American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 110 The God of Speed! The Flash in Danger! [12.2k]

Under the night sky of the metropolis.

There were no dark clouds.

Star bright.

A Boeing passenger plane was flying smoothly at high altitude.

Of course, even though it is flying very smoothly now, it does not affect the fact that all the oxygen masks in the cabin have been deployed, and the windows were cracked due to the engine explosion.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain's announcement." A voice that had already given up hope came from the loudspeaker, "We are currently flying at a very, very high altitude... we won't die for now."

He no longer knew how to comfort the frightened passengers. After all, even the most experienced flight attendants would probably say they had never seen such a bizarre situation in their lives.

From fear.

To shock.

From shock to disbelief.

The passengers, like the captain, are now somewhat resigned to tonight's ordeal.

"Mom, are we dead in the plane crash?"

A little child, looking somewhat bewildered, asked his mother a question.

"To die, but not yet dead; perhaps, this is death itself." The woman in the uniform seemed to have transformed into a philosopher, and everyone on the plane was now in a very peaceful state of mind.

The fear and panic from the earlier plane engine explosion had completely vanished.

【My dearest wife…】In the luxurious first-class cabin, a well-dressed business elite was writing furiously on parchment with a pure gold fountain pen.

Many people have written their wills before.

This will is the tenth revised version by the business elite. The previous nine versions were too emotional, so this version includes a detailed asset distribution table and tax optimization plan.

of course.

The inheritance rights of the third, fourth, fifth, and seventh mistresses were also removed.

"I just told you all not to get on the plane, and I saw it. I saw the plane crash out of control. It's death itself. None of you believed me." The freckled college boy's voice was hoarse as he slumped in his chair, having lost all strength to struggle.

"Death has never come; we must believe in God."

A priest took the opportunity to preach to the boy, but the boy just rolled his eyes at him. However, the priest did not give up and devoted himself to spreading the glory of God to every boy.

The atmosphere inside the cabin was somewhat somber.

There was no music in the passengers' ears, only a "whoosh whoosh whoosh" sound drifting in from outside the broken porthole, accompanied by a "whoosh whoosh" sound like a giant vacuum cleaner getting a fishbone stuck in its shell.

outside.

Unseen by anyone, Ian held the plane aloft with both hands, circling joyfully above Metropolis. He wasn't just celebrating his promotion and the achievement of becoming a pilot.

This is a form of exercise.

original.

He was simply looking down at the metropolis at night when the plane's engine exploded right in front of him. As the son of Superman, he certainly couldn't ignore it like Homelander.

After kicking away a red-robed Grim Reaper who was lying outside the window, poised to strike, Ian also displayed his great power; his bio-field became active after he left the ground.

This biofield is activated once Ian takes flight, and as long as his feet don't touch the ground, he can extend it and unleash his true family tradition.

Saving the big plane.

At first, Ian struggled a bit to envelop the entire plane with his biofield, but now he was completely at ease, because his biofield was growing stronger.

Yes, it has grown stronger.

Rather than adapting.

With the certificate permanently valid, Ian doesn't need to worry about losing control of his abilities. Once he learns them, they become second nature to him, so Ian won't use such an excuse to torment passengers and crew.

The reason he held up the large airplane and flew it several times was different from the reason he flew it hundreds of times around his house; the latter was simply because he wanted to celebrate learning to fly.

As for the former...

Of course, it's because he discovered the [Perfect Divine Body] with growth potential, which may also be influencing the skills of other [Savage Tyrants]. Now is a very good opportunity for growth.

Even in a metropolis.

But it's not like Ian can find a crashed training plane every day.

After all, Superman's main business is in this area.

"The world laughs at my madness, but I laugh at the world's inability to see through things."

Ian held the plane up and flew close to the "sea" level. He only glanced at the brightly lit city on the other side of the moat before flying directly to Metropolitan Airport.

This time.

Ian has learned his lesson.

He did not call any of his parents who were reporters.

They only dialed the phone numbers of reporters they didn't know.

"Hello? Is this the Social News Department of the Daily Planet? This is a Metropolitan citizen. I just saw a passenger plane with 237 passengers fail on its right engine and was about to crash as usual. But thankfully, the new generation guardian of Metropolis, the invincible Rose Superman, appeared in time and used his strong arms to support the plane."

