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

Page 62

The sound of wings flapping could be heard.

A white man passing by suddenly turned from white to black.

That was an old acquaintance of Constantine's—an angel with the correct skin color.

“You must stay here, Constantine. Darkness is coming, and if you wish to redeem your soul, you must begin your investigation from where it began!”

The Black angel spoke in a serious tone.

It was because of His appearance.

The world will then slow down.

"The rise of darkness will also begin in Los Angeles. Don't pretend you don't know who's in there!" Constantine retorted angrily to the angel without any politeness.

“Lucifer is not the threat; the disaster we face is.” The angel’s tone was heavy, and his words allowed Constantine, who was always intuitive, to grasp the important details.

"us?"

He looked at the angel with suspicion.

The angel did not respond.

"Do what you're supposed to do."

He was just reminding me once again.

“Alright, I’ll investigate and find out what has made you high and mighty gentlemen so fearful.” Constantine sighed and chose to compromise.

His soul was his Achilles' heel.

"very good."

The angel nodded.

Constantine continued, discussing conditions, "However, you must first guarantee that Superman won't bother me again. He even came to Gotham yesterday, arrested me, and gave me a warning!"

"That despicable thief! He still won't admit he stole my psychic cards! This lying superhero is utterly morally corrupt!" Even when he cursed, Constantine only dared to mutter it under his breath.

It was as if even the slowing down of the world couldn't bring him much sense of security.

“You don’t need to worry about Superman, he’ll only teach you a lesson once.” The angel smiled gently. Constantine was still suspicious, but he quickly changed the subject.

“The child you kidnapped is the trouble you should be worrying about—poor Constantine, you just have this talent for always attracting the worst things you shouldn’t.” The angel’s golden eyes were full of pity, and His actions startled Constantine.

A bad feeling crept into my heart.

"What do you mean?"

Constantine quickly pressed for more information.

"The meaning is very simple... Before the Lord returns, if you are caught by that boy, do not mention Heaven or me, but you can say that you have been bewitched by Lucifer."

“Let Him go to our King of Hell, and trust that Lucifer can deal with Him.”

The angel spoke solemnly.

"what?"

Before Constantine could react...

He has disappeared.

The passersby returned to their original skin color, and the world resumed its normal functioning. Although still completely bewildered, Constantine sensed a chilling undercurrent in the angel's words.

“It’s all Charles’s fault! He orchestrated the kidnapping all by himself! I’m innocent—if I hand Charles over now, will it give me even the slightest chance to make amends?”

He shouted at the sky.

Got no response.

Only passersby looked at him as if he were a fool.

P.S.: It will be available in 10 days.

20,000 words on the first day of release. If the readership on Monday and Tuesday is enough to get a recommendation, it will be released on the first day with 30,000 words. For every additional 1000 monthly votes, an additional 4000 words will be added to the first day's update.

Chapter 68 Another day of obeying the law

Just as Constantine was feeling a chill run down his spine from the personal pronouns he used for the angels, on the other hand, Ian, who was deeply terrified by him, finally arrived at the gym he had been thinking about for the past two days.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone on the neon sign of "Big Muscle Fitness Gym," and the pink and purple lights looked particularly ambiguous in the evening mist. Perhaps it shouldn't be located in a metropolis but in England.

His hometown before he traveled back in time.

Even a corrupt country like this lacks gyms.

"The color scheme is so suggestive, it's easy to misunderstand why Jonathan likes to come to places like this." Ian stood at the door with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the gym's sign.

He wasn't planning to go in and use his superhuman physical abilities to show off in front of everyone. Some people don't have to pretend to be cool; mature coolness comes from a sense of accomplishment.

Where are the drug dealers hiding?

Although Ian already has a deadly chemistry teacher, he still wants to see the legendary dragon as soon as possible. After all, even if the deadly chemistry teacher can create a dragon, he still needs to get the raw materials.

The law-abiding model students of the metropolis didn't have such connections. Ian was wondering if he should ask someone when he saw a black man in a hoodie walking towards him.

"Hey bro, I can tell you need help. How about a quick fitness secret?" The black guy flashed a pair of pearly white teeth that looked like they could be a spokesperson for Darlie toothpaste.

