In the world of consciousness.
Clark felt a sudden dizziness, and his body fell backward uncontrollably. He plunged into an endless starry sky, surrounded by twinkling stars and deep darkness.
Superman instinctively raised his hand, trying to grab something, only to find that his superpowers were meaningless here. He couldn't fly, couldn't control his descent, and could only watch helplessly as the white-dressed woman who called herself " Paradox " gradually shrank in his field of vision, eventually disappearing into the distant Starlight.
A faint, mysterious smile seemed to still linger on her lips.
Meanwhile, in the real world.
" Clark! Clark!"
Lois had no idea what had happened to Clark. She only saw Clark's body suddenly stiffen, his eyes roll back, and he fell backward like a puppet with its strings cut.
Fortunately, Superman's wife, Lois, reacted quickly, catching Clark in time and dragging Clark to a corner, thus preventing Superman's unconsciousness from being discovered.
" Clark! Wake up! Clark!"
She kept shouting and slapping Superman's cheeks. A few seconds later, Clark jerked and opened his eyes—clearly, it was Lois's voice that pulled Superman back to reality.
He suddenly opened his eyes and found himself lying in his wife's arms, a fluttering white scarf still visible in his iris, as if it were the last trace left by that woman.
"That woman! Something's wrong with that woman!" Clark suddenly stood up, his eyes unfocused, his breathing rapid, and his forehead covered in cold sweat, but he couldn't care less about his own condition at the moment.
Upon waking, Superman immediately began to look around again, scanning every corner of the planet, but the woman in the white dress had already vanished without a trace.
No matter where his gaze moved on the earth, he could no longer find the woman in the white dress; it was as if she had vanished from the world into thin air.
What just happened to me?
Clark looked at his wife.
"You just passed out, and for about half an hour, I couldn't wake you up no matter what I did." Lois found Clark's statement incredibly strange.
He clearly only felt about five minutes pass.
" Time Lord "
Clark recalled the woman's self-identification. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. It wasn't a hallucination, it wasn't a dream.
Rather, it was an extremely special experience. The other party had "exiled" his consciousness to the outside of the universe with just a glance, which was definitely not something an ordinary being could do.
"Is it magic, or some other method?" The more Clark thought about it, the more terrified he became. Even though his Super Brain was activated, he still couldn't tell whether the mysterious woman was friend or foe.
If you consider the other person a bad guy, they did prevent a major chaotic disaster. But if you see them as a good guy, their smile and domineering demeanor make you feel inexplicably uneasy.
Who could it be?
Clark was worried.
Just then...
"Ming--Woo--Woo--"
A piercing alarm suddenly went off.
"It's terrible! The underground base has fallen! All 186 nuclear missiles are gone!" The officer's shout came from underground, and Clark's face instantly turned serious.
Everyone knows how terrifying and important nuclear weapons are, which is why he didn't have time to explain or think. In a flash, he disappeared from Lois's sight.
"Did that woman take the nuclear bomb too? What does she want to do with it?" Clark was filled with unease. The next second...
He has appeared at a nuclear weapons storage base thousands of meters underground.
This should have been one of the most secure military facilities in the world, with walls made of anti-radiation alloy, 24-hour quantum surveillance, and any unauthorized approach would trigger a global alarm.
But at this moment, the nuclear weapons storage area in the center of the base is completely empty.
No, it's not "gone".
Instead, it's being moved away.
Dozens of soldiers, clad in black Exoskeleton Armor, are loading nuclear warheads, along with the intercontinental ballistic missiles themselves, into specially designed transport containers and transporting them to an unknown location via a concealed passage.
And in front of the control room.
Sam Lane is having a heated argument with a creature dressed in the uniform of a five-star U. S. Army general. Yes, a creature, because the other party's gender is ambiguous and undefinable.
The general was neither human nor female; although he was tall and imposing, his makeup was quite alluring, and his every move exuded a charm that could only be seen in the palace before the fall of the Qing Dynasty.
"Are you insane?! Damn it! Walker!" Sam Lane's voice was filled with suppressed rage. "Once these weapons are released..."
The consequences would be unimaginable!
He had always known about the military's flaws, and even considered himself one of them, but something as absurd as this was still somewhat unimaginable to Sam Lane, the shortest of the shortest strands of that flaw.
" Sam, don't be so rigid. With that woman taking the blame, who will suspect us?" The five-star general of the army just sneered in the face of the accusation.
The sounds are also very diverse.
