Stomping on Justice's Face

Clark couldn't hold on any longer.

The beam kept pouring down. His back had lost all trace of its original color. Layers of charred flesh peeled away, exposing blackened bone beneath.

A Kryptonian's healing ability was a joke against what, for Chu Men, was merely a normal attack.

His bones began to crack under the strain.

His hands slipped against the deck.

The steel melted into liquid metal and ran between his fingers, burning through his gloves and searing his palms.

"Go..." A broken syllable escaped Clark's throat, spraying bloody foam across the deck.

The woman behind him covered her child's eyes. She had collapsed to the floor and couldn't move another inch.

Hundreds of civilians huddled in the corners of the cabin. Their prayers had fallen silent. Only the chattering of teeth remained.

Chu Men hovered three kilometers away, watching. He gave a bored yawn.

"Still not dead? That shell of yours is pretty tough."

Chu Men lifted his eyes.

The dark red beam suddenly widened.

Boom!

Clark's arms finally gave out and folded beneath him.

The beam slammed into his spine with overwhelming force.

"Argh—"

Clark let out a warped scream.

His body flew upward at an angle like a baseball struck by a bat. He skimmed the ferry's upper deck, snapped the mainmast, then arced through the air toward the sea.

The beam grazed the ferry's edge and vaporized a good portion of its side. Only a handful of unlucky people were vaporized with it.

Of course, that wasn't thanks to Superman's protection. Chu Men had never intended to kill those ants. He had only wanted to see what it felt like to act like a villain.

Bang!

Clark smashed through the ground on the shore, leaving a crater over ten meters deep. Cracks spread more than a hundred meters outward.

Dust billowed.

The dark red light in the night sky vanished.

Rain fell again, striking the ruins of the steel mill and raising great clouds of white steam.

A helicopter from Metropolis's Daily Planet circled above Gotham's East End.

Its searchlight pierced the rain and fell on the enormous crater.

Lois Lane sat by the helicopter's open door, her safety harness digging painfully into her shoulders.

She leaned halfway out, communicator in hand, her voice completely hoarse.

"Superman! Superman!"

The helicopter didn't dare get too close.

Jimmy, the cameraman, shouldered his camera and zoomed in as far as it would go, aiming at the crater.

The red recording light blinked. Someone had deliberately routed the satellite feed straight into television networks across America.

At the bottom of the crater.

Clark was still alive. He lay in the mud, his blue suit reduced to a few scraps hanging from his shoulders.

His back was a bloody ruin. In places, his organs could be seen moving.

He dug his fingers into the dirt. The muscles in his arms spasmed as he tried to push himself up.

A rush of displaced air howled overhead.

Chu Men descended from the sky, bare-chested. His pale skin bore no scratches, his muscles were evenly defined, and he looked as immaculate as if he had just stepped out of a banquet.

Beside Superman struggling in the mud, he looked like he belonged in another world.

The helicopter's audio equipment was so advanced that it filtered out most of the wind and rain.

Chu Men walked up to Clark and looked down at the man still trying to rise.

"Looks like you lost!"

Clark lifted his mud-caked face. He opened his mouth and gasped for air.

"You... won't get away with this..."

Chu Men smiled. He raised his right foot and brought it down without hesitation.

Crack.

His leather shoe landed on Clark's chest.

Clark had only managed to lift himself halfway. That single step pinned him firmly back into the mud.

Crack! Crack!

Sharp snaps of breaking bone rang out one after another.

Clark's sternum fractured piece by piece, and jagged bone pierced his lungs.

His eyes widened. A mouthful of blood gushed out, staining the edge of Chu Men's shoe.

In the helicopter.

Lois covered her mouth as tears spilled from her eyes.

She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Jimmy's hands shook violently, and the image jolted with them. But he gritted his teeth and refused to lower the camera.

The footage reached the whole world.

Metropolis, Times Square.

The massive electronic billboards showed the scene in Gotham's East End.

The square, usually packed with people, had fallen silent.

"Is that... Superman?"

Someone murmured the question.

The god among men who could lift a falling airliner, hold back a tsunami, and always wore a sun-bright smile now lay like a dog with a broken spine, trampled into the mud.

The sound of faith collapsing was inaudible, yet deafening.

Gotham, Wayne Manor, the Batcave.

Bruce Wayne stood before the console, holding a glass in his right hand.

On the screen, Chu Men's shoe ground relentlessly into Superman's chest.

Snap.

