DC Universe.
[Leader LV1 [1/10]]
Along with the personal panel, another common profession quietly appeared.
Ian pulled his head off <Ian's Book of Creation> with a happy expression. He had verified it himself, so there was no need to ask Quora Quora.
There is no need to ask God OAA or anything.
This super dog-licking book Demon Book indeed has the power to create something out of nothing. I saw that golden light flowed between the pages like a living thing, and lines of patterns and symbols that did not belong to any text had appeared on it.
"Perhaps we should call it Ian-script." Ian knows that Angels has the language of Angels, and Demons also has the language of Demons, so naturally he should also have his own language.
Mages from all worlds are worthy of learning Ian-script.
After all, Ian has indeed created his own unique magic system.
He even directly laid the cornerstone of his own system just now. However, due to his own insufficient magic power, he, the new source of magic, only had time to make tentative magic creations.
[Four-Dimensional Appendix Modification Technique]
No matter how ridiculous the name of this magic is, it can turn a useless appendix into a practical wallet. Anyone who really knows magic should understand how cool this magic is.
"And it's very practical." Ian knows that the safest place is inside your own body. Is there any safer anti-theft measure in the world than putting all your property inside your own body?
You know, not everyone in this world has Fortress of Solitude like him.
Ian still has to think more about his future "believers". He doesn't want others to think that he is the kind of aloof Lord Ian who thinks why not eat meat.
Go deep into the grassroots.
Consider the mage's suffering.
This is the real Lord Ian.
"I believe believers will feel my goodwill." Ian feels very good about himself. He already has the character that a superior person should have, and his mind is full of ideas for the sake of "the people".
However.
Those ideas cannot yet be implemented.
How can I describe this feeling? Just like an emperor who has just ascended the throne and has great ambitions, the lack of magic power is the most important factor limiting his performance.
"Damn it, my Super Brain is obviously still pregnant with a lot of miraculous magic." Ian felt as uncomfortable as having his brain sucked out with a straw.
Inside Tianling Gai, it was as dry as a sponge that had been exposed to the sun for three days.
before.
He had a feeling of full magic power as if his brain was filled with water, but now it has become empty as if his brain is lacking water. This is probably a manifestation of excessive consumption of magic power.
The use of Demon Book relies heavily on magic power.
No wonder the previous Prince of Hell behaved like a weakling.
"Every mature Magic Book should know that he provides magic power to his master." Ian's PUA is everywhere, but the books on the desktop only have a small mouth growing on the cover.
He made a strange and aggrieved sound of "".
"I just want to cry. I can't eat three Demons in my life." Ian sighed helplessly. At this time, Demon Head, who was placed in the cabinet, opened his eyes as if he was aware of the elements.
"If it doesn't eat, I will."
This guy has tasted the beauty of getting something for nothing.
There is no true depravity beyond this.
"Okay, wait, I will use my daddy to make you some egg tarts tonight... Damn, do you think I am rewarding you?" Ian grabbed a piece of black cloth and directly covered the expectant Demons.
He almost forgot.
Dogs are not the only ones with biological "coprophagous behavior".
The same goes for cattle.
"It seems that I am the only normal person in this room." Ian was a little reluctant, but he could only think about it in the long term. The accumulation of magic power cannot be accomplished overnight.
Fortunately, he has anchored himself as another form of capitalist.
How much magic power can Ian have?
It all depends on how hard the believers work.
There is no doubt that Ianism will grow rapidly. After all, he has just created his own magic system, and a little guinea pig can't wait to become his believer.
This is proof of the great future.
"I don't know who this lucky guy will be, but he has such a sharp investment vision." Ian had a guess in his mind, but he didn't say it, because not saying it meant that he would never guess wrong.
The flexible use of equations and inequalities is so simple and unpretentious.
[You are creating, writer experience +1]
[You are creating, writer experience +1]
[You are creating, writer experience +1]
In fact, the magic power is not consumed, but is similar to the activity being used up, and it takes time to recover, so Ian also used this time to start the simultaneous creation of literature and comics.
The two hands divide the work reasonably, with one hand drawing comics and the other hand writing novels. This is the benefit of having Super Brain. Ian feels that sooner or later, he will be able to use both hands and feet.
