As soon as Thomas Wayne finished speaking, the room fell into a deathly silence.
For a moment, it was really hard to describe Ian's complex emotions in less than 20,000 words. He opened his mouth, then thought he had misheard and closed it again.
"Excuse me, what did you say?" Ian kept gesturing to his mouth, only his wide, staring eyes betraying his disbelief.
Ian really couldn't believe that Minotaur Simp could be so capable. You know, that guy's simp vocabulary only contained a few mindless simp quotes over and over again.
How could such a Demons, so lacking in vocabulary, possibly deceive a King of Hell with mere words?
"Your headed servant, it seems, through more than three hours of rambling conversation, convinced Belial, the King of Lies, that you are the future of Hell."
"He is Lucifer's true chosen successor." Thomas's expression became even stranger when he talked about this. He didn't think that a mere low-ranking Demons could deceive the King of Lies with lies.
That's why.
This was the most unbelievable thing for Thomas Wayne. Even someone as cunning and intelligent as him couldn't imagine how that lower-level Demons had managed to fool the King of Lies.
"Nonsense! Lucifer wouldn't even share half his magic with me. He clearly just wants to see me in Hell —wait a minute!"
"Who was that guy you were talking about with my Trash Can?" Ian suddenly grabbed Thomas's sleeve, the silk fabric of Thomas's clothes sliding through his fingers.
Armani clothing.
It's obviously smuggled goods.
" King of Lies Belial!" Ian didn't wait for Thomas Wayne's response, after all, he had heard it clearly too; the boy's eyes shone unusually in the dim light.
His golden-red eyes were like 200-watt light bulbs.
Thomas was somewhat disoriented by the flash. As he snapped his fingers, a ghostly blue flame suddenly rose from the last bit of ashes in the corner of the room to counter Ian's gaze.
The two lights cast Thomas's face in shifting light and shadow.
"So? Why does a name excite you like a Hell smelling dognip?" He leaned back slightly, avoiding Ian's suddenly approaching face.
Ian released his grip and began pacing around the room, his Nike sneakers crunching softly on the ashes. His grin widened, clearly overjoyed.
"This name is good, this name is wonderful!" Ian chanted like a spell, then suddenly turned around and said firmly, "This name sounds perfect for joining my new Land of Light!"
!
Ian is not only good at creating multiple accounts, but also at setting up shell companies. Anyone who has played Red Alert knows that having multiple bases is always a good idea.
It's obvious.
The new Justice League is no longer enough for Ian, because of the " Ultra Bomb," he considers himself the first Ultraman on Earth, so he feels that the universe should also have its own Land of Light.
"A great mission awaits me: to do what no one else can—purify Hell. Fortunately, I'm here. When I transform Hell into the new M78 Nebula, it will be brighter than Heaven! This is a complete transformation, a radical change, a renewal, a metamorphosis... um, my vocabulary shouldn't be this limited. Where did it all go? Anyway, there are many similar American idioms here, so I won't go into detail."
"My main concern is that you're not well-educated enough to understand. Anyway, this is me—the new king of hell, the king of Ultra, Ian, the master of hell transformation in the new era, the soul beautician of demons, the terminator of evil, and the purifier of darkness!" Ian was talking non-stop. He even took out a piece of chalk from his pocket and started drawing his project proposal on the wall, his words full of professional terms, but Thomas Wayne didn't understand a single word.
He'd seen countless business plans in both his past and present lives, but he'd never heard of anything as scribbled as Ian's. Bruce...
Wayne's doodles when he was three years old were neater than this.
"No, are you really not worried at all? Are you really going to accept that Demons's allegiance?" Thomas Wayne pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiped his face.
The spittle was flying everywhere, like rain.
He even suspected that Ian was deliberately spitting in his face.
"Don't worry, Thomas, you're still the first King of Demons to pledge allegiance to me, and no one can shake your position." Ian's expression was as sincere as a live-streaming salesperson shaking their foot.
Thomas's pupils dilated slightly at that moment.
"When did I swear allegiance to you?" Thomas Wayne was dumbfounded. No matter how hard he tried to recall, he couldn't remember making such an unwise choice.
"Didn't you want to go to Heaven?"
Ian blinked, his eyes filled with confusion.
Thomas Wayne quickly explained, "Oh, no, no, no, I'm exchanging this New Gotham for indulgences, I'm buying something."
It wasn't about selling myself out.
He was clearly afraid that if he was too slow to explain, he wouldn't be able to explain clearly and the other party would make a final judgment. In fact, Thomas Wayne was perfectly aware of Ian's nonsense.
"I think you're just trying to shift the blame onto Bruce, aren't you?" He didn't look at Ian with suspicion, but rather exposed Ian's little scheme with an absolutely certain tone.
No Mind Reading is needed; face-reading works very well with Ian.
"Um—Brother Thomas, you're really smart." Ian Shan smiled and took a step back. Even though he was very disappointed, he could only awkwardly give a reluctant thumbs up.
Thomas Wayne remained expressionless.
"Hehe."
He straightened his tie, each syllable seemingly filled with unspoken words, "Once you become a slave, your son is still a slave. This rule is still the class division established by my ancestors."
"You want to use my grandfather's methods against me?" I don't know what Thomas Wayne is showing off. To be honest, he probably already has his place in Hell from the moment he was born.
Those who can thrive and manage a city like Gotham, at least superficially, are born to be Demons in Hell.
It doesn't matter anyway.
The Supreme Emperor of Gotham demonstrated his family's scholarly tradition, belonging to the orthodox America Old Stars and Stripes, Ian was naturally no match for, so the young man could only concede defeat.
"When my second brother needs my help, as long as he can give birth to a New Krypton, I can also become a Krypton king." Ian secretly vowed to find several more fertile wives for his second brother.
Thanos's potion should be used where it's meant to be used.
Black people are physically strong, so the Black women in America will definitely have more children. However, considering his second brother's... well, let's just say he's a bit of a jerk, Ian thinks maybe My Little Pony should have a real-life version as a movie or TV series.
Krypton centaurs aren't out of the question; they are, after all, a fantasy race. However, calling a horse "sister-in-law" still feels a bit awkward, so Ian felt he needed to correct his second brother's freakish tastes. Thomas stared at Ian, who was starting to ponder again, a little worried that the other was still plotting some kind of scheme.
"Honestly, Ian, I hope you can resist the temptation to control the Demon King. He's the King of Lies, a master of deception and intrigue, with far more tricks up his sleeve than I do."
"God knows what he's trying to do to you with this bizarre decision," Thomas Wayne sighed, changing the subject while also revealing his own wariness.
It's obvious that he must have been burned by the King of Lies before.
"Don't worry, there won't be any problems. I have a labor contract, and it has a strong magical effect—by the way, the King of Lies wasn't from the Great Infant Empire or the Heavenly Capital when he was alive, was he?"
Ian remained cautious, but Thomas Wayne didn't quite grasp the leap in his thinking and didn't understand what he was trying to say.
certainly.
The old America flag still gave an answer, "You may not understand, but Belial and his ilk are the embodiment of original sin, unlike me, Demons born of hardship."
"They don't have the concept of 'being alive'." Thomas Wayne explained the classification of Demons to Ian, but Ian had already grasped this classification from Crowley.
"That's good! I'm completely relieved. I possess Supreme Wisdom, so his schemes certainly can't compare to mine. The only ones who can defeat me are those bears in those two places!"
An eerie silence fell over the room.
