Leon saw every single move the terrorists made with absolute clarity.
Yet he did not immediately counterattack, instead quietly standing his ground to wait.
Soon, a large volume of explosive weaponry like grenades and rocket-propelled grenades was launched.
Leon remained as unmoving as a mountain, however, finishing a round with just a sweep of his heat vision.
He only took flight once the vehicle-mounted missiles began to ignite.
"JARVIS, is there a satellite right above us now?"
"Master Leon, a U.S. military satellite is currently orbiting above Afghanistan."
JARVIS responded immediately, and began analyzing.
"The moment a conflict of medium or small scale or above occurs, it will immediately begin surveillance."
"Furthermore, seven hundred meters away, there is also a local reporter secretly filming."
"A reporter? Is he a war correspondent?" Leon nodded, puffing out his chest bearing the golden S. "It looks like the audience is all set. How could Superman's debut battle go unheralded!"
His gaze swept across, instantly locating that reporter.
The terrorist organization's base was wedged between several small hills, easy to defend and hard to attack.
The man was currently lying prone in the bushes halfway up one of those hills.
Wrapped up tightly, his attire possessed a very local ethnic characteristic.
Judging by the half-black, half-white beard he exposed, he was clearly not young, a local middle-aged reporter.
A man like this had lived through the peaceful times of Afghanistan, as well as the most dangerous flames of war and the most desolate displacement after his country suffered an invasion.
Such people often harbored an even greater hatred for the Ten Rings, and were even less afraid of sacrifice.
They were a group who asked only to expose the atrocities of terrorist organizations with their own lives, thereby trading for peace in their homeland and country.
"Is that really... Superman?" At that moment, the middle-aged reporter also caught sight of the figure flying in the air in the distance.
The man had a bright red cape fluttering behind him, an upright build, and facial features as handsome as Superman in the movies, making people unwilling to forget him, yet unable to recall them no matter how hard they tried upon reflection.
No matter how one looked at it, this was the real-deal Superman!
Could it be that Superman truly existed in this world? Was he here to resolve the terrorists below?
The reporter felt it was utterly absurd.
Yet the footage he had just recorded on his equipment of Superman alone facing an entire army was so very real.
"Real or fake, it doesn't matter! If Superman can save this country, then all the money from the second half of my life will go to supporting DC Comics and Warner Bros.!"
(DC Comics was acquired by Warner Bros. in the twentieth century.)
The middle-aged reporter gnashed his teeth, suddenly seeing a spark of fire light up in the camp, followed by the jet of scorching flames as six two-to-three-meter-long vehicle-mounted missiles flew into the air.
"Th-That's a missile! Oh no!" The reporter looked at Leon with eyes split to the corners. "Superman, dodge, hurry up and dodge!"
Yet instead of retreating, Leon went to meet them head-on.
He accelerated in the air, holding a mobile phone in one hand and a clenched fist out front, colliding with the missiles like an arrow.
Boom!
One missile detonated, and then the remaining few missiles exploded one after another.
The deafening explosions echoed among the hills, smoke and dust rapidly spreading as the fiery glow illuminated every branch on every tree.
The frantic wind of the explosions bent the surrounding trees over one by one.
The middle-aged reporter's headscarf was blown away, revealing a full head of dry, yellow hair blown into a disheveled mess.
He stared blankly at the smoke and clouds in the air, his blue eyes reflected red by the all-encompassing flames, his heart filled with trepidation.
Under the direct bombardment of six missiles, no one could survive, and even leaving an intact corpse behind was a pipe dream.
But that was Superman; the bullets below hadn't even been able to injure him just now, and he had proactively gone to meet the missiles... What if?
It was as though in response to the middle-aged reporter's hopeful anticipation.
A fierce gale suddenly blew within the billowing smoke and clouds.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
The gale was ferocious but not rapid, blowing away the mushroom cloud that was just about to rise in a few seconds, revealing an undamaged figure.
It was Superman!
The cape behind Superman was still fluttering, and he hadn't suffered a single injury!
No, let alone leaving him injured, those missiles couldn't even stain him with a smudge of gunpowder's soot!
"Allah above!! I knew it!! I knew he could do it!"
The middle-aged reporter jumped up, his complexion flushed red with excitement, jumping and excitedly waving his fists as he didn't even care that he had exposed his tracks.