He slowly adjusted his cuffs. "Besides, the buyer offered a very good price. So, in a way, we're secretly supporting our ally." The five-star general hadn't learned many other skills, but he was extremely adept at affected mannerisms. His tone contained both the firmness a man should have and the gentleness a woman normally possesses.
"Revenue generation?!" Sam Lane practically roared, "That's treason!"
"Treason?" The general chuckled. "In this era, loyalty is the cheapest thing. The buyer is very generous, paying the full amount upfront."
Settle in cryptocurrency.
"If you don't want this money, plenty of others will. As an old friend, I advise you to convince yourself that we're just making a reasonable deal."
Its voice carried a threatening tone.
"Damn it! You—you guys are really insane!"
Sam Lane's expression changed repeatedly. His orders were not being given to the soldiers who were carrying the goods, which made him increasingly annoyed and ugly.
"No, this is precisely the proof of our rationality. You love reading history, so you should understand that there are no thousand-year-old empires in this world."
But there is a family that has existed for ten thousand years.
"We serve the country, and the country should naturally give us some nourishment in return." The five-star general's tone remained nonchalant as he watched the nuclear bomb being moved with a very calm expression.
Standing not far away, upon hearing the five-star general's speech, Superman's worldview began to crumble. He stared blankly at the busy soldiers carrying things.
Yes, the nuclear bombs haven't been stolen yet, but they are being stolen.
"These weapons should not be traded." Clark's pupils contracted slightly. Coming to his senses, he quickly stepped forward and stated his opinion in an extremely serious tone.
However.
"Oh? Superman's getting involved in other people's business too?"
The general turned his head, saw Superman, and a hint of mockery flashed in his eyes.
"These nuclear weapons will trigger wars and kill countless civilians."
Clark warned in a deep voice.
"Civilians? Don't worry, no one will actually use nuclear weapons. We're not selling them to terrorist organizations." The general raised an eyebrow noncommittally.
Its smile looked rather indifferent.
"In reality, everything in this world has its price, including you, Superman. You should already thank our kindness and tolerance for being a hero in this country."
A five-star general, in his mortal form, mocked the God of Mankind.
Clark clenched his fist.
However, he ultimately didn't raise his hand—he was no longer a passionate teenager or young man in his twenties; he had many political and corruption-related problems.
This is not something that can be solved with superhuman strength.
The five-star admiral glanced at Superman's fist, his eyes filled with smug satisfaction at his power. Power was so alluring; even Superman feared him, so what did he have to fear?
"Go save those who slipped and fell, those who almost got hit by cars. Don't meddle in things that aren't your business." With that, the five-star general, who had been dismissive of Clark, pulled out a completely black, Encrypted Phone.
He walked to a corner and spoke in a low voice on the phone.
"Sir, the goods have been packed and will be delivered in three hours—don't worry, no one will get in the way." This blatant disregard for propriety clearly demonstrates the arrogance and confidence of a five-star general.
"Crunch~ Crunch~ Crunch~"
Clark stood still, his fists clenched.
He could shatter this base with a single punch and subdue all the soldiers in an instant.
But he knew—it was meaningless.
Behind this lies an even larger network.
This "general" is not an individual.
It is a system.
A puppet network controlled by the Deep State. Today there's a "general," tomorrow there can be a "president," a "judge," and a "scientist."
This is America's greatest enemy.
However.
Even Superman is powerless to do anything about it.
He looked at Sam Lane, whose face was filled with frustration and anger.
"I tried my best," Sam said softly, his voice filled with deep weariness, "But some people—have long forgotten what the bottom line is."
Clark was silent for a moment, then finally took a deep breath.
"This is not the end." His gaze swept over the nuclear bombs being transported away, and his Super Hearing caught the conversation of the five-star general, who was indeed very arrogant.
"Yes, the goods are ready and will be delivered within 24 hours - rest assured, no one can stop this deal, including that cape-wearing fool we all don't particularly like."
"Of course, that's right. Someone has always been blamed."
The five-star general is still acting with impunity.
A flicker of annoyance crossed Clark's eyes.
He took one last deep look at the inhuman creature, then disappeared into the base deep underground, the five-star general completely unconcerned.
"What a bunch of bastards!" Superman returned to the surface from the underground base with a grim face, his red boots crushing a piece of concrete marked with radiation on the scorched earth. Lois ran up to him, but was startled by her husband's rare expression of anger—those usually gentle blue eyes were now churning with Kansas tornado-like storm.
"What happened? Was the nuclear bomb really stolen?"
Lois went to meet him and immediately noticed that something was wrong with her husband.
