What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

Page 392

You, who long to be loved, deserve it!

Chapter 171 Ian and His Nemesis

Under the glaring spotlights on the film set.

Jordan stared at the endorsement fee that had just been deposited into his mobile banking app, his mouth almost stretched to his ears in a grin. It was just a mold; he was so poor that he didn't care about the portrait rights of his private parts.

"According to Ian's logic, if my mold reaches the level of '10,000 conquests,' it's equivalent to me being a '10,000 conquest' myself. When I go to college, I won't just be broke, I'll also be able to chat with my roommates." Jordan's thinking was very avant-garde and insightful. He really was short of money, not just because silicon-based girlfriends were expensive.

It was also because he had always dreamed of having the capital to lend Ian a few rounds of high-interest loans, so that he could regain his dignity and personal charm as Ian's second brother.

Just as Jordan was envisioning the future.

"Jordan! Get ready to film the scene of Homelander drinking milk!" The director's shout came from afar, and Jordan immediately put down his vision and casually tossed his phone into a drawer.

"Here it comes! Are you using my favorite flavored yogurt? No? Luckily I brought my own."

Jordan stood up, straightened his Homelander cape, took a deep breath, recalled his father's teachings, and re-entered the role he was playing.

I saw.

Jordan picked up the glass of milk on the table and slowly brought it to his lips. His movements were elegant, and his eyes were deep, as if he were drinking not milk, but the hope of the entire United States.

Clearly, he has a special way of immersing himself in the role.

"That captivating gaze, that enraptured aura, absolutely amazing!" The director clapped excitedly, and the assistant director also gave a thumbs up. Jordan's restrained acting allowed them to deeply feel the realistic image that a comic book character should have. This performance truly made the directors marvel at Jordan, the lead actor who got in through connections.

really.

Oliver Queen, who specifically chose this child to play Homelander, has a keen eye for talent. No wonder the child became a billionaire; his discerning eye alone is enough to win people's hearts.

"Buzz~"

The phone in the drawer is ringing.

But Jordan was completely immersed in the role, a slight smile playing on his lips as he accepted everyone's praise. He felt like he had truly become that omnipotent, universally admired superhero. The second-generation Superman's "super hearing" was fully activated, yet he only heard the compliments, completely ignoring the phone vibrating incessantly in the drawer.

at the same time.

Ian, inside the Devil's Manor, was furious.

"Jordan's gotten too cocky! He dares to ignore Ian's calls! He better not let me catch him practicing his wrists at home again!" Ian's attempt to find someone to share his anxiety failed. Frustrated, he shoved half of his phone into Baal's mouth, who quickly pretended to chew a few times.

In reality, it simply shoved half of the phone back into its throat for Ian. Seeing Ian pacing back and forth in the drawing room, Dr. Hannibal, unaware of what was happening, floated over.

“I want to go home and see Misha. Maybe you can come with me, and she can prescribe some anti-anxiety medication for you.” In Dr. Hannibal’s eyes, Ian’s condition hadn’t improved at all because of his knowledge of Ian’s extraordinary abilities. In fact, Dr. Hannibal felt he had never seen anyone so terminally ill.

"Tomorrow, it's Friday, a good day to take medicine. I'll put you in a thermos and take you to school; it'll definitely be a wonderful surprise for Miss Misha!"

“Actually, if you have a little patience, I’ll put you in a gift box and give you to Miss Misha at Christmas. That will definitely be a thoughtful Christmas gift that Miss Misha will never forget.” Ian shared his previous Christmas plans with Dr. Hannibal while picking up a shovel and starting to dig a hole frantically in the backyard.

The pit gets deeper and deeper.

The undead poked their heads out of the ground, looking at their master with confusion.

“If someone comes looking for me, just tell them I’m dead.”

"If it were my parents, and they were sad... I would tell them that I would be resurrected on time before school tomorrow." He dug a perfect grave for himself.