The glass shattered in Bruce's hand.

Sharp shards pierced his palm. Blood ran between his fingers and dripped onto the console with a steady patter.

Alfred brought over a first-aid kit and reached for Bruce's hand.

Bruce pulled away. His eyes fixed on the screen, he rose and headed straight for the armory.

Inside, he opened a hidden compartment. Several syringes popped out.

Without hesitation, he grabbed one and plunged it into his arm. The intense pain almost made him cry out.

Seconds later, he tore the bandage from his left hand. It had healed completely, as had the injuries across his body.

"Master Bruce, you..." Alfred had hurried after him. He watched with a troubled expression but said nothing more.

If even Superman could be crushed so completely, who in the world could stop him?

But if they did nothing, Superman might truly die. The world still needed him.

Bruce strode deeper into the armory.

Gotham, the main hall of the Iceberg Lounge.

Penguin had fled his underground chamber and was about to rush outside to escape by helicopter.

The wall-mounted television in the hall switched to the live broadcast at that moment.

Penguin stared at Superman on the screen, his ribs crushed beneath a shoe, then at Chu Men's expressionless face.

His legs gave way. He dropped to his knees on the polished marble floor.

He had paid Deathstroke a hundred million dollars and called in every covert contact he had to lure Superman here. He had thought it was a sure kill.

Instead, Deathstroke's neck had been snapped, and Superman was being trampled like a dog.

"W-where can I even run?"

Penguin's eyes rolled back, and he fainted on the spot.

On the East End shore.

Chu Men pressed down a little harder with his foot.

Clark's body convulsed again. He couldn't even breathe now. Only a faint, leaking hiss escaped him.

Chu Men looked down at him. No emotion stirred in his dark eyes.

"See? This is why I don't like you."

Chu Men's voice carried far through the night, and the helicopter's equipment delivered every word clearly to viewers across the world.

"You think you're a god. You give people false hope."

Chu Men twisted his foot. Clark groaned and clawed deep into the dirt.

"But gods don't bleed." Chu Men bent down and stared into Clark's slowly unfocusing eyes. "Your divinity is worthless before me."

Chu Men straightened and looked past the crater toward the circling helicopter.

The searchlight struck his face, pale and cold.

He made no attempt to hide. Instead, he gave the camera a smile full of malice.

"Watch closely."

Chu Men pointed at Superman beneath his foot, then at the ground.

"From today on, my rules are the only rules."

In the helicopter, Lois broke down completely. She snatched up a megaphone and shouted toward the ground.

"Enough! Let him go! You lunatic! Let him go!"

Her cries echoed through the rainy night.

Chu Men scratched his ear and frowned in irritation.

He raised his right hand and aimed his index finger at the helicopter.

"Too loud."

A faint red glow appeared in his eyes.

Lois's cries cut off. Jimmy shut his eyes, certain death had come for them.

But a split second before the red beam fired.

Clark used the last of his strength to wrap both hands around Chu Men's calf.

His face was covered in blood, his chin pressed into the mud. His voice was almost too faint to hear.

"Don't... touch her..."

Chu Men stopped.

He looked down at Superman clutching his calf.

Those hands were a bloody mess, yet they gripped him like iron clamps and would not let go.

Chu Men raised an eyebrow. The red glow faded from his eyes.

He lowered his right hand, looked back at Clark, and chuckled.

"Every part of you is a weakness. How did you think you could take me on?"

Chu Men raised his left foot and aimed it at the back of Clark's neck, ready to end this boring game for good.

[Host's actions have triggered extreme fear worldwide!]

[Collapse of faith in the old moral order has reached 100%!]

[Dominion tier surpassed! Ultimate Tyrant Intimidation achieved!]

[Active skill unlocked: Spiritual Imprint (grants absolute enslavement of the soul over targets whose wills have collapsed, regardless of resistance).]

The System Prompt flashed through his mind.

Chu Men looked at Clark, now half-conscious beneath his foot.

Absolute enslavement?

Interesting.

Chu Men licked his lips.

Kill Superman, and these ants would only gain another martyr.

But what if he turned the god among men they worshipped into a dog at his side?

That would truly be stomping justice's face into the dirt.

He bent down, seized Clark by his mud-caked hair with one hand, and hauled him out of the mire.

Superman's body hung limp. His arms swayed helplessly, and blood dripped from his toes.

The camera in the helicopter stayed locked on the scene.

Viewers across the world held their breath.