already being slapped in the face, but they didn't care at all and didn't respond. They were hoping that some insightful passersby would come along and help them take action.

They think purple sweet potatoes have a strange thought process.

In hindsight, they were right, and I was foolish. If it weren't for my group of righteous and supportive author friends, Purple Sweet Potato's reputation would probably be ruined by now.

Therefore, I am very grateful to the fair and impartial Qidian official team, my editors, and my dear author friends...

That's all. I hope this doesn't disturb your reading.

100. Chapter 99: Superman's Weakness Disappears (Part 2)

Drop drop!

With the glaring red and blue lights flashing and the sharp sirens blaring, a large number of heavily armed riot police arrived at the scene within two minutes, three blocks away.

"Quick, guys, that guy's up there."

He defeated the others and took Mr. Glenmorgan hostage.

"Why isn't he leaving right away? Is he waiting for us on purpose?"

Is he trying to provoke the police?

The sheriff, leading a group of SWAT team members, rushed upstairs, his face extremely grim.

"Guys, be careful. The person being held hostage up there is Mr. Metropolis. He could fire us all with a single word."

Approaching the floor where the crime occurred.

Several gang thugs lay sprawled on the ground, some as if they had smashed through a door and been thrown out of the room, others tossed onto a chandelier.

Several windows were locked together by a piece of broken window railing, looking both pathetic and comical.

"Help! That guy is inside!"

One of the gangsters, as if seeing a lifeline, pointed to the inner room with a trembling voice.

Seeing the scene of violent destruction, the sheriff's face was grim. He waved his hand and gave tactical instructions, and his men quietly crept up the door from both sides.

"He jumped up to the 29th floor, faster than the wind, and casually tossed us around. He even shot lasers from his eyes!"

Upon seeing the police, whom they usually try to avoid at all costs, some people were terrified and couldn't help but scream in panic.

"Be careful, we've encountered something unprecedented!"

After saying that, the sheriff took the lead and rushed into the house with his gun, followed closely by the officers on both sides with grim faces and submachine guns in hand, demonstrating their well-trained tactical skills.

"Don't move!"

"Put down the hostages and surrender immediately!"

"Leave where you are standing."

Whoohoo!

A slightly chilly night breeze blew into the room through the window, causing the curtains on both sides to flutter.

The young figure in the blue T-shirt stood steadily on the edge of the balcony railing of the high-rise building, effortlessly lifting a terrified person with one hand, as if lifting a weightless feather.

"Mr. Glen Morgan?"

"Help me, please help me!" The car looked like an inconspicuous little box. Looking down at the dizzying height below, Glen Morgan's face turned pale.

From a low-level gangster to a gang leader, and then to a renowned philanthropist and Mr. Metropolis in the city, he encountered countless people who opposed him and survived countless shootings.

But this time it's different. This guy isn't human at all; even bullets can't hurt him.

"Put him down, you madman!"

Everyone was stunned by what they saw: someone casually standing on the balcony railing of the 29th floor, where a careless fall could result in a fatal fall, or someone easily lifting a person up with one hand.

"Of course, sir, I will put him down immediately."

Even though he couldn't see how many dark gun barrels were pointed at him, Clark still maintained his smile.

"The premise is that he confesses to all the crimes he has committed and receives the punishment he deserves."

"There should be no distinction of rank before the law, should there?"

After saying that, he shook his arm, which startled Glenn Morgan so much that his heart almost jumped out of his throat, but he did not confess and instead screamed hysterically.

"Come protect me! He's a monster!"

"Put Mr. Glenmagan down, or we'll shoot!"

"Young man, think of your family!"

The commandos pointed their guns angrily.

"Still don't want to tell?"

The piercing shouts in his ears caused a cold look to appear on Clark's face.

A while ago, a group of thugs rescued a policewoman. It is astonishing that someone dared to kidnap the policewoman, who was a witness, from the roof of the courthouse using a helicopter. The audacity of this act is jaw-dropping.

He investigated and, after several days of wiretapping, discovered that the mastermind was none other than Glen Morgan, the well-known philanthropist from Metropolitan City.

"You had a chance, Glen Morgan!"

Clark didn't care and flung him backward. Glen Morgan, like a kite with a broken string, flew in an arc and screamed as he headfirst headfirst into the hard asphalt road dozens of meters below.

"You crazy person!"

The sheriff stared wide-eyed, unable to believe he had actually done it.

Didn't they say that Superman hadn't used excessive force against any of the robbers in the month since he appeared?

"Ah... Ahh!"

The wind whistled in his ears, and Glenn Morgan's heart rate instantly soared to over two hundred. He was terrified and his soul was out of his body.

After a rapid descent lasting only a second or two.

He was about to fall onto the hard road and become a flower of flesh and blood blooming with the sound of bones cracking.

Swish!

A terrified and distorted face, eyes tightly shut, less than ten centimeters from the ground.

A strong steel arm grabbed his clothes.

The immense inertia of a nearly 200-pound human body falling dozens of meters vanished in an instant, without even causing the arm to sway.

How was the roller coaster ride?

"Sir, I can continue as long as you like."

With lightning speed, he jumped downstairs first, and Clark held him upside down with one hand as if he were a chick, speaking calmly and unhurriedly.

It's like an amusement park ticket seller suggesting that the customer try their signature attraction again.

"That's enough, I'll talk, I'll tell you everything."

Having just faced death, Glenn Morgan's lips turned white, and he could barely control the urge to urinate. He clutched his head and screamed irrationally.

Bang!

Clark threw him to the ground and forced him to confess to one crime after another.

“I…I was once one of the biggest gangsters in the metropolis. I personally shot dozens of people. I bribed city officials. I deceived everyone…”

Kneeling on the ground, the once-glorious Mr. Metropolis trembled as he confessed his bloodied and grievances.

Clark nodded almost imperceptibly.

He would never have acted this way in the past, resorting to torture that borders on intimidation.

However, he also learned some lessons from his younger brother: it's useless to reason with some people slowly.

Click, click, click!

Like sharks that have caught the scent of blood, reporters outside the police cordon started snapping photos of Clark, their flashes going off non-stop.

Several cameras were pointed at him as soon as he appeared.