"Daily Mail, huh? I witnessed a disaster, but Superman saved everything. He held up the plane and did a triple axe in mid-air... Never mind if the passengers threw up, Superman definitely couldn't do that. Wait! I haven't gotten to the best part yet!"

“Metropolitan Times, is it? I have news. Huh? What? My voice sounds like the guy who reported fake news before, smearing Batman for having an illegal transaction with a black woman in an alley?”

"Stop joking, this is real news."

"No, you misheard me. I didn't admit to anything—no, what do you mean you can help me hire a lawyer? Do you think I can't afford a lawyer myself!"

……

Batman's phone still works perfectly.

Even though Ian had bitten off half of it, the remaining half was still strong enough. Wayne Technologies lived up to its name, at least in terms of quality, it far surpassed most technology companies.

While on the phone.

Ian flew toward Metropolitan Airport. He flew at an extremely low altitude, skimming the lake where Metropolitan and Gotham meet, the airflow generated by his high-speed flight creating two spectacular curtains of water below.

at the same time.

Because Ian was close to the city boundary line.

In another city across the lake.

The atmosphere inside the bat cave was gloomy.

Bruce Wayne was staring at the computer screen.

He racked his brains trying to figure out how to unlock Ian's black box access.

Then, the "Gotham Must-Eat List" was removed from various gay dating websites around the world.

however.

As Ian approached the border.

"Buzz~"

The alarm sounded like a symphony orchestra playing "Alarm Rhapsody".

this moment.

Lord Wayne, who was never one to lose his composure, instantly panicked.

He was terrified.

He quickly picked up his communication device.

"Take Damian to my newly renovated safe house right away," Bruce instructed in a very serious voice as he called the butler.

"Did something serious happen?"

Alfred, the butler, was also startled upon hearing this. He had never heard Bruce's voice so grave, not even during the Arkham riots or the Joker's renewed antics, and he was even suggesting hiding the young master. What kind of crisis required Batman to take such serious precautions?
Have aliens invaded Earth yet again?
"Do as I say." Batman's tone was urgent. After all, Ian's threat was still echoing in his ears, and he had indeed investigated Ian's social circle over the past few years.

Ian loves surfing the internet.

There are indeed a few members of an organization on my friend list who like to take rich kids to meet younger brothers.

That boy.

I'm not lying!

"The Kent family is my nemesis!" Bruce said as he put on his Batman suit and quickly performed a series of operations on the computer.

then.

Almost all the large screens on buildings along the Gotham coastline were hacked, displaying the words "No Entry," while fireworks continued to explode in the sky.

They formed a series of icons that drove away "dirty things".

In this regard.

Ian didn't know.

Is Gotham celebrating New Year's Eve tonight?

He was just flying when he saw the fireworks above Gotham City. He looked surprised, but then he thought about the mental state of the Gothamites and it seemed quite reasonable.

That godforsaken place.

Every day, all sorts of amazing performances take place.

It doesn't feel like a metropolis.

Quiet and peaceful. At Metropolitan International Airport, reporters had already set up their cameras and microphones. Ian slowly landed the plane, ready to give interviews.

"Hiss, he's still flying, his feet are... one centimeter off the ground?" A sharp-eyed reporter noticed Ian's posture and asked a very puzzled question.

“That’s normal. If I don’t fly, how will the world know that I’m also standing in the sky?” Actually, Ian didn’t want to expose his weaknesses. He could only put down the large plane if he maintained flight mode.

Once both feet are on the ground.

The stagnation of the bio-field would inevitably lead to the collapse of the passenger plane. He slowly lowered the plane onto the runway, completing the landing, and thoughtfully opened an escape route for the passengers.

"Thank you for flying with us." Ian believes that in the fiercely competitive DC Universe, a superhero needs not only good performance but also excellent service to stand out.

only.

When the last passenger escaped the plane, Ian did not receive the hug he wanted, and even his magic as a "dimensional demon" did not increase much amidst the passengers' gratitude.

really.