The last Mars in the ashes went out with a soft puff. Thomas blinked three times slowly, his confusion undiminished. He began to seriously consider whether he had been away from the world for too long, resulting in a significant generation gap with today's youth. Perhaps this was a way of expressing contemporary internet culture?
"Perhaps I really do have a generation gap with you young people today."
He still hasn't doubted Ian's mental state.
Thomas is such a kind guy.
"It's alright, brother. Your son understands me. He likes me a lot and has invested in many of my groundbreaking projects. He clearly has a keen eye for talent." Ian was adding "New Land of Light " amenities to the wall with chalk—including but not limited to " Demon Staff Cafeteria " and " Hell Health Insurance."
Thomas stared at the gradually taking shape plan behind Ian, where a section labeled " Ian's Happy House " stood out starkly. He hesitated to even consider what kind of "pleasure method" it might contain.
"Where's my Hellcat? Has it been found yet?" Ian felt he was missing a pat on the back, and the Hellcat was even better at flattering him than Baal, the Demon Head.
After all, it's a small car, so it's normal for it to be able to lift people.
Upon hearing this...
Thomas Wayne's lips twitched slightly, unsure how to express his emotions. He firmly believed that no Demons could be as sinister as the Demons of Ian's lineage.
The head of the lower-ranking Demons looks like this, and so does the Hellcat.
"It's out hunting Demons like crazy, as if it thinks that as long as it becomes strong enough, it can come and save you. The radio keeps playing some kind of recording about 'Ten Years of Demon West, Ten Years of Demon East.'"
"Hmm, it seems like it was some encouragement you gave it?" Thomas Wayne actually wanted to use the word "bewitch," but he ultimately chose a more subtle approach.
"That's loyalty!"
Ian's eyes lit up instantly, like two pumpkin lanterns that had been suddenly lit— Thomas Wayne looked at Ian with an expressionless face, Infinity moved.
"Truly loyal."
The King of Hell from House Wayne added a poignant summary of the plot.
"However, I managed to catch it myself." He seemed to be recalling the strangeness of that Demons vehicle; some attribute of the other party seemed to have a natural restraining effect on Demons.
That was definitely not a normal Demons car. Of course, if you consider that its owner is this strange Imp in front of you, then perhaps the so-called abnormality can be considered reasonable.
"They've caught him?"
Ian's movements abruptly ceased.
"Where did you park it? It doesn't like to park in paid parking spaces; it likes to fight with other cars for parking spots." He was already quite familiar with some of the Demons characteristics of this car.
"I think I already know that; it devoured all the other Demons cars," Thomas Wayne said, pulling a pocket watch from his inside suit pocket.
"Don't worry, I've been feeding it with live Hellhound, and it hasn't tried to escape the garage again for the time being. You can retrieve your car before you leave."
Thomas Wayne clearly knew how effective the feeding method was.
"Marvelous!"
Ian clapped his hands, reaffirming Hellcat's loyalty, "When I negotiate with my new aunt again, I'm going to ask her for some of her period fluids for it to drink!"
These words were spoken.
The pocket watch slipped straight from Thomas Wayne's hand.
It dangled from the silver chain and swayed continuously.
His pupils dilated to almost human size.
"Your... new aunt?" It's no wonder Thomas Wayne reacted so strongly. After all, he knew a bit about Superman's family, so the term "new aunt" couldn't help but remind him of the photo Ian had shown him before—the one of Martha and old Jonathan. The Martha in the photo wasn't Jonathan's official partner, Martha.
"It doesn't really matter." Ian was unaware of Thomas Wayne's deep-seated sense of crisis regarding their marriage; he remembered to keep his secrets about the darker aspects of the relationship.
The decay of the Demons furniture in those rooms was proof that Darkness didn't want anyone to know about her, Ian couldn't let that harm his brother Thomas.
He was very understanding and considerate of others. However, precisely because of this, seeing Ian acting somewhat suspiciously only fueled Thomas Wayne's fantasies.
"I want to go to Heaven! Really! I have to go to Heaven right now!" Thomas Wayne cried out, taking off his glasses and wiping them vigorously, as if that would erase the terrible images that were flashing through his mind.
"I'll write to Bruce right now and tell him to treat his new uncle well." It's clear he's already incredibly impatient; indeed, children are always an unexpected surprise for their parents.
"But I haven't even started the experiment yet. I need to test it on some Little Demon first." Lord Ian was very meticulous about his business and didn't want any accidents to happen to his guests. Because of this meticulousness, a bolt of lightning flashed past the window at just the right moment, illuminating the fascinating changes in Thomas Wayne's expression.
He took a deep breath, then another, and then yet another—this continuous action was especially rare in the Sulfur air of this Hell.
The Sulfur had practically marinated Thomas Wayne, but thankfully he finally calmed his turbulent, overthinking mind and immediately snapped his fingers into the air.
A dark shadow appeared in the center of the room, twisting and writhing as it gradually took shape. A dozen or so Little Demon, bound by chains, rolled to the floor like a screaming ball of yarn, their tiny, beady eyes filled with terror. The moment they saw Thomas Wayne, they all lost control of their bladders.
It emitted a mixed odor of rotten fish and rotten eggs.
"Here are the experimental materials you requested." Thomas Wayne disdainfully poked at the pile of Demons with his toe. "Now you should be able to take them back to Earth and begin your research, right?"
His voice carried a hint of urging, but he was also clearly concerned with his life and had no intention of taking any risks—after all, he was the first Lord Commander of Gotham.
The Little Demon's life might not really be a life in his eyes. Ian squatted down and tapped the Little Demon's head one by one, like picking out watermelons. He found that there were indeed a few heads that were suitable as Trash Can.
"Don't rush, I still have to wait for my King of Trash Cans, and Belial— " Ian promoted the Demons Baal, Baal Demons no longer just a simple Trash Can.
It became the king of the Trash Can.
"No need to wait for him! They'll be waiting for you at the exit of Hell." Thomas Wayne suddenly raised his voice, then forced himself to regain his composure. "I mean... how can something as important as the Indulgence Experiment be delayed by other matters? This is a real deal; the entire Hell will bow down to you because of it."
This isn't flattery, but rather a statement of fact. Not a single Demons doesn't want to immigrate to Heaven; for countless years, even the King of Hell have been plotting to conquer Heaven.
"Have you found my therapist yet?"
Ian picked up a small creature with six ears from the pile of Demons. The creature was using two of its ears to cover its eyes. It looked a bit like a character from an alien monster cartoon he had seen before.
"Forehead--..
Thomas Wayne hesitated after hearing this, as if he was worried or afraid of something, and he seemed indecisive.
"Could it be that my therapist has been eaten? Hmm, some Demons probably actually believe that eating a therapist can cure their mental illness."
"That's what they call 'you are what you eat.'" Ian's diet doesn't include any similar foods, so even though he understands the theory, he still won't put it into practice.
A young man knows what to do and what not to do.
This is what you call the uprightness and integrity of the King Ultra Hell.
Just as he was about to say something...
Hannibal Lecter!
Thomas Wayne suddenly interrupted him, speaking at an unusually fast pace.
"Yes, the psychiatrist you wanted." His fingers unconsciously traced the edge of his pocket watch. "I've... located the spot."
"Yeah, he was the first guy whose location I pinpointed."
The old king of Gotham still seemed somewhat hesitant.
"Then what?"
Ian released the Six-Eared Demon.
Brush off any dust that isn't actually there.