"They sold the nuclear bombs." Clark's voice, as if carved from a glacier, was cold and tinged with helplessness. "Openly and honestly, right before my eyes."
Lois dropped the voice recorder from her hand.
The night wind blew Lois's blonde hair, revealing her pale face.
"Oh my god... if this gets reported..."
She didn't finish her sentence, just as she thought she could seize on a news story, but in reality, she knew that such a story could never be published.
"We can't tell the public about this. The media is all under the control of America's Deep State, including the newspapers you and I work for." Lois knelt down, leaning against the dilapidated wall, rubbing her temples hard with her fingers, as if trying to crush this absurd reality.
"Yes."
Clark loosened his collar.
Take a deep breath.
It felt as if the iconic "S-shield was burning his skin. Hearing this, Lois also felt somewhat powerless. She rubbed her temples and hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Perhaps we should inform our friend in Gotham." Lois felt Superman should tell Bruce about it, as Bruce had some influence within the Deep State. Or rather, whether Bruce Wayne liked it or not, given his corporation and influence...
He himself is a member of the Deep State.
"Until that God thing is resolved, Bruce will probably remain out of contact." Clark gave a wry smile, took out his phone, and pressed speed dial.
Bruce Wayne's carefully recorded voice immediately came through the speaker.
"Hello, this is Wayne Manor. Please leave a message if you need anything. However, the audacious Kent family should not leave messages; Alfred will periodically delete those obscene comments."
Clark stared at his phone. He dialed again, hung up, and dialed again, but no matter how many times he tried, it was always the same cold, recorded message. This was something Clark had already noticed before.
"To avoid me having to look for him, he's living like the Spectre now; I can't find him at all." Clark put his phone back in his pocket, utterly exasperated.
He had previously asked Wonder Woman to help him contact Bruce Wayne. Wonder Woman did manage to reach Bruce, but after explaining the situation, she ran into trouble.
Wonder Woman has also been blacklisted by Bruce Wayne.
In the wind over the ruins.
Clark was somewhat exhausted.
" Clark, I want to eat something—" Lois sighed, rubbing her sore eyes. She was actually more worried about the military's actions than Ian's.
It was said to be sold to qualified buyers.
They even dare to sell strategic-level weapons; who knows how much truth these guys have in their mouths? Who knows, one day those hundred-plus nuclear bombs might become deadly weapons in the hands of terrorists.
"Okay, let's go somewhere else." Clark looked at his wife's worried and tired face and nodded with heartache. He knew that his wife wanted to drink some malt beverage.
"Although I can't get drunk, right now, I really wish I could." Clark had never envied someone who could get drunk so much. He picked up his wife and soared into the sky, leaving the desolate ruins behind.
Even if it wasn't destroyed, it might still be a filthy place. Out of sight, out of mind. Five minutes later, the two changed out of their battle armor and formal attire, put on ordinary casual clothes, and walked into a 24-hour store.
A fast food restaurant open 24 hours a day.
The fluorescent tubes buzzed above Clark's head.
The lighting was dim, and the air was filled with the aroma of French fries and coffee. Lois bought sixty cans of beer and ten bottles of strong ale. The clerk behind the counter was yawning as he filled their trays with fries, completely unaware that the man in the plaid shirt was the same person featured in the poster on the wall.
The two sat in a corner booth, silent, simply drinking. Lois drank one glass after another, while Clark sipped slowly, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings warily.
He wasn't looking at the situation inside the restaurant, but rather keeping an eye on other parts of the Earth. He hadn't given up searching for the woman who had caused him to fall into a coma.
"All media."
Lois downed her third glass of tequila, then slammed the glass down on the plastic table.
"We, including ourselves, are all lying."
She was clearly drunk again. Soon, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes glazed, and murmured, "Did we... do we do something wrong?"
Why has the world become like this?
This indicates that we have entered a mode of philosophical thinking.
Clark silently chewed on his hamburger. Perhaps it wasn't just the hamburger— Kryptonian' equally invincible digestive system allowed him to swallow the wrapper along with the food without getting diarrhea.
Superman was clearly a little distracted, his mind racing with analysis.
"Our reporter brings you live coverage."
At that moment, CNN was broadcasting news of the Egyptian Pyramids explosion on TV, but what really caught his attention was the strange little box at the bottom of the screen.
A tiny Superman statue was placed in front of fries and ketchup.
Like some kind of postmodern offering.
What's going on?
Clark pointed to the area below the television and asked a part-time student he knew who was cleaning. The student had an Asian face, which was quite common in this country.
