On the moon.
Divine light shone brightly.
The sound of forging, inaudible to ordinary people, echoed throughout the universe.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Next to the Divine Power Furnace.
Clark grabbed one piece of superalloy and smashed another, sending Mars flying. Although they were in a vacuum, the vibrations from that force seemed to penetrate the universe itself.
Ian floated cross-legged in mid-air.
A surge of divine Divine Power was constantly boiling above his head.
Golden light emanated from its head.
He was like a true Heavenly Bodhisattva.
"This thing is incredibly difficult; I doubt it can be completed in a single day." Clark was meticulously forging the armor using the divine Divine Power Ian unleashed.
However, the progress is not ideal.
"How long is this going to take?" Ian glanced at the watch on his wrist, which was painted with a brush, and it was calculating the time on Earth with the precision of a flowing painting.
"Dad, I'm about to start school." If there's anything in this world that Ian values more than paying taxes, it's definitely going to school. He generally won't skip class unless it's something really important.
Despite the horrific incident yesterday, many schools in the Metropolis were spared, perhaps due to the low-society atmosphere in which children rarely die in DC.
In conclusion
The school is fine.
This means that on Tuesday mornings, students whose families have not Deadman or who are not homeless can still go to school. Of course, this is not a mandatory requirement for public schools.
It was just a normal class.
Whether or not students come is entirely voluntary.
Ian is very willing to volunteer.
"At least we need to get the basic framework out there, right?" Like most men in redneck families, Clark valued ability more and didn't care much about whether his children were late for school.
He was a farm boy.
Her hand-forging skills are also extremely proficient. Anyone who knows America knows she's a jack-of-all-trades, because hiring labor is really, really expensive.
Their expertise in various handicrafts was born out of necessity.
"Student Code of Conduct, Rule Number One: You may leave early, but never be late!" Ian began to stop his Divine Power burst, and his entire body transformed from a glass-like shell back into a handsome boy.
"Okay."
Clark was just a blacksmith, so of course he couldn't debate with the real core of the team, the Furnace Kid. Ian remembered that going to school actually made him quite happy.
At least he wasn't as arrogant as many people who are blinded by power.
"Come again tonight."
Ian tidied up, dug up some Lunar Soil from the ground to grow vegetables, and seeing that Clark had cooled the forged embryo, the father and son then flew towards Earth.
The old father was flying much faster than Ian, but he slowed down to wait for Ian.
"You can come again tomorrow."
Clark wasn't in a hurry, of course; he didn't need the armor.
And he knew it too.
This is a long and arduous forging process.
It will take at least several weeks.
This is not something that can be accomplished overnight. On the way back,
"I have a feeling you're up to something again, sneaking around doing something." Clark as he flew, glancing down at the armor embryo in his hand. Its surface was covered with intricate patterns, resembling some kind of ancient runes, or perhaps naturally formed cracks.
But the arrangement was unusually neat, even somewhat eerie.
His superhuman vision allowed him to clearly see, at a microscopic level, various images of Ian's facial expressions hidden within the patterns on the armor's surface, though he didn't know their purpose or significance.
"Just as Damascus steel blades have Damascus patterns, the metal forged by God Ian naturally also has Ian Pattern. It's scientific, natural, and also very, very reasonable."
Ian responded with complete confidence, not even blinking.
"Um?"
Clark glanced suspiciously at his youngest son, who was flying beside him.
"You tampered with Bruce's armor?" This wasn't really a question. Clark certainly didn't believe Ian; the patterns were too strange, and there must have been a lot of hidden designs mixed in.
He knew this perfectly well.
Unfortunately, his recent cramming on occult knowledge didn't seem to have enabled him to discern any clues whatsoever.
"Dad, you're being paranoid. You should see Dr. Hannibal." Ian immediately raised his hand and swore, "My skull was open just now, so I couldn't really have any wild ideas."
"I simply enchanted this armor as a way of repaying Young Master Wayne's generosity. It's a supreme enchantment powerful enough to make Young Master Wayne so satisfied that he wept tears of joy and knelt down to call me Lord Ian!"
"If Aunt Diana heard about this, she'd be knocking on my window every night begging me to enchant her," Ian said, his voice brimming with confidence.
He really did work hard to strengthen the Hellbat Armor, just as he did strengthen the Lasso of Truth, but Wonder Woman clearly hasn't yet seen the gratitude he owes her.
That's normal.
If someone is a little ahead of their time, they will be considered a genius. But if someone is many, many steps ahead, most people will hardly realize what a manifestation of wisdom that person possesses.
certainly.
Ian firmly believes that the Justice League is full of experts.
Anyone who uses his equipment to fight an evenly matched enemy will realize his greatness.
The boy became more and more excited as he thought about it.
Clark's Super Hearing clearly detected that his son's heartbeat accelerated by 0.3 seconds.
Seeing this, he didn't dare to ask any more questions about the enchantment details. After all, if Ian really did something wrong, he could only better face Bruce if he knew nothing about it.
Having made this judgment in my mind.
Clark then asked another form of question with suspicion.
"Didn't they leave a back door on the armor?"
He tentatively began to speak.
"I have always been honest and trustworthy, young and old!"
Ian got angry.
Upon hearing this, Clark frowned.
"Really not?"
He turned his head, his eyes filled with profound depth.
"Really not." Ian affirmed once again with a firm tone.
Clark remained silent for a moment.
As it flew into Earth's atmosphere.
He suddenly uttered a remark that even Ian found utterly repulsive.
"That would be a great idea."
It's hard to imagine that Superman could utter such cunning words.
"Ha?"
Ian's flight path paused slightly as he turned incredulously to look at his elderly father. The young boy had thought that hiding money was the worst thing Superman had ever done.
I never imagined Superman could have such a crooked idea.
"I'm serious." Clark's expression was grave; his ears twitched, but he didn't detect any listening devices. "Do you know who Bruce is going to use this suit of armor against?"
"Alien?"
Ian answered tentatively.
"That's right," Clark nodded. "And who's the alien he's fought the most?"