When the time comes, playing music, chess, calligraphy and painting can all be carried out simultaneously. As for letting oneself have a few more hands, it will not be considered. Normal people should only have two hands and two feet.
"So hungry."
Ian's inspiration for creation coexisted with his hunger, and his stomach had already made many loud "gurgling" sounds, but he knew that he could not even bite the cap of his pen if he wanted to complete his career change.
It's always good to be cautious.
Ian Believe in your own willpower.
But he didn't believe his hungry mouth. He respected the idea of all parts of the body too much. This was the consequence of pampering. Ian used writing and painting to divert his attention crazily.
The pen really smoked from being swung around.
And just when he was immersed in creation.
"Ding ding ding~"
Black Phone of Ian rang.
"Hello, this is Ian."
Ian stopped writing at the same time and took a break. He answered the phone. The caller did not show up, but he remembered that it was his father's phone number. Perhaps Batman informed his father about the phone's information.
"Ian, remember to see a psychiatrist on time at three o'clock in the afternoon. For the sake of your studies, Dr. Hannibal has specially set aside an hour on the weekend for you."
Clark's voice came through the phone, and in the background was the unique noise of a newspaper office, with the sounds of keyboard tapping and paper turning coming and going.
Very busy.
"What about the patient who was supposed to be treated on the weekend?" Ian clamped the phone to his ear. He remembered that his psychiatrist was always full of clients.
"It is said that we are in love and there is no need to see a psychiatrist anymore." Clark was also working while on the phone, and it is suspected that he used some Super Speed for cheating.
Hearing this, Ian's eyes narrowed.
"Is that patient in love with Star Anise or with Bay Leaf?" Ian continued to test the old father, but Clark seemed just confused by his words.
"What are you talking about?"
Clark would rather suspect that there was something wrong with his hearing or mobile phone, but he did not doubt Dr. Hannibal. Ian was a little surprised by the fact that this performance was true.
"No, I just think Dr. Hannibal has the temperament to cook delicious food." Ian responded thoughtfully. He did not believe that Clark had not done a background check on Hannibal.
Therefore.
Such a situation occurs.
There must be something weird behind it.
As for telling dad directly?
Laughing to death.
In the field of superheroes, even between father and son, there is still competition. The merit belongs to Lord Ian, and tonight he will see Ancestor-lander making headlines.
Clark was not aware of Ian's little thoughts.
"Anyway, remember to go."
Clark continued, with the sound of a broken printer in the background, "Let Jordan accompany you. I need to interview a real estate tycoon in the afternoon."
"In your workshop, I will come back to repair it for you at night - don't tell your mother, she will come back later." He told Ian while repairing the printer.
"Where's mom?" Ian pricked up his ears and listened to what was going on in the next room. He knew what was going on in the next room. He didn't feel that his second brother, who had been tired for most of the day, still had the energy to accompany him to the doctor.
"Your mother is going to interview astronauts. NASA seems to have discovered aliens. She is very excited." Clark seemed to be repairing the printer while talking.
"..."
Ian opened his mouth.
Some people don't understand why my mother is so interested in aliens.
There is obviously such a creature in the house.
There's more than one.
"Remember, go home after seeing the doctor and don't run around." Clark warned with some vigilance, and hung up the phone after getting Ian's exact guarantee.
"The person who made the guarantee is Ian, and has nothing to do with me, Ancestor-lander." Ian grabbed his stockings, looked at the time, and prepared to drive his car and go out to practice a level.
Twelve noon.
There's still quite a while until three o'clock.
It's time for Metropolis to be protected by a new hero. Otherwise, Clark is only in his forties, so how long will Ian have to wait before he can become Metropolis's new one?
Thirty-year-old princes are common.
But Ian, a reserve superhero who has been in the game for two and a half years, has no intention of becoming one.
He has a reverse bone.
The kind that needs to be reversed now!
"Perhaps the popularity of the public can also help me grow." Ian is certainly not in his rebellious phase. His rebelliousness will only appear when it is profitable.
[Leader LV1 [1/10]]
Mainly because of the emergence of this new profession, Ian has some ideas. Who said that DC Universe people will suffer discrimination and cannot become Lord Ian believers?
Marvel Universe Yes.