"Oh, you don't know? That's the patron saint of the Metropolis. You can't go wrong with believing in him a little." The waiter was a young man wearing glasses, busy wiping tables and sweeping up trash on the floor.
"Guardian deity?"
Clark was somewhat strange.
He was unaware of when such worship had become popular in Metropolis, and Superman was not particularly happy about being worshipped by others.
"Yeah! I bought it in Black Lightning's live stream, it was 9.9 yuan with free shipping, and Walmart Plastic Bag Superman delivered it himself. Do you know Black Lightning and Walmart Plastic Bag Superman?"
"Many lesser-known superheroes are selling these, along with cushions and car keychains—all copyrighted, and blessed by Walmart Plastic Bag Superman himself."
The waiter gave a warm introduction.
His words silenced Clark. When he asked the waiter, Clark already knew something was wrong, but Clark didn't realize it was this bad.
"Live streaming? Selling goods?"
Clark's eyelids, the corners of his mouth, and every inch of his body with skin was twitching slightly as he heard from the other person about activities that superheroes had never performed before.
Aren't you watching the live stream?
The waiter enthusiastically opened a certain app.
"This is the newly revamped [ Superhero Popularity Exchange Center ]! Yuan Sect to watch superheroes fight bad guys in real life, and you can even tip them!"
"Although only some obscure superheroes are reluctantly doing live streams right now, I think this is bound to be the future trend. Superheroes need to eat too, after all."
"Just imagine, an ordinary person like me, actually being able to throw money at superheroes and have them call me family—that's amazing!" The waiter clearly hadn't skimped on Franklin contributions to Ian's platform.
Clark took the bottle from Lois's hand.
Cheers!
Although he didn't speak, his silence spoke volumes; his emotions were all in the wine. Meanwhile, the waiter continued his incessant chatter, trying to persuade the out-of-touch middle-aged man to buy his drink.
"Oh, and there's Walmart Plastic Bag Superman and his slightly aloof Superman brother. They don't do live streams, but for just $100 you can get Walmart Plastic Bag Superman to let you touch his pectoral muscles!"
"For a thousand dollars, Walmart Plastic Bag Superman is said to take you for a ride in the sky. Every Saturday and Sunday, Walmart Plastic Bag Superman will be there on the other side of the bridge to pick up customers."
He scrolled to the top of the album.
"Look, here's the group photo we took yesterday!"
In the photo, a " Superman " dressed in a cheap cosplay outfit is seen hugging a waiter and making a V-sign. The " S-shield on his chest is crooked, as if it had been chewed by a dog. Even more shockingly, he has " Walmart Plastic Bag Superman " written on his face.
Only Clark, whose emotions were in turmoil, knew that it was clearly a "uniform" that Jordan had made himself out of supermarket shopping bags, with "GG" printed on the headgear as a pre-order for Ian's greatest technological product.
Jordan's shirt also had the words "GG seat for rent" written on it.
That level of calligraphic skill.
It's definitely Ian's handwriting again; they even skipped the printed version and just used whatever ink they had at home: a powerful collaboration between business geniuses.
"Crunch, crunch, crunch~"
Clark's fists clenched and pounded under the table, even tighter than they had been in the underground base. These days, for a middle-aged superhero, the greatest enemy might not be Doomsday.
Rather, they are the Wolong and the Fengchu in the family.
Clark stared at the group photo on the waiter's phone, his pupils trembling violently. In the photo Jordan's smug face was covered by a cheap plastic bag hood, and the crooked "S" logo drawn on his chest with Mark looked like a twitching earthworm.
You don't need to envy me.
The waiter misread Clark's expression and lowered his voice mysteriously, "What we should really envy is the lucky person who won the grand prize in yesterday's raffle after taking a photo with the Walmart Plastic Bag Superman —the grand prize is the original manuscript of ' My Superman Father,' which Stocking Superman found in the basement he rented before his death, after a lifetime of hardship!"
The waiter sighed in amazement.
The words carried a name that Clark hadn't heard in several days, a name that had finally brought some peace to his ears. Upon hearing it again, Clark crushed the Coke can in his hand into an aluminum disc.
"I heard that the boy became Angels after he died, and even the Vatican venerates him." The waiter wiped the condiment bottles, his eyes filled with a pious reverence as if he were talking about a great man. Hearing this, Clark controlled his facial expression, his mind filled with images of Jordan and Ian's treacherous collusion, images that wouldn't leave his mind.
"You guys still believe this?" Clark tried his best to put on an expression of indifference, as if he were just a bystander, but his voice was still forced out through gritted teeth.