The elderly father was patiently guiding him.
Ian wasn't stupid; he realized it immediately.
It's you, Dad!
Ian's forehead lit up with a "ding".
This is a new ability he unlocked after his Divine Power became abundant.
It can express that one's family had a sudden flash of inspiration.
Very vivid and lifelike.
"It's us. Our whole family is aliens in Bruce's eyes. Even your mother, who married me, is Krypton. That's much closer to him than Darkseid."
"You can choose not to use backdoors, but you can't be without them. And you need to create at least thirty, no, three hundred, and distribute them in layers so that Bruce can discover about two hundred and fifty of them himself."
"The remaining fifty are a buffer zone. He will eventually discover all the backdoors, so you will need to perform regular maintenance on this suit of armor after it is forged."
Over the past forty years, Clark has clearly experienced his fair share of Batman's schemes. He seems to have matured into a Superman, outwardly righteous and great, yet also possessing targeted defenses against internal threats.
Although such precautions are often ineffective, it doesn't mean they shouldn't be taken. After all, people need to grow—in fact, his explanation to Ian was just a superficial one.
This was to make Ian take it seriously.
A deeper reason is that Clark has another concern—the King of Gotham has many plans targeting other heroes, and he is always worried that others will get out of control.
However.
This means that if Batman loses control, he could become a disaster even more terrifying than Superman. Batman took Superman 'Superman warning to be careful during the post-disaster reconstruction to heart.
"You're right, Dad. I was indeed too young." Ian actually quite enjoyed being hit, but he knew this wasn't the time to talk about it.
The nine backdoors I had prepared were definitely not enough.
Old ginger is spicier.
My dad's three hundred-plus backdoors sounded very secure, and adding another zero would probably make it even more secure. Just when Ian thought he had definitely surpassed his father...
"Ring ring!"
Clark's phone rang.
" Clark! Why did you take so long to go to the bathroom?! Don't you know there's a giant light bulb in the sky?! This is big news!" An angry voice came from the other end of the phone.
It was Clark's newspaper owner who was yelling.
Superman instantly switched to the panicked tone of Clark Kent, "I was indeed in the bathroom... yes, constipated... very constipated... oh, of course I know that."
"And I also got close-up photos of the big light bulb from my informant." Clark said, glancing at Ian, Ian could only silently let his head light up slightly again.
It wasn't too bright, perfect for a staged photo.
"Exclusive photos? Hahaha, go ahead, go ahead. Oh, I'm not supervising your work, it's just that sometimes, being the boss is really tough."
The newspaper owner's attitude changed instantly.
Clark quickly gave a few more perfunctory replies and hung up the phone.
"Click~"
I don't know where he pulled out the camera, but professional reporters are different. After taking a few pictures of the top of Ian's head from all four directions, he instantly swooped down from the clouds.
"Don't cause any trouble outside today. Your mother and I both want to get a good night's rest." A figure sped away and disappeared into the horizon, leaving Ian silently turning off his phone.
"Ding-dong~"
Because they returned to Earth.
Ian's Half-Phone also received a delayed text message.
A bank notification popped up.
[Adam Keaton's transfer received: $1,000,000,000] This is clearly one of Batman's aliases; heaven knows how many identity accounts he has on Earth.
It has to be said that the King of Gotham is really straightforward when it comes to payments. He paid the money before the goods were even produced, which is much more efficient than many bosses who delay payment for months.
Ian guessed that young Master Wayne was afraid he would forget about this little thing as soon as he turned his back.
"Mom probably doesn't know the house is gone yet. I need to buy a big house right away, or she'll definitely kill me." Ian's gaze turned towards the direction of the house.
The new ruins are completely charred black.
The fire has long been extinguished.
A faint aroma of burnt food lingered in the air.
All that remained of their original home was a pile of ruins, but in the middle of the ruins, the two older brothers were busy setting up a barbecue grill and skillfully flipping the meat skewers, as if this was not their bombed-out home, but a newly emerging commercial district.
"???????"
Ian rubbed his eyes.
You read that right.
His two older brothers weren't sleeping in the Hellcat, but were eating barbecue and dividing their spoils— Ian could clearly see a stack of money in Jordan's hand.
"I paid for all of Jordan's hospital visits! How does this guy have so much money?!"
Ian was very indignant.
I don't understand why I wasn't included when the family property was divided.
He immediately listened attentively.
Let's see what kind of "battle for heir apparent" Jordan is up to. We see Jordan counting money for Jonathan while simultaneously brainwashing Jonathan.
"We're minimizing the damage! Yes, Ian blew up the house, we're just making good use of the accident scene. He's the one who needs to explain this to Mom and Dad, not us."
"God knows how desperate we were watching our burning house after he rescued you and ran away," Jordan said, his voice rising and falling, his face still covered in dark, smoky makeup.
In response to this...
Jonathan didn't respond; he just clutched his large box, still shaken. "Thank goodness the idol is alright... it must be divine protection!"
The eldest brother still cares so much about his idol.
"Don't be superstitious," Jordan shook his head. "Like Ian said, Metropolis, and that's the Father God. He's just too smart, that's why he blew up our homes."
"I bet he's in his room researching some kind of Nuclear Fusion and Fission." Jordan's physics skills don't seem that great, but thankfully he's now a Krypton God of War.
Otherwise, with this level of knowledge, getting into university would be a real challenge.
"Oh? Superstition?"
Jonathan didn't correct Jordan's understanding of the difference between nuclear fusion and fission; he's a football player who's now starting to see a charlatan's attempt at absurdity.
"Then how do you explain that ever since we put up the Hestia statue, our barbecue has never burned?" The older brother, holding his collection of statues, posed a counter-question to Jordan.
"That's because I'm good at cooking. Ian said I also have Super Brain. Super Brain can learn anything quickly. I was just kidding with you," Jordan said confidently.
"That's the protection of the gods!"
Jonathan, however, persisted.
The two argued until their faces turned red.
No one noticed that the little brother in the sky was silently observing all of this.