They don't even have the ability to register it in the system, so they're unreliable. There's no strict oversight at all. Heaven knows where all the passengers' gratitude went!
Was it withheld by a magic specialist from some DC universe?
"It's still more reassuring to use a system with oversight." Ian's thinking differed slightly from most transmigrators, and it was actually hard to say who was right and who was wrong in this matter.

Watching the passengers flee as if they were escaping, Ian turned his attention back to the group of reporters.

"Were you the one who just called me?"

A reporter asked a question.

"No."

Ian responded in a muffled voice.

The sound was noticeably different from the beginning.

He faced the camera.

Calm and composed.

After all, he still has a lot of untruthful quotas left today.

"You must be quite young. I think you're still in school." This reporter's assessment resonated with many other reporters, since a keen eye is one of the most important qualities for a journalist.

Those with poor eyesight were banished to Gotham.

"Although I'm not very old, it doesn't affect my career. You have to start being a superhero from a young age." Knowing he couldn't hide this fact, Ian tried to make excuses.

however.

No one listened to his sophistry.

"I know you! You were the superhero downstairs this afternoon too!" A reporter recognized Ian, and Ian was about to praise the female reporter when he was overjoyed.

however.

"Yes! Masked Braggart! Because he said he drove Superman away, people gave him that title!" The female reporter exclaimed in surprise as she explained the situation to her bewildered colleague.

Ian's smile froze on his face.

"Just to correct you, you should call me Stocking Superman, my official name is Flesh Stocking Superman—good heavens, don't any of you guys even go to the [Superhero Popularity Center]?"

Ian felt that these reporters were suspected of dereliction of duty. How could legitimate reporters not pay attention to this website? After all, superheroes are the true main theme of the entire DC universe.

"Hello, Meat... Meatball Superman, you seem to have only recently become active, right?" The reporters didn't respond to Ian; they were more interested in Ian's background.

Seeing the reporters' curious expressions, Ian immediately began to explain the facts.

"Yes Yes."

In this regard.

The boy was prepared.

You can actually check it on the [Superhero Popularity Center].

"Thirty million years ago, in the ancient era, humans already existed and created a highly advanced ancient civilization. However, many powerful superhumans were fighting for territory."

"In the end, Dark Superman and his three accessories won the victory, but due to the invasion of evil creatures, Dark Superman and his three accessories were buried in the annals of history."

"Of course, Dark Superman may be dead, but his power has not disappeared. This power has been purified by the light of the human heart and has become an incomparably powerful force of light."

"It existed until the appearance of the most morally upright human being, and then it bestowed its power upon this human being, making this human being the embodiment of light."

"That's me."

Ian recounted the story vividly; piecing together books had always been an innate talent of his. Spotlights flashed, and reporters frantically recorded everything with voice recorders and notebooks.

Surprisingly, not one of them doubted this claim.

"So, the Kryptonians are actually Earthlings, but they are ancient humans who migrated away?" Not only did no one doubt this, but some even pondered it further, drawing inferences from the given information.

"Yeah."

Ian's character has been effectively supplemented.

He plans to update the information on the [Superhero Popularity Center] when he gets back tonight.

"I see. No wonder Kryptonians look almost identical to us; it seriously contradicts the assumptions of cosmological biology." The thoughtful reporter looked really handsome.

Ian gave him a thumbs up.

of course.

There are people who doubt Ian's explanation, after all, not everyone would choose to abandon their own brain and ability to think independently just to chase a hot topic.

"Stocking Superman, even if that's really your name... some people say you're an Arkham fugitive, what do you think about that?" This annoying reporter comes from Luther's media empire.

In this regard.

Ian knew how to handle it.

“You should ask Batman that question, not me—if I really am from Arkham.” Ian grew up in a family of journalists. He knew all too well that when facing a reporter, one must never fall into their questioning traps, but rather maintain one’s own rhythm in the exchange of questions and answers.

The reporters also sensed Ian's skill at this point.

only.

"Ding Ding Ding ~"

Ian's phone rang.

Gotham's Freak

The incoming message was a string of gibberish, though Ian had marked it. Surprisingly, Batman was actually watching the live stream and had even managed to break through the new Tony Stark's black box.

Too fast.

Some of these exceeded Ian's predictions.

