Courage, compassion, wisdom, perseverance, humility, honesty, tolerance, hope, temperance, justice, loyalty, and love—twelve qualities are being nurtured under the influence of the hymn.
However.
Most great and significant things are not accepted by people at first. Being one step ahead of one's time is truly awe-inspiring and worthy of praise as genius.
But if it's too far ahead of its time, then few people can understand it. Ian is like Tesla, Mendel, Rosalind Franklin, or even Mary Anning and Allen Turing.
Clark Kent was one of those "ordinary people." Upon hearing the hymn, he froze on the spot, his expression completely solidified on his sculpted face.
He finally understood why Bruce was sweating so profusely and why his expression was so strange. So that's what Ian meant by "reform" and "male mother"!
"Twelve gourds on one vine... unafraid of wind and rain, la la la la~"
The ethereal and sacred "hymn" continued to penetrate his ears, and Clark felt, for the first time, a strong urge to intentionally shut down his Super Brain and hearing.
This singing was like the most stubborn brainwashing virus, directly penetrating the depths of Clark's mind through his Super Hearing, and the God of Mankind gradually lost control of his expression.
Um.
That's right, it's spiritual pollution.
On the face of the God of Mankind, from his forehead to his chin, every muscle was twitching in an extremely complex, extremely violent, and completely uncontrollable manner.
He even instinctively covered his ears, though it meant nothing to his global hearing.
"Hmm..."
Clark let out a painful groan, feeling his heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys trembling.
Seeing this, the Injustice Superman lying on the testing bed felt his heart sink even further, a chill running down his spine. Even the Superman of this universe was making this face—what on earth was inside his stomach?!
He couldn't lie still any longer. He suddenly sat up on the examination bed, snatched the anti-eavesdropping earpiece that Batman was still holding, and hurriedly put it on his own head.
The next moment.
The singing reached my ears.
The "hymn," amplified by the headphones to be clearer, more immersive, and even more ear-piercing, exploded directly on Injustice Superman's eardrums, which were already filled with rejection!
"This!!!!"
Injustice Superman was struck dumb, frozen in place!
His face, already gaunt from various blows, instantly lost all color, leaving only an extreme despair and a sense of hopelessness, as if he had seen the ultimate truth of the universe.
Then, this Superman from a parallel universe stiffly, like a rusty robot, turned his head inch by inch, his empty eyes fixed on Clark Kent beside him.
For the first time, Clark in this universe, when faced with the gaze of another version of himself, dared not meet it; he instinctively and guiltily looked away.
It's as if the father has to bear half the blame for the sins committed by his son.
"This won't do!" Injustice Superman's voice was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against the surface; every word was a tearful, blood-soaked accusation. "This absolutely won't do!!!"
He ripped off his headphones as if throwing away a red-hot iron, and roared at Batman.
"Get this thing out of my belly! Get it out! Bruce! Wayne! By any means necessary! Get it out of my belly! I'll do anything!"
Perhaps Bruce Wayne from the Injustice Superman universe is long gone, but Superman's instinct to find Batman when faced with problems is an instinct etched into the DNA of every Superman.
His voice was almost broken, filled with a desperate madness. For a former iron-fisted ruler to utter such pleading words speaks volumes about the mental anguish he had suffered.
" Batman can't solve everything either..." Bruce Wayne's voice was unusually lacking in confidence, and he at least appeared expressionless as he stared at the scrolling data stream on the main control screen.
"According to the scan results, the twelve energy aggregates have begun to take shape. They are deeply bound to your vital signs, and..."
Bruce Wayne paused for a moment.
His tone became heavier, even carrying a hint of helplessness that he himself was unaware of.
"It has been implanted with an extremely powerful [ Anti-Removal Protocol ]. This protocol is not simply a technological genetic lock, but more like a conceptual protection based on a mixture of High Heavens laws and some kind of chaotic logic—in the name of justice and benevolence, it is difficult to break, and the consequence of forcibly removing it is to suffer righteous sanctions."
