Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 477 Compound No.

Homelander wasn't really obsessed with whether or not he could collect Superman's blood. After all, it was only these researchers who were fanatical about it, not him. Even if he did get Superman's DNA, it would just give those crazy scientists another biological sample to mess with.

However, as those scientists said, thermal vision was his strongest attack method, and he had already pushed this ability to its limit.

However, Superman still didn't bleed.

Not only was there no bloodshed, but he could also clearly observe that the opponent's skin was not even broken. This meant that his strongest attack could not even break through the opponent's basic defense, let alone injure him. This caused the jealousy and unease in the hearts of the people of the motherland to rise and burn like wildfire.

"Wolverine might find someone who can replace me, someone who can defeat me."

This was the first thought that flashed through his mind when he saw Superman save the armored truck. From that moment on, he knew that Superman was a superhuman with superpowers very similar to himself. He just hadn't expected that Superman would seem to completely overwhelm him in terms of actual combat power.

Aside from his perception ability—which is the only area where he can surpass his opponent—it's not enough for him to defeat his opponent head-on, even if he can see farther and hear more clearly.

An intense unease crept in; it was a nightmare that had haunted him from time to time over the years. He knew what everything he was built on—if Homelander was no longer the world's strongest superhero, then what was he?
He had pondered this question over the past few years, but had never found an answer, or rather, he was unwilling to confront the answer because it was too pale and too bleak.

I am the most successful superhero in the world. I don't need to think about who I am. I am better and stronger than everyone else.

He repeatedly hypnotized himself with this viewpoint deep in his heart.

At this moment, his eyes were almost bloodshot as he stared intently at Superman's arm, wanting to break it.

Even if it's just a small scratch, let it bleed, let it bleed!
Clark looked at Homelander and suddenly felt sorry for him.

He looked down at his arm, a red light gleaming in his eyes, his gaze meeting that of the Homelander.

呲味——

His skin finally broke open, leaving a small gash.

"Okay, that's enough!"

The researcher excitedly ran over, took a syringe, and held it to Superman's arm to extract the drop of blood seeping from the wound. Then he excitedly ran back.

Homelander stared at Clark with a grim expression. To him, the fact that he could only break through Clark's skin with Superman's help meant that he still couldn't break through Superman's defenses.

What broke his defenses even more was Clark's gaze—there was little hostility or malice in it, he was just looking at him quietly—even with a hint of sadness.

He was feeling sorry for himself.

The people of the motherland do not need anyone's sympathy.

Homelander's lips twitched a few times, and he clenched his fists tightly, veins bulging on his forehead, as he tried his best to suppress the urge to immediately fight Superman.

“There’s no need to act immediately. I may not be able to win, but he must have a weakness, and I’m more useful to Walter than he is to me.”

Homelander took several deep breaths and finally suppressed the urge to act immediately. He thought to himself that once the blood test results came out, he would definitely find a way to deal with Superman from that book.

You can't be invincible.

As Homelander and Superman left the testing facility, an elderly man in a suit and tie sat down in Madeline's office in the nearby Vought Building.

"The autographed photo you wanted, Steve."

Madeline smiled and handed the old man a photo signed by Homelander, on which was written in marker, "To Mason - Strive for the Top".

The signature is "Guozuren" (meaning "People of the Motherland").

"Ha, that's fantastic." The man in the suit smiled as he put the photo away. "My kids will be overjoyed."

"It's our honor—as long as he doesn't sell that photo online."

This was obviously a joke; as the mayor of Baltimore, Steve would never lack anything in terms of his son's material life.

"Let's get down to business." Steve picked up the glass of red wine beside him and took a sip. "What do you think of my proposal?"

"Oh, Baltimore is beautiful, very beautiful, it's a wonderful place."

Madeline laughed and said, "But there's a problem. Your homicide rate is as high as 62 percent, and the police haven't been able to close the case yet. You'll soon need federal assistance."

"Why don't you put it more clearly—whom do you recommend?"

"The Prince of Nubia".

Behind Madeline, a large screen projected the image of a robust Black male hero dressed in an African-style hero uniform.

"It conforms to popular aesthetics but does not appear particularly radical. White people also like it quite a bit—a full 59 percent approval rating, so it will not cause much public opposition. The plan is highly feasible."

"I'm willing to give you a three-year exclusive contract, comprehensive public relations support, and for you personally—I'm willing to give you 9.5 percent of the sales revenue."

"Isn't he the resident superhero of Detroit? He's been there for so long, the citizens of Detroit must be used to him by now, right?"

Madeline smiled easily: "He's a hero at Walter Corporation. It's perfectly normal for him to be anywhere Walter is looking for a job transfer."

So Steve asked directly, "How much?"

"Three hundred million—every year."

Steve smiled, straightened his suit, sat up straight, and prepared to leave.

It's clear he's very dissatisfied with the price.

“I know this is a lot of money,” Madeline replied, “but we all know that your city really needs a hero.”

Steve hesitated for a moment after hearing this. He sat down and thought for a while before saying, "Two hundred million for the Nubian prince, that's a price I can accept."

“I’m afraid I can’t agree.” Madeline sat up straight. “The city of Atlanta is waiting to talk to me about the Nubian prince, and their offer is not low.”

I think you'll agree.

"why?"

"Because I happen to know about compound five."

Upon hearing this, Madeline's smile remained unchanged. She looked up and met Steve's gaze for a moment.

The air seemed to freeze for a moment; for that instant, neither of them spoke, as if they understood each other's thoughts.

At that moment, in the night sky outside the Waterhouse, a figure draped in the Stars and Stripes flew across the rooftop.

The two people inside the house didn't notice him.

(End of this chapter)