"Why wouldn't you believe it? Anyone with eyes can see that Stocking Superman and Walmart Plastic Bag Superman are Superman's kids. They're the new era's correct-minded Superman." The waiter said in a low voice while wiping the table, stating a fact that people not only in Metropolis but also elsewhere could probably guess.
..."
Superman glanced at Lois, who was fast asleep on the table, and felt a pang of sadness. He was saddened that he had no normal family member to face this kind of life with. At that moment, Clark truly wished that he would get Alzheimer's when he was old, so that he could forget the trauma he had to face in his youth.
"That final manuscript... is it very valuable?"
Clark asked mechanically.
He really was trying hard to pretend to be a complete stranger.
Upon hearing this, the waiter paused in his wiping of the glasses. He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Speaking of valuable items, the truly valuable things are definitely the ones Walmart Plastic Bag Superman days."
"Perhaps because of a lack of money, no one expected that such a thing would actually be circulating on the black market." The waiter's eyes drifted towards the " Superman Shrine " behind the counter.
Clark's superhuman intuition suddenly went off, his temples throbbing. He could almost see the Daily Planet headline: <Shocking! Son of Superman's Underground Sperm Market Exposed!>
This is Clark's concern.
Superman is starting to regret that he focused too much attention on Ian, which prevented him from noticing some of Jordan's more serious symptoms than his youngest son's.
"What... did he sell?"
Clark did some mental preparation before finally asking the question, choosing not to pry into others' thoughts. His voice was as dry as weathered rock in the desert. Fortunately, the waiter's answer relieved him somewhat, but only somewhat, because he still needed the other half to stay alive.
The waiter looked around, then lowered his voice.
"Rumor has it that Walmart Plastic Bag Superman sold three pairs of Superman underwear in plastic bags. Who knows if Superman's DNA is still on them?" The male clerk said with a sigh.
He didn't know why, but the feeling of longing grew stronger and stronger, and his face even turned a little red. So much so that even Superman's superhuman eyesight couldn't look him in the eye.
Clark's Super Brain crashed on the spot.
Clark, whose mind was in a daze, was completely silenced. He stiffly helped Lois up and walked awkwardly toward the door, with the bewildered gaze of the waiter behind him.
When the automatic door dinged open, Clark had already caught his breath. Instead of taking his drunken wife to a hotel, he went to the outside of a convenience store.
The night wind was biting.
The wind blows across the neon lights above the city.
Superman, carrying the drunken Lois, finally landed on the top floor of an abandoned office building.
The night wind howled past the edge of the skyscraper. He gently placed his wife on a worn-out bench, while ten bottles of " Water of Life " he had bought from a convenience store were neatly arranged at his feet.
" Ian — Ian can definitely handle the nuclear issue—" Lois muttered, her eyes glazed over, "He's smart, but he's also incredibly righteous and daring."
" Clark, go find Ian and tell him that if he solves the nuclear bomb problem, I'll get him on the front page." Lois, wrapped in Clark's coat, kept repeating this on the bench.
Her fingers unconsciously traced lines in the air. Alcohol convinced the Pulitzer Prize winner that she should go to the Mold Base tomorrow for a feature on the "black market for nuclear weapons."
She also had to bring her Orange Cat, which always liked to type gibberish on the keyboard.
"Oh, right, where's my cat? I think I forgot to bring my cat back. A reporter and a cat—you can't do without the cat! Together, we can conquer the world!"
Lois was indeed quite drunk. "Well, you're very brave," Clark said with a forced smile, patting Lois on the head before pulling a sealed metal box from Lois's bag.
He turned and walked to the side of the building, sitting on the edge of the suspended roof. Superman's legs dangled three hundred meters in the air. The wind made his cape flutter.
It felt as if they might fall into an abyss at any moment.
"Sigh~"
Clark looked up into the distance; the lights stretched like a sea, but they couldn't illuminate the gloom in his heart. Of course, the matter of his two sons was secondary; what truly worried him was the deal involving the US military.
"Violence can't stop them, so what can I do?" Clark was filled with confusion, a sense of helplessness that even a superhero faces when confronted with the nature of humanity.
He looked at the box in his hand.
Hesitated for a moment.
The lid was finally opened.
Inside was a piece of Green Kryptonite.
Kryptonite gleamed with an eerie green light under the moonlight, like an imprisoned aurora. It lay silently on the black velvet, utterly sinister, like a cursed eye from its home planet. Clark stared at this ore that could kill him, suddenly recalling Bruce's words, "safety pin," when they first met.