Ian doesn't allow DC Universe! Even if Jesus comes...Jesus is better not to come. Ian is still a fledgling, and he doesn't want to be labeled as a different kind of preacher Evil God.
He just wants to find some outstanding Pal to cultivate magic power for him. Of course he is right, but some visions in the world will always be affected by various factors.
For example.
Ian looked at his Demons collection and Demon Book.
"It's all your fault for making me look like Evil God." Under the somewhat confused gazes of Demon Head and Demon Book, Ian once again demonstrated his extremely excellent blame-shifting skills.
"Aren't you evil..."
Just when Demon Head opened his mouth to speak but stopped.
"Ding dong~"
The sound of the doorbell came from downstairs.
Ian did not bother Jordan and chose to go downstairs and open the door by himself.
He was eager to try, hoping that a super villain would come to kidnap the child, but he found a man wearing a high-end suit outside the house. This kind of man would not reveal his true nature unless he used Demons to seduce and seduce.
"Who are you looking for?"
Ian slightly regrets not hanging Demon Head behind his butt.
"Oh, is there anyone at home? I thought everyone had gone out." Standing outside the door was a middle-aged man in a neat suit, with his hair combed meticulously and a confident smile on his lips.
"Richard Cassel."
The man introduced himself and raised his eyebrows coquettishly, "I am a best-selling mystery novel writer, a frequent visitor to the New York Times rankings, and I am known as one of the most charming men of our time."
"If you are a fashionable boy, then you must have seen my works." Cassell held a bunch of things in his hand, which were all detective props that looked high-end but were useless.
"Oh, it's you, that idiot on the plane..." Ian's tutor made him swallow his voice of realization, "It turns out to be a famous best-selling author!"
He switched to complimentary rhetoric.
"That's right, it's me. Do you want an autograph?"
Cassel really thought Ian was his reader fan.
He obviously did not recognize Ian as the boy who drove the speeding car. Since Ian and Hellcat were covered with quilts, this writer did not have time to explore the small courtyard of Ian's house out of curiosity.
"No, thank you."
Ian is not interested in mystery novels, and even "Sherlock Holmes" has become his believer. How can he put aside his dignity to collect other people's signatures?
That is disrespectful to believers!
No.
I seemed to have secretly said it in my heart, but I would never say that guess out loud. I was still not cautious enough. Fortunately, no one could hear my voice.
Ian patted his steel chest happily.
Cassel gave him a strange look, but without making any further comments, he took out a letter from his suit and said, "I found this place based on some sporadic tips."
"Someone hopes that I can come and meet a certain mysterious author." Cassel looked at Ian, "I think the person who stole the promotional resources for my new book is your... father."
His gaze shifted to the back room behind Ian.
"I understand, you are the person sent by Mr. Wayne to study - you must have lost a lot of money to him." Ian suddenly realized that the person here is a new author who likes to brag.
He also often brags.
He understands this feeling.
Ian showed a look that could see through everything.
Cassel touched his nose.
He felt that Ian's gaze made him feel like he was basking in the sun.
"Well, your contact lenses are so beautiful... In fact, I think he asked me to teach an author. Am I wrong? It's not your father, but your mother?"
Cassell stared at Ian's eyes for a moment, and then tactfully corrected Ian's incorrect statement. It was not easy for him to feel angry because of a child's misunderstanding.
Cassel is a writer of mystery novels.
After ruling out several possibilities, he also understood that the person in front of him was the author who someone wanted him to teach. A teenage child really needs a good enough mentor.
Cassell is narcissistic in his heart.
However.
"That's just what he made you think. You don't understand Mr. Wayne's wisdom." Ian took Cassel into the house and poured him a cup of old tea from last night.
He has always been very tutored.
"Um... Earth Exploration Publishing House is indeed a publishing house owned by Wayne Enterprises... Wait, you mean, the person who commissioned me here is Bruce·Wayne?"
"That Bruce·Wayne that everyone knows? He is a relative of your family!?" Cassel took the tea and took a sip, his eyes widened as if he realized it at this moment.
Seeing Ian nodding.
He felt like he would never get back his publicity resources in this life.
