"Sure enough, you're amazing. Sigh, something so difficult for me, and you solved it so easily."
Little Superman fiddled with the figurines in his cabinet, then looked at his little bed and desk as he spoke with emotion. His voice was full of gratitude, even trembling slightly.
He had it too hard. His family's incomprehension and estrangement had caused him endless pain, yet Deathstroke had turned everything around today with just a few scenes.
Sure enough, in a dark world, getting things done required dark plans. The methods might not bear the light, but if the result was right—just—then it was the best solution.
"This is only the beginning. Don't celebrate too soon."
Su Ming handed Little Superman a bottle of soda to wet his throat, then said:
"For now, you've only changed your family's impression of you. Next, you need to reinforce that persona. And let me remind you: after putting on this act today, you'll have to keep acting this way in the Future. You'd better prepare yourself mentally."
"No problem. I wanted to become a Superhero in the first place; people just refused to acknowledge it." Little Superman tipped back the bottle and took a huge gulp, then let out a breath, his brows rising. "As long as people respect me, I'm a real Superman. Protecting them isn't a big deal either. Isn't it just flying a few patrols around Earth every day? Anyone with hands can do that."
Seeing that he still did not seem to understand the seriousness of the issue, Su Ming could not be bothered to explain. As long as Little Superman was determined to keep acting for the rest of his life, that was enough.
"Fine. But once the overall plan is complete, as a Superhero, you can't just kill people whenever