Become a Homelander and a Marvel superstar

In the viewfinder, the once invincible Homelander is covered in blood, being pulled by a group of bodyguards in black, yet he still stubbornly raises his fist and roars at the unknown muzzle of a gun.

Golden sunlight shone on his blood-stained cheek, and the Stars and Stripes behind him were fully unfurled.

This scene is visually stunning and breathtaking.

The panicked crowd stopped in their tracks.

Everyone looked at the man on the stage whose face was covered in blood.

The young man who had previously questioned John's acting was shocked when he saw the real gunshot wounds and blood on John's face.

No one would shoot themselves in the head with a sniper rifle for show; a slight misalignment would result in their brains splattering.

This man has truly lost his superpowers and is genuinely fearless.

"USA! USA! USA!"

I don't know who shouted it first.

Immediately afterwards, thousands upon thousands of fists were raised.

The lawn, which had been in complete chaos just moments before, erupted in a perfectly synchronized, deafening roar.

"Homelanders! Homelanders! Homelanders!"

This time, it's no longer a celebration for only half the population.

Whether they were die-hard fans or opponents who were just mocking them, everyone was captivated by this heroic scene.

People were excited, their adrenaline was pumping, and they were chanting that name.

……

At the dining table, Ryan stared intently at the television screen.

When he saw the blood spurting from John's cheek, his heart nearly jumped out of his throat.

"Father!" Ryan cried out as the fork in his hand fell onto the porcelain plate.

Ryan only breathed a sigh of relief when he saw John being safely escorted away from the podium by Secret Service agents.

Azu slowly took a sip of milk: "Don't worry, Ryan. It's just a scratch, it won't kill you."

"But he's an ordinary person now! If that shot had been just a little off..."

Looking at the figure on TV who stood tall and proud even while bleeding, Ryan felt a surge of pride he had never felt before.

“I told you, when that maliciously created personality disappears, what remains is the real John,” Azu said with a hint of relief. “He may be clumsy, he may be full of flaws, but he has a heart that wants to be a hero. Most importantly, he wants you to be proud of him, Ryan.”

Ryan nodded emphatically. "I want to see him, Grandpa. I want to tell him he's doing a good job."

"No rush, I'll arrange it," Azu said with a smile.

[Notification! Popularity points gained: +330100!]

[Notification! Popularity points gained: +425205!]

[Hint! Popularity points gained...]

Within minutes, through live streaming across the United States and viral dissemination on social media, countless people saw that iconic photo, comparable to the "Iwo Jima flag-raising ceremony."

Whether it was the emotion of die-hard fans or the shock and defection of haters, it all turned into real popularity, flowing into A-Zu's account in an endless stream.

……

Two kilometers from the White House, on the rooftop of an office building, Billy Butcher was quickly putting away his sniper rifle.

The iron gate to the rooftop was suddenly kicked open.

"FBI! Don't move! Drop your weapons!"

Six federal agents in bulletproof vests rushed in, pistols in hand.

Butcher glanced back, grinned with a provocative smirk, and turned his face to the security camera in the corner of the rooftop, pausing for two seconds.

He then threw the sniper rifle into the agent's arms, turned around, and leaped into the narrow back alley of the building using a zipline.

The detectives rushed to the edge of the rooftop and looked down. There were only a few overturned trash cans in the alley, and no one was in sight.

Two streets away, Butcher leaned against the corner of an alleyway, cautiously looking around.

After confirming that no one was around, his black trench coat, combat boots, and stubble-covered face began to writhe rapidly like molten mercury.

In less than two seconds, an Asian youth wearing a hoodie appeared in the same spot.

He put his hands in his pockets, whistled, and walked into the crowd, disappearing from sight.

……

Inside the Oval Office of the White House, medical staff are carefully cleaning the wounds on John's face.

John waved his hand, signaling everyone to leave.

The door closed, leaving him alone in the room.

Outside the window, the crowd on the South Lawn had not yet dispersed, and the cheers of "Homelanders" could be heard clearly as they rose and fell.

That heartfelt admiration and respect, even from a distance of several hundred meters, still made him tremble.

On the television screen beside him, news anchors from various channels were singing his praises of fearlessness and sacrifice in an almost aria-like tone.

He touched the gauze on his face, feeling a slight stinging sensation.

For decades, he possessed devastating power and desperately tried to make everyone love him, but all he received in return was fear and indifference.

Now he has become a fragile mortal, shedding only a little blood, yet he has gained the purest worship from the people.

"So... this is what it feels like to be truly loved," John murmured, his eyes slightly moist.

He looked at himself in the mirror, his face covered in bandages, and the image of Ah Zu's smiling face came to mind.

All of this was given to him by that man.

His father, Anthony Starr.

Hint! Gained a special popularity bonus of +30000! (From John Starr)

……

Meanwhile, in a secret location somewhere in Washington.

"Bang!"

A beer bottle was smashed hard against the wall above the television.

Glass shards flew everywhere, and beer foam dripped down the screen, landing right on John's close-up photo with his fist raised.

"You sons of bitches! You're all a bunch of brainless idiots!"

"Smashing the TV won't help, Butcher." Hughie wiped his face with his palm. "That bastard won. The whole of America now thinks we're colluding with foreign terrorists, and he's a hero who gave up his power to protect the people. Whether he staged that shot or not, the narrative has been sealed."

"Let him come at us!" Butcher's eyes were red as he turned to the crowd, spitting as he spoke. "That bastard doesn't have superpowers anymore! Didn't you see? One bullet was enough to make him bleed! As long as we find another chance to sneak in, I'll blow his head off!"

“You’re right, Butcher,” Hughie said, his face grim. “But you also mentioned the other man who appeared in the White House… he almost killed you with just a breath. What kind of monster is that? With Kimiko’s fate still unknown, if Vought International creates an even stronger Homelander, we have absolutely no chance of winning.”

Mentioning the younger version of Homelander, Butcher's expression changed, and the ribs that had been broken by the blast wave throbbed with pain in his chest.

"Whether it's a clone or whatever!" Butcher gritted his teeth, grabbed the bottle of liquor on the table, and gulped down a large mouthful. "I'll figure something out!"