"Alas, what a troubled spring."
Ian knew he wasn't the one to take the blame.
He did indeed blow up the house.
He didn't say much.
Now all he can do is try to salvage the situation by relying on his financial resources.
"Let me look for a new house."
With half an hour to go before school, Ian's gaze swept across the city, and soon he spotted real estate agents diligently handing out flyers on the street early in the morning.
He was a middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt with an overly enthusiastic smile.
People who are out working at this time are obviously very hardworking.
Moreover, this person seems quite clever to capitalize on the fact that many people lost their homes last night and try to sell them real estate. Ian particularly enjoys dealing with intelligent and hardworking people.
"He's the one!"
Ian dove to the ground.
" Armor Hero! Transform!" The Mimicry Armor quickly writhed on his body, transforming into ordinary school clothes. When he walked out of the alley, he was already a harmless teenager carrying a schoolbag.
at this time.
Real estate agents are still pitching to commuters heading to work in the early morning. On the streets of the Metropolis, the sun has just begun to shine on the sidewalks, and the air still carries a trace of the warmth of last night's fireworks.
"I'm Phil Dunphy! A professional real estate agent, your best choice!"
"Buying a house? What you need isn't location, or school district, but me! Because—I can change your life." Real estate agent Phil was a kind-looking man.
His smiling face gave him a somewhat henpecked look.
He was holding a thick stack of flyers he had printed himself.
As Ian approached.
It also warmly wishes Ian a wonderful school time.
Of course, normal people wouldn't try to sell real estate to children, but that doesn't stop children from actively seeking it out.
"I want to buy a big house with a large garden, several garages, several studies, and preferably some cats and dogs. Although my pet isn't a dog, my mom's pet is a cat."
Ian got straight to the point.
They didn't even look at the flyer in the other person's hand.
After all, the real estate information prepared for working-class people is not suitable for wealthy Lord Ian.
Billionaire.
They should live in a big house.
"Huh? You want to buy a house?" Phil was taken aback, sizing up the boy who looked to be under fifteen.
His very professional smile had a hint of suppressed amusement.
"Shouldn't buying a house be a decision for adults?" Phil didn't mean to send Ian away; he figured Ian was probably a kid from a family that was preparing to move.
certainly.
Perhaps he was dissatisfied with his current living environment; vain young people are not uncommon these days, but Phil didn't intend to mock or scold him. He enjoyed playing with children, so he had already prepared a set of words.
This was used to advise Ian that if he wanted to live in a nice house, he needed to study hard.
However.
In response to this...
Ian tried to make the Dragon King smile, but his crooked mouth gesture was a bit clumsy.
"I bought the house as a gift for my mother; that's how rich people are." He knew he was a nouveau riche.
Therefore, he seamlessly displayed his account information.
There's also the backend of the bank's app.
It has to be said.
Ian perfectly embodies the arrogance of the nouveau riche.
Not based on acting skills.
It all comes down to talent.
"!!!!!!!"
Real estate agent Phil's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
His mouth was so wide open it could almost fit a baseball.
He blinked, then blinked again, and even swiped the app on Ian's Half-Phone to try and make sure it wasn't some kind of prank using a fake app.
But everything is real.
"One... ten... hundred..."
His voice grew softer and softer, until it became a breathy sound when he counted to "hundred million," sounding just like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
That's quite normal. After all, it's really hard for someone like Phil, a middle-class person, to imagine what kind of family would let a child squander 1.09 billion US dollars.
Compared to his wealthy father-in-law, he was practically living in a slum!
Suddenly, he stood up abruptly, his movements so precise it was as if he were possessed by a West Point instructor, his voice unusually serious, "Mission accomplished, sir!"
Phil didn't want to miss out on such a big deal.
Even if he doesn't have any properties available.
Through persistent pleading and cajoling, he was able to obtain similar listings from others.
Ian blinked. "It would be best to find it today. You know, we rich people's time is very precious—that's a line I saw in a TV series."
He was ruthlessly exposed by Phil.
But I'm getting really anxious.
After all, Ian could wait.
But my mom and family couldn't wait.
Unless his father builds a new cabin, but Ian doesn't really like living in a cabin. He's been a savage Paladin before and doesn't want to go back home and experience the savages' mundane daily life again.
"No problem!" Phil's response was as quick as a reflex, but his brain was still processing the visual shock he had just experienced—the string of numbers was long enough to make his mortgage look like a convenience store receipt.
"Okay, okay, my number has been sent to your phone." Ian said, turning and walking away, his school uniform jacket billowing in the morning breeze.
"But you haven't seen my flyer yet."
Phil couldn't stop Ian from going to school.
He frantically pulled out his phone.
Sure enough, a new notification popped up on the lock screen.
[Add Contact: Mysterious Tycoon]
No phone number, no email address.
There is only this one contact information that can be dialed.
"Oh, I knew Men in Black technology really existed!" Real estate agent Phil was stunned. It took him a long time to come to his senses, and his mind was filled with all sorts of fantastical ideas.
A mysterious child with advanced technology wants to buy a luxury mansion!
He could tell this story to his children for a lifetime!
"I need to get this job done, hehe, if this deal goes through, Claire will definitely give me a big reward tonight!" Phil picked up his phone and dialed a few numbers of his colleagues.
"Hey buddy, I'm looking for a place with a big garden, several garages, several studies, and preferably some cats and dogs."
He reiterated Ian's demands.
"The kind of big house only rich people would consider?" There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a low chuckle, "You're not looking for that Wayne family mansion, are you?"
"Which mansion?" Phil asked instinctively.
"The one Bruce Wayne just listed, right on the East District Lakeside, three stories with a private garden and underground parking."
I've heard there's also a hidden wine cellar.
The other person's voice was full of envy.
Phil was slightly taken aback upon hearing this.
" Bruce Wayne? That reclusive billionaire living in Gotham? Didn't he just announce that he'd taken on the reconstruction work for the disaster-stricken area of Metropolis? He must be under a lot of financial pressure, right? Is this to raise money?"