Thomas Wayne's expression became hesitant again. He looked out the window, then at the ground, and finally at the group of trembling Little Demon —he just wouldn't look Ian in the eye.
"His... well... his situation is a bit special."
The King of Hell finally managed to utter a vague statement.
"More special than my kitten and my Trash Can can?" Ian raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of surprise in his expression. He wasn't good at giving a faint smile.
However, he is very good at raising his eyebrows.
Ian doesn't like to brag about even his eyebrow dancing.
"He's staying in those confessionals, but the confessionals he's in are a bit special; my men and I can't get him out," Thomas Wayne sighed.
He hadn't expected to encounter that kind of situation when looking for a human soul.
"Can't I bring it out?"
Ian sensed Thomas Wayne's predicament and grew even more curious. Did these legitimate infiltrators from Outer Universe receive different treatment after death than other native souls?
Does the DC Universe offer preferential treatment to "international students"?
"This..."
Thomas Wayne suddenly turned and walked toward the door, as if he was hesitant to bring up certain matters.
You'd better see for yourself.
Thomas Wayne's Adam's apple bobbed, as if he had swallowed a piece of burning coal. His apprehension was palpable, and his black glove rubbed incessantly against the edge of his pocket watch.
This is a sign of nervousness.
Ian became increasingly curious.
Before Ian could ask anything further, Thomas Wayne opened an unremarkable door, revealing a passageway that shouldn't have been there.
This is clearly some kind of ability of Thomas Wayne.
Upon entering, the two began their ascent from the lowest level of Hell.
Hell.
This is not the land of fire and Sulfur that mortals imagine, but a mad collection pieced together from countless dimensions. Like a child roughly tearing up picture books of different styles and then randomly gluing the fragments together to form a new collage. Nearby, the spires of an 18th-century Baroque Church pierce into a futuristic metal city.
A floating golden stone slab connects to an upside-down palace, whose entrance leads to a desolate snowfield. The entire Hell resembles a three-dimensional maze drawn by a madman.
The slopes of the Ancient Egyptian Pyramid extend into Gothic flying buttresses, connecting to areas resembling Mayan Civilization. All the buildings in these areas seem to slowly creep along, like clay being kneaded by an invisible hand. Logic is completely abandoned here; only power and will can sustain existence.
The boundaries of Hell are being revealed.
Ian wasn't surprised by this. He already knew that Hell wasn't a single space, but rather like a giant onion with layers upon layers.
Each layer contains a different dimension, different rules, different pain and order. They traversed burning scorched earth, floating seas of vengeful spirits, and distorted mirror cities, finally arriving at the Upper Hell— a region closer to the "core of domination" than anywhere else.
This was also the area where Ian had been before he fell.
Near Lucifer's throne.
The throne hovered in mid-air, surrounded by countless burning Halo, as if the will of the entire Hell was concentrated on it. However, Thomas did not lead Ian closer to the throne, but instead pointed to a densely packed, neatly arranged array of square boxes. These were the confessionals that imprisoned all human souls.
Those rooms resembled enormous coffins, entirely black, their surfaces engraved with ancient runes and seals. Each one was like an independent cage, or perhaps an entrance to another world. Looking through the windows, one could see inside the Inverted Library, where books were chained to scholars who were reading.
In a desolate desert.
The businessman knelt before the self-replicating contract.
This is what an observer sees; the images presented symbolize the greatest obsessions in the hearts of trapped souls, binding them and preventing them from leaving.
"Your doctor is in Box 0." Thomas Wayne, who had changed his suit upon arrival, suddenly broke out in a cold sweat; the fabric of the suit was etched with a screaming face.
It's obvious.
This Hell-brand Suit is in a state of panic.
"No one in Room Zero knows who it is, but even Lucifer has never dared to approach—" Before he could finish speaking, Ian's fingers were already on the doorknob of Room Zero.
"Click."
It was a simple, unadorned brass handle, as ordinary as any accessory in a human apartment, yet at that moment it made Thomas Wayne swallow hard with extreme tension.
The door opened.
There was no Hell scene as expected, no gushing torrent of vengeful spirits. Only a light—so gentle, so warm, like sunlight filtering through sheer curtains on a winter morning, softly spilling across the threshold. Dr. Hannibal Lecter sat on the sofa inside the doorway, wearing his signature tailored suit.
His gaze was calm as still water.
He seemed to be doing what he always did. His consultant's notebook lay open on his lap, the pen casting a long, thin shadow on the paper. Everything was so normal, as if he were still alive.
"I think I'm starting to understand everything." Ian hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside. He looked towards the person opposite Dr. Hannibal.
Sure enough, the place was deserted.
However, it is not completely empty.
In this room, which was similar to Hannibal's office, a beam of light filled the patient's sofa, purer and more... vast than the light emanating from under the door.
It has no fixed form, yet it seems to encompass all forms; it makes no sound, yet it's like a thousand symphony orchestras playing simultaneously in your mind.
As Ian gazed at it, he saw countless possibilities arising and vanishing within it—a smiling baby growing into a knife-wielding murderer, a bleeding rose blooming into a dove of peace.
Even all the brilliance of the universe swirls within its light.
It has no fixed form, yet it inexplicably evokes the image of a languid, reclining noblewoman, with fleeting glimpses of her feminine silhouette occasionally appearing amidst the shifting light.
"So, ma'am, are you very dissatisfied with your husband?" The psychiatrist listened intently, his pen scratching across his notebook.
Completely unaware of the intruder behind them.
"He's like a cold stone monument!" Guangmang was focused on the conversation and didn't notice Ian's arrival. Suddenly, she fluctuated violently, her voice trembling like a thousand wind chimes.
"That old fogey has been feigning deafness and dumb ever since he invented free will! When he created the universe, he would say 'Let there be light,' but now he's locked me up in a place like this!"
The light twisted into an angry vortex.
"Please use the 'I feel' sentence structure," Hannibal interrupted gently. "Remember our agreement?"
The light flickered reluctantly.
"Yes, I felt ignored, so I threw a tantrum, but he shouldn't have just locked me up in Hell. I just wanted to destroy all of you humans."
"Who told him to pay so much attention to you?" The voice emanating from the woman was not only feminine, but also carried a uniquely feminine discontent; the image of a resentful woman was palpable even without being explicitly stated.
"Oops--"
Ian's leather shoe suddenly stepped on a loose floorboard.
Dr. Hannibal turned his head sharply.
" Ian? Ian Kent?" He became somewhat surprised and incredulous, unable to understand how his patient in the human world had tracked him down to this place.
Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you.
Seeing that he could no longer snoop on the gossip, Ian simply strode over.
"I think I was the one who made the appointment first."
Ian had already made an appointment with Dr. Hannibal; he had truly traveled a long way to see his therapist. Ian turned to the beam of light and gave a professional smile.
"Goddess Auntie, you've taken my reserved seat." At this moment, the Omniscient Ian re-entered the scene, and he had already recognized the species of the light on the sofa.
The Goddess of Creation.
The first ray of light in the world.
She is also God's wife, the mother of Lucifer and all the Archangel —she is God's wife. When it comes to XP, Jordan, Xu Xian, and Ning Caichen are all weaklings.
Look at God!
Damn it!
She even had many children!
Based on this point alone, it's understandable that there's so much freedom of choice among humans, since humanity originated from God, the Creator, and from the source, it's all about freedom.
This has already caused quite a few problems.
"?????"
The silhouette in the light stared at Ian.
They seemed surprised by this unexpected visitor.
How did you get here?