He was now holding the safety pin in his left hand.
Holding the 96-degree Water of Life in his right hand, the Kryptonian actively used the nitrogen stone. His body became somewhat weak and swayed, but ultimately he was not in danger of falling off the building.
"Coo coo coo~"
Clark stared at it for a long time.
He picked up a bottle of " Water of Life," unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. The burning sensation went down his throat, and surprisingly, it stirred up a slight dizziness within him.
He took another swig and then held the Kryptonite in his hand.
pain.
A sharp, familiar, and blood-piercing pain instantly swept through his body. His muscles trembled, his breathing became rapid, and his supercells emitted a clanging sound as they were eroded by the toxins.
But under the combined influence of this pain and alcohol, he got what he wanted and got drunk.
Clark's pupils then became a mesmerizing vortex.
His super-metabolic system prevented alcohol from truly numbing his senses, but the chemical reaction produced by mixing it with Kryptonite radiation put his mind into a strange, overclocked state. The coordinates of the global nuclear arsenal unfolded in his mind like a three-dimensional projection, each red dot pricking his moral nerves.
"Perhaps—" he murmured, "I shouldn't wait any longer."
"Perhaps I should take all the world's nuclear weapons to space and destroy them." His gaze pierced through the clouds, looking down at the Earth. Under the scan of his super vision, every nuclear weapons storage site was clearly visible—beneath the Siberia ice sheets, within the rock layers of the Rocky Mountains,
Inside a submarine in the Indian Ocean...
He could see the position of every single warhead, and he could even calculate that he could wipe them all out in less than sixty seconds with just one flight.
"Procedural justice?"
"When the system itself is rotten, what's the point of talking about programs?" Superman was drunk, and it seemed like his hidden personality had been unleashed; the evil version of him wanted to be a real thief for once.
Steal those dangerous nuclear weapons from Earth.
This may be Superman's most wicked moment yet. His sharp gaze sweeps across the globe, and his Super Brain has calculated how to sneak into every nuclear weapons storage site.
Just then, Superman's gaze suddenly caught something unusual, instantly bringing him to his senses. On the edge of London, a box-shaped building had appeared in what should have been an abandoned factory.
The architecture itself is not merely bizarre.
At that moment, a blue telephone booth-style box silently fell from its top. After the door opened, the woman in the white dress stepped out.
She still wore her veil, holding the ball of light in her hand, standing quietly on the rooftop, as if waiting for something. It was almost an unconscious act.
Clark's expression hardened.
What is this woman trying to do now?
He hoisted Lois onto his shoulder and charged out, the wind howling in his ears. He broke his previous limits with speed, and in the blink of an eye, he was already at his target location.
However.
When he arrived, there stood a modern art museum. Not a factory, not ruins, but a brightly lit, bustling cultural landmark.
"Damn it..."
Clark rubbed his eyes, suspecting he was drunk, but the result was the same: the building he had seen earlier, which appeared to be located here, didn't actually seem to be in this area.
He couldn't catch a glimpse of the mysterious woman again. Infrared, quantum, Time Remnant — Clark activated his full-frequency vision, but everything under his gaze remained normal.
That blue box.
That building that exists here.
There was also a woman in a white dress.
None of them exist.
"Did I see something that shouldn't be here?" he muttered to himself, the alcohol and the toxicity of the Kryptonite bringing his mind into a strange clarity.
The other person might not be walking in reality!
"Argument-"
Clark always felt that the name was meaningful. His Super Brain reached an unprecedented level after drinking—he knew that to solve the puzzle, he could not rely on strength or speed, but only on thinking.
Use all your strength to think.
This thought came to mind.
The next moment.
Superman vanished from the spot. The speed was no longer just simple flight; it was a teleportation on a purely spiritual level, utilizing the quantum entanglement effect of the material world.
Gotham City.
Superman landed precisely on the rooftop of a slum, his footsteps as light as a falling leaf.
Ahead was a seemingly abandoned three-story building with mottled exterior walls and fake windows that were more realistic than real ones, with a few vents emitting a faint blue light.
This is the strange thing that Superman accurately detected.
The Batcave Secret Safehouse.
inside the house.
Bruce Wayne took off his suit that blocked Superman's vision, took a shower, took some Sleeping Pill, and prepared to sleep for ten minutes. He put on his sleep mask, which was inlaid with Krypton gems, halfway up.
Just then, the alarm system suddenly emitted a dying siren. He instinctively reached for the Kryptonite spray in his belt, only to hear the concrete wall groan under its strain.
boom!!!