"Actually, they are not relatives, but my father owes him some money, and he owes my father some lives." Ian corrected Cassell's statement seriously. He was looking at the Writing Apprentice that Bruce·Wayne had given him, wondering if there was a chance for him to become one of his Ianisms.
Is there a character like this in DC Universe?
Ian Not sure.
"Isn't this closer than the relationship between relatives..." Cassell's IQ may not be low. He clarified the relationship between the characters and immediately felt that this family was not simple.
I owe so many favors.
No wonder he asked himself to teach the children of this family to write.
"You like writing very much?"
Cassel asked tentatively.
"I don't like writing very much, I'm good at writing... Eat something." Ian enthusiastically cooked lunch for Cassell. He had to endure hunger but he could make others full.
This is the pattern of Lord Ian.
"Don't be so polite."
Cassel, who sat in the living room, quickly waved his hand.
"No, this is etiquette." Ian's voice came from the kitchen. Along with the clanging of pots and pans, he directly boiled a large pot of boiling water in the kitchen.
"Okay, thank you very much. I haven't had lunch yet. Do you need my help?" Cassel thought that maybe the people at Metropolis were so hospitable.
He was unwilling to refuse the child's kindness.
However.
"I'm a good cook, believe me, I've read a lot of cookbooks." Ian, however, drove Cassel out of the kitchen and closed the door. Then he started to hoard the ingredients that his mother had in the refrigerator, and cooked all the parts he didn't like in one pot - that is, all the broccoli, and the damn possum meat.
As long as Kassel ate everything, he wouldn't have to eat. Ian's abacus was ringing loudly. The stoves in United States's homes had very low firepower, so Ian decided to give the kitchen utensils at home a taste of good things.
He glanced back.
The boy's eyes burst into golden light.
When the light burst out, Ian reduced the power of some rays. The color did not change for some reason, but the brightness decreased.
However, Cassell still felt something strange outside the kitchen door.
"Did something catch fire?"
Cassel saw a strange golden light coming from the crack in the kitchen door.
He became a little uneasy.
Scenarios began to emerge in which my own daughter showed off her strength and tried to cook for herself.
"No, I am making Cooking Master Boy's Cuisine. It is normal for it to glow." Ian's calm answer was reasonable, but Cassel became even more uneasy.
His rich imagination led him to consider whether Ian was playing alchemy in it.
"Damn! I should have done more detailed background checks." This is a world where supernatural phenomena really exist, so it is reasonable for Cassel to suspect that he has entered the lair of some kind of evil wizard. After all, he is a writer with a rich imagination and has always been interested in the supernatural.
"Actually, I'm not that hungry either."
Cassell wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
"Actually, I'm not a local here. I heard that Metropolis's special dishes are very good. I've seen a lot of special dishes on the [Gourmet Hunter] software."
"This is also an application software just launched by Wayne Enterprises. I think you must have heard of it... So, how about we go out to eat? Or use the takeout function on the Gourmet Hunter software."
"Wayne Enterprises is integrating the takeout industry across the country, and the delivery speed is really fast." Kassel tried to stop Ian from cooking with a statement that was slightly unnatural and even had problems with language organization.
Nothing more.
His long words only brought Ian silence.
"..."
The golden light in the kitchen suddenly shook violently twice.
No one spoke.
"Um, are you still there?"
Kassel knocked carefully on the door.
He suspected that the boy had poisoned himself in the kitchen.
"Yes, I'm always here~"
Ian's voice was very calm. However, in the kitchen across the door, his expression was gradually distorted, and his whole person was as stiff as if he had been struck by lightning.
This software looks familiar.
Cunning Batman!
Despicable Bruce!
That man is indeed a qualified capitalist!
When you hang a street lamp, you have to hang it for more than ten days!
"Is this the difference between super capitalists and ordinary capitalists like me?" Ian realized it. He felt that he was going dark, and tonight he was going to put Batman on the same-sex dating website overnight.
Hang a thousand!
He wanted to use Black Tech Box of New Tony to lock Batman's information on Global Dating Website! The whole kitchen seemed to be filled with Ian's deep resentment.
Cassel outside the door didn't notice it at all.
"Don't you really want to try the new takeout service?"
He is still trying to convince Ian.
"Wayne company plagiarized a wise man's idea. I won't eat the things they recommended." Ian lowered his head and looked at the dish that had turned into a dark pot due to his own mood swings.