Dr. Hannibal couldn't understand whether Ian had also died. Based on his understanding of Ian, it would be perfectly reasonable for Ian to have come to Hell.
"Well, my butler Wayne will explain the details to you. Let's leave here first." Ian dared not communicate with his Lucifer's Mother as he did when he communicated with the darkness.
This goddess has truly reached menopause.
It's important to understand that humans are God's most prized creation, proving that He has given them everything He could. Therefore, isn't human menopause a reflection of the physiological state of one's wife? This is why it's not that goddesses are too anthropomorphic, but rather that the menopausal state of goddesses existed first, and thus, human menopause came into being.
"Miss Misha is so worried, and so am I. Let's go back to the human world first. I have so many medical issues to discuss with you, Doctor. I'll find you a handsome corpse when we get back."
As he spoke, Ian tried to take advantage of the goddess's inattention and quickly leave with Dr. Hannibal. However, he had only just pulled Dr. Hannibal up from the chair and pushed him out the door.
Ian hadn't even taken half a step out yet.
"Smack~"
The door suddenly closed.
This is when Lucifer's Mother came to her senses.
"Auntie? Who are you calling auntie?" The light instantly contracted into a dense point, its brightness increasing to a level that could burn a retina. All shadows in the consultation room were banished.
Even the Old Mouse Ben in the corner showed its skeleton under the bright light.
When Ian turned around, he found that the ball of light had condensed into a three-meter-tall humanoid silhouette, with countless light particles swirling wildly around her.
Like a solar prominence about to erupt.
"Human, how did you get in?" The voice of the Goddess of Light was now clearly audible—a mezzo-soprano with a mature social accent, but each syllable was as sharp as shattered glass.
"He just opened the door and walked in."
Ian pointed behind him, quickly adopting the honest Ian. The luminous humanoid figure visibly swayed, as if the answer was beyond her comprehension.
"I didn't give you permission to come in! So, what right do you have to be here?" The goddess's voice caused the books on the shelf to shake violently.
Then they all burst into flames.
Her light was much brighter than Ian's.
Ultraman backs down.
"No, the world is so beautiful, Auntie Goddess, please don't be so irritable." Ian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, trying to soothe her emotions.
His sweat was truly dripping.
"Don't call me 'Auntie'! You despicable human! You inferior creation!" Menopause confirmed; a beam of light lashed at Ian's feet.
A molten groove immediately appeared on the floor.
Ian's eyebrows curled from the Heat Wave, but he took a step forward, already having made up his mind. He absolutely couldn't show too much fear when dealing with a goddess like this.
" Lucifer and I are like brothers, and his mother is my aunt, so it makes perfect sense," Ian said matter-of-factly, once again using his Networking Entanglement skill.
The results were outstanding.
The light suddenly stopped.
However, this stillness is more terrifying than the previous rage, like the absolute calm in the second before a supernova explodes.
"Did Lucifer send you?" "He intends for you to replace Mazikeen in torturing me?" The goddess's light form shrank to the size of a normal human, its brightness reduced to the gentle level of a candle flame.
Her voice suddenly became as soft as a feather, yet it carried a chilling coldness that sent shivers down one's spine—this goddess was probably more lethal at this moment than when she was enraged.
"Of course not. Lucifer didn't say anything to me, but our communication was unspoken. Just because he didn't say it doesn't mean I couldn't understand what he meant."
" Dr. Hannibal is nothing special. I charge more, so according to the super equation, my medical skills are naturally superior. He wants me to secretly take care of you for him." Ian didn't know why the other party wanted to capture Dr. Hannibal, but he knew that his most useful identity right now was that of a psychiatrist.
Lucifer liked to see a psychologist.
His mother might also have this latent hobby.
"Care?"
The goddess let out a cold laugh.
The sound caused spiderweb-like cracks to appear on all the glass objects in the room simultaneously. These were manifestations of the other party's will, clearly indicating that the goddess's emotions had faltered.
She conjured a jewel-encrusted calendar, densely marked with red crosses. "So-called concern is just sending Demons to punish me every now and then?"
?
Upon hearing this...
Out of the corner of his eye, Ian noticed several charred Demons skeletons piled up in the corner.
Judging from their uniforms, they were all elite members of Lucifer's personal guard.
To be honest, Ian really didn't want to be one of them. He didn't feel any malice from the darkness, but it was different when he was facing this goddess.
"That was all... for a reason." Ian forced a twisted smile and blinked his right eye frantically. He swallowed hard, the sound of his Adam's apple bobbing loudly in the silence.
"Yes, there's a reason for it, but I dare not say more." Ian didn't dare to speak ill of God, so he could only wink frantically. Fortunately, his Lucifer's Mother was just as clever as him.
The goddess frowned and began to hesitate.
"Is he doing this for his father? Or does he still hope to get his father's forgiveness?" Lucifer's Mother was initially alright, but it seemed she was heading in a dangerous direction again. Ian's temples throbbed. This problem was like tap dancing in a minefield; one wrong step could trigger a double punishment from Heaven and Hell.
really.
Family conflicts are really hard to resolve.
Even someone as intelligent as Ian sensed the predicament.
He took a deep breath and decided to take a risky gamble. "I am the best psychologist in the world. Lucifer brought me to Hell, but not to Heaven. Isn't it obvious who holds more weight in his heart?" Ian answered irrelevantly, his frantic actions capable of various interpretations and hints. He was a man who had truly mastered the art of language.
The minimum required level is equivalent to that of a civil servant in a province with a high demand for civil service exams.
This cunning false proposition plunged the goddess into deep thought. The light rose and fell like the tide, sometimes revealing the benevolent outline of a noblewoman, and sometimes transforming into the delicate lines of a young girl.
Ian took the opportunity to wipe the sweat from his forehead, only to find that the beads of sweat had already evaporated from his skin. He'd been in the industry for five or six days and a half, and this was the first time he'd encountered such a tricky situation.
"Interesting..:"
The goddess's attitude suddenly softened. She reached out her glowing hand and lifted Ian's chin, her fingers of light leaving luminous fingerprints on his skin.
"You're much more interesting than those screaming Demons." According to the American TV series Lucifer, this goddess's mental illness is much more severe than Lucifer's.
God knows what she was thinking at that moment.
Are you lying to me?
Lucifer's Mother's voice suddenly softened.
The halo coalesced into a pair of almost tangible eyes, staring intently at Ian. That gaze seemed to pierce through his soul, making the hairs on Ian's body stand on end.
Ian's Adam's apple bobbed, but he still wore that harmless smile, "You're so smart, if I were lying to you, you would definitely find out, wouldn't you?"
As he spoke, he casually sat down in the seat that Dr. Hannibal had previously occupied, tapping his fingers lightly on the sofa armrest, as if he really were just a psychiatrist filling in for someone else.
Rather than a brave warrior who mistakenly entered a place forbidden by the gods.
"Um?"
Lucifer's Mother's aura flickered slightly, as if she were pondering his words.
Ian pressed his advantage, blinking and speaking sincerely, "To be honest, I haven't received a single negative review since my debut. How will you know I'm not a better choice if you don't give it a try?"
His expression was so sincere.
It was as if he truly believed he could soothe the emotions of a creator goddess even better than Hannibal Lecter, the man with the genius to seamlessly switch between cannibalism and top-tier psychiatrist. Lucifer's Mother's aura flickered, clearly not entirely convinced.