The walls were torn apart like paper.
" Bruce!!!"
The blast-proof wall crumbled like a biscuit.
Clark emerged from the dust and mist, carrying the drunken Lois. Yes, Superman needed to think with all his might, so he used all his strength to find his best thinking device.
"???????"
Bruce Wayne threw his blindfold to the ground, nearly crushing the spray bottle in his hand. The Gotham Weirdo stared wide-eyed at Clark, who was carrying Lois and swaggering into the safe house.
His gaze moved from Lois, who was drunk on Superman's shoulder, to the blast wall that had been violently dismantled, and finally landed on Clark's hand, which was tucking the blanket around his wife.
The Kent family may have ingrained the habit of "carrying people" into their family instincts.
At this moment, Batman finally understood the "quantum inheritance" source of Ian's outrageous behavior. Of course, this was not the most surprising thing for Bruce Wayne.
"How is that possible!"
Bruce's voice trembled slightly, a rare occurrence for him.
"What? How is that possible?"
Clark smugly dusted off his hands.
"You think I won't find you just because you're hiding in a place like this?" He looked directly at his old friend and said in a deep voice, " Bruce, I'm smart too, no less so than you."
Superman finally got his chance to show off.
He was really enjoying it.
Clark was pleased that he had successfully located Bruce Wayne's hideout. He went into the room, gently placed Lois on Bruce's specially made bulletproof bed, and casually pulled over the blanket inlaid with Krypton gems to cover her, his movements so gentle that it was hard to believe he was a creature capable of punching a planet.
Bruce Wayne watched this scene unfold.
His eyes flickered, and he silently walked to the wall, bent down and picked up a piece of superalloy several meters thick—the outer wall of his safe house, which was made of superalloy.
It's several meters thick.
Theoretically, it can withstand the impact of a nuclear explosion.
But now, it was torn apart like a piece of paper, with marks of violent destruction on the edges. Superman could tear this thing apart as easily as tearing a small piece of butter.
"I'm not talking about how you found me...:::" Bruce's voice was as soft as if he were sleepwalking, "I'm talking about how you were able to open a new door in my safe house."
He slowly turned around and pointed to the Kryptonite embedded in the wall.
This place was practically a Kryptonian "miracle house." The emerald green crystals glowed eerily under the emergency lights, something that should have caused any Kryptonian unbearable agony. Yet, Clark stood in the center of the area with the strongest radiation, even holding a piece of Kryptonite in his hand, and was covering his drunken wife with a blanket as if nothing had happened.
"!!!!
?
Superman suddenly opened his palms.
The Kryptonite he had previously used to weaken himself lay perfectly intact in his palm, radiating undeniably deadly radiation. He, who should have collapsed from exhaustion, was instead left helpless.
Aside from a slight redness on her face, she felt no discomfort.
He held it the whole time.
From the rooftop to flying, to tearing through the wall—he held onto the Kryptonite the entire time. Logically, he should have collapsed long ago, writhing in agony, losing all his power.
But he didn't.
Not only did he not fall, but he carried Lois, flew over a hundred miles, and tore open Gotham's most fortified stronghold.
"This... this can't be..." Clark came to his senses, looking even more terrified than Bruce Wayne. His Super Brain, fueled by the combined effects of alcohol and Kryptonite, was racing to find an explanation.
only.
Aside from genuinely wanting to get drunk again and then go up and punch Bruce Wayne twice in the back of his mouth.
Nothing was gained.
"So, nitrogen stone is a colossal lie you fabricated?" Bruce Wayne silently operated the Nano Repair Device, tiny Mechanical Insect Swarm busily working at the breach in the wall. The Explosion-proof Alloy flowed and reformed like liquid, and a few minutes later, the "new door" that Clark had violently broken open had vanished without a trace.
It's as if they never existed.
"If you tell me it was really you who fooled everyone, I think I'd be glad you didn't betray your own brain." Bruce Wayne turned around, his grey-blue eyes looking directly at Clark.
Clark opened his mouth, speechless for a moment. He looked down at the Hydrogen Stone in his palm; the green crystal still emitted a faint glow.
But the radiation that should have caused him excruciating pain was barely perceptible.
"No... I don't know why, it suddenly stopped working as well—actually, it's still effective. Look, the blood vessels in my palm are much clearer now that I'm holding the Kryptonite." Clark explained somewhat flusteredly, turning his palm over to show the blood vessels under his skin that were now clearer due to the radiation.