It is two meters long, one meter wide, and one and a half meters deep.

Faced with the relentless pursuit of the Goddess of Creation and the bizarre behavior of the Creator God, Ian became a true ostrich, throwing a Simmons mattress down into the pit before lying down himself.

He wove the unearthed zombies into a giant "corpse blanket" like yarn.

"The blanket needs to be thick... It's getting colder tonight." He wove his own blanket from the undead, then prepared to sleep until God and the Goddess of Creation reconciled.

Ian Kent

[Cause of death: He died of anger because he missed today's KFC Crazy Thursday.]

[Resurrection CD: To be determined]

The detail-oriented Ian even made himself a tombstone, and then ordered his demon butler and demon maid to bury him eighteen meters or more underground.

He was pinning his hopes on the magic that sealed away the great darkness, hoping it could conceal his underground activities and prevent the Goddess of Creation from discovering them.

"Huhuhu~"

The demon maids are busy.

Hannibal, Baal, and the King of Lies floated on the edge of the pit, falling into an eerie silence. Even Baal, the demonic head, who wanted to offer a few words of flattery, found that his skills were still no match for Ian's.

Yes, Ian's level of understanding has surpassed that of demons.

"Perfect."

Ian hid in the mud, preparing to wait until the time came to travel through the Marvel Universe—however, things didn't go as planned, and outside the manor, Clark Kent, who had returned from Africa, slowly descended from the sky.

The red cloak fluttered in the wind.

He immediately spotted the transparent breathing tube protruding from the grave, connected to the oxygen tank. As Superman landed at the grave, the demon maids were holding hands, wailing and crying according to Ian's script.

Clark, who had been watching Ian for 23 hours and 50 minutes out of 24, was naturally not fooled. He had personally witnessed Ian burying himself in the soil. Even now, he could hear Ian's heartbeat and the boy's muttered words: "Ian is not a coward; he will become spring mud to protect the flowers."

"Step aside."

Superman gritted his teeth, his voice colder than the Arctic temperature stored in the Lonely Fortress. The demon maids trembled and scrambled away from the set.

Superman stepped forward and pinched the breathing tube Ian had left behind, a decorative rainbow pony straw—however, he waited for ten minutes without hearing any movement from Ian.

There was no other way; Clark realized what was happening and was forced to dig Ian out of the grave with his bare hands. Ian didn't actually need to breathe underground; he just needed a decorative grave mound. When Superman finally pulled Ian out of the pit, he was sprawled out on a Simmons mattress, his face flushed, playing a video game.

He clearly didn't need to breathe at all.

"No!"

Ian's expression changed drastically upon regaining his sense of light.

Superman, expressionless, lifted him into the air by the back of the neck with one hand.

"Ruthless Superman! How come you're so skilled at digging up graves!" Ian, who had been dragged out, kicked his legs wildly, as if he had risen from the dead. After his plan failed, he could only transfer his toughness to his words.

"Clark, you've got the wrong person. I'm an avatar created by Ian. The real Ian has already escaped to another Namek. You'd better find a way to bring him back." This is how a person feels when they are truly terrified. Ian shouted defiantly, waving his hands as if trying to crawl back into the grave.

Facing the troubles of God's family.

He genuinely wanted to be an ostrich, living a life of quiet ostrich. However, Clark knew very well that problems always needed to be solved, and Ian was the only one capable of solving them.

It's no wonder that Superman's super brain was working at lightning speed; he was also uneasy about things mainly related to God—during his day at work in Africa, he kept wondering why God was playing a trick on him.

At last.

He realized this might be a warning. Back then, God instructed the archangel to entrust Ian to his care; who knows, maybe Ian was the product of God's infidelity!

Thinking about it this way, everything seems to make sense. The Creator Goddess wanting to sleep with Ian is definitely the best revenge against God! This weak Superman can only choose to keep quiet!

As for how to thwart the creator goddess's intentions, that's a matter for God to consider.