Bruce didn't specify what kind of righteous punishment he would face, perhaps because he didn't dare to speculate too much for fear of losing sleep at night; his words carried a slightly ambiguous tone.
He once again felt an unparalleled sense of difficulty.
"Really not? I don't believe you can't do it." Injustice Superman still had a lot of faith in Batman from various universes, especially the Batman from this particular universe, who was sure to be quite capable.
"Don't ask me, the embryo is already formed, and I have No-Kill Principle." Batman's tone returned to absolute rationality, as if stating a physical law. He was now more and more determined in his [ No-Kill Principle ], and now it was paying off. He had long known that this principle would definitely be useful at a crucial moment.
"..."
Even Injustice Superman is numb.
He collapsed completely onto the testing bed.
His eyes were lifeless.
It was as if I could already see my unspeakable future.
Seeing Injustice Superman looking utterly dejected, Batman remained silent for a moment before turning his white glasses to Clark, who was also looking ashamed.
"This is your family matter, Clark."
Batman's voice was devoid of emotion, but his intention to shift blame couldn't be clearer. "The 'bond' your son created is your responsibility to communicate and resolve."
This was truly the only method he could think of.
"??????" Clark looked at Bruce incredulously, as if to say, "You actually threw such a hot potato at me?!"
Let him go talk to Ian. He's sure Ian will teach him a lesson. Just imagining that scene makes Clark feel like his Super Brain is about to overheat and shut down!
"Well, well..."
Clark opened his mouth, only to find that any words were inadequate at this moment. He instinctively turned his head, his gaze seemingly able to penetrate layers of reinforced concrete as he looked towards the Metropolis.
The father's incredible eyesight instantly locked onto a middle school.
In the classroom, Ian Kent sat obediently in his seat, and for a moment, there was no reason for him to cause trouble. In his father's eyes Ian looked much younger.
This is the parental filter.
In Clark's mind.
Ian seemed to still be that little boy, wearing open-crotch pants, toddling around the house, wobbling along, each step cautious yet full of longing to explore the world.
"This... maybe it's not such a bad thing, after all, no one has been hurt." Bruce Wayne stroked his chin and spoke in a deep voice.
"No one was hurt?"
Injustice Superman knows he's in Gotham.
But he didn't come to Gotham to be the new Joker!
Metropolis High School.
Ian did sit very obediently.
However, this only applies to the sitting posture.
In other aspects, he's not so well-behaved, especially his mouth. Ian's mouth is the kind that never stops, so perhaps his mouth is Ian's true nature.
"Hey classmate! I know your club is the Cosplay Club,' with all sorts of uniform fetishes, Western selections, and Japanese and Korean flair, but your understanding of Batman is seriously flawed!" Ian Kent sat at his desk, his knuckles tapping the surface with a slightly aggressive sound, exuding the air of a seasoned mentor.
He was giving his classmates a pep talk, looking utterly heartbroken.
A skinny boy was shivering, wearing a " Batman " suit cobbled together from cheap black shiny fabric and cardboard. His hood was even more rudimentary—a black corrugated cardboard hood with two holes cut out, covering his entire head completely, making him look like an amateur robber preparing to rob a bank.
"I admire your passion for Gotham City's nighttime security, but your completely black-painted outfit shows a fundamental misunderstanding! A huge misunderstanding!"
No one knows how to play Batman better than Ian, because to this day, few people question whether his portrayal of the Batman who crawls in the shadows on the ground is the real Batman.
"But Batman... isn't he all black?" the boy retorted timidly, showing a slight awe towards the school's supreme tyrant, even from his classmates.
"Superficial! Seemingly shallow!" Ian slammed his hand on the table, startling the boy. "Can you really understand Batman's uniform aesthetics and survival philosophy at a glance? I'm asking you, why does he only cover half his face? Why does he insist on showing that angular chin and sexy lips? Hmm?"
Answer me?
Ian spoke with great enthusiasm.
The boy was stumped by the question and shook his head blankly.
"I knew you couldn't answer a single question, this is a subtle hint! This is a sophisticated hint!" Ian held up a finger, as if imparting a little-known truth from the DC Universe.
