"Is he dead?"
Bobo looked up and asked the owner of the thigh he was hugging—Enchantress.
But Little Superman answered him instead. Clark landed beside the humanoid-shaped hole, firing Heat Vision downward to finish the job as he replied:
"No, not yet. I can still hear his heart beating."
"Having hearing that good can be troublesome sometimes, right? In a crowded place, just listening to everyone's heartbeats would probably feel like running into tens of thousands of drummers practicing together." Bobo looked at Little Superman, whose face was bathed in red light. He always felt this Clark showed signs of being a little manic.
There was nothing particularly wrong with finishing someone off while wearing a crazed grin. The main issue was that he was doing it in the same uniform as Superman, creating a strangely conflicting impression.
"A long time ago, when I couldn't control my powers very well, it was pretty much like you said."
Little Superman paused briefly, then the beams from his eyes thickened as he increased the output.
"It was even more exaggerated. When I walked down the street, I could hear other people's stomach acid churning and the air moving through their intestines. Honestly, it took me quite a while to learn how to ignore those things. It really wasn't easy."
There was a touch of helplessness in his voice as he said that, but the truth was, he was just building up his persona for the camera.
It was like some idol claiming they had a fever of ninety degrees but insisted on performing their role well, or that they spent twenty-five hours a day practicing dance. That was roughly the idea—making the fans feel how hard their big brother worked.
What he said differed from the information Su Ming had learned in