His confusion made his friend chuckle.
You underestimate that person.
"They're just trading in their old car for a new one. Do you think they're short of money? They probably just want a place to live that's not even a proper place to stay."
Perhaps the new luxury homes are already on the blueprints for the disaster area's reconstruction.
The colleague on the other end of the phone sounded very emotional.
What countless people crave but cannot obtain, the wealthy may only make preparations on a whim, for the sake of occasional convenience. This is the difference between people in the capitalist world.
Phil was also stunned.
I was amazed.
The world of the wealthy seems increasingly unfathomable.
"Okay, I'll take my client to see it later." Phil thanked his friend first, then received the message his friend sent, and spoke quietly as he checked it.
Upon hearing this...
The other party immediately gave a reminder.
"Okay, but we need to hurry, three groups of people have already made reservations. You know, many wealthy people want to get in touch with Bruce Wayne and become familiar with him."
This is a common practice in high society that many people are familiar with.
Phil understood.
However, all he could do was sigh helplessly.
"What's wrong? Is your client usually very busy?"
Phil's friend on the other end of the phone sensed his predicament.
Phil scratched his head.
"I suppose he's a bit busy? My client is rushing to school. By the way, how long do private high schools usually let out?" Phil clearly misunderstood the school Ian attended.
His words were very informative.
He directly silenced his friend.
"Outrageously rich people."
The voice on the other end was filled with emotion.
"Who can argue with that?" Phil shrugged as well. The two real estate agents sighed simultaneously and began asking each other what the wealthy were thinking. They eventually came to the same conclusion: the world of the rich is like quantum physics—you think you understand it, but you haven't even scratched the surface.
This is true enlightenment.
at the same time.
Ian arrived at his school just in time.
He always knew that a superhero could lack great abilities, but he absolutely had to have an outstanding academic background. Most of the popular superheroes were highly educated individuals.
"I wonder if that agent is reliable or not." Ian was still thinking about the mansion he had bought to please his mother, unaware that Phil had already found a very suitable property.
There is no such thing as true omniscience.
The kind-hearted boy could never have imagined that even in the Metropolis, the money he earned from Young Master Wayne would ultimately flow back into Young Master Wayne's hands.
certainly.
This is not the problem Ian is facing now. He has returned to his student life, and even though he has become a billionaire, he has not bought a plane to land in the school parking lot.
"I'm not a person who likes extravagance. At most, I'll just buy the opportunity to create exam papers so that everyone can produce truly high-quality exam papers."
It's not just about not being flashy.
Ian also has a lot of consideration for his classmates.
Entering the campus.
Most students have not yet arrived.
Sunlight streamed obliquely through the window, casting long shadows on the desks and reflecting golden light that drew a dazzling arc on the classroom ceiling. Ian sat in the classroom, idly twirling his pen.
He couldn't wait for Madison, the Little Punk Girl, to come to school, and naturally, he couldn't use his status as a billionaire to condescend to personally trick Little Punk Girl into signing the New Justice League induction agreement.
"Why isn't that Little Punk Girl here yet?" Ian was just a little suspicious, but he wasn't worried about the money. He thought the Little Punk Girl wouldn't be smart enough to run away with his money and move to another city.
Eager to show off to his best friend, Ian looked towards the back door of the classroom for the 108th time, but still couldn't see that familiar figure who always seemed to be chewing bubble gum.
Logically, Madison should have already come to show off her designer bags and shoes, only to be slapped in the face by Lord Ian balance. Ian was quite unhappy that he failed to show off.
Just then...
"Attention, students."
Student counselor Ms. Misha tapped on the podium. Today, she was wearing a T-shirt with "LOVE&PEACE" printed on it, making her look more like a student who hadn't graduated yet than usual.
Miss Misha has a good reputation for authority.
The entire classroom fell silent when she entered.
"First, we must mourn Mr. White— " Miss Misha's voice lowered, "The police have confirmed that the previous laboratory explosion was an accidental suicide caused by Mr. White's experimental error."
A moment of silence fell over the classroom.
Ian's thermos suddenly vibrated slightly.
"So," Miss Misha suddenly glared at Ian, "Please, those classmates who are good at making up rumors, stop spreading rumors like Mr. White ascending to the Steroid Planet."
Her voice clearly carried a hint of sarcasm.
Ian knew why Miss Misha was targeting him.
"The person who said you'd start lecturing me on all things sex after class was Madison!" He remembered that it was two years ago, and Miss Misha had been investigated for it.
Upon hearing this...
Misha Misha's lips twitched involuntarily.
"Actually, you were the one teaching me, and I benefited greatly from it." Miss Misha covered her forehead in exasperation. "Besides, the Child Protective Services said the person who filed the report was a little boy."
"They report me every day—oh my god, only God knows. I'll chat with you, just because I'm worried about you."
Monitor your mental health anytime, anywhere.
Perhaps Miss Misha was genuinely wronged, because she actually argued with Ian in front of the other students. In fact, this incident was not a secret among the students.
It was just another achievement that instilled fear in the school bullies of Ian.
certainly.
Ian was not lying.
This achievement wasn't something he made up himself; he really enjoyed exchanging psychological and physiological knowledge with Miss Misha.
" Madison is an actress! Who remembers she even played the ghost in Hamlet! A genius actress like that could certainly dress up as a little boy!"
Ian was truly wronged.
But what can you do when the Little Punk Girl didn't come to class today?
We can't force the Little Punk Girl to admit this fact to Miss Misha herself.
It is indeed true.
"Is it really Miss Montgomery? Don't we all know why the school has changed principals three times?" Miss Misha was clearly still not quite convinced by Ian's words.
The value of stories about ruthlessness is still increasing.
This left Ian speechless.
Such actions are indeed very much in line with everyone's stereotype of him.
Just as Ian was about to say that he was different and that he was now only declaring positive energy, suddenly, a cough came from outside the classroom door, obviously someone had been waiting outside for too long.