"If you're really that good, why did you book that appointment with that doctor—what's his name??" Even if Lucifer's Mother had something to do with humans, she still looked down on them. After all, humans were the culprits who caused her to be imprisoned in this place, and she had despised God's most prized creation since the beginning of humankind.
It's obvious.
The conflicts in the Goddess of Creation's marriage are actually quite similar to those in most human marriages; the cracks arise from one party's failure to understand the other's personal preferences.
"A true master always has the heart of an apprentice." Ian responded without changing his expression, spreading his hands, his tone relaxed, even carrying a sense of genuine pride.
"How can I know I've surpassed my peers if I don't learn about them?" His confidence seemed almost supernatural.
Even Lucifer's Mother was stunned.
The aura of the Goddess of Creation contracted slightly, as if reassessing the human before her.
"There is something unusual about you, very different." She narrowed her light eye above Ian, giving him a meaningful look.
"So, you can calm my anger?" The Goddess of Creation sat back down on the sofa, willing to give Ian a chance because of Ian special qualities.
after all.
That still very immature power.
This reminded the Goddess of Creation of the years before the birth of the universe. Perhaps this was a trick by God, but the Goddess of Creation felt she needed to think about it further.
Seeing that the goddess had calmed down, Ian immediately got into character, his expression serious. "No, no one can quell your anger; only you can overcome it."
As the boy spoke, he pulled a book from his pocket and pretended to flip through it.
What are you looking at?
The goddess's gaze fell on the book.
"That's not important. What's important is you. I only care about your situation." Ian smiled slightly, not even bothering to cover up the book title: < Parenting Guide: How to Deal with Rebellious Children>. Sure enough, just as he expected, Lucifer's Mother, the Goddess of Creation, despised humanity and therefore never cared about human writing.
She disdained to understand human writing. As the first ray of light at the beginning of creation, an omniscient and omnipotent being, how could she possibly care about the things possessed by the creation she despised most? It's hard to say, but because she disdained to understand, the Goddess of Creation was an illiterate person with an omniscient and omnipotent level.
She didn't even glance at the book title.
"You're right, my situation is the most important. I have endless anger inside me." The goddess was clearly drawn to Ian's voice and didn't bother to examine what Ian was holding. The doctor had something similar; perhaps humans all like to have a book open on their laps.
"You just said you felt ignored?" Ian tapped his fingers lightly on the sofa armrest, his face bearing the "I completely understand you" expression typical of a professional psychologist.
He began by asking questions in a gentle, guiding tone, revealing some information he had overheard earlier, while quietly turning the page to the chapter on "Dealing with Separation Anxiety."
I understand how you feel.
"It's natural to feel angry when you're ignored."
"It's like a flame, like a storm; it needs an outlet—don't hide it. Speak out about your grievances, and I'm willing to be a listener."
Ian began his first official unlicensed medical practice.
"Don't hide it, speak up if you have any complaints." Ian's voice was as gentle as if he were coaxing a sulking child. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward slightly—this was the "active listening posture" emphasized on page 37 of the Parenting Guide. Hearing this, Lucifer's Mother's aura trembled slightly.
Like a candle flame flickering in the wind, she seemed genuinely moved; the halo suddenly expanded, and the temperature in the consultation room rose abruptly. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Ian's forehead.
But he maintained his professional smile. Fortunately, the aura of the Goddess of Creation slowly stabilized, coalescing once again into a clearer human figure. Ian mentally gave himself a thumbs up—the Parenting Guide was working wonders against the Goddess of Creation, and it was obvious who Lucifer resembled more.
"Looks like you do have some skill; you didn't advise me to tolerate or try to understand that bastard." The goddess's voice carried a rare hint of approval, as if she had finally gained genuine understanding.
"We can't suppress our feelings, can we? It doesn't matter who's right or wrong; what matters is that you feel ignored, so you certainly have the right to express your dissatisfaction."
Ian smiled gently as he turned to the page on "Positive Affirmation," and a pleasant glow rippled around him, like a cat being stroked. The boy then struck while the iron was hot.
"An eye for an eye! Auntie, your husband neglects you because he likes humans, so I suggest you find a new hobby and then ignore him for a while."
"And to divert my attention as well..." Ian continued to practice medicine strictly according to the knowledge he had acquired, and his words received strong approval from the Goddess of Creation.
"An eye for an eye! You're right!" The voice of the Goddess of Creation sounded very excited, repeating the same sentence over and over again.
"Wait, that's not what I meant—" Ian's smile froze on his face. He clearly said "find a hobby," how did it become a declaration of revenge in the goddess's ears?
I know what you mean!
The goddess looked at Ian with an enigmatic gaze.
"Hiss~"
A strange, hissing sound came from the air.
The next moment, Ian found himself disappearing from the room without warning, simply by blinking. When he came to his senses again, he was standing outside the house where the goddess was imprisoned.
"Damn it! Give me back that doctor!" The goddess roared from inside the house, shaking the ground. "You can't even give me a human being?!"
At this very moment.
The chilling winds of Hell swept across Ian's sweat-soaked back, the Sulfur air never feeling so fresh. Ian reacted quickly, immediately pulling a roll of A4 paper from his pocket.
The letter was densely covered with neat handwriting, totaling more than 20,000 words. It was a standard Apology Letter of 20,000 words that he had prepared in advance, specifically for dealing with similar emergencies.
Amen!
Ian knelt down and burned paper money.
In the firelight.
Ordinary words on ordinary paper transformed into golden rays that shot straight into the sky.
Thomas Wayne and Hannibal were still standing there, stunned.
Ian had already grabbed them, one in each arm. "Wait, what's going on?"
Thomas was interrupted by Ian before he could finish speaking.
He escaped very quickly, and he was quite ruthless.
"Run! There's real filth in there! Hell is dangerous! I have to get back to Earth!" Ian shouted as he ran, frantically apologizing to God in a devout voice.
However.
He muttered a few words.
He suddenly realized with dismay that his vocabulary was not as extensive as that of the Minotaur Demon.
"So you don't want New Gotham anymore?" Thomas frowned, his Bat Family suspicious nature immediately kicking in. "You're not going to go back on your word, are you?"
It's no wonder that the Supreme Emperor of Gotham is suspicious; he's all too familiar with Ian's form of capitalism.
"It's the New Land of Light! I want it, of course I want it! Go back and help me fix it up; I have a brilliant plan for this city." Ian wrote a proposal as he ran. The cover of the document read "<New Land of Light Five-Year Development Plan>", with a small note below. "Note: The final interpretation right belongs to Ian Kent."
"You call this urban planning?" Thomas glanced at the contents, and even though he had been prepared, his voice still trembled slightly.
"This is not the time to discuss this, lead the way!" Ian grabbed his sleeve, and the dimensions of Hell twisted and shifted beneath their feet.
Thomas led Ian through layers of spatial folds, each step feeling like stepping on the boundary between different worlds. Soon, they returned to the area Thomas had briefly "ruled"—a bustling yet eerie Hell city, its streets flowing with energy created by Soul Battery.
The air was thick with the smell of Sulfur and Hell hope.
Do you really want to mess with my city like this?
Thomas Wayne still cared a lot about that proposal.
Where is the Hellcat?
Ian interrupted him, his eyes darting around, "Find my cat first!"
Thomas sighed and turned onto a path emitting Sulfur steam. At the end of the path was a neon sign that read " Pet Paradise," with the words "Also Demon Tech Experimental Center " written in smaller print below.
The moment the garage door opened, a dark figure lunged at Ian.
Meow!
The sound of Hellcat is the sound of tires rubbing against the ground.
