Why is his holy light red?

Inside a dilapidated old wooden house in the suburbs, a family of four was enjoying a happy dinner.

The father was tall and imposing, the mother was gentle and loving, the eldest son was slightly thin and had messy hair, making him look unkempt, while the youngest daughter was fair-skinned, innocent and lovely.

Although their living conditions were not great, they seemed to be a happy family.

The television broadcast a reporter's excited voice: "Yesterday afternoon at three o'clock, the chemical plant belonging to Yong Sheng Technology was attacked. At the critical moment, it was that same figure again—the Holy Angel! Just as the toxic gas valve was about to be detonated, he descended like a divine warrior and prevented the explosion that could have affected the entire city."

The television feed cut to the scene, and despite the blurry image, the figure hovering in mid-air was still clearly visible. The white cloak stood out starkly against the dust and smoke of the ruins, surrounded by armed men kneeling on the ground.

"The CEO of Eternal Life Technology subsequently issued a statement offering 50 million Federal Credits as a reward and promising to cover all equipment maintenance costs for the Holy Light Angel." The host's voice rose eight octaves. "But admirably, our hero refused again! Even faced with a huge check, the Holy Light Angel did not leave any contact information, just as he has always done—for justice, not for gold."

Fifteen-year-old Mercury looked up at the television, then at his father, whose expression was somewhat unnatural, and said jokingly, "He refused fifty million... It seems this Angel of Light is indeed not short of money. I guess all superheroes are quite wealthy."

Mercury's father, Al, paused for a moment, then explained, "Superheroes don't care about rewards. They save people for their beliefs, which can't be measured in money."

"Perhaps," Mercury shrugged, but then added, "But there are always other superheroes who need money, right? If the Angel of Light is considered the strongest and decides not to charge, other impoverished superheroes will probably feel embarrassed to charge money either, so maybe fewer and fewer people will want to be heroes."

Al, however, said very seriously, "Becoming a hero inherently means sacrifice. Once you start accepting monetary rewards, the act of saving people becomes distorted, and it will become a matter of saving whoever pays the most first."

Mercury looked at his father's extremely serious expression and finally nodded: "You're right, superheroes really shouldn't be paid."

Mercury casually placed the cheap luncheon meat from his plate onto his younger sister's plate, and sighed inwardly as he looked at his little sister's eyes shining.

His father's will is truly harder than steel.

It was late at night, and Mercury lay in his small five-square-meter bedroom, the hard bed beneath him creaking softly with each breath.

A hushed argument could be heard downstairs, inaudible to most people, but Mercury heard every word with exceptional clarity.

"...No, I can't let the children know who I am right now. I have too many enemies, and countless eyes are watching me."

"But he's grown up! You should be able to tell that he's become more and more introverted in recent years, and he can guess that we're hiding something from him."

"He's just a teenager. In any case, we can't let him know who I am. He's too young, and we can't put the responsibility of keeping this a secret on him. If it gets out, you'll all be in danger."

The voice gradually faded, finally turning into a heavy sigh.

This is the fourth time this month that my parents have argued about the same issue.

Should we tell the children that their father is the most powerful superhero, the Angel of Light?

Mercury actually wanted to say that he already knew this secret when he was three years old.

There's nothing I can do. You know, for a newspaper reporter, the biggest source of business is taking photos of the Holy Light Angels in their daily lives. You're the only reporter in the world who's particularly favored by the Holy Light Angels and who's willing to be interviewed by you.

If you still can't guess this feeling of déjà vu, then Mercury wouldn't be worthy of being called a time traveler.

Mercury, however, never exposed these lies.

He understood his parents' desire to keep secrets. Some secrets can't be told even to the closest people, just like his identity as a time traveler, which is a secret he has to keep hidden for his entire life.

But one thing at a time.

Mercury doesn't care that his father hides his superhero identity from him, but he cares a lot about his living environment.

Is it reasonable for the world's strongest superhero to live in a dilapidated old wooden house in the suburbs?

Mercury felt his parents were going a bit too far with their disguise. After all, with his father's abilities, he could become incredibly rich just by collecting cans and water bottles at his super speed.

Pretending to be from a middle-class family is perfectly fine, but why work three jobs a day, eat cheap discounted canned food every day, and still have to worry about rent?

To be honest, Mercury suspected this was a test for him, like something out of a cheesy parenting movie he'd seen in his past life. He figured when he grew up, his father would definitely slap a bank card with billions in his face.

But as he grew older, Mercury realized something was wrong; his family didn't seem to be pretending to be poor, they were genuinely poor.

His parents seemed to have no objection to this.

The strongest superhero who finds contentment in poverty?

It sounds admirable, but it would be very difficult to accept if it happened to my own family.

Mercury tried to change his parents' minds, using indirect methods and even tantrums.

But the Holy Angel's will is as firm as iron; he has experienced all kinds of life-and-death crises, and Mercury cannot change it.

Mercury couldn't help but sigh, originally thinking that "My Superhero Father" would definitely be better than "My Mayor Father".

As it turns out, superpowers are still not as fun as the power of money.

With a soft whoosh, the angel of holy light began his daily work of chivalry. The mother went to Mercury's room to check on him, and after confirming he was sound asleep, she went to rest as well.

Mercury opened his eyes and looked at the alarm clock; it was one o'clock in the morning.

As is customary, his father would return at four in the morning.

Three hours of free time was a perfect opportunity for Mercury to make his fortune.

There has never been a savior, nor do we need to ask gods or emperors. To create a happy life, we can only rely on ourselves.

If you want to get rich quickly, the only way is to earn your own living.

Stealthily climbed out of bed, opened the window, and leaped out.

His slender body moved like a nimble cat, and the moment he landed on the ground, a faint red light appeared, absorbing most of the impact.

This is Mercury's superpower, inherited from the Holy Light Angel.

However, his father's holy light was golden, appearing sacred and righteous, while Mercury's awakened holy light was red, like fresh blood.

The power of the Holy Light is very simple and easy to use; in short, it can "do anything".

Whether it's physical enhancement, flight, healing, or superpowers like laser eyes and telekinesis, all can be achieved, but only with long-term practice.

Turning "I think" into "I can" is a relatively long process.

Mercury can no longer take off at supersonic speeds like his father, and he can't even hover; he can only cushion the impact of the fall.

Moreover, Mercury disliked his father's ostentatious and flashy style. The Holy Light ability he developed prioritized strengthening defense, then speed, and then adding a little bit of stealth, all for the sake of survival.

The red holy light enveloped Mercury, then gradually faded, along with Mercury's figure.

Then, a shadow that blended into the night drifted away into the distance.