Clark, this weak Superman, dared not reveal the "truth" that probably few people knew. All he could do was give Ian a little hint.

"The goddess you mentioned is now your mother's friend, her new best friend." Clark's hint was originally intended for Ian to directly acknowledge her as his godmother or adoptive mother after he went up.

however.

The word "best friend" sounded like a threat to the sensible young man to Ian.

"I knew she was up to no good! It's Mom's best friend who's the most vicious!" Seeing that Clark seemed not to understand, Ian could only indignantly tell his father that he should pay more attention to social news.

"You admit you're Ian?"

Clark always managed to find loopholes in Ian's thinking, leaving Ian frozen in place. He was pulled away by Clark and gradually flew away, while the three onlookers in the Devil's Manor remained floating in place.

Baal's head, the King of Lies, and Dr. Hannibal were all dumbfounded, watching Ian, who was kicking his legs in mid-air like an octopus, gradually disappear into the distance.

"What's going on?"

Hannibal was still a bit confused. Because the biofield automatically activated when Superman wore his underwear on the outside, he didn't know that the Superman who kidnapped Ian was his friend Clark Kent.

"The invincible god Ian has been captured again by his even more invincible father."

The head of the old demon Baal, a member of the Ian Cult, sighed softly.

Why did you use the word "again"?

The King of Lies turned his head in surprise.

“You’ll get used to it. This is traditional Kryptonian family education, and it happens an average of 1.8 times a week. You just need to remember that in these situations, all we can do is play dead…” Baal the demon began to impart his life tips, recounting one strange rule after another about the Ian family.

"Rule 1: Do not take sides during the Kent family civil war; Rule 2: Never help Ian curse his parents; Rule 3" The rules that the demon Baal spoke of were all experiences he had summarized with blood and tears.

The King of Lies and Dr. Hannibal Lecter nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Benefited a lot.

.........

The night was as dark as ink, and the Milky Way hung low.

Ian was lifted by Superman with one hand, like a chick caught by an eagle, tearing through the atmosphere and plummeting rapidly. The wind whistled in his ears. He wanted to continue his stubbornness, saying that he was a double, an illusion, a quantum doppelganger... but seeing Clark's increasingly African-looking face, he wisely shut his mouth in the end.

When Ian was lifted by the back of his collar and landed on the Kent family's brand-new lawn, he was still in the ostrich-like position of burying himself in the sand, and looked as dejected as a frostbitten eggplant.

“Running away is not the solution, Ian.”

Clark gave Ian a long and earnest lecture.

"boom!"

Ian's feet finally touched the ground.

The familiar courtyard atmosphere rushed towards me. This was not a ruin, not a crumbling wall, but a complete, brand-new Kent House, even more magnificent than I remembered.

It wasn't much different from the house before the first bombing. White walls and red tiles, as if it had never been destroyed. However, the restored house looked much newer than before—even though it was in the human world, wearing a restricted-version body, Lucifer's power could still exert a rewriting effect on reality.

"Since you say that, Dad, why do I feel like your legs are also too afraid to step into our yard?" Ian looked down at Clark's legs, which seemed rooted to the spot. After hearing Ian's explanation, Clark was also hesitant to go in. Fortunately, his super hearing saved him at that moment.

“Something’s happened in the military region your grandfather is in charge of. You’ll have to deal with this on your own for now.” Clark stood behind Ian, arms crossed, brows slightly furrowed.

His gaze fell on the brightly lit living room window. Louise climbed out of the window and rushed into Clark's arms, urging him to hurry up.

“Clark!” Louise Lane burst out of the oak door, her chestnut curls bursting like a startled bird’s nest. Her movement as she threw herself into her husband’s arms was suspiciously exaggerated.

"Fly! Fly! Clark!"

Louise's voice had the undulating quality of someone who'd drunk their eighth bottle of red wine that day. Clark, speaking, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, as if the collar had suddenly tightened a little.