Back to the Club!

Rather than tracking them down one by one, going straight to the club and lying in wait would be more efficient.

As for those who did not like going to the club, he would have to find time to make special trips for them later.

Night fell, and the city's neon lights came on. Solomon turned invisible and headed to the Supe Club.

The familiar din greeted him as soon as he entered. He searched the crowd for targets, and his gaze soon landed on two familiar figures: the Supe with Levitation and Termite.

Those two seemed to hang out here every day. They were also on the list of twenty Supes.

Solomon continued scanning the room. Besides those two, he unexpectedly spotted a Supe who was not on the list.

Rubberman, whose limbs could stretch freely like rubber.

But that did not matter. Since they had crossed paths, it was meant to be. There was no reason to turn down stats delivered right to him.

Solomon walked slowly over and stopped in front of Rubberman.

At that moment, Rubberman's arms were stretched out long, wrapped around six or seven men at once. He was brazenly feeling them up, his expression flippant and suggestive.

Seeing an empty uniform float out of thin air toward him, Rubberman raised his eyebrows and spoke in a flippant, teasing tone:

"Wow, it's Translucent. What, want to join the fun? Want me to share a couple?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he grabbed two men and shoved them hard toward Solomon's arms.

Solomon's gaze turned cold. He swept the two men aside with one hand, then reached for Rubberman's neck while clenching his other hand into a fist and slamming it viciously into his face.

But Rubberman made no attempt to dodge, letting Solomon's fist strike his face.

The instant the punch landed, his cheek caved in like rubber, rippling in concentric circles before quickly springing back into shape, completely unharmed.

Rubberman frowned, retracted his stretched arms to their original length, and slowly sat upright, his voice tinged with displeasure:

"Translucent, I haven't done anything to you, have I? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Solomon silently withdrew his fist, cursed inwardly, then turned and walked away.

Fuck, my attack is still too low. I can't get through his defenses at all!

This guy's defense was not top-tier, but his body was soft and elastic enough that without sufficient strength or a sharp blade, he could not be hurt at all.

With a knife and his strength, which was about to reach level 2, he might just barely get through those defenses. But to defeat him, he would most likely have to go for the kill. Knocking him out was impossible.

But there were too many eyes here, all belonging to Supes and people connected to Vought. Killing someone in public would inevitably bring unnecessary trouble.

Since he could do nothing about this guy, he might as well leave him alone. He was not the only Supe here.

Watching Solomon walk straight away, Rubberman Ezekiel inwardly cursed eighteen generations of Solomon's ancestors, but he did not dare voice a single word. After all, the other man was a member of The Seven.

The man beside him leaned close again. With a bellyful of anger and nowhere to vent it, Ezekiel raised his hand and slapped the man flying.

"Fucking bad luck! I'm done!"

Solomon had completely ruined his good mood. What rotten luck.

He was just about to get up and leave when he heard a commotion nearby.

Caught completely off guard, a Supe took Solomon's fist to the back of his head and passed out on the spot.

Ezekiel looked at Solomon in utter bewilderment, wondering just what this guy was trying to do.

Could Homelander have given him a hard time in The Seven, and now he's come here to vent?

Forget it, forget it. I'd better get out of here!

Ezekiel did not dare linger and quickly left the club.

Quite a few Supes there shared Ezekiel's thoughts. If they could not afford to cross him, surely they could at least stay out of his way?

When Solomon knocked down his third Supe, he suddenly discovered that the once noisy, bustling club had become deserted in an instant.

He made a circuit of the main hall but could not find another Supe. They had either been knocked out by him or gotten scared and hurried away.

The club manager rushed over, sweating profusely. He hurriedly grabbed Solomon's arm, his tone urgent and humble:

"Translucent, what are you doing? You've beaten all the guests into leaving! If you're unhappy with anything about the club, just tell me. Please stop hitting the guests. If this keeps up, the club won't be able to stay in business."

Solomon gave a light cough, adopted an expression as though his actions were perfectly justified, and invoked Homelander's name outright, his tone arrogant:

"If you have a problem, take it up with Homelander."

At the mention of Homelander, the manager immediately fell silent. The urgency on his face turned to fear, and he no longer dared utter a single complaint. He hurriedly adopted a fawning tone:

"Yes, yes, I understand. Is there anything I can help you with, then? Do you need to beat up every guest who comes in each day, or do you have some other requirement?"

Solomon rubbed his chin, thought for a moment, then said:

"That won't be necessary. Supes I've already beaten don't need another beating. Those I haven't all need one. I'll only knock them out. I won't hurt them excessively."

The manager nodded thoughtfully, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. As long as no one died and the guests were only knocked out, it did not seem too difficult to handle.

His eyes shifted, and he hurriedly suggested:

"How about this? I'll prepare a private room for you. Guests willing to cooperate can go straight to the room and let you knock them out. I won't force anyone who refuses; I'll have them leave the club. And you won't attack anyone in the main hall, so the other guests won't be disturbed. How does that sound?"

Solomon's eyes lit up. The idea suited him perfectly.

Having them line up voluntarily for a beating was much better than searching through the crowd for them one by one.

"No problem."

Solomon readily agreed and patted the manager on the shoulder.

"Handle this well, and if anyone comes to make trouble at the club in the future, come to me. I'll sort it out for you."

The manager nodded hurriedly, then hesitated and asked cautiously:

"But what if... what if a relatively powerful Supe refuses to be knocked out but still insists on coming to the club?"

Solomon pondered for a moment, making calculations inwardly.

His strength had already reached level 2. He could easily defeat most ordinary Supes, but he was bound to encounter some stronger ones who would be difficult to deal with.

"Keep a record and give me their names. I'll have my own way of dealing with them."

Solomon spoke with certainty, invoking Homelander's name once again.

"Don't forget, I have Homelander backing me. I go relatively easy on them and only knock them out. But if Homelander comes in person, I can't guarantee what the consequences will be."

He would borrow someone else's power to throw his weight around and make use of Homelander's name for now. If trouble really arose later, it would not be too late to find a way to handle it then.