"Cover his eyes to maintain an air of mystery and intimidation, keeping the criminal guessing who he is and where he came from. But show his chin—especially that obviously white, well-maintained, even somewhat punchable chin."
"Who do you think this is sending a signal to?" Ian had long since learned how to teach others, so he was now using a method of patiently imparting life experience.
"Is it for those [Nantong] guys in Gotham who like that chin?" The boy did try his best to think, but he was, after all, just an ordinary student in a public school.
Imagination is limited.
Fortunately, Batman doesn't have Superman's hearing, otherwise, while he was giving this answer, his parents might have already started packing to be fired from their jobs.
"That's just an alternative answer. No wonder you're sixth in the grade. But your maturity level is still a bit behind mine, the top student in the grade—don't block the sunlight, I'm about to give a crooked smile." Ian glanced around at the classmates who were eavesdropping and gave the truly reasonable answer that no one could refute.
"The reason Batman doesn't dare cover his entire face is simply because Batman are black, but Batman can't actually be black, otherwise the Gotham police might be more enthusiastic about shooting you than the villains." Even in this place where the teachers were declaring gender freedom, Ian didn't dare reveal too many secrets to his classmates.
"So, my friend, take my advice and change that lousy wig. At least show your chin and mouth, and maybe put on some foundation to make yourself look even more purebred and fair-skinned."
It wasn't that Ian didn't want to give the male classmate a name, but he genuinely couldn't remember it, so he could only reluctantly leave him at the level of "male classmate."
In his concluding remarks, he patted the boy on the shoulder. The boy, clutching his hood that had been criticized so harshly, was completely lost in deep self-doubt and confusion.
Young students who have never been out in society are indeed inexperienced.
After delivering his "survival philosophy," Ian clapped his hands with satisfaction as he watched the boy clutching his hood, lost in thought and questioning the meaning of life, as if he had just completed a volunteer teaching session. He stood up and walked naturally toward the classroom door with a confident stride, even displaying a bit of a runway model's flair.
However, after taking a few steps, he suddenly stopped, somewhat confused as to why he was walking out of the classroom. Perhaps it was because this kind of showing off was so cool that he naturally started going through the motions.
"Hmm, probably because my speech was so cool, I need some space for my coolness to shine through." To avoid seeming abrupt, he casually turned into the restroom at the end of the corridor, pretended to use the toilet, and then slowly strolled back to the classroom. Actually, he wanted to go, but there was a classmate who thought he was a boy standing there urinating.
"Oh, my beloved Amelika." When Ian returned to his seat, Ian found that the "cardboard Batman " was gone, probably hiding in some corner to alter his uniform.
"Family members, send some gifts!"
"Wow, it's a dream castle! This move was amazing! Everyone, let's get '[Good brother for life] This guy is awesome!' to the top of the chat!"
"This gift is so expensive, I'm almost embarrassed, but I'm so touched! It's so impressive! As long as you're not Lucifer, I'll love you!"
Someone in the classroom was watching a live stream on their phone. Ian had just sat down when his gaze was drawn to the phone screen of the girl in front of him. On the screen was a wildly popular live stream.
The streamer had long, dazzling hair that seemed to flow with molten gold, and her face was so exquisitely perfect that she seemed otherworldly. She sang and danced, and her attire made it clear that she didn't treat her viewers like outsiders at all.
This is the very live-streaming career that Archangel Michael, now known as Mijiale, has recently become obsessed with. Her impeccable looks, divine aura, and precise "borderline" artistry, achieved after she identified herself as a girl, have quickly propelled her to become a top-tier internet celebrity. The Archangel has finally proven herself to excel at whatever she does.
"Oh ho~" Ian whistled silently, stretching his neck so that he almost rested his chin on the back of the chair of the girl in front of him.
"What a great anchor, such a great anchor... She really knows how to push the boundaries, no, she really knows how to push the boundaries perfectly, she has a perfect grasp of the line between sacredness and desire!"
He noticed that on the live stream screen, Mijiale was using an innocent expression to commit live stream fraud.
