vncnus Page 379
Page 379
His voice had a cool, serene quality.
“Take your time, don’t rush. What’s wrong?” Bruce Wayne’s voice was somewhat surprised; he had never seen Clark’s voice tremble like this before. On the other end of the phone, Bruce Wayne’s breathing came through the Batcave’s sophisticated communication equipment, so clear it was as if he were right next to him.
"Bruce, do you think you could..." Clark took a deep breath, and then, as if speaking out of turn, "Could you invent a new universe? So our whole family could move in?"
He also knew how absurd his request was.
But what can Superman do?
He's just an ordinary superhero!
There was silence on the other end of the phone for three seconds.
“Clark.” Bruce’s voice carried a rare hint of hesitation, along with a sense of sudden realization. “So, you’ve finally fallen ill too?”
Batman clearly has a very special opinion about the Kent family.
“Here’s what happened…” Superman smiled wryly as he looked at Ian, who was squatting on the charred door frame drawing circles. His youngest son was doing some kind of graffiti in the ruins with charcoal.
At first glance, it looks like an apology letter.
Clark tried to describe Ian's current situation in the most concise language possible, and he didn't dare tell Bruce Wayne about Ian's encounter with the King of Hell in Hell.
After all, Bruce Wayne's wisdom was still needed. How could Superman dare to let Bruce Wayne know who Ian had fooled? He only mentioned Ian's "crazy suitors".
A "click" sound came through the communication channel, which likely indicated that Batman had made a mistake.
“If you weren’t calling me, I would have thought it was April Fool’s Day.” Bruce was also stunned, and he remained silent for a long time before offering his suggestion.
“The best course of action right now is,” Bruce paused for a full five seconds before finally stating his thoughts, “Clark, I think we should stop contacting each other.”
Clark's blue eyes widened slightly.
"Bruce, to be honest, I don't think this was something Ian deliberately provoked." His tone became increasingly helpless, and he still chose to defend his youngest son.
In fact, this was not Ian's intention to cause trouble.
“I’m being very serious right now.” Batman’s voice regained its composure. “Based on your description, keeping your distance from the Kent family is the most rational choice at the moment.”
“I will rearrange the schedule with the league. Of course, the fact that you are still alive means that the other side does not want to take extreme measures. So the most feasible solution is to have Ian perform a ‘never-mistake’ surgery. His own company has the latest medical equipment.” Bruce’s voice carried the cold rationality characteristic of Batman.
“It’s no use.” Ian squeezed his head in front of the communicator, a hint of regret in his voice. “I’m too strong. Your kind of surgery will probably only make my body adapt to the environment.”
“My thing will only get longer the more I cut it, because my body is always very understanding of me. It thinks I’m not satisfied with the original length.” Ian’s words made Bruce fall silent again.
at this time.
Clark's phone suddenly rang with an unfamiliar ringtone, clearly indicating a new number was calling. Journalists usually choose dual-SIM phones.
Ian returned the phone to his dad.
"The work schedule for the second half of the year should have already been arranged." Superman looked at the call from his boss, hesitated for a moment, but still decided to continue working even at this time.
He answered the phone.
After a series of "Okay, okay, but... fine, I accept it" responses, Superman hung up the phone, though his expression and demeanor became somewhat unpleasant.
"what happened?"
Ian quickly asked.
"The editor-in-chief asked me to go to Africa to interview wild elephants..." Clark looked up at the sky, where a cloud that looked like an elephant was drifting by.
"I hope it really is just an interview with elephants."
Clark sighed, not daring to mention whether there was anything suspicious about it.
He suddenly missed the simple days when all he had to do was deal with Doomsday. At least back then, he didn't have to worry about absurd family issues like "his future daughter-in-law might be a divorced creation goddess."
"Damn it." Ian felt a little uncomfortable. He kicked away a piece of charred charcoal and was speechless. He was the victim. He was targeted by the old woman when he was only fourteen years old.
"Go to school first, and then we'll think of a solution."
Clark glanced at his watch.
He paused, then added, "Don't get too close to your female classmates. Based on your description of that super goddess's power, she could possess any girl you know."
This is definitely super intelligence at work.
Superman activates his super intelligence when he encounters danger.
"Do I still have to go to school... Fine, I've always been chaste. I've always wanted to save my first time for a girl who is only eighteen but is already gentle, beautiful and intelligent."
“I know that one day, she will definitely appear in front of everyone, wearing yoga pants, a tight-fitting top, and colorful stockings to marry me!” Ian drawled out his words. His voice was very loud and booming, as if he were expressing his orientation to God and hoping that God would not worry so much that he was indiscriminate in his desires.