Reminded, Miss Misha then realized why she had come to the classroom in the first place.
"Alright, let's get down to business. Although Mr. White has left us, and we are all very saddened by his passing, life must go on, and he has successors who will carry on his legacy and continue to teach you."
"Let us welcome our new chemistry teacher—Mr. Jesse Pinkman, a former student of Mr. White." Miss Misha raised her hand, drawing the students toward the door.
Upon hearing the name, Ian's body trembled slightly.
Jesse Pinkman?
Breaking Bad's star pupil has arrived too?
Ian looked down at the thermos he always carried with him.
This cup is no ordinary water cup; it's a magical container he obtained from the outside, containing Mr. White's soul, while the Kryptonian Ancient God is kept in another thermos.
Just as Ian was feeling relieved that his classmates had finally found their career paths...
"Kapom~"
The classroom door was pushed open, and a young man wearing frameless glasses and a plaid shirt walked in. He looked somewhat nervous, his fingers tapping incessantly on his lesson plan.
"Hello everyone."
The young man greeted the students.
Miss Misha gave everyone a brief introduction before leaving the classroom. She is a counselor and a psychological counselor, and has many other things to do.
In the classroom.
The new teacher and the students stared at each other blankly.
The atmosphere became slightly awkward.
"Cough cough."
Mr. Pinkman seemed to cough a lot. He walked up to the podium and began distributing single-page test papers. "Let's do a short quiz to see how well you all do in chemistry."
This is a common procedure that many new teachers perform when taking over students from other teachers.
The questions were not difficult.
The main purpose is to enable new teachers to quickly grasp the basic knowledge reserves of each student.
"Basic, too basic." After the test papers were handed out, Ian only glanced at them before losing interest—the questions were as simple as asking "Is the water drinkable?"
It didn't even help him much in gaining professional experience as a [student].
You might as well read other books while taking the test.
"Fortunately, I have my former chemistry teacher with me." Ian poured out Mr. White, who looked like a LEGO and had been living in constant anxiety these past few days, from his thermos.
The witch- Little Punk Girl wasn't there either.
Therefore, no one except Ian can see this soul.
"You probably don't need me to help you cheat, do you?" Mr. White knew Ian's level of knowledge quite well, so he leaned on the table, looking up at his Evil God student with a puzzled expression—in fact, among the many beings Ian knew,
Only Mr. White truly believed that Ian was an Evil God.
"What cheating? I answered the questions using my own [ Spirit Control ] skills, and no one can find fault with me." Ian grabbed the little figure and stuffed it into his pen.
"I'm just an ordinary soul!"
Mr. White screamed, but no one could hear him.
"No, from today onwards, you'll be working part-time Pen Spirit."
Ian did not fail; he actually managed to stuff Mr. White into the pen. Knowing full well that he would be in trouble if he didn't satisfy the Evil God, Mr. White started moving on his own.
He has begun to regret why he sold and manufactured those addictive illegal substances.
Otherwise.
God certainly wouldn't punish him like that.
"Swish swish swish~ swish swish swish~" Ian let go of the pen, and it immediately stood up on its own, writing furiously on the test paper. In less than three minutes, the entire test paper was filled with answers.
The entire test paper was quickly filled out, the answers precise and even more detailed than the standard answers. Ian nodded in satisfaction, glancing around to make sure no one else had noticed.
The main reason was that Ian had put up plastic partitions around his test paper—something that would have seemed strange to anyone else, but Ian classmates were quite used to it.
As for the new chemistry teacher...
He, on the other hand, kept playing on his phone on the podium.
Listen to the sound of the keys being pressed.
It's like an online romance.
"Teacher, I'm done writing. I need to go to the restroom." Ian pulled Mr. White out of his pen, tossed it back into his thermos, stood up, and walked straight to the podium with the test paper.
"So fast?"
Mr. Pinkman was a little surprised. He had thought he had encountered a poor student, but instead he saw a full set of answers and instantly realized that the boy in front of him must be one of the top students in the class.
The new teacher quickly and carefully read and approved the document.
His expression gradually became somewhat dazed.
" Kent... your answering style..."
He stared at the exam paper.
These word choices and problem-solving approaches
His tone was hesitant, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.
Is there a problem?
Ian blinked his innocent-looking big eyes.
Mr. Pinkman looked up, a slight smile appearing on his face, "No, no problem. It's just that seeing these formal terms..."
It reminds me of my late teacher.
"I imagine you must have been Mr. White's favorite student at school," Mr. Pinkman remarked with a touch of nostalgia.
A reasonable explanation was given for this strange situation.
Upon hearing this, Ian immediately straightened his back.
"Yes, yes, Mr. White likes me very much." He said without batting an eye, holding the thermos to his chest, inside which Mr. White was slumped over, sighing.
However.
Only Ian could hear it; he shook the thermos vigorously.
moment.
The thermos fell silent again.
"Very good, it's clear you've truly mastered your teacher's teachings." Mr. Pinkman, perhaps testing Ian, put down the test paper and agreed to let Ian go to the restroom.
Well, how should I put it?
Ian certainly didn't need to go to the toilet.
He was just bored in the classroom, so he went straight to the school library, which was rarely visited.
[Student Career Experience Points +1]
[Student Career Experience Points +1]
[Student Career Experience Points +1]
You still need to study hard at school.
Ian flipped through books that even teachers might not read.
The experience points for the [Student] profession are gradually increasing.
Counting down the time until lunchtime, Ian stopped studying. He slowly walked out of the library, straightening his school uniform collar as he pondered which window to eat at for lunch.
Newly minted billionaires should pay attention to their diet.
That's a good idea.
They are indeed "trying" to improve their quality of life.
However.
As Ian stepped into the hallway, he found the classroom empty, even the teacher was gone. He frowned and glanced at his watch—11:47.
It's not time for school to end yet!
"?????"
Ian caught a girl running past.
Where are they? Where are my classmates and teachers?
He was already wondering if there was some new conspiracy, a major event looming over his life, resulting in the kidnapping of people at school, and then some clever person trying to use his classmates to threaten him.
only.
