Where's My Huge Evil Spirit?

The Black Strategist used money to draw him in.

He wanted Ian to serve as his "staff adviser" on tax matters.

But Ian warily shook his head at the proposal.

"Wouldn't that make me your accomplice?" He was a genuine law-abiding citizen. He would not stop crimes, but he had no intention of becoming an accomplice in any form.

What a joke!

He was Ian!

Ian Kent!

Superman's son would never associate with criminals! That was the line of thought, anyway. In Ian's eyes, it did not conflict with his demand for a refund without returning the goods.

A refund without returning the goods.

The only one losing out was the insurance company—the evil capitalists! He was venting the frustrations of the working masses! Looked at that way, it quietly aligned with his dad's superhero spirit in some sense.

The logic formed a perfect closed loop.

Ian refused decisively.

"Calculate it for me already! Damn Imp!" The Black robber clearly could not guess what Ian was thinking. He waved the tightly gripped gun in his hand and threatened Ian again.

"Knowledge shouldn't be used like this."

Just as Ian continued shaking his head, "Beep-beep-beep~ Beep-beep-beep~"

Suddenly, police sirens blared outside the store.

A police car was clearly approaching.

"?????"

The Black robber was immediately frightened. He looked at Ian in fury. "It was you! You called the cops, didn't you?! So you were stalling me all along!"

"I already agreed to give you a refund! And you're still trying to screw me over?!" The robber acted as if he were the victim. His aggrieved fury had reached its peak.

Anyone unaware of the situation might have thought he had been horribly betrayed.

"Huh?"

Ian froze for a moment.

"I didn't!"

He was telling the truth.

"You didn't? Then who else could it have been?!"

The robber stared silently at Ian for a few moments. Then, both of them turned toward the cashier at the same time—the cashier reacted quickly, immediately grabbing the register in front of him and smashing it at the robber.

The robber was knocked straight to the floor, and the pew-pew-pew in his hand fell to the ground. The cashier swiftly climbed out from behind the counter and kicked the gun beneath a display shelf.

That was not all.

He viciously stomped on the robber's head, and he did not stop even after the robber had been knocked unconscious. Ian had to hurriedly step forward and stop him, preventing a robbery from turning into a murder case.

"You were really about to kick him to death." Ian crouched down and checked the robber's breathing. After confirming that he had indeed gained Merit +1, he looked up at the cashier, who was leaning against the side and still trembling.

"Are you worked up, or excited?"

Ian looked thoughtful.

"Phew~"

The cashier let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Of course I'm scared! That was incredibly dangerous just now. We were the ones who almost died." He began marveling at how wonderful it was to be alive, his face full of the relief of a survivor.

"Uh."

Ian silently glanced at the unconscious robber. "Actually, no one was going to die. Not at all... He was holding a fake gun. Didn't you notice?"

That was right.

The reason Ian had gone in and out three times was naturally because he had spotted that detail, which absolutely guaranteed his safety.

"?????"

The cashier froze. He had clearly only learned about this just now.

"You could tell that? No way!" The cashier ran over to the display shelf in disbelief, lay on the floor, and pulled out the gun that had fallen beneath it.

After inspecting it briefly,

"Hiss, you were right! It really is a fake gun! The craftsmanship is amazing—it feels more expensive than a real gun!" The cashier turned to Ian in astonishment.

"Does your family sell guns or something? How did you notice something was off?" The cashier asked curiously. It was perhaps the only explanation he could think of.

"Huh? Isn't this a basic survival skill in Metropolis?" Ian looked surprised. His matter-of-fact tone left the cashier speechless.

What the hell did he mean, basic survival skill?

What normal person learned something like that?

It was not like they were in the neighboring city!

"..."

The atmosphere became a little awkward. The two stared at each other for a full minute before Ian thought it over and returned the thirty dollars and forty-five cents he had tucked into his pocket.

One had to be honest.

Ian had his own principles when it came to taking advantage of others. Now that the robber had been taken down, his perfect three-way-win plan no longer had the ground to be carried out.

"Keep it."

But the cashier did not take it. He returned to the register, bundled up the money he had sorted out, and placed it in a safe.

"My name is Tate Langdon." Perhaps because they had gone through a robbery together, the cashier began introducing himself. He felt that he and Ian were comrades who had shared hardship.

"Hello, Tate."

Ian was polite, but he did not introduce himself. Tate, the cashier, did not seem to mind. He simply took several packs of high-end "family planning" supplies from the shelf.

"Actually, this store belongs to my dad." He first explained why he had fought back against the robber, then explained what exactly he was doing.