He still underestimated Batman. He didn't expect that even without relying on his worries about the family to unleash his potential, Batman would still be able to break through the new Tony Stark's digital blockade so quickly.

"The new Tony is still not the real Tony."

Ian was filled with emotion.

Hang up.

"This is the first time I've ever seen a superhero go out... with a pager in his hand." The man standing at the front carrying the camera expressed his heartfelt feelings, then couldn't help but look at Ian's face.

There.

It only has eyes and a nose.

This was actually the first time he had ever seen a superhero dressed as a robber.

"Is there something urgent?"

The female reporter holding the microphone was curious about Ian's private life.

"It's nothing, I was just harassed by Nantong."

Ian calmly took out the black box again and encrypted his phone a second time. The phone vibrated wildly, and the half-phone, which was even mistaken for a pager, was finally silenced.

There is always a backup plan.

He learned this from Batman.

The black box has many other uses.

"Where were we?" Ian put his phone back in his pocket, looked up and found the reporters silent, all staring at him with strange looks.

"Speaking of Nantong pursuing you relentlessly? And you're going to tell us why you know Nantong?" No wonder this group of people are the most senior journalists in the metropolis. Look at their linguistic skills, they're really too strong. With just one sentence, they silenced Ian.

of course.

The deafening silence did not all come from the reporters.

Ian looked at the live stream camera.

He discovered that his magic power was growing at a much faster rate than when he was explaining the background information about "Stocking Man"—it was growing at a rate several times faster.

As expected of America.

Superheroes tend to receive more admiration when they're on the right track. It's clear that Ian Mads Mikoto chose the right path, but he still has some genuine principles.

"Let's talk about how I saved the big plane." He had found a shortcut, but he didn't want to take it; after all, he'd rather not have such a powerful and righteous magic.

"Okay, okay."

Many media outlets echoed this sentiment. After all, not every journalist wants to profit from this kind of traffic; quite a few journalists in the industry have already suffered the backlash from such attention.

Now we're getting back to the main topic.

Ian immediately began to utilize his innate talent.

"It was a thrilling contest..." Perhaps a thousand words need to be omitted here. Ian, in his words, blended elements from "Speed," "The Matrix," "Star Wars," "Titanic," and even "Mission: Impossible," truly telling the reporters a magnificent story.

The reporters were stunned, sensing something was amiss, yet the story was undeniably captivating. And it wasn't just them who found it fascinating; even the viewers watching the live stream were speechless.

Besides reverence.

What else can they offer?

Ian's mind was flooded with magic, which quickly reached the level of a small well.

"So, it may seem that I just caught the big plane, but in reality, I defeated death." Ian used a part of the truth to end his story.

He truly defeated death.

Right now, the red-robed Grim Reaper he kicked away is still invisible to everyone, standing hundreds of meters behind the reporters, staring at him with his scythe.

"We can't escape. Even if we escape once, there will be another time. Death's pursuit will never end." Even if a boy shouting "Death is coming" walks past him.

The red-robed Grim Reaper didn't even glance at the boy.

His face was shrouded in shadow and no one could see it.

But those red eyes kept staring at Ian with a resentful look, not scary at all, but rather like they were about to cry from grievance. Ian chose to pretend he couldn't see anything.

Death's performance business.

It clashes with his merits.

Ultimately, only one of them was able to achieve a slight increase.

Ian finished speaking.

"Clap clap~"

A round of enthusiastic applause erupted from the audience. The reporters knew very well that regardless of how much of the story was true or false, its captivating nature would undoubtedly generate tremendous buzz for the news.

Such a talented person.

I won't write books.

Instead, they became superheroes.

Is there really such a thing as being chosen by the light power of an ancient superman? Everyone can see that Ian is a boy, at most no older than eighteen.

There is indeed a saying about this age.

Some reporters began to have doubts.

at the same time.

Ian also checked the time.

"That's the gist of it. It's about the merit of building about 1,659 churches. I don't care about such things. It's getting late, so everyone should get some rest."

Before the reporters could react after Ian finished speaking, he pulled a black metal box from his pocket and tapped it rapidly with his fingers.