God did not respond.
On the street, the only sound was the old man soaring into the sky to go to work. Ian burned several more handwritten apology letters and promises, which miraculously turned into golden light and flew into the sky.
but.
Neither God's voice nor any hints appeared. With no other option, Ian checked the time and decided to go to school temporarily, instructing his super-brain to come up with a solution while he was there.
in school.
The other students were full of energy.
Ian, on the other hand, was extremely depressed.
He rested his chin on the desk, staring blankly at the Christmas countdown on the blackboard—"12 days until Christmas," with a crooked Santa Claus drawn next to the chalk writing.
"Hey, Ian, why are you looking like a squirrel that's been struck by lightning today?" His deskmate, Madison, poked his arm with a pencil. "Didn't the explosion that happens at your house this morning wake you up?"
She seemed to know everything about the explosions that had been happening at Ian's house before dawn lately. The simple-minded witch girl just thought it might be a special alarm clock that Ian was addicted to.
"I wish I were dreaming."
Ian responded listlessly.
"By the way, a strange woman came looking for you this morning."
Madison suddenly leaned closer mysteriously.
Hear the words.
Ian's back stiffened instantly, and the desk creaked painfully.
"Wh-what kind of woman?" His voice suddenly rose eight octaves, causing the students in the front row to turn around.
Madison pulled out a strawberry-flavored lip balm and slowly applied it, deliberately drawing out her words: "It's a demon that's been brought back from the dead. Is that Ian, your lover in hell?"
It’s really a matter of which pot should not be opened.
Ian suddenly covered her mouth.
“Don’t talk nonsense! That’s my beloved aunt! My aunt for life!” His voice was very firm, and Madison rolled her eyes as he was covered.
The girl gasped for breath after breaking free.
"What happened to you?"
She noticed that Ian was not quite relaxed.
Ian didn't answer, but just propped his little face up and sighed. After a long while, under Madison's persistent questioning, he finally asked Madison a philosophical question.
“If a boy offends a petty creator, how can he salvage his image?” Ian stared at his panel.
Fortunately, the key NPC's position has not been revoked.
"I understand now, so that's how it is. The solution is very simple!"
Madison's blue eyes lit up instantly. She tore off a piece of homework paper with a "whoosh," scribbled a line of large characters in a flamboyant style, and then slapped it down in front of Ian.
"Do you have any idea?"
Ian looked over.
The next moment, he went numb.
He froze, like a frog struck by lightning.
I saw.
The words “God is dead, Ian shall rise” were written in bold on the paper.
“Ian, why don’t we turn against each other? Tonight I’ll go find the old stonemason who keeps his mouth shut and carve hundreds of these glowing stone tablets to hide in your factory for the angels to find.”
Madison was still talking at length.
perhaps.
Ian's audacity and superhuman intelligence are nothing but a myth.
Madison.
This is also a fourteen-year-old witch.
She is the real idea queen and daredevil in the world.
Chapter 166 God caught the despicable Ian
The theory of relativity once told the world this.
Where there is a Crouching Dragon, there will inevitably be a Phoenix Chick.
obviously.
Madison was like a phoenix chick; her way of thinking couldn't be summed up by the word "daring." Ian truly felt that she possessed a kind of beauty that suggested she had never died.
"stop!"
Ian was quick-witted and agile.
He crumpled the paper into a ball and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out as if he had transformed into a blender. While chewing, he spoke in a muffled voice.
"Hey little punk, you're speaking modern English, right? What you just said was actually that we need to love God and donate more money to build more churches, right?"
He frantically winked at Madison, but the girl was still engrossed in her writing and drawing and didn't notice his survival instincts, so her response remained enthusiastic.
"No, I meant we'd overthrow the old churches and establish a new Protestant church for you—how about I write the new Bible? Oh, I'd definitely have a chance to become the first pope!"
As a typical American girl, Madison's brain is indeed quite different from that of normal people. Normal people's brains have folds, but the brains of girls like hers are completely smooth.
"What? You want to organize the students to polish the icon, right? What a devout idea!" Ian's forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat, and he wished he could sew Madison's mouth shut right now. Perhaps this was reaping what he sowed; he had been manipulating Madison all along, and Madison had finally become wiser than him.
“I’m not talking about God! I’m talking about you! You!” Madison bit the pen cap and looked at Ian, who was wiping his sweat with a tissue. She handed him her small portable fan.