"You're home."
The girl from the next class gave a rather unremarkable response. She stared at Ian with a bit of infatuation, raised her hand to pinch Ian's cheek, but Ian dodged it.
despite this.
Slightly disappointed, the female student explained the situation to Ian: "The school gave a last-minute notice that there would be no classes this afternoon because yesterday's disaster was too tragic. A group of so-called 'student mental health advocates' are very unhappy that we still have to have classes today, saying that students shouldn't have to study while suffering from psychological trauma."
"There were demonstrations everywhere in the streets, with people holding signs and chanting things like 'Oppose the enslavement of students' and 'Give children a happy childhood.' Our principal was afraid things would escalate."
The female classmate patiently flirted with Ian at the same time.
Ian pretended not to see it.
"So, we're not getting lunch?" Ian was waiting for lunch, and he didn't expect this unexpected turn of events. Such a frivolous situation is definitely typical of America.
"And another thing, and another thing, the principal is too timid to keep you quiet." The female student, barely suppressing a laugh, revealed a complex situation at the school that one would probably never encounter in other schools.
In response to this...
Ian was extremely satisfied.
His efforts to rectify the inherent flaws of capitalism over the years seem to have been quite effective.
"I'm going to eat now, bye-bye." Ian thanked his female classmate quickly, turned around and rushed towards the cafeteria, his school uniform jacket billowing happily behind him.
"Etc!"
The girl suddenly wanted to call out to him.
Could you please provide your contact information?
She clearly wanted to develop a relationship with Ian.
I'm really looking forward to it.
However, Ian, who has Super Hearing, did not turn around.
Seeing Ian disappear without a trace, the female classmate, whose name shouldn't even exist, could only sigh, turn around, and vanish from the spotlight—a disappearance that might last a lifetime.
In response to this...
Ian was unaware of this.
He jogged into the cafeteria and found it quite crowded, even more so than usual.
"Yes, merit +1. My merit over there is also +1, and the same goes for this side." Ian knew that it was because of him that everyone was able to have another paid lunch.
Instead of being embezzled by America's school.
While queuing for food, he silently counted the students coming and going in his mind.
Merit +1.
"Another stranger, +1."
"This guy who was cursing the school yesterday is eating really well today, plus one more."
After eating and drinking to one's heart's content.
Ian picked up his thermos with satisfaction and followed the crowd out of the school.
The sunlight fell on my face.
He couldn't help but hum a song.
"Today is another day full of good deeds." That's what it means to like doing good deeds; even good deeds done in the past will continue to bear fruit.
Merit begets merit.
Merit is boundless and inexhaustible.
The real merit is yet to come.
Because school ends too early.
Ian didn't receive a call from the real estate agent, Phil.
So he decided to do something big.
certainly.
Ian remembered Clark's warning, "No going out to punish evildoers today," so he avoided any major trouble.
He will definitely behave like a good boy for at least today.
" Lord Ian wants to spread kindness throughout the world."
Ian glanced at his bank balance on his phone again. He already had a plan for how to spend the money. He whistled, and the Hellcat Sports Car pulled up in front of him with a beautiful drift.
The car doors opened automatically.
The cola on the cup holder was still steaming.
Obviously.
The Hellcat knew its owner had become a billionaire.
It is adapting.
"Well done." Ian patted the dashboard in front of him, sat down in his Ian's Exclusive Seat, picked up his ice-cold Coke and took a big gulp, then shook the can.
"Once I find a way to connect to Hell and create my own Demons summoning spell, you'll have plenty of oil every day." Ian began to paint a rosy picture for Hellcat.
His ride was quite swayed by this. The Hellcat's engine roared with pleasure as it carried the Evil God Capital through the streets of the Metropolis, finally stopping in front of an old apartment building.
get off.
Go upstairs.
Knock on the door.
Ian didn't try the broken elevator. Instead, he took the stairs to a front door. He heard a whooshing sound coming from inside, followed by the sound of slippers dragging on the floor.
"Who is it? It's so late in the afternoon."
Leonard rubbed his eyes, looking tired as he looked at the boy standing outside the door. "Oh, it's you, the rich kid who said he'd hire us and had a whopping ten million in pocket money!"
He was somewhat surprised.
However, there are more differences.
Who is it?
Sheldon's voice came from inside the house.
No one responded.
Neither Leonard nor Sheldon are ordinary NPCs.
They weren't sacrificed to the heavens last night.
However, both of them were sleeping in the living room, as if catching up on sleep. Perhaps college students are not protected by DC's minor protection law—their school was bombed last night.
I have nowhere to work.
"Now I'm a billionaire, not a multi-millionaire. Lord Wayne gave me more money than even his closest relatives, so he must really believe in my startup project."
Ian didn't forget to show off his bank account balance.
He knew he still had to rely on Uncle Bruce's name.
This is what enabled him to successfully hire useful scientists.
"!!!!!'
Another person appeared, their eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.
Leonard was completely stunned.
Are US dollars really just a number to the ultra-wealthy?
Such an outrageous amount of "pocket money" made him begin to suspect that it wasn't Old Man Ian who had saved the Gotham's life.
Rather, it's that the King of Gotham will die if he loses Ian for some reason.
Otherwise.
This simply doesn't make sense!
"Forehead-"
Leonard was so shocked he couldn't speak.
I've been holding it in for ages.
He only asked one question he had wanted to ask before.
"Was it Mr. Bruce Wayne who told you we lived here?" Leonard, even with his poor memory, asked.
But she still remembered that she hadn't revealed her address to Ian.
His previous encounter with Ian was truly magical, so the otaku actually remembered it very clearly.
"No, I found this place purely through intelligence." Ian grinned. He could find his aunt even without the Black Box, let alone now that he has access to Marvel's cutting-edge technology.
Leonard was momentarily at a loss for words. He had expected to hear about cutting-edge technologies like "satellite positioning" and "facial recognition," or even conspiracy theories about Wayne Enterprises monitoring the world.