With a soft "beep," all the cameras on site suddenly went black, the drone fell like a kite with a broken string, and even the live stream on the mobile phone turned into a snowy screen.

The new Tony teacher's black box has countless uses.

This action stunned the reporters.

They initially thought Ian was a superhero who relied solely on mutation or was truly blessed by ancient forces, never imagining that this guy would possess such incredible technology.

Hexagon Warrior?
The reporters were completely bewildered.

"Remember to get up early tomorrow and get me on the front page!" Ian said sincerely as he began handing out his tonight's bonus to the reporters.

Again.

When a superhero wants to climb the social ladder, he has to be good at interpersonal relationships. Anyway, since it wasn't money Ian earned himself, he doesn't feel bad about spending it and is very generous.

This series of actions has left many uninformed reporters confused.

Is this how superheroes are supposed to be?

A well-informed reporter suddenly realized that what his colleague had boasted about after reporting back to the newspaper was true; there really were wealthy people in this world who acted as superheroes just for fun.

"You are so generous."

Some newly graduated reporters even used honorifics when referring to Ian—how could she not know whether this superhero was real or not? How could she not feel whether he had helped the people?
The reporters looked at each other.

Many of them realized this.

Although the hero in front of me has a somewhat niche style of doing things, he is indeed sincere enough, whether it is his simple wish to make headlines or the Franklin in his hand.

"Shocking! Plane crash! From ancient times! The collective will of the people of the metropolis! The Apostle of Light saves the day!" A reporter has already begun writing furiously.

She wants to clear Ian's name.

They also create hype to benefit themselves.

The moment of win-win has arrived.

And right now.

"Ding Ding Ding ~"

Ian's half-used phone rang again. He initially thought it was Batman breaking through his latest shield, but he had ultimately overestimated Batman's speed. "It's Dad..."

Ian stared at the incoming call number, thought for a moment, and still didn't dare hang up.

After all, if he doesn't answer the phone, Superman arriving here and stealing the spotlight is a minor matter. The main concern is that if "Masked Braggart" is really exposed, that would be an absolute nightmare.

"Okay, Dad, I'll be right back."

Ian hung up the phone.

He nodded to the reporters with a blank expression.

"Sorry, I have to go home and get a beating. I'll share another true story with you all next time—my abusive father." After saying that, there was a loud "boom".

Ian shot into the air from the spot.

He disappeared from the stunned gazes of the reporters.

He wasn't in a good mood.

Because he heard his mother's voice on the other end of the phone. His mother was confiscating the shredded meat he had stockpiled, and judging from his father's tone, the "Shredded Meat Superman" account was probably going to be permanently banned.

"Don't follow me!"

Ian removed the stockings.

He kicked away the red-robed Grim Reaper who had followed him into the sky.

The Grim Reaper feels good.

He was kicked so hard that he landed in a spiral, which gave him instant gratification.

"The ancestor of account switching, hmm, not bad." Ian thought of all the other accounts he had, and his recent depression immediately disappeared. He happily flew towards the parking lot.

Night was high in the sky.

soon.

Ian, whose speed rivaled that of a fighter jet, landed on the asphalt surface of the parking lot, his boots making a soft whirring sound as he walked towards his unique Hellcat.

It remained there quietly.

The car paint gleamed with a dark red sheen under the moonlight.

Like a lurking beast.

As Ian approached, his keen hearing picked up on the unusual breathing sounds inside the car—not Madison's rapid, drowsy breathing, but two unfamiliar, steady breaths.

"I got scammed for free again?"

Ian frowned, his golden pupils narrowing slightly in the darkness. He walked around to the front of the vehicle, his fingers gripping the edge of the hood, and slowly lifted the Hellcat's hood.

"..."

Ian fell silent.

I saw.

Two unconscious boys were huddled in the engine compartment.

The smaller one, with brown curly hair and a few streaks of grease on his handsome face, was none other than Sam Winchester, the classmate he had once threatened so fiercely.

The older blond youth standing next to him was obviously Dean Winchester, the elder of the two demon-slaying brothers, and Michael the angel's backup vessel on Earth.

Sam is the same.

Sam is the human vessel for Lucifer, the King of Hell. However, since Lucifer is currently having a great time in Los Angeles, Ian isn't sure if this premise still holds true.

