American comics: Starting with replicating Superman's talent

Chapter 137 Superman vs. Superman

Batman can use his Wayne surname to vouch for it.

He had never witnessed such a magnificent and awe-inspiring scene in his entire life.

At this moment, the curtain begins to rise.

Amidst the torrential rain, two figures stood facing each other.

The blazing red beams ignited the rain and air, creating a thick white fog.

The extreme blue-green currents froze raindrops and soil, freezing thousands of miles of land.

The two of them held nothing back, giving it their all.

The spectacular scene was as magnificent as an abstract painting by Mondrian, with the two almost dividing the world into red and blue.

Even with his composure as firm as a rock, Batman couldn't help but feel a little curious.

Who will be the winner?

Who will eat the dust of the loser?

With Batman's expectations in mind, the two completely different pairs of beams collided suddenly!

In the fertile plains, bright blue and red lights intertwine and collide!

"Buzz!"

A piercing sonic boom exploded in my ears.

The once gloomy plain was illuminated by a dazzling white light.

The blinding beam of light lasted only a brief moment; immediately afterward, the high temperature and the ice beams intersected, creating a cloud of white mist that shot straight into the sky.

The grass was a mess, the trees were charred, and a human figure stood there.

All of this was shrouded and "swallowed" by the white mist.

Is the battle over?

The thought flashed through Batman's mind like a shooting star, but he quickly and firmly rejected it.

He simply couldn't believe it; he couldn't believe that the mysterious man would fail so easily.

That was a formidable opponent, calm, ruthless, and with unfathomable strength, like the most powerful and excellent predator. How could it be defeated by a fledgling kitten?

"Bang!"

A sudden surge of wind and waves from the flat ground confirmed Batman's suspicions.

The wind and waves parted the clouds and mist, revealing two figures locked in battle.

Batman reached out to try and block the hurricane, squinting with difficulty.

Amidst the swirling, foggy mist, two figures were swinging their fists at their opponent.

"Bang bang bang!"

The sound, like firecrackers exploding, echoed continuously in the mist.

The close-quarters combat between the two figures sounded like hundreds of cannons firing simultaneously.

At this moment, Batman once again gained a clearer and more intuitive understanding of the upper limit of superhuman strength.

The battle continues.

In a mere instant, the two fists collided thousands of times, generating shockwaves that radiated outwards from the two men.

The ground beneath his feet was already broken and cracked, and Clark kept swinging and punching his opponent.

Large beads of sweat slid down his cheeks; this was the first time Clark had felt so strained and overwhelmed.

In all his memory, he had never encountered such a terrifying opponent.

But he didn't want to admit defeat.

Clark's blue eyes were filled with madness, while the pain in his arm constantly reminded him of the reality he least wanted to accept: whether it was his proud heat vision or a contest of strength, he was no match for Mystic.

"I refuse to accept this!" Clark roared, his hands changing from fists to palms as he slammed them towards the mysterious man's face.

"Speaking loudly won't make you stronger."

Even faster than Clark, he blocked the incoming hand long before the other party could speak.

"Bang!"

Fist and palm collided, his arm went numb, and a terrifying force swept into Clark's arm.

The intense soreness made Clark unable to bear it any longer, and he loosened his arms.

"Hiss~"

Clark gasped, staggering backward, each step leaving a deep crater in the ground.

His originally arrogant expression had long been replaced by one of fear and solemnity.

However, battle is not a contest; its core meaning lies in its cruelty and ever-changing nature.

The mysterious man clearly wasn't going to play the "villain dies from talking too much" card. The moment Clark stepped back, he also rushed towards Clark.

A steel arm suddenly shot out from under the suit, piercing the white mist.

Fast, accurate, ruthless, and fierce!

Before Clark could even react, his cheek was suddenly gripped by the ever-growing right hand in his line of sight.

"Bang!"

An unstoppable force, like a divine decree, slammed Clark to the ground.

His dirty cheeks were pressed into the scorched mud again.

The earthy smell of soil and humiliation flooded Clark's mind all at once. He heard the man's voice: "It turns out that Homelander Clark cannot change the fact that we are weak."

Homelander? What's that?

Clark was puzzled, but the next second, he felt his finger being pulled, and the red ring that was on his middle finger was pulled off his fingertip.

"Waaaaah!"

Clark, his cheek pressed into the mud, whimpered and roared. If anyone could translate, the gist of it might be: No! That's my ring, you, you can't take it away!

"it's over."

Gino pulled off the "culprit" that had driven Clark to such madness—the bloodstone ring that emitted a pale red glow.

Clark was engulfed by a feeling of exhaustion the moment the red ring left his hand.

"Thump!"

This battle between superheroes ultimately came to a brief end with Clark's defeat.

The torrential rain overhead seemed to have no end in sight.

The surrounding land was cracked, pitted, and broken.

Batman watched silently as the mysterious man took the ring from Clark's hand, knowing he had to make a decision immediately.

Should we fight that person to the bitter end, or wisely choose to retreat?

Time is running out for Batman.

But before Batman could react, a voice, like the court of owls from a Gotham nursery rhyme, rang out from behind him: "I remember telling you not to disappoint me next time we meet."

"But you've disappointed me, Batman."

In the last second of his memory, Batman felt a sharp pain in his spine.

"Coo coo~"

The hooting of owls rang in my ears, and a warm hand warmer was placed over me.

Bruce's eyelids trembled slightly as he slowly opened his eyes.

He saw Alfred, his loyal butler standing by the bedside, a hint of sorrow hidden beneath his aged face. But Alfred still spoke in a joking tone, "Sir, your passenger plane is really fast."

"Is it the same as before, Afu?"

Bruce looked at the bandages wrapped around his waist, his face grim.

He failed again, and once again his spine was broken by that man. Then, he was injected with a mysterious potion and cured, like a lab rat.

"That's right, I still found you outside the manor." After a moment's hesitation, Alfred finally couldn't help but advise Bruce, "Sir, perhaps we can change to a more ordinary way of life."

Ah Fu really couldn't stand it anymore; his master was returning to the castle every day covered in injuries.

"No, Alfred, Gotham needs me, the world needs me."

Before Afu could finish speaking, Bruce firmly interrupted him.

He struggled to his feet and walked towards the bat cave: "This trip to the town has been very rewarding."

Bruce's blue eyes gleamed with a terrifying light.

His mind raced over the tasks he needed to handle that evening: "It's time to update the database on the masked men."

"Their eyes can fire freezing beams."

"Also, create another file on Clark Kent, keep a close eye on Clark Kent, and investigate the red gem that was stolen by the mysterious man. It would be best to establish a mining operation in the town."

Under the moonlight, Batman began another day of work.

(End of this chapter)