"Swimming and personal training sessions? Sorry, I don't need them." Ian thought he had encountered a salesperson trying to sell him personal training sessions; these kinds of NPCs always seem to spawn at the entrance of gyms.

“Brother, I’m not a coach, I’m a chemist.” The young man looked around and lowered his voice. “Latest formula, effective in three weeks. Technology can give you a strong body.”

"Believe me, with that muscular physique, girls won't be able to resist you." The young Black man's tone was full of seduction; he truly understood what teenagers were after.

However, Ian wasn't buying it.

"You mean this kind of muscular build?" He lifted the shirt under his school uniform, revealing perfect abs, and then pointed to his still somewhat immature face.

"What I need is not for girls to be unable to resist me, but for me to be able to protect myself when I'm around girls." His words were extremely serious, and even the young Black man felt that they made some sense.

“Okay, I admit it, you do have a damn Hollywood look.” The young black man spoke the truth, and then showed Ian his Nike backpack.

"Maybe I misjudged you. You're not a fitness newbie, but, bro, you definitely haven't used my products before. They have no side effects and the results are excellent."

"You can grow even bigger. Believe in yourself and the power of technology." He was trying his best to exploit the greed of fitness enthusiasts to promote his technological drugs.

Have you ever used it yourself?

Ian asked a question that most beginners would ask.

The Black youth also replied instantly.

"I don't need to use technology; my muscles are purely a natural talent... I only use a little technology occasionally." His answer was very decisive, with an air of unwavering certainty.

"Yes, I can tell, it's Arnold from Metropolis."

Ian nodded.

"You mean I look like Arnold Schwarzenegger? You have great taste!" The young black man immediately perked up. "Just for your good eye, I'll give you a 10% discount today."

"It's $300 a bottle. I suggest you get ten bottles to try it out first. With a 10% discount, that's $2600." He did the calculations carefully, and the result was quite reasonable.

Right or wrong is secondary.

Ultimately, it aligns with America's average level of education among Black people.

"I'm still a minor, is this really okay?" Ian pulled out his student ID, which he had lost and found again, probably thanks to his father's efforts, and which had reappeared in the drawer.

The Black youth didn't go.

"That's why we need to not lose at the starting line, right? You know Superman, right? I think everyone knows Superman. He used my family's ancestral technology from a young age."

Boasting without thinking is actually a traditional skill among Black people.

"Is that so?"

Ian pretended to believe him.

"Then give me one case, no, two cases."

After considering for a moment, he also speculated on the other party's possible inventory. When he spoke, the black man subconsciously shuddered.

"you sure?"

The black man looked Ian up and down.

“If you have enough money, of course there’s no problem—I’m just a businessman.” His implication was clear: he was distancing himself from any connection to whether Ian would ascend to Happy Planet.

"Ah."

Ian nodded.

So the black man led him to a deserted alleyway typical of the metropolis, where a dilapidated Ford was parked. He used a primitive key to open the trunk, which was chained up with iron chains.

There were more than ten iron chains.

More than ten keys.

Areas without surveillance cameras.

The Black men knew exactly who they should trust, but it certainly wasn't their other brothers on the street.

"A box costs eight thousand, but I'll give you a 10% discount, so it's six thousand nine." His math skills remained consistently excellent, perhaps because the number "69" looked very close to a 10% discount.

In this regard.

Ian didn't care.

Anyway, he's a superhero, it's time for him to take on his duties intermittently.

"Look at the sky! Wonder Woman! She's not wearing any clothes!"

This trick works especially well on Black people.

While the Black man subconsciously turned his head to look at the sky.

"Don't sell contraband to minors, you bastard, you've let this city down!" Ian muttered, before the black man could even react, he threw a punch.

It hit right on the head.

Although it wasn't a deliberate punch, Ian's strength was enough to take on ten Ip Mans in one blow, so the strong and muscular Black man simply rolled his eyes and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

"Another day of saving innocent minors in the metropolis." Ian took out his half-finished Coke and poured the flat drink into the trash can.

"Human! You've gone too far!"