The story of these two brothers.

The only thing Ian could clearly remember was that Dean would sleep with a beautiful woman every now and then. Those actresses were really beautiful, and even many of the female extras who died had their own unique charm.

She's the kind of woman who could be the female lead in any other story.

"Seriously, Dean is about a third as handsome as me, and he looks exactly like the soldier boy." Ian pulled the two unconscious brothers out and threw them into the trunk.

He planned to dump the two people wherever he needed to on his way.

That is, Dean and Sam's house.

Ian knew the two brothers' residence inside and out. For some well-known reasons, he knew exactly where many of his classmates lived and how many people lived in their homes.

"They must have discovered something was wrong with my Hellcat, came to investigate, and then got killed by my car." Ian could make that judgment without even observing the scene. The two Winchester brothers were no ordinary people; they were born witchers, because it was their destiny from birth.

The fates of the pawns in Heaven and Hell are, of course, already inextricably linked to them. This is true of the entire Winchester family; everyone in their family possesses the genes to be a vessel for angels and demons.

"Buzz~"

Suddenly, a burst of hot air shot out of the Hellcat's exhaust pipe.

As if in response.

"Throw your brother in jail"

"Everybody went bad."

"Situation, aggravation" (meaning a difficult or unfavorable situation)

……

Radio music also played simultaneously.

The Hellcat was expressing that it listened to Ian's teachings, only putting the bad guys in prison. However, its understanding of prison was somewhat different from Ian's.

"Sweetie, don't hide your prey in the engine compartment next time. Their saliva will contaminate your engine oil." Ian didn't scold him, but instead inquired about the health of his Hellcat.

The hellcat was overjoyed.

"Let's go home first. I'm going to sleep in half an hour."

Just as Ian was about to get into the car, a faint fragrance filled the air, and to his surprise, he also heard a very faint sound of wings flapping.

"An evil god."

A deep voice came from behind.

Ian turned around and saw a man in a beige trench coat standing about three meters away. His posture was unnaturally straight, and his eyes gleamed with a rich golden light in the shadows.

Even more dazzling than Ian's eyes.

"Angel?"

Ian raised an eyebrow.

She looked at the wings that were gradually closing behind the man.

"Cassidy?"

He thought of the two brothers he had thrown into the trunk. These two brothers would indeed have a guardian angel in their destiny, and the angel in front of him looked very much like that angel.

"The evil god."

The angel Cassidy did not respond to Ian; He simply took a step forward. "I don't care if you steal faith from humanity, but these two men have a mission bestowed upon them by the Lord."

“You must release them.” The angel Cassidio’s tone was firm and left no room for argument. His golden eyes were fixed on the boy who was slightly shorter than him.

"Let's talk about the theft of people's faith in detail."

Ian did not avoid eye contact.

He thought of the magical power that had just surged so dramatically.

"Don't play dumb in front of me. You can't fool an angel. Release those two, or you'll be trying to antagonize our entire Heaven..."

Cassidio's wings sprang out again.

An attempt to intimidate.

however.

He hasn't finished speaking yet.

Another sound of wings unfolding interrupted his threat. A black angel rushed out, seemingly appearing out of thin air, and immediately covered Cassidio's mouth.

"Have we met before?"

Ian felt a sense of familiarity with the burly angel.

"Never seen it? How could I have seen it?"

The burly angel quickly denied it, saying he was the angel Amanadir.

"I'm sorry, he's not an angel, just a poor man. I'm going to take him for treatment now. You can continue. Oh, and remember, there's no such thing as heaven."

“We live in a scientific age, we believe in science, we believe in extraterrestrials.” Angel Amanadir smiled at Ian, ignoring the “uh-uh” sounds Cassidio made as he struggled.

He dragged Cassidy back a few steps.

The two gradually disappeared into the air like chalk drawings being erased.

"..."

Ian remained silent for a long time, having already recognized the identity of the second angel. It was precisely because of this that he found the events that had occurred in the blink of an eye to be utterly absurd and bizarre.

"God's firstborn son? There are mentally ill angels too?"

It took Ian a long time to finally manage to utter this sentence.

no way.