It's shameful to waste food.
This doesn't bother him.
After all, he had actually read cookbooks.
"The response strategy to this situation is very simple..." Ian sorted out his mood, started to make some small plans, took out a few boxes of Curry Cube and poured them into the pot.
So.
Turn decay into magic.
The dark food becomes extremely reasonable.
"Click~"
The kitchen door opens.
"Please use."
Ian When he came out with the "delicious food", he had already returned to his polite appearance. Looking at the food on the plate, Cassel not only did not feel horror, but was also extremely surprised.
"Oh my God, this is really the most authentic Indian curry I have ever seen!" He exclaimed, feeling guilty for doubting the boy's cooking skills. He didn't expect that the boy was really an excellent cook.
Cassel, who was full of expectations, quickly picked up the spoon and took a bite.
The next moment.
His joyful expression froze instantly.
His expression changed one after another, and he held it in for a long time.
"At least it looks authentic."
Good writers use really good adjectives.
"Thank you."
Ian stared at Kassel.
"..."
Cassel held the spoon, not daring to take another bite into his mouth - as a multi-millionaire, he was really afraid that he would die here, and then his daughter and mother would inherit his wealth and enjoy a life of extravagance on his behalf.
There is wisdom at play in the rush.
"Gulu~"
Cassell stared at the plate of black material that was still bubbling slightly.
His Adam's apple rolled up and down a few times. At this moment, the best-selling author suddenly felt that discussing literary creation seemed to be a safer choice than continuing this dangerous lunch.
"Well, little guy, why don't we talk about your works? I'm very interested in the creations of young writers." Cassel's way of changing the subject was not too blunt.
After all, this was the purpose of his coming here.
Hear the words.
Ian was stunned at first.
"Of course, no problem. I am always willing to share my works and teach those who seek knowledge." Ian The manuscript I just wrote also needs someone to appreciate it.
Said.
He rushed upstairs like a gust of wind, and the wooden stairs made a "thumping" sound when he stepped on them.
"Huh~Destiny escaped death." Cassel let out a long sigh of relief. He knew that this was his chance, and he finally had the opportunity to get rid of that terrible "dish".
"Where is Trash Can?"
Cassell quickly looked around the living room, looking for Trash Can. At this moment, a Orange Cat seemed to have just woken up, climbed out from under the sofa, and stretched its body on the carpet.
"Hey, little guy." Cassel showed a flattering smile, carefully picked up a piece of "curry" with a fork, and handed it to Orange Cat, "Want to try it?"
He tried to feed dark food to this family's kittens.
Orange Cat raised his head.
A strange red light flashed in those cat eyes, like a warning light on a highway late at night.
"Hiss..."
Cassel was so frightened that he quickly took a few steps back, his fingers trembled involuntarily, and the fork fell to the ground with a clang. He couldn't believe what he saw.
a cat.
Eyes are glowing!
Just like Superman!
Just when Cassell felt a chill running down his spine and the cat's eyes were getting redder and redder, the thumping sound came again, and as Ian went downstairs, the red light in Orange Cat's eyes quickly disappeared.
It lay down on the carpet and licked its paws as if nothing had happened. However, the scene just now still left Cassel in shock.
"Your cat? It..." Cassel saw Ian walking back to the living room. He bit the back of his hand and hesitated. He wanted to say something but felt that he would be treated as mentally ill if he said it.
Who would believe that a cat's eyes can glow?
"My cat is so good. I bought it with a loan from Cat Mother, and we agreed that he would come to me on time in his next life to collect the debt." Ian put a stack of manuscripts on the table.
He didn't see Cat Mother when he picked up the kitten, but he still hoped that Cat Mother would really be reincarnated and come to his door, so that Kent Family could raise another free kitten.
You must reincarnate first.
Otherwise, the life span of an old cat will be too short.
The income is not high.
"No, that's not what I'm talking about." Cassell rubbed his eyes vigorously, and when he looked at Orange Cat again, its eyes returned to the warm amber color of an ordinary domestic cat.
The red light just now seemed to be just his illusion.
"This is my work. Although Mr. Wayne cheated me, I won't blame you." Ian didn't care about the reaction of Cassel, an older apprentice.