"You were right earlier. My dad really does have insurance." After hesitating for a moment, the cashier took several packs of Camel cigarettes as well. In America, they were equivalent to premium domestic cigarettes.

"..."

Ian looked around but could not find any surveillance cameras, so he already understood what this guy was doing.

Embezzlement!

The seemingly honest bespectacled man was not honest at all! He was definitely planning to frame the robber who had already been "brought to justice"! Sigh! He really was still a pure white lotus in Metropolis! This robbery had failed to become a three-way win and had only become a two-way win, while the world where only the robber was wronged had been rewritten!

"Impressive!"

Ian was deeply shaken. He had gained a new understanding of everyday life in Metropolis, and he even began to wonder whether the store owner really was the cashier's father.

Just then, "Everyone inside! Raise your hands!"

The sirens had been blaring for quite some time, and the robber had been lying on the floor long enough to nearly catch a cold, yet the police outside only arrived fashionably late. This was not the first time Ian had encountered cops who showed up after everything was over.

To be fair,

They seemed to have a supernatural ability to predict when things had already ended.

"We're the victims! We need blankets!" The cashier raised his hands and spoke to the armed officers entering the store. He had already hidden quite a bit of the "stolen goods."

His experience dealing with robberies seemed far richer than Ian had imagined.

"I'm traumatized. I need a ride home!" Ian quickly learned from him, raising his hands as well and taking the chance to try to get free transportation home.

Under normal circumstances, the police did not act as good Samaritans. However, thanks to the bonus attribute of the "Looks Make Sense" build, Ian ultimately received kind assistance from a policewoman.

The police car stopped in front of his house.

"Thank you."

Ian bid farewell to the policewoman, who had urged him several times along the way to try his luck in Hollywood. He touched his pocket. He actually had one more dollar than before buying food.

That was right. The cashier had refunded Ian thirty dollars and forty-five cents, but he had forgotten that he had already given Ian one dollar in change after Ian finished shopping.

Ian's actual expense had only been twenty-nine dollars and forty-five cents. What could he say? It proved that although the cashier might have had some cleverness, his talent for math was clearly at the average American level.

"It's like someone else spent a dollar to treat me to a huge pile of prepackaged food!" Ian had once again made the logic work in his mind. He stared at his front door in the distance, feeling slightly hesitant. It was not that he had not figured out how to explain why he had come home so late, but that he was hesitating over whether to bring the Evil Spirit home.

Not only was it a potential hazard, but it would also be troublesome if his dad, Superman, discovered something like this. More importantly, Ian had not yet figured out how to explain bringing an Evil Spirit home with him.

Should he use the wish-fulfillment story where he was extraordinarily gifted, accidentally wandered into a mysterious mage sanctuary while walking down the street, and was accepted as a disciple by the [Sorcerer Supreme Wang Defa]? Or should he go with the naïve story where he thought he had picked up a "magic lamp"? Hmm, no matter how he looked at it, it seemed suspiciously plagiarized.

"Where's my writing talent?! Get moving! Think up a reasonable Origin Story for me!" Ian racked his brains. He believed he could fool people on the first day, but not on the sixth.

As for whether he should confess the truth, it was not as if Ian had not thought about it carefully.

It was just that, compared to saying he was a transmigrator with a system,

he felt that his "Origin Story" should respect the current version a little.

"Still, I can complain about Constantine's accomplice kidnapping and tricking me..." Ian thought as he pulled out the thermos Charles had used to smash him earlier.

The thermos's dented surface was proof of Ian's iron head.

"My head still aches faintly, and this Evil Spirit is pretty hateful too... Wait, what's going on?!" Ian had intended to shake the Evil Spirit in the bottle a few more times to vent his frustration, but he suddenly discovered that the thermos seemed to have lost its effect. Not only had the inscriptions on it become blurred,

even the Evil Spirit inside had vanished without a trace!

"Where's my huge Evil Spirit?! Did it escape?" Ian was greatly shocked. He pressed his eye against the glass to peer inside, but there was truly nothing left in the thermos.

Was it the Evil Spirit's trick?

Or had it really escaped?

Just as Ian remained suspicious,

"Hm?"

he unexpectedly noticed that his chest was flashing.

He had no idea how long it had been flashing.

Ian hurriedly pulled out the object beneath his shirt—Madison's pendant was actually giving off a dark, ghostly glow.

It looked very similar to the color of the Evil Spirit's body.

〔PS: Thank you to the generous readers for the tips! Rolling around on the ground begging for follows, bookmarks, reviews, and comments. You can insult me too, if you want.〕