Hey, old buddy.
Ian walked over with a smile, squatted down, and gently touched the front of the Hellcat.
Did you miss me?
He was overjoyed to have his Number Three Mount back. The Hellcat rubbed against his hand, making a purring sound as if it were being affectionate, and the lights turned on like cat eyes.
"Alright, alright, let's go home."
Ian opened the trunk and casually stuffed Hannibal inside.
The carriage was completely silent.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter straightened his wrinkled suit and tie, and calmly asked through the gap in the trunk, "Is this your way of retaliating against me for my overly aggressive treatment methods?"
"Sorry! It's just a professional habit!"
Ian quickly opened the back door.
"Psychologists should sit in the back row."
He invited Dr. Hannibal in.
We immediately prepared to set off.
Because of some problems he had just noticed, he didn't want to stay in this awful place for another second.
Why are you in such a hurry?
6
Thomas leaned against the car door, his eyes slightly narrowed.
Who is inside?
He was still curious about what had frightened Ian.
"You wouldn't want to know..." Ian jumped onto the roof of the car, Hellcat's engine immediately roared with excitement, "Don't go any closer, there's a real super psychopath inside."
The Hellcat's tires left four burning marks on the ground.
They shot towards the upper dimensions like arrows released from a bow. As they reached the exit of Hell, Ian slammed on the brakes—his servant Baal was floating in mid-air, facing a Demons three stories tall. The Hellcat's headlights shone on the demon's crown, inlaid with the Gem of Lies.
So, does Lucifer also have a crush on your master?
King of Lies of Belial, spoke with disbelief. Baal nodded honestly—every word he spoke was true, and this was precisely the best way to gain the King of Lies ' trust.
"Let's go! Quickly!"
Ian executed a drift maneuver, simultaneously rolling down the window and retrieving the Demon Head. Just as the Hellcat was about to burst out of the Entry Portal, Belial suddenly knelt down and screamed wildly.
" God-Emperor Ian! Take me in! I'm good at intelligence gathering and espionage, the Kent family definitely needs their own CIA!" The Demon Head said something else entirely.
He frantically pledged his loyalty.
These words struck a chord with Ian.
Hellcat slammed on the brakes at the edge of the dimensional rift. "Come in, keep the doctor company." Ian had reversed back, tossed the other person a [labor contract]. The King of Lies of Lies, who already knew from the Demon Head that this was the same type as the Archangel's, signed his real name without a second thought. Seeing the car door open, the King of Lies conscientiously shrank to the size of a Chihuahua and crawled inside.
He was very excited.
I firmly believe that I haven't been tricked.
Instead, they boarded a flight bound for a new era.
Fasten your seatbelt.
Ian slammed his hand on the roof of the Hellcat. "We want the car!"
The Hellcat broke through layers of dimensional barriers and sped towards the human world. The Ticket Coin worked its magic again, and light appeared ahead.
Ian fled back to Earth for his life.
no way.
The astute Ian had already realized that the power of the " Parenting Guide " was malfunctioning; the mentally unstable Goddess of Creation's desires went beyond mere infatuation with him. The gates of Hell slowly closed behind him, Ian, riding his Hellcat, burst through the rift like a shooting star.
They stepped back into the human world.
The night wind howled.
Ian took a deep breath.
Feeling the familiar air.
The car screeched to a halt in front of the Murder House. The cat-eye headlights on the front of the car flashed an eerie green light, making the blood-stained words on the dilapidated mansion's exterior wall even more gruesome.
The Spectre in the Murder House instantly erupted into chaos.
Bloody handprints roamed wildly on the wall, the chandelier moved on its own without wind, and screams echoed from the basement—the souls trapped in this place trembled, sensing something more terrifying than Hell: a genuine Demon King of Hell was curled up in the back seat of this car.
That's the real body!
How could it be possible to enter the human world so easily!
All the souls were terrified.
They were screaming, as if some Apocalyptic Doomsday was coming.
"Quiet!" Ian, his emotions running high, impatiently honked the horn, and the Hellcat roared to life.
The entire house fell silent instantly.
"Oh, the human world, the air is filled with the smell of lies." The King of Lies, realizing that his power was merely suppressed by the rules of the human world, but not eliminated, once again firmly believed in his choice.
It wagged its tail like a real Chihuahua. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, however, turned deathly pale; after all, he was only human, and beside him stood a demon from Hell.
Where are we going?
Hannibal tried his best to remain calm, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
"Go home first, go home first. I need to ask my older brother to pray and communicate with me." Ian activated Hellcat again. It seemed that Hellcat had unlocked a new ability in Hell. It directly entered the space and achieved a flight similar to warp jump. In the blink of an eye, it brought Ian to his doorstep.
Sometimes things just happen by chance.
Ian's words, which he seemed to want to say something more, abruptly stopped at that moment.
"Puff~"
On the horizon.
A familiar mushroom cloud is slowly rising.
New New Home exploded.
It just exploded right in front of Ian.
"This has absolutely nothing to do with me! I just got back!"
Ian stood frozen in place.
Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose.
Well, he couldn't really fake it. The perfect parabola, the just-right yield, the precise timing of the explosion... it really did sound like a professional-level warning.
The Hellcat speaker automatically started playing "Homeless," its shrill melody eerily mournful. Seeing the bewildered old man flying in from the horizon, Ian instinctively turned to run away.
The result is obvious.
He was once again truly caught in the crosshairs.
"It wasn't me, it really wasn't me!"
Ian quickly offered his explanation.
However, his reputation is exceptionally good.
" Jonathan and Jordan aren't home, Ian, there's no one else here. Did you deliberately blow up our new house to try and take your big house away?"
Superman's voice had a hint of gritted teeth.
He didn't see, hear, or sense anything... The answer is perhaps already obvious. Ian suspects the explosion at his new house was the work of some unseen force.
But he dared not have any evidence.
Inside the boxy house in Hell, the lights were on, yet there was complete silence.
Each Confessional had its door tightly shut, like countless coffins neatly arranged in the void. Suddenly, a darkness coalesced before one of the doors, silently seeping in. Inside, Lucifer's Mother's aura flickered faintly; she faced the cycle of Hell —that Eternity moment of betrayal.
The Imp around them Mimicry the appearance of Archangel.
They mechanically repeated the same sentence.
"You have been exiled."
This Hell Loop has been going on for countless years. Anyone who has been to Hell knows that those who stay there will repeatedly relive the moments they least wanted to recall in their previous lives.
This moment in Lucifer's Mother's life clearly represents her past when she was banished from Heaven.
Seeing a group of Imp transform into the appearance of Angels and God, intending to continue this endless cycle upon her, the Goddess of Creation was naturally not truly affected by it.
Get out of here!
Lucifer's Mother's aura suddenly intensified, becoming so dazzling that the Imp all retreated.
"Your acting is completely unconvincing!"
She could clearly see the true nature of those Imp and was not tormented by the endless Hell Loop, but precisely because of this, she always felt a different kind of discomfort.
"Forehead-
The Imp are all good-looking.
They wouldn't dare to be so arrogant in front of ordinary people.
One of them spoke up timidly.
"Oh, Your Majesty, but the King's command is difficult to disobey..."
Their king is, of course, Lucifer. Lucifer actually has a love-hate relationship with his mother, so he always orders these Imp around to torment her.
Then let's pretend I'm still there!
The Goddess of Creation gave a stern rebuke; her words were, of course, divine pronouncements. The Imp, knowing exactly how to be civil servants of Hell, immediately began their performance, even as they were confined to thin air.