"Wisdom?"
This word seemed to have triggered some kind of switch.
Inside the house.
Sheldon Cooper emerged from the tent in the living room.
His tent still bore the word "shelter," and his hair was a disheveled mess, as if struck by lightning. "The Earth truly needs enough wisdom to create enough things to defend against disasters—primarily to protect me."
"What happened yesterday was terrible, worse than the worst disaster in Star Trek." Sheldon's tone was filled with the worry of a frightened bird.
If Leonard hadn't taken his bank card, he would have bought a ticket overnight and headed to the African savanna—the scientist's conclusion after conducting statistical analysis was that it was the safest place.
"Disaster! Yes! Disaster!" Ian seized on this key word and squeezed through the crack in the door into the apartment, which was otherwise spotless except for the chaotic living room.
"I came here for this very reason!" Ian looked like a pyramid scheme leader, his eyes shining, and if he weren't afraid of scaring others, his head would be glowing too.
"Everyone, because of yesterday's incredibly mysterious apocalyptic crisis, I believe you have all realized the crisis facing Earth. If it weren't for Stocking Superman stepping forward, Earth would be gone!"
"However, while Stocking Superman could save us once, he couldn't save us a second time. This isn't a simple accident; it's a manifestation of the lagging development of human technology and the serious lack of safety protection mechanisms."
Humanity must take action!
"And we will be the pioneers!"
"To prevent the world from being destroyed, to safeguard world peace, and to uphold love and genuine kindness— Ian's Ultimate Protector Technology Group is about to be established!"
"Our group is committed to advancing Earth's technological development—from civilian to military applications, from the Earth's surface to outer space! Imagine what a wonderful scene that would be!"
Ian was very eloquent.
He took a step forward.
His voice was loud and infectious.
"We need to establish a disaster prevention system, develop a disaster early warning network, create emergency rescue robots, and even build a protective shield for Earth that can withstand asteroid impacts!"
"Heroes will no longer die in battle, because countless technologically advanced armored vehicles will protect every corner of the earth for us."
This is not a fantasy, but the future we will eventually face!
" Ultron Project can only succeed, it can't fail!" Ian became more and more excited as he spoke, even jumping onto the coffee table. He was Tony's student, and this wasn't about stealing ideas, but about the true transmission of knowledge.
"Join me, join this grand Destiny, become a part of it." It must be said that Ian does have a tiny bit of talent when it comes to channeling that mustache.
He spoke in glowing terms.
Leonard and Sheldon were both stunned by Ian.
"Actually, Mr. Bruce Wayne already invited us." Leonard didn't know why he was so excited, but he said to Ian with a slight smile.
This was clearly a message to Ian that he didn't need to keep fooling the two of them.
A billion is a lot.
But Leonard also knew he couldn't do those things.
"My Uncle Bruce is so thoughtful?" Ian was also taken aback, and jumped off the coffee table. He watched as Sheldon took out disinfectant and began frantically disinfecting the coffee table.
He was still making muffled noises.
"I understand Klingon. There are no biological viruses or tetanus bacteria on my shoes. I've checked."
Ian whispered a reminder to Sheldon.
Where is your microscope?
Sheldon was taken aback at first, then spoke seriously.
Here.
Although Ian could identify microorganisms with the naked eye, he preferred to interact with others as an ordinary person, so he actually pulled a microscope out from under his clothes.
Anything can be stored in the Extra Dimension.
"?????"
Leonard was completely stunned.
"!!!!!"
Sheldon was stunned.
"You actually had a biological microscope hidden under your clothes?" He had always known how meticulous and unique he was, and he never expected to meet another person so extraordinary in all these years.
"Now let's get down to business. My Uncle Bruce wouldn't be sending you guys to spy on me, would he?" Ian casually put away his microscope, his expression immediately turning suspicious.
"Yes." Sheldon nodded.
"Hey! Spies can't be revealed!" Leonard turned around and stared at Sheldon speechlessly.
"Huh? Why not? I'm a multi-faceted spy."
Sheldon remained calm and collected. "Let him think we've defected first. We're still Bruce Wayne's men. Leonard, you're really not cut out for being a spy."
He even started criticizing his roommate.
"Is that so?" Leonard was stunned.
"I'm still listening! I've been listening the whole time!" Ian protested, raising his hand.
Sheldon smiled.
"Oh, in that case, we're actually surrendering, and pretending to still be Bruce's people... triple espionage! Do you think a high school kid like you understands what I mean?"
He looked at Ian with the eyes that were about to test Ian's intelligence.
"Of course I understand."
Ian curled his lip.
You're using nesting dolls.
He summarized and concluded the findings.
"Clever!"
Sheldon gave a thumbs up.
"You managed to get Bruce Wayne to find my mom to persuade me—that's vicious, but effective, so I can reluctantly give you a chance to work for you."
"But you have to decorate my office exactly like it was when I was at school. I have photos; I sent them to the school this morning, but they shamelessly rejected them."
As he spoke.
Sheldon rushed toward the table.
Leonard felt somewhat out of place on the topic.
Are you really going to start a tech company?
He still found it hard to believe. Although many geniuses and legends become famous at a young age, it was hard to believe that someone was fourteen.
Facing Leonard's lack of trust.
Ian only had one sentence.
"I'm very rich. I don't understand scientists, but I know very well how to respect them. So, I can offer you a million-dollar annual salary." He held up one finger.
The kind that represents one million.
The blatant displays of wealth by the nouveau riche can sometimes be truly awe-inspiring.
Leonard's expression changed from doubt to loyalty.
"The school just happened to explode!" He suddenly stood up straight. "It's time we switched jobs."
Leonard's eyes were resolute, Penny's words, "I like men who can make money," resurfaced in his mind.
Sheldon, who was organizing his office's limited-edition, unreleased photos, turned around upon hearing this and said, " Leonard, you betrayed us faster than my mother betrayed God."
He has never respected God.
Leonard remained unmoved by these words.