"..."
Bruce Wayne silently labeled Ian's file as "[Infectious Disease]", then added another question mark, possibly indicating a "[Hereditary Disease]". Yes, all three Kent children were rather abnormal, making it hard for Bruce Wayne to believe that the Kent Couple were normal.
Now, Clark's " Ian-isms " are making Bruce Wayne suspect that Clark has stopped pretending, is finally showing his true colors, or has finally revealed his true nature after drinking.
The smell of alcohol in the air was enough to ignite it, and Bruce Wayne's Batman nose certainly wouldn't miss it. While his Batman nose wasn't as sharp as Superman's, it was far more sensitive than a dog's.
"Alright, so your body has evolved again." Bruce looked Superman up and down, his expression subtly shifting, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice.
He had always wanted to see a real Super Brain.
It's a pity.
Superman has failed to grant him his wish for many years.
"Judging from your reaction, you came to see me not because of your body's evolution. So, is it because your youngest son was finally taken by God and locked up in Little Black?" Bruce walked to the medicine cabinet in the corner, put back the bottle of Sleeping Pill he had taken out, and then took out a red pill and swallowed it.
Clark's gaze unconsciously drifted towards the Metropolis.
"No." His voice and expression were clearly contradictory, but Bruce didn't press further, only raising one eyebrow.
"Let's get down to business."
Under Bruce's scrutinizing gaze, Clark finally revealed the story of the mysterious woman and the vanished building. As he spoke, Batman's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
"Perhaps you didn't misread it."
Bruce suddenly said.
"What's the meaning?"
Clark's Super Brain went into energy-saving mode the moment it found the "external brain." Bruce didn't answer directly but gestured for Clark to follow. They passed through a hidden passage in the safe house and arrived at an underground laboratory. The device in the center looked like some kind of modified Cosmic Massager.
The surface is covered with patterns of various alien technologies.
"Sit down."
Bruce activated the console, and countless holographic screens unfolded in the air.
As Clark sat down in the device, a strange fluctuation immediately enveloped him. His vision began to change— Gotham's concrete walls gradually became transparent, replaced by countless overlapping dimensional light and shadow. And at the intersection of those light and shadow, the vanished, peculiar building reappeared in his field of vision.
The Blue Phone Booth also stood quietly on the rooftop.
"This...
Clark turned to Bruce in shock.
"Ever since I learned about the Multiverse war, I've been building this machine." Bruce's eyes gleamed with the confidence and wisdom characteristic of a mad scientist.
"Yes, Clark, don't look at me with that disgusting shocked face. Being drunk has given you a vision you don't normally have, a gaze that can see through the Multiverse and the gaps between dimensions." Batman's fingers tapped on the console, barely suppressing the urge to gouge out Clark's eyeballs for research.
Of course, just as Superman refrained from hitting him, he also restrained his own inner impulse.
perhaps.
That's how close friends and confidants get along.
"What is that woman doing now?" Bruce Wayne asked the dumbfounded Clark, who was more accustomed to the Kryptonian' shameless behavior in evolution than the Ammonia aliens were to him.
She was knocking on the door. Inside, Clark's gaze pierced through layers of dimensions, focusing on the white figure. The woman with the umbrella gracefully knocked on the door carved with countless Life Symbols.
A light, cheerful humming sound came from inside the door.
Then came a cheerful female voice.
"Oh! Another one wanting to customize a mysterious past, to have an interesting soul that will make family and friends speculate wildly, and at least eight hundred mysterious people attend their funeral?" The doorknob turned automatically, and as the door opened a crack, Clark saw a Victorian-style studio inside.
"... It's the Time Lord, an interesting soul."
The Death Goddess— or rather, Lady Death— was floating in mid-air, with eight small, glowing mirrors suspended in front of her. Without turning her head, she spoke softly to the newcomer.
The woman stepped lightly into the house.
The white dress rippled with a faint light in the dimensional gap. She saw Lady Death lying in front of a floating mirror, in which Ian's ghostly figure was reflected.
" Time Lord, it has been a long time since I last saw you. On a normal day, I would definitely want to have a good chat with you and hear about the epic and adventurous life you have lived."
"However, I've found something even more interesting now."
"My mentor, who ushered in the second spring of my career and is also my dear believer, is doing something big—he's preparing to give God a surprise gift package of 88,000 babies!"
"This is what a true warrior looks like. Lucifer has finally found the new lord of Hell he has been longing for." Lady Death's tone was filled with more than just emotion and amazement.
I also felt a bit of admiration.