All the Angels posing Archangel and God began mechanically reciting lines to thin air. "You've been banished... You've been banished..."
This guy's procrastination skills are quite impressive.
Lucifer's Mother's aura gradually dimmed, she drifted to a corner, her thoughts churning.
"The way of man is to return to man himself; this is a good method." She was still pondering when she suddenly realized that she was standing before the gate to her sealed land.
A slight noise was heard.
"Click."
The seal... has loosened?
The Goddess of Creation sensed something amiss and found it hard to believe. She suddenly floated to the door and discovered that the lock that had bound her for millions of years had actually been unlocked.
" Ian Kent, it must be that doctor. He knew that to cure my mental breakdown, he had to let me out..." Her aura trembled slightly, and her tone carried a hint of gratitude.
There was less contempt.
The next second.
The Goddess of Creation rushed out without hesitation.
It transformed into a streak of light.
It hurtles straight down into the human world.
In the hospital's intensive care unit, a dying old man suddenly opened his eyes.
" Ian Kent!" She (he?) sat up abruptly, her voice booming as if she were not a dying man.
The doctors and nurses backed away in horror, watching helplessly as the elderly man, who should have been dying, ripped out his breathing tube, rolled off the bed, and strode briskly into the corridor.
" Ian Kent?!"
Ten minutes later.
An out-of-control ambulance hit her (him?).
A few more minutes passed.
A motorcyclist who was thrown into the air by the impact opened his eyes mid-air.
" Ian Kent! Does anyone know who Ian Kent is?" She (or he?) adjusted her posture in mid-air, landed steadily, and then began to run wildly.
Before he could finish speaking...
An out-of-control tanker truck ran over it.
This is yet another failed attempt to possess a human.
Immediately afterwards.
Not far away.
In one of Los Angeles' worst bars, neon lights crackled, and the smell of cheap whiskey mingled with the stench of blood fermented in the air.
A drunk woman suddenly stood on the bar.
Her eyes suddenly shone with a blinding light.
Constantine, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips, tapped his fingers on the bar counter with an ominous rhythm. His trench coat collar was turned up high, as if he were ready to flee from something terrible—a judgment that was usually quite accurate.
In the corner.
A woman who should have been dead for three hours suddenly opened her eyes.
" Ian Kent!"
Her voice echoed throughout the nightclub.
"I know you're still alive!" The woman's scream pierced everyone's eardrums like shards of glass. Everyone stared at her in horror, as if they were seeing a madwoman.
Upon hearing the shout, Constantine's cigarette fell into the whiskey with a mournful "whoosh." His fingers froze in mid-air, and his spine felt as if it had been filled with liquid nitrogen.
There wasn't a single trace of emotion in it.
It was purely a stress response.
The Goddess of Creation moved her wrists, which were now covered in foul-smelling skin, and faint golden light shone through them. She looked around, her gaze sweeping over each trembling drunkard like a searchlight.
Finally, the goddess keenly focused on the man in the trench coat—he was trying to cover his face with a newspaper, but unfortunately, the photo of Little Five laughing on the front page of the Gotham Gazette was not discreet enough.
" Constantine, do you know Ian Kent?" The goddess's voice appeared in Constantine's ears. Constantine looked up and saw the woman who should have been dead standing in front of him.
The essence within the other body sent shivers down his spine, filling him with fear. Constantine's Adam's apple bobbed. Through the gaps in the newspaper, he saw curiosity flickering in the eye sockets of the walking corpse.
"Forehead--"
As a scoundrel who had spent years traversing between Heaven Hell, he immediately recognized the level of disaster this was—the kind that would make even Satan revise Hell's fire prevention plan overnight.
"What... what do you want with Ian Kent?" He slowly put down the newspaper, revealing the perfect smile of a professional conman, a state where he dared not use any magical means at this moment.
at this time.
Constantine only wanted to test the other party's situation.
"He did me a huge favor, I have to reward him." Where the Goddess of Creation's finger traced the surface of the corpse, tiny golden flowers bloomed from the mold on the bar.
Constantine's brain started working at a near-explosive speed.
Upon hearing this...
He immediately knew what he should say.
"That saint! Brave! Decisive! A moral exemplar!" Constantine recalled the first time he met Ian, a mere mortal Ian dared to steal their car.
Isn't that brave and decisive?
It's obvious.
The Hellblazer also mastered the art of being honest.
Recalling his experience of selling a car and being chased relentlessly by Ian, he described Ian's enthusiasm and how he ended up hanging on the ground while Ian's henchmen and lackeys ignored him, leaving him only with his underwear. He concluded that even Ian's friends were helpful in this situation.
It's all the truth.
The goddess's eyes lit up, as if she had heard a touching story.
"I see. It's not surprising that he would have these qualities to risk so much to help me. It seems that the rare kindness and goodness that humanity has is all contained in him."
The Goddess of Creation, preconceived notions, believed Constantine's assessment.
Constantine was just about to breathe a sigh of relief.
He wanted to ask something else.
However.
"Crunch~"
The chandelier on the ceiling crashed down without warning.
"Bang!"
When Constantine crawled out of the pile of broken glass, the body had become a real corpse. The bar was so quiet you could hear the ink leaking from his pen in his pocket.
"Oh my God, what did that boy do to deserve this?" He lit a new cigarette, his hand trembling, and suddenly realized that all the other patrons were huddled in the corner, looking at him like he was a plague.
Even the perpetually drunk and unconscious Old Jack was soberly holding up the Cross.
The bartender silently pushed a glass of milk towards me.
"Consider it my treat, but don't come again."
"I have to run, I have to run to another planet, but who knows how to get to a parallel universe? Damn it, that probably won't work!" Constantine stared at his wolf-fox reflection in the milk glass and suddenly really, really wanted to call Ian Kent —he really wanted to know how many gallbladders the other man had to be so bold.
Inside Luthor Corp ' underground laboratory, the blue flames of the Incinerator emitted a low rumble. Two workers in protective suits were pushing in today's failed test subject.
"Number 47 failed again?" The young assistant looked at the humanoid creature on the cart.
An old employee, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, waved his hand and said, "Burn it, burn it. The boss said all of these Krypton genetically modified bodies are being disposed of." Suddenly, the "body" on the cart opened its eyes.
" Ian Kent!"
The experimental subject sprang up suddenly, its rotting vocal cords emitting a high-pitched scream. Its eyeballs melted rapidly under the high temperature, yet it still managed to precisely grip the young assistant's protective mask.
He's alive!
The young assistant was horrified.
The experienced employee reacted very quickly, placing one foot on the cart.
As the metal cart carrying the berserk experimental subject slid into the Incinerator, and the furnace door closed automatically, they could still hear muffled shouts coming from inside.
" Ian Kent! I know you're here—"
The incineration process started automatically, and the 3,000-degree Celsius temperature instantly turned everything into smoke.
The young assistant slumped to the ground. "What... what is that thing?! Who is Ian Kent?"
The veteran employee took a deep drag on his cigarette, his trembling fingers crushing the butt flat. "Listen, kid, even though the boss has been out of contact for a few days..."
However, there are some taboos you still need to be aware of.
He lowered his voice, "If you want to get paid this week, never mention the surname Kent in our company again. Any boss who hears that surname will just make you disappear."
These words frightened the young employees.
And just then...
A muffled "thump" suddenly came from the ventilation duct.