"Honestly, boss, I'm not like him. I don't like being a spy. I can even complain to you. Sheldon is so easy to talk to because he insulted the principal this morning, so he was laid off by the school."
"This guy is basically a jobless bum now." Leonard not only betrayed his class, but also his roommate. Sheldon looked at him with shock and anger, but that didn't stop him from swearing allegiance.
"Actually, I could also take Uncle Bruce's spy; I don't do anything shady." Ian waved his hand generously; he was the magnanimous Ian he was today.
When can I start work?
Leonard asked the question that concerned him most.
He was indeed drawn to the grand vision that Ian had conceived.
This dangerous world.
It's definitely not just about needing superheroes.
"No rush."
Ian then pulled a tablet computer out from under his clothes.
"To protect the Earth, we must first dominate the market in civilian technology!" While nominally the Ultron Project, it was actually a plan to cultivate Evil God. Ian showed the two some blueprints for civilian technology.
"Televisions, computers, new energy vehicles—we have them all." Ian had this idea before; now, he's simply putting his Evil God cultivation plan into practice step by step.
oh.
By the way.
Ian himself is that Evil God.
"Um, I might need some help from my engineer friends with these design drawings." Leonard could certainly understand the design drawings, but he wasn't familiar with the practical operations in many areas.
He was, after all, a physicist.
"Come on, come on, I have plenty of money! Ideally, your engineer friends could find ready-made factories for me to buy, buy, buy. The sooner my tech products go into production, the better."
Ian also remembered that Leonard and Sheldon had an engineer friend, an engineer named Howard, who was indeed an excellent engineer when he wasn't having an episode.
Let me explain the reversed Heavenly Stems.
This engineer is even worse than the Little Black downstairs.
He has an extensive network of connections.
Ian felt that even if he didn't manufacture products, he would be suitable as the head of human resources.
"Um, in such a hurry? Is Wayne Enterprises eager to expand its business? Wayne Enterprises's food delivery app has been really useful lately," Leonard asked curiously.
Ian immediately refuted this.
"It has nothing to do with Wayne Enterprises. It's Ian's Greatest Technology Group that's about to rise. I will provide many job opportunities for everyone. I can even make America great again."
Ian still loves to have spirits possess him.
The man with the mustache has finished.
The Emperor Wansheng was invoked.
Leonard immediately felt a surge of pride and ambition.
"Uh... um? ---- Oh!" Sheldon didn't care about the business empire; he sat in his seat and began studying the civilian technology blueprints that Ian had shown him.
As a highly gifted theoretical physicist, he has a wide range of interests.
"These resolution parameters are more than three times higher than the current flagship models! And this operating system architecture allows for better integration with my Game Console!"
All right.
He was clearly thinking about something off-topic.
but.
I finally understood all the blueprints.
"I didn't expect you to actually have something good." Leonard listened to Sheldon's detailed explanation and completely understood. He was genuinely amazed by Ian's blueprints.
"Of course."
Ian grinned crookedly.
I'm so happy!
Sheldon then offered serious advice, "They're all good stuff, but I suggest you build a factory in Asia. Producing these things in the United States is very expensive."
This is indeed extremely valuable advice.
However.
"I said it! I will make America great again!"
Ian immediately rejected the idea.
He didn't want to disturb the peace of Asia.
"Actually, I can sell it at a loss."
Ian certainly didn't care about the cost, and his main goal wasn't to make money.
Leonard and Sheldon were taken aback.
"So how do you make money?"
Leonard asked, puzzled, not thinking Ian was a philanthropist.
"You want to capture the market first? That's certainly a good choice." When Sheldon isn't acting crazy, he can actually offer insightful opinions on many things.
"It's not just about dominating the market; I can still make a profit even if I sell at a loss. Take televisions, for example. People watch them for five minutes after turning them on, and of course, they can also choose to praise Ian for thirty seconds."
Ian pulled out all the stops and revealed his grand vision. "It's the same with new energy vehicles. Features like ventilated seats and heated air conditioning all need to be thoroughly reviewed, and then they'll berate me for not putting features like brakes on them. My only advice to them is to let them praise Ian for thirty seconds."
"A minute of praise is worth half an hour of dating; this is the most cost-effective choice."
This is Ian's astonishing, overt scheme, a gathering of magical power. He's not after money; he's already learned from Bruce Wayne how to convert money into real combat power.
Why not go to Asia, the world's factory?
This tactic would be labeled a cult in Asia.
The Americas are different.
Cults are rampant here, Ian's actions are far more normal than those of actual cults.
"!!!!????"
"!!!!!?????"
Upon hearing Ian's business empire plan, both Leonard and Sheldon fell silent. They believed that Ian no longer wanted to make money; perhaps this guy just wanted to torment the people of America.
"Is this... legal? I mean, won't I really end up in jail?" Leonard's eyes widened, his face flushed, and he hesitated, unable to speak.
"In America? Of course it's legal." Ian patted him on the shoulder, uttering a resounding, world-shaking statement. "We can even apply for religious tax exemption."
Upon hearing this,
The entire room fell silent once again.
Ian was very satisfied with this.
It's obvious.
Leonard and Sheldon had both truly witnessed his Supreme Wisdom. Looking at the time, Ian knew he had achieved his goal and it was time to move on to the next matter.
Help the Dream God find the Dream God's Sandbag.
Before that.
He needs to find the Little Punk Girl first and retrieve his Navigation Map.
at the same time.
Inside an abandoned factory.
Bound and terrified, Madison watched in horror as the Minotaur Demon entered the dimly lit room.
"Shh~"
The Minotaur Demon, whose body was pieced together from an unsuitable form, raised a hand that had been torn from another body and made a gesture to speak privately to the witch who was bound within a magic circle.
The Minotaur is untying Madison.
They were very careful and cautious.
He kept looking back.
It seemed to be wary of being discovered by something.
[P. S.: Readers advised me to write 16,000 words a day for six consecutive days to avoid breaking my promise, and I think they have a point. It's the end of the month, so please vote with your monthly tickets.]