He laid the manuscript in front of the opponent, and then used his feet to stretch into Orange Cat's belly, using a skill that many football players did not have, and lifted Orange Cat directly into his hands with his feet.
Take advantage of the situation and start playing.
"..."
When Cassell saw this, he could only suppress his panic and uncertainty, and forcefully attributed what he saw to him having too much fun with the girl he met in the hotel last night. He did some mental construction, and after he deceived himself, he picked up the manuscript, adjusted his sitting posture and began to read seriously.
Treat writing.
Kassel has always been serious.
However, as the reading progressed, his expression became more and more weird. His right hand kept taking away from his mouth and pinching it up, as if he was forcibly stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't say.
However.
After all, I couldn't hold it back.
"Who taught you to write like this?"
Cassell tried his best to use a more normal tone.
"Self-taught without a teacher, relying purely on talent."
Ian opened a bottle of Coke for himself, and poured a cup of old tea for Cassell. Orange Cat, who was holding in his other hand, squinted his eyes and purred in his arms.
Ian fed Orange Cat a mouthful.
Orange Cat was very drunk, and the rest of the Coke Ian was given to this pet. After all, knowledgeable people know that people who know how to drink Coke only take the first sip.
"Teach yourself without a teacher?"
Cassel's expression was a bit exciting. He stared at the manuscript in his hand, his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, and his whole expression was as twisted as if he had entered fifty years early.
"Isn't it well written?"
Ian began to doubt the other person's level of appreciation. Novice authors are like this. They feel that the things written by the master are not good-looking, and they only think that they are the one with platinum status.
It is really difficult to teach such novices.
"Um..."
Cassell started biting his fingers again, and he swallowed, "Actually, it's not bad. Your writing is very good, but the way you write it is a bit... novel."
He is worthy of being a writer, and his words are pleasant to listen to. Ian has regained his affection for this older man who dreams of being a writer, and feels that he may still have some future in this writing path.
"You can see my new-school literature, you are very talented." Ian stepped forward and patted Cassell on the shoulder, as if to commend an outstanding student.
"..."
After a period of silence, Cassel began to organize his words, "I can see that you are writing a story about Superman and his love, but why do you focus on writing and letting the heroine learn...Ian's Divine Art to become a magician after you already have the absolute power of Superman?"
"This is a bit tasteless. After all, this is a love story, and the heroine does not need to gain strength." I have to say that Cassell is indeed professional enough in analyzing the work.
He has done research.
I know the boy in front of me is named Ian.
So.
It is obvious what kind of situation Ianism is in it. There is a saying that in the section where the heroine enters into faith and begins to praise Ian, Cassel felt that he really saw the talent of the boy in front of him. The richness and gorgeousness of the words in it were to the level that he felt ashamed.
How narcissistic can one be?
Only then can you write so many different hymns and hymns in English.
Cassel was simply stunned.
"Heh."
Ian Seeing Cassel's amazed expression, he knew that the other party was impressed by his talent, so he had some patience with such a devout apprentice.
"Because urban novels have to be like this in the later stages, otherwise how will you make money? After we finish writing the love story, we will start writing the story of the protagonist's growth."
"For example, I divided the magicians into nine levels. I can write a million words for each level. After the level is finally upgraded to the point where it can no longer be upgraded, we can introduce extraterrestrial enemies."
"This is to upgrade our world view. What Demons invades, God comes to the world, new levels of cultivation can be introduced, and the transition from romance novels to fantasy novels is smooth."
"If you use this kind of writing with a long-term contract with a publishing house, trust me, it will last you a lifetime." Ian is indeed a person who has given everything he has.
He is not afraid of competitors.
I'm afraid there won't be any viewers.
Moreover, this kind of skill is like a martial arts secret book, but not everyone who practices it is the same.
"This..."
Cassell's jaw almost dropped to the floor.
He was greatly shocked.
The mouth can be opened wide enough to fit an orange into it.
"Have you learned it?"
Ian asked in a deep voice.
"You learned... right?" Cassel replied subconsciously. Although he was not sure what he had learned at all, this did not prevent him from making a tone change at the end.
Defended the dignity of his traditional writers.