He looked at Superman, at this moment seeming to see hope.
How many days and nights of yearning had passed, failing to see the intervention of international organizations, yet welcoming the descent of a miracle.
The terrorists in the camp were just as excited as the middle-aged reporter at that moment.
They likewise jumped up and down shouting, though what they shouted was "Monster, that's a monster!".
Before long, a flurry of gunfire rang out amidst the noisy terrorists, and yet another batch of deserters or those unwilling to be cannon fodder were gunned down.
Leon waited in the air for a moment, an expression of keen interest on his face.
"Oh? They've finally hauled out the Jericho missiles. They're planning to go out together in mutual destruction, huh."
The firepower coverage of the Jericho missiles was extremely vast, and after the explosion, a two-kilometer radius would be engulfed in fire.
This bunch of terrorists deploying the Jericho at such close range intended to drag Leon down to their deaths with them.
"That works out perfectly. I haven't witnessed the power of this masterpiece by Tony with my own eyes yet, so I finally get to experience it firsthand now."
"JARVIS, don't forget to record it and send it to Tony, leaving a message to ask him how he can sleep at night."
"Understood, Master Leon, I have been recording the whole time." JARVIS was always so considerate.
After waiting a few minutes, the Jericho missiles were finally operated by the terrorists, pushed onto the open ground, and successfully ignited.
A full three Jericho missiles were launched simultaneously, emptying the base's inventory all at once.
The three missiles accelerated in mid-air, disintegrating immediately upon approaching their target as dozens upon dozens of small missiles sealed off all of Leon's escape routes.
This was a blind-spot-free blanket bombardment; Tony's inventions were indeed top-tier.
"True to Tony's latest work." Leon offered a word of praise as well.
Suddenly thinking of something, his gaze flicked, looking toward the reporter on the hillside off to the side.
"I need to step away for a moment, though."
Finishing his words, Leon's figure instantly vanished from within the encirclement of the missiles.
Time was of the essence.
He appeared beside the reporter as if by teleportation, hoisted him up from the bushes, and in the blink of an eye flew to another hill three kilometers away to put him down, returning to the center of the missiles in an instant.
"No need to rush, I'm back. It shouldn't be too late yet, right?" Leon muttered to himself as he watched the increasingly closing-in missiles.
The speed of the Jericho missiles was extremely fast, and their strategic positioning was inherently indiscriminate bombardment in the shortest time possible.
Almost the moment Leon returned to his original spot, the concentrated fire of the missile swarm was already upon him.
Leon did not wish for the meticulously woven uniform of his to be blackened by the missiles, however, so he rapidly threw punches in succession.
Countless fist shadows appeared simultaneously in all 360-degree directions, just as if countless hands had grown out of Leon's body.
In practically just an instant, all the missiles were detonated together.
Boom!
An explosion even more violent and feral than before began.
The sound of the vault of heaven tearing apart, the flames soaring straight into the sky, and smoke and dust shrouding thousands of meters.
The intense shockwave spread the very moment of the explosion, the trees and mountain masses within the range first shattering, then being swallowed up by the blast.
Three kilometers away, the reporter only felt his vision blur before he found himself in a new place, followed by being knocked over onto the ground by the shockwave.
He rolled on the ground a few times, staggeringly pulling himself up while clutching a tangled mess of clothes, staring blankly at the distant mushroom cloud that seemed to reach straight to the heavens.
Even at such a great distance, he could still feel a trace of that intense high temperature.
"What kind of missile was that? How could it, how could it be this terrifying?" The reporter repeated in a daze.
He still remembered what he had seen just moments ago: the scene of the missile breaking apart in mid-air into dozens of smaller missiles.
Such missiles were simply impossible to counter.
If they were used to deal with domestic defense forces, the tragic fate of one's own side would be entirely unimaginable.
"Also, where did Superman go? He just saved me!"
Leaning against a tree with softened limbs, the reporter gazed at the mushroom cloud. "He knew I was hiding there, so he saved me. What a good guy... Wait, don't tell me he went back to deal with the missiles again?!"
The next second, a hurricane blew the mushroom cloud apart, revealing Superman's figure and once again verifying the reporter's guess.
"My god, he's simply a deity!" Looking at Superman, who remained completely uninjured, the reporter exclaimed in wonder.
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