"Look, she's crying! So pitiful! You feel sorry for her! Send her some gifts! Quick, send her some to comfort her!" Ian immediately nudged the girl in front of him in the back with his elbow.
He knew that this female classmate, who wished to remain anonymous, was not only a female classmate, but also a contemporary, not uncommon, person of the "same" orientation, which could be used as a reduplicated word.
"Oh dear, I don't have much pocket money left. I don't know what's wrong with me lately, I just can't keep up with everything. There are so many beautiful young ladies emerging in the live streaming industry."
Lena blushed, clearly realizing her thoughts had been exposed. Her finger hesitated for a moment. Looking at Mijiale's "fragile" yet "strong" image on the screen, she finally couldn't resist and tapped—[User "Lena_L" gifted " Jiale Angel " a $50 " Holy Light Shining" gift!]
The live stream was instantly filled with dazzling special effects. Mijiale went from tears to laughter, her Archangel acting was flawless, and she even sent a flying kiss, which was equivalent to earning Ian another $49.
Ian felt better.
He pressed his butt against his cold student chair again. Platform and guild cuts? No way. Ian is the biggest guild, and the platform was created by Ian.
This is what the entire industry chain looks like.
Ian's butt had barely touched the seat again, and he was still settling in when he took out his phone to check his balance, wondering when he would have a social security number as long as most people's.
suddenly.
A cool hand reached out from behind and gently covered Ian's eyes. Then, a voice that was deliberately high-pitched and tried to sound sweet but was a bit artificial rang in his ear.
Guess who I am?
Ian didn't even bother to identify the owner of the voice. He had always had a mature and efficient response procedure for dealing with such sudden attacks since he was a child.
"Unless you're a Pokémon, I'm not surprised at all." Ian didn't even hesitate for a moment. With lightning speed, he pulled a dusty, dirty-looking burlap sack from some Dimensional Pocket, and with practiced ease, he covered the back of his head without even looking!
"Huh?!"
A short, startled cry rang out as the sack precisely covered the head of the person behind them, and due to inertia, pulled the person's upper body forward, causing them to stumble.
The whole class was used to it.
Everyone is busy with their own things.
Ding dong~ Ding dong~
The bell rang to signal the start of class.
The students returned to their seats.
Immediately after, Edward Robert, a physics teacher who had just been rehired this year, walked in energetically carrying his lesson plans. He was an elderly gentleman with gray hair and thick glasses.
He immediately spotted the extremely incongruous scene at the back of the classroom: Emily, Ian's devoted admirer, was a classmate with her own name, and even the teacher could spot her at a glance when she entered the room. At that moment, Emily was frantically trying to pull a dirty sack off her head, her hair disheveled.
" Emily...?"
The physics teacher adjusted his glasses, looking at the girl who had finally managed to pull the sack off, revealing her true face, with surprise. "What happened to your face?"
Emily, Ian's number one simp, a girl known throughout the school for her exquisite makeup and persistent pursuit, was now utterly horrified, experiencing the bitterness of knowing how to do makeup. Her meticulously drawn eyeliner had smudged into panda eyes, and her foundation and blush had mixed into bizarre blobs from the friction of the burlap sack.
Even the lipstick on her lips was smeared on her cheeks, making her face look like it had just been thrown into a washing machine and churned up, or like it had been splashed with strong makeup remover.
The students remained unfazed.
Emily's face instantly turned bright red.
But she forced a smile that looked worse than a grimace, frantically fixing her hair and clothes while responding to the teacher in as calm a tone as possible.
"N-nothing, teacher... it's just... um... boys tend to be a little more protective of themselves when they're out and about." She repeated Ian's words with a mournful face.
"???"
The physics teacher was stunned for more than ten seconds. A boy? Protecting himself? He looked at Emily's obviously feminine attire and figure, and was completely puzzled.
Of course, in this day and age, he wouldn't dare to casually assume a student's gender, so he could only cough awkwardly twice, subtly expressing his insincere concern for the student.