"Just learn how to do it. Remember to ask Mr. Wayne to send money... Also, within three days, I want to see my shares, otherwise, I will go to Gotham to lead his son."
"His son is addicted to puppy love and can't help himself, and I also know several people who are GBT." Ian believes that his threat will be more powerful than Joker.
"I don't have his contact information." Cassell was a little helpless. He was also deeply shocked by the threat of Ian - the threatening way of the boy in front of him was simply unheard of.
But it's also terrifying.
"Did you bring your cell phone?"
Ian has packed up his manuscript.
"Bring it."
Cassell took out his latest mobile phone.
"That's no problem."
Ian's response left Cassel confused.
Before the best-selling author could figure out what this had to do with Ian asking him to carry the message, he saw Ian looking at the time on the wall and starting to send him out the door.
Maybe it can also be seen as rushing?
This kid is really strong.
"It's getting late, I should see a psychiatrist."
Ian conveniently took his coat. Although he has a strong tolerance for cold and heat, he still needs to make everyone think that he is an ordinary person when he goes out.
This is how superheroes hide themselves.
"Why are you going to see a psychiatrist?" Cassel was pushed to the gate, and then pushed out of the courtyard. Unknowingly, it seemed that he was standing on the street.
"If you can ask this question, I think you should also see a psychiatrist?" Ian closed the outermost wooden fence and made a very polite goodbye to Cassel.
"Study hard, practice hard, and believe in yourself."
His encouragement was somewhat gentle.
"..."
Cassel didn't know how to answer the question.
My head is buzzing.
Standing on the street.
This usually lively writer was slightly silent. Because his mind was inexplicably polluted, he didn't even notice Hellcat driving out of the large iron gate on the side.
"I probably don't know how to write a book anymore." Cassel was still struggling with the issue of writing techniques. He parked in front of the house, and the whisper of Ian seemed to be echoing in his mind.
At this time.
The street is very quiet.
"Bang~"
But maybe it wasn't absolutely quiet. There was a sudden sound of something exploding. Cassell was startled, and then he recovered from his doubts about life.
"Did something explode?" His expression was uncertain, like a frightened large animal, but he looked around and couldn't find the source of the explosion.
"Pa~"
Something hung in front of Cassel's face.
There are also bricks and sawdust.
"The roof of this family's house was blown through!" Kassel discovered at this time that the place where the explosion occurred was actually the house directly in front, and a big hole was blown directly in the roof.
"That's..."
Cassell saw a pink prop soar into the sky - and then, it seemed like someone from the broken house also soared directly into the sky at a dizzying speed.
It's a boy.
His hands were raised high.
Expression anxious.
It seems that he is trying to save that... toy that has exploded into a crispy sausage?
"What the hell! What's going on with this family!?" Cassel rubbed his eyes vigorously to make sure that he was not crazy or that he was not secretly given some kind of hallucinogenic drug by his bedmate last night.
"Ding ding ding~"
suddenly.
The ringing of the cell phone brought Cassel back to reality from his trance.
Caller ID.
Bruce·Wayne.
Cassel obviously did not store a phone number with this name, but it was displayed. However, Cassel, who was already shocked and couldn't be more shocked, was numb to such a thing.
"Hello?"
He answered the phone.
"You have to forget what you just saw." A rather magnetic voice came from the other end of the phone, a unique voice that can often be heard on TV.
"Are you really Bruce·Wayne?"
Cassel swallowed.
"I am."
The other party responded briefly.
"Have you spoken to the boy?"
Bruce asked the question he was most concerned about.
"We've talked about it, but now I just want to know what's going on with this family, and... why you chose me." Cassel clutched the phone and trotted away from this strange neighborhood.
"Because you are the easiest to use - and tell that boy that his father said that he would become bad when he was rich, so he asked me to put his share in his Trust Fund!"
"Damn Imp, he blocked me!"
Bruce's voice was filled with annoyance.
Cassell didn't listen.
Because he was feeling melancholy that he was not the kind of man who was looked upon with admiration and even the rich thought he was very capable. And just when this uncle who liked to fantasize like a child was feeling depressed.
Immediately afterwards.
Bruce's voice sounded again, "You don't need to care about the situation of this family. You just need to keep your mouth shut. I know that you haven't written a word of your new book yet. If you don't want to pay liquidated damages, then complete the commission I gave you - if everything goes well, I guarantee that your worth will double again."