The two craned their necks, looking up, and saw the vent cover vibrating rhythmically, as if something was crawling up from deep within the duct. They could also faintly hear...
"... Kent... Ian... Kent..."
The veteran employee threw down his cigarette butt and ran away.
"Damn it, it's a ghost! A ghost! I need a time off! I request a time off!!"
The young assistant froze for two seconds, then suddenly noticed a glowing handprint slowly appearing on the observation window of the Incinerator —he too was terrified and fled in panic.
Only after running outside and relaxing did the young employee realize that his crotch was now damp. Inside the laboratory, after the corpse had completely lost its possibility of existence, the Goddess of Creation once again lost her body.
at the same time.
The invisible light flows again into the new building.
In an abandoned factory in the East District of the Metropolis, gunshots crackled like popcorn. One gang was having a "friendly exchange" with another, bullets tracing beautiful parabolas in the air, occasionally interspersed with polite greetings like "Your mom was great last night."
Suddenly, all the gunfire stopped.
"Damn it..." A bald, burly man with a skull tattoo pointed tremblingly to a corner, "Boss... wasn't that... wasn't that the traitor we just killed?"
In the corner, Hu Ti, whose head should have been blown off, slowly sat up. Bullets clattered out of the bullet hole in her temple, like winning a prize in a slot machine.
The Goddess of Creation moved her new body's jaw, and the shattered jawbone snapped back into place with a click. She looked around, her gaze quickly settling on a figure humming a song.
"Candied hawthorn berries~ Candied hawthorn berries~ One bullet skewer per string~"
A witch in a purple cloak was using magic to hang gang members one by one on streetlights; from a distance, it really did look like she was selling candied human flesh.
She hummed softly with each hanging up a string of coins, the tune as cheerful as a kindergarten teacher playing games with children.
"You."
The goddess's voice caused the three nearest gang members to suffer heart attacks on the spot. "A fortune teller?"
The witch's humming stopped abruptly. She slowly turned around and saw a corpse with half its head rotten floating towards her—floating in a physical sense.
Because the body's feet were still growing.
"Strictly speaking, I'm a witch, but I can indeed tell fortunes... I've bought quite a few fortune-telling books." The witch's "wand" stealthily pointed at the corpse's chest. "This... lady? Are you sure you don't need to call an ambulance first?"
She was still bold and unfazed by such things.
I'm looking for Ian Kent.
The goddess's rotting fingers swept across the air.
"To divine his position."
She is issuing orders.
The witch frowned, instantly becoming alert.
"What do you want with Ian Kent when you're a corpse with half your head rotten and now you've come back to life?" The witch leaned back tactically, her eyes filled with wariness.
"I want to thank him for freeing me." The goddess tilted her head; her rotten head was healing rapidly, but her neck, which was not yet fully healed, almost fell off.
He helped me a lot.
This is a very sincere expression.
Although the tone was somewhat condescending.
The witch's expression instantly changed from wary to knowing.
"Oh, you should have said so! Ian is like that, he really likes to help strangers." She casually pointed to the mushroom cloud still smoking in the distance, "He lives over there, yeah, the one that keeps blowing up houses. We all call it Kent-brand Mushroom Cloud." He often lights mushrooms at home for fun. Too bad he doesn't want to take me with him."
The witch's tone carried a hint of regret.
"Very good, you are very friendly." The goddess turned to leave, but suddenly floated back. Her fully grown face came close to the witch's, so close that the witch could count the blood vessels in her eyes.
"You're human, right? A human woman?"
The Goddess of Creation spoke up to ask a question.
"Authentic and genuine?"
The witch didn't know why she felt so insecure.
She felt a lot of pressure.
I barely managed to resist the urge to hit the other person on the head with my wand.
Do you know what the best way to get revenge on someone is?
The Goddess of Creation spoke up to ask a question.
"That depends on the person..."
The witch tilted her head in response.
"For example, my husband who fell in love with someone else."
The Goddess of Creation spoke through gritted teeth.
The witch's eyes suddenly lit up. She grabbed the goddess's bloodstained wrist.
"Sis! I know the answer to this!" Her tone suddenly shifted to that of a best friend having a late-night chat. "You should go sleep with the girl he's cheating on with! I've never used this trick before, but it's guaranteed to work!"
The witch was thrilled and excited as the true nature of the "green tea" woman was revealed once again.
"Hmm, it seems you're actually a smart human after all." The Creator Woman hesitated for a moment, then patted the witch's head as if soothing a cat or dog.
She wanted to turn around and leave.
However.
The abnormal situation occurred again.
"Boom!!!"
All I saw was...
In the sky, a Boeing 747 that had veered off course crashed precisely onto the Goddess of Creation. The shockwave threw the witch more than twenty meters, and when she scrambled to her feet, dazed, she saw only a tenaciously struggling arm protruding from the wreckage. However, the arm soon stopped moving.
Because the Goddess of Creation was completely unharmed after being hit.
Miraculously, he became a vegetable, unable to move.
This scene.
Leaving aside the escaped gang members, let's just talk about the extraordinary ranks. It wasn't just the witch who was dumbfounded; there were others who were truly astonished as well.
Los Angeles.
[ Los Angeles, Metropolis, New York: Multiple bizarre deaths reported today! All victims shouted " Ian Kent " before their deaths!]
The news was playing on repeat. Lucifer, the Second Under Heaven, sat at the bar, a glass of tequila in his hand, his eyes glued to the television screen. The news cut to a hospital, where surveillance footage showed an elderly woman who should have been dying suddenly springing up from her bed, shouting with a booming voice, " Ian Kent! Where are you?!" She then rushed out of the ward, only to be hit by an ambulance.
"Oh! No!" Lucifer suddenly covered his face, or rather his eyes. His emotions were in turmoil. The wine in his glass rippled because of his trembling. At this moment, certain emotions overwhelmed his fear of his mother's escape.
The main fear is growing.
"I don't want to see this happen!"
Lucifer the Three-Year-Old is online, wanting to be the master of cowardice.
He is omniscient.
However, because he hadn't wanted to pay attention before, he didn't know what had happened in his mother's sealed room in that Hell that made her so obsessed with Ian.
This truly terrified the Demon King.
"This is the seventh one today," the female bartender remarked with interest as she wiped the glasses. "Your mother's quite persistent. The whole of Hell knows your mother's locked in the Confessional, and now she's escaped, shouting a man's name all over the world—"
She paused, then gave a meaningful smile. "Isn't it obvious?"
The female Demons had a very gossipy expression.
Lucifer looked as if he'd been shoved a lemon into his mouth.
No, things are definitely not what you think!
Lucifer quickly denied it.
"Stop fooling yourself. Think about it. He only went to Hell for one day. One day! I really want to know what kind of power he used to make your mother so obsessed with him?" The female bartender's tone was tinged with emotion.
"Don't shake your head. I'm trying to help you understand the situation. If you disagree, then explain why the first thing she does every time she revives is call his name. She didn't even think about taking revenge on you and me!"
The female bartender's eyes held a wisdom that seemed to see through everything.
"Shut up, Mazikeen!"
Lucifer suddenly looked up.
His eyes were bloodshot.
The terrifying pressure made the female bartender take a few steps back.
but.
She didn't intend to hold Lucifer's emotional outburst against her.
"Okay, I'll shut up. Anyway, it doesn't stop some people from wanting another dad."
The female bartender with high emotional intelligence tossed the rag aside.
He burst into laughter.
She pulled out her phone and started frantically filming the TV, perhaps planning to mail the video to cathedrals around the world.