Apart from the sizzling sound of oil as the owner flipped the meat skewers, there was no other noise in the barbecue restaurant.
Amanda Waller's unreserved knee slide declaration completely stunned the other newly minted superheroes at the table.
Barry gaped open, and the piece of roast meat he had just bitten into but hadn't yet swallowed fell onto the table with a thud.
He had spent his entire life doing the menial job of a lab technician in the basement of the Central City Police Department, rarely even getting a chance to enter the chief's office. This scene before him was far beyond his comprehension.
The green, translucent nail file that Hal materialized disintegrated, turning into a scattered clump of fluorescence that disappeared into the ring.
He believed he possessed the greatest weapon in the universe, had carried out countless missions with the Green Lantern Corps across various star systems, and had met many leaders of advanced civilizations.
But it was truly the first time I'd ever seen a high-ranking official, usually so aloof, display a humility even more perfect than that of a rigorously trained military dog.
"This is outrageous." Barry lowered his voice and carefully moved closer to Clark. "This is completely different from what I see on TV. When those big shots encounter an alien crisis, shouldn't they rather press the nuclear button than bow down and compromise with anyone?"
"So you'll only ever be a lowly lab technician spending your life testing blood samples in the Central City." Hal casually brushed away the lingering green light in his palm, his tone revealing the wisdom of someone with experience. "That's what you call being pragmatic. If we hadn't lowered our stance, the Earth we risked our lives to protect could very well have turned into a pile of dust floating in space within seconds."
Diana turned her head slightly, her expression complex as she looked at the group of armed agents outside the door who didn't even dare to breathe.
The Amazon warrior believed in determining the victor fairly and squarely on the battlefield with her sword and shield, and this kind of exchange of interests without any moral boundaries made her extremely uncomfortable.
Clark frowned; what was happening before him was completely beyond the simple values he had developed growing up on a Kansas farm.
Chen Mo leaned back in the not-so-comfortable plastic chair, looking at the fat woman in front of him who was bowing so low she was practically begging for mercy, and a mocking smile appeared on his lips.
These politicians, who have spent years mingling in the heart of Washington's power structure, are always more shrewd than anyone else when it comes to calculating their own gains.
They tried to use a bunch of scrap metal that was beyond the reach of ordinary people and could not be converted into even the slightest combat power, along with some empty promises, to keep a ticking time bomb that could destroy the earth with one hand in check.
"You guys are really something." Chen Mo picked up a rough tissue, wiped his hands, and then casually tossed it at Waller's head like trash. "Using some junk that's completely useless to me as bargaining chips, trying to buy me a good mood—not only is this a sure-fire way to make money, but you even save on your initial investment."
Waller bent over even deeper, a fine layer of sweat beading on his forehead, too ashamed to respond to the mocking remark.
"You can all rest assured, I don't have time to tear the Earth apart and use it as a football." Chen Mo picked up his beer mug, tilted his head back, and gulped down half of it. "As long as you guys don't keep coming out with those mutated rats with bone spurs to disgust me, I won't just kill you all."
Waller's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed, and the breath he had been holding in was finally exhaled smoothly.
These words were undoubtedly the most wonderful piece of good news she had heard all day.
"I understand perfectly, and on behalf of all humanity, I thank you for your tolerance!" Waller repeatedly expressed his gratitude.
"If you understand, take your good news and get lost. Don't spoil people's appetites." Chen Mo waved his hand impatiently.
Without a word, Waller immediately straightened up, his obese body displaying astonishing agility. He beckoned to the tactical agents outside the door and turned to leave.
A series of dull thuds as car doors closed echoed.
Three black heavy SUVs sped away with a screeching sound of tires, not lingering for even half a second.
Throughout this brief exchange, Bruce sat on the outermost plastic stool at the edge of the table, arms crossed.
He sat in the corner and watched the whole thing unfold, but he didn't say a word from beginning to end.
Do not covet worldly power.
They were completely unmoved by the wealth that could buy an entire country.
Even top-secret spaceships involving extraterrestrial high technology, enough to make any Earth nation or organization drool, lose their appeal.
Bruce was rapidly working through a behavioral profile of Chen Mo in the depths of his mind, trying to extract the core information from that bunch of nonchalant reactions.
Ordinary human desires and ambitions are utterly incapable of becoming chains to restrain this monster.
Was the other party's act of feasting and casually cleaning up the mutated monsters due to a sliver of humanity, or was it for a specific purpose?
Bruce's fingers rubbed lightly beneath his armor's gauntlets; he needed to build a more comprehensive intelligence network.
Even after the government officials left, a slightly tense atmosphere remained in the barbecue restaurant.
To ease the tension, Clark turned around again and pointed to the few Krypton remnants hanging in mid-air by tentacles across the street.
Faora and his elite warriors swayed back and forth in the night wind like dried-out pieces of cured meat.
"Mr. Chen, I'm still very troubled by their fate," Clark sighed, his tone full of helplessness. "Once they regain consciousness, conventional physical methods on Earth simply won't be able to restrain the Krypton People."
If we hand it back to the human government, who knows if those researchers will use Krypton genes to create a second apocalyptic crisis?
Chen Mo glanced at the unlucky few hanging under the streetlight and couldn't help but chuckle.
Big Super is just too soft-hearted. If he were in the same situation as this troublesome relative who was trying to kill him, or even someone who wasn't even a relative—we just lived on the same planet—he would have devoured this idiot alive and turned him into evolutionary fuel deep within his cells.
"Hey big guy, why is your thinking always so constrained by all those rules and regulations?" Chen Mo tore off a lamb skewer and slowly bit into the fatty meat on the bamboo stick. "Since what's bothering you is their uncontrollable destructive power after they regain consciousness, why don't you just solve the problem at its root?"
Clark was taken aback, looking at Chen Mo with a puzzled expression.
"What's the meaning?"
"The meaning is simple." Chen Mo swallowed the roasted meat, raised his fingertip, which was covered in a wisp of black slime, and pointed it into the air. "I'll help you completely shut down these guys' superpowers, turning them into ordinary people who can only obediently go to construction sites to carry bricks."
For Blacklight, shutting down the superpowers of the opponents, which originated from their bodies and genes, was as simple as eating them.