"Uh... okay. Emily, if... if you need to, you can go to the restroom to tidy up after class. Now let's begin the lesson."
The physics teacher began to review the lesson plans.
Emily was still sighing.
"Final exams are coming soon, so let's all give it our all for a few minutes." After finalizing the lesson plan, the physics teacher began explaining today's lesson.
About electromagnetic induction and Lenz's Law.
The classroom gradually returned to order.
The only sounds were the chalk scratching across the blackboard and the teacher's steady voice explaining.
However, Emily was clearly not paying attention in class. She secretly took out a small mirror, looked at her disfigured face in the mirror, and her eyes were filled with unwavering determination.
Her powerful self-comforting ability began to kick in.
"It's okay, Emily," she told herself. "It looks like I've been licked by a dog... but on the other hand, isn't it the same as Ian actually being my lapdog? He licked me with a sack of potatoes! Yes! In other words, he kissed me on the face! He loves me to death!"
No wonder he's Ian's little lapdog.
Ian even mastered the rounding method, which is no weaker than any of the Emperor's techniques.
With this in mind, the effect was absolutely remarkable. Emily had once again completed her self-soothing strategy, and suddenly the messy marks on her face seemed much more pleasing to the eye.
A strange blush even appeared on her cheeks.
While Emily was immersed in her pink fantasy...
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Suddenly, a series of extremely rough and undisguised metallic clanging and dismantling sounds came from outside the classroom door! It sounded as if someone was violently breaking down the classroom door with heavy tools!
The physics teacher's explanation came to an abrupt end, and the whole class stared blankly at the classroom door.
Boom!
A loud bang.
The classroom door, which was fairly sturdy, was forcibly ripped off from the outside, frame and all! It slammed heavily onto the corridor floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.
A figure appeared amidst the billowing dust.
It was Ian's deskmate who always liked to be late.
"?????"
"!!!!!"
The whole class looked at Madison, who had arrived late.
Her hair was a mess, her school uniform was crooked, as if she lived in a time period before class started. She completely ignored the physics teacher who stood on the podium looking very stiff and unsure of how to express his feelings. The Little Punk Girl swaggered in from outside the dismantled door, carrying a huge stone chair.
The entire class fell silent.
Everyone watched as Madison hugged the stone chair, which was several times her size, with a peacock-like expression.
"No... Miss Madison Montgomery, is this... is this scientific?" The physics teacher's chalk fell to the ground with a "thud."
No one paid any attention to the physics teacher, who had believed in physics his whole life and now looked rather pitiful. Madison carried the incredibly heavy stone chair, carved with ancient and intricate patterns, to Ian's side.
She was showing off her treasure like it was a precious gem.
He looked straight at Ian.
He whispered in a boastful tone, as if to say, "Praise me!"
" Ian! Look! That Old Stonemason is having a promotion: 'Buy a stone tablet for 10,000 and get a free luxury gift!' I specifically asked him to carve a student chair for you based on the most impressive design in the brochure!"
"You always say your chair isn't comfortable enough, but this chair even has seat heating and ventilation, isn't that great!" Madison said, about to replace Ian with a student chair.
She was a well-mannered person. After changing Ian's chair, she hurriedly ran back to the door, under the blank stares of the physics teacher and the other students.
Little Sister picked up the door panel she had violently removed, muttering "Screws... where are the screws...", and then started trying to shove the door panel back onto the empty door frame like building with LEGO.
An attempt was made to reconstruct the crime scene.
"!!!!!"
Ian was just as bewildered as his classmates, and also a little horrified. He recognized the stone chair Madison was holding— Ian had seen it before when he saved the world in Heaven.
Yes, that's what the chair looked like when he blew it away with the Ultra Bomb.
"..." Ian recalled his last meeting with Madison, when Madison was eager to carve a stone tablet that read "[ God is dead, Ian shall stand]".
"No! Where did you find this Old Stonemason?"
Ian no longer cared about the strange looks from his teachers and classmates.
His scalp was tingling.
Just like the Native Americans of the Americas back then, I felt a chill run down my spine.