Typical carrot and stick.
Threats and promises from money-power holders carry weight.
"I understand." Cassel stopped and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. "But I still have to go back and think about it. I need to process what I saw today."
His words aroused Bruce's vigilance.
"What else do you need to clarify about those things he wrote?" Bruce's voice did not rise and fall, and the feeling of doubt was still very clearly expressed.
"Um..."
Cassell's expression became tangled, "Actually, some of the boy's writing is really good." For example, one of the plots shows Superman holding Metropolis with one hand, but he can still kiss the heroine and make domineering declarations. This kind of romance is actually very popular in some markets."
He didn't quite accept it.
But it doesn't mean that he can't identify the market.
Cassel believes that business giants like Bruce·Wayne must also have the ability to distinguish.
However.
"This is not the one I want you to read!"
Bruce sounded calm, but in fact his teeth were almost broken by himself.
"Yes, there is another book about Batman. That book is indeed a bit absurd. However, I think after Joker was hit by a car, Batman threatened the doctor. If he can't save his child and Joker, he will let the entire Gotham be buried with him, which should gain a lot of audiences in Gotham's specific market."
Kassel's professional capabilities are extremely strong.
Although he doesn't know why Bruce has recently focused on the less profitable market of novels, he feels that as a capitalist, Bruce will definitely believe in publishing whatever makes money.
However.
This indicates the judgment of the market core.
Kassel did not wait for the judgment of Bruce·Wayne.
All he heard was gasping.
Immediately.
There was a sudden deathly silence on the other end of the phone.
Hellcat was speeding on the road, and the wheels crushed a stone on the ground.
The vehicle flew past, and the stone fragments hit the outer wall of a church, and then rolled into the church door.
Even in broad daylight, the dim candlelight was still not extinguished in the church.
It reflects the tall the Cross and the solemn icons surrounding it.
The afternoon sun shone through Stained Glass Window into the empty church, stretching the shadows of Jonathan·Kent. He sat quietly on the bench and looked up at the high-hanging the Cross.
The eldest son of the Kent Family has been in this position for nearly six hours.
"The Lord is watching everyone."
The priest walked slowly from behind Altar. He noticed the presence of Jonathan and asked softly, "Young man, what can you do? I see that you have been sitting here for almost the whole day today."
The priest's concern was very real. Jonathan did not answer immediately. He seemed to be immersed in his own thoughts. After a moment, he raised his head and looked at the priest with wandering eyes.
"I'm thinking about a question."
Jonathan's voice was somewhat hesitant.
"What's the problem?"
The priest spoke gently.
Trying to understand the inner struggle of this young man.
"God can save us all, right?" Jonathan's voice was full of uncertainty, but full of desire for a definite answer.
The priest nodded slightly and replied in the affirmative, "Yes, God's love is boundless, and He is willing to accept every soul that truly repented."
Hear this.
Jonathan's eyes flashed with joy.
"Well, that's great." He made an action that surprised the priest - Jonathan stuffed the Black Diary in his hand into the church's Donation Box.
The notebook made a muffled "thunk" sound when it fell to the bottom of the box.
However.
The priest seemed to see nothing.
"It belongs to God."
Finished.
Under the confused gaze of the priest.
Jonathan left here without looking back.
"Ian is the smartest one among us. It's right to think like him." The big boy murmured in a confident tone, echoing softly in the slightly empty church.
"Is this boy sick?"
The priest was puzzled.
Within his invisible field of vision.
A Black Angel appeared silently.
He is an acquaintance of Constantine.
Manny the Angel.
"What the hell."
Angels tilted his head slightly and stared at the ordinary plastic Donation Box with his golden eyes. Some inexplicable sense of disobedience emanated from the box.
It's like something that shouldn't exist but is there.
"What is this? Something from Outer Universe?"
He stretched out his black and pure hands.
He pinched the edge of the black diary accurately.
The next moment.
Hidden in the black notebook, the evil nature that no one knew existed seemed to have found a more suitable host - it clung to it silently.
"Huh?"
Angels's pure golden eyes began to show signs of being dyed black.
Nothing more.
He didn't seem to notice it.