It's no wonder he suspected Amanadir of having a mental illness. As an angel, how could he deny the existence of Heaven? What else could it be but a blatant lack of loyalty to Heaven?
Only the explanation of mental illness, which fits any explanation, can account for such a bizarre situation.

"It can't be that I'm hallucinating, can it? I didn't go picking mushrooms to eat by the roadside tonight because of creative block." Ian has lived in this world for almost fifteen years.

This was truly the first time he had ever doubted his mental state. He recognized both angels, but he was still somewhat bewildered by what had just happened.

"That's weird." Ian scratched his head and reached for the car door handle again—whoosh, the Hellcat moved on its own and rushed out as if in a hurry.

It simply changed its parking spot and parked there.

"????"

Just as Ian was starting to wonder why his car had suddenly "defected" and began to suspect that mental illness was contagious, his super hearing caught something unusual.

"Boom~"

Dust flew and sparks flew.

A red figure smashed through three SUVs in the parking lot.

He eventually fit into the door of the fourth car.

Amidst the ear-piercing sound of metal twisting, the masked monster, still crackling with golden electricity, landed limply like a rag doll—he was Barry Allen, the Flash!

The man's red battle suit was tattered, and golden arcs of electricity flickered erratically across his body. His face, which he struggled to lift, was filled with terror and anxiety.

"Run! I..."

The Flash hadn't finished speaking.

Suddenly, the asphalt surface crackled with an eerie blue electric light.

Immediately afterwards, a deep humming sound filled the air, like thunder exploding in one's ears. Then, a tall, burly figure seemed to teleport in front of the Flash.

That was an armored monster!

"Barry Allen, your speed is like that of a toddler learning to walk in front of me. How can you defy my will with such meager skills? I am the God of Speed!"

The armored monster's metal boots stepped on the Flash's chest.

The surging blue speed force around his body illuminated his menacing mask.

"Saveta?"

When Ian saw one of the Flash's nemesis appear, he instinctively took a step back and jumped eighty meters away, but Savita didn't seem to notice him.

“Accept your fate, Barry Allen, accept the gift.” Savitar’s voice was deep and inhuman, as cold and ruthless as the overlap of a million synthesized electronic voices.

Full of oppression.

“Superman…” The Flash wanted to cry out to the heavens for help, which was perhaps why he had come to Metropolis. However, his cry for help went unanswered.

The afterglow of the angel's descent still lingers.

It might be interfering with something.

Clark's super hearing is not the kind of ability that cannot be blocked.

“Superman isn’t here, but his son is.” Ian made his decision after a brief internal weighing of the options. Since the Flash had come to his father for help, he couldn’t just ignore his father’s little brother. Otherwise, if word got back to Gotham, people would think the Superman family couldn’t save their fallen comrade.

"Zizzizi~"

A blazing golden beam burst forth directly from Ian's eyes.

The brilliance, like a burst of sunlight, illuminated the entire parking lot under the night sky.

however.

The speed of thermal rays may be very fast.

But Savita's speed was significantly faster.

Just as the laser was about to strike, Savita's figure vanished from his spot as if torn apart by a phantom. When he reappeared, he was already standing in front of Ian.

"..."

Ian chose to extinguish his beam.

no way.

He didn't see the guy do anything, but no matter how much he shook his head, even at close range, the heat rays seemed unable to hit Savita.

If they continue spraying like this, wouldn't they be humiliating themselves?

"Golden heat rays, impressive strength, but you won't exist in the future." Savita didn't attack Ian, but instead mocked him with an extremely contemptuous tone.

He stood in front of Ian, looking down at him. The armor he wore could amplify his speed force, and he exuded a cold, powerful, and mysterious aura.

It seems to belong to a different world.

It's more like a high-tech war weapon from the distant future.

It also carried a hint of the majesty of the armor of the god of war from ancient mythology. Countless blue speed forces flowed and shimmered on its surface, and the surrounding air seemed to be slightly distorted by the powerful energy emanating from the armor.

"who are you?"

Ian asked the question knowing the answer already.

My brain is racing, trying to come up with a solution.

He couldn't even secretly call his father.

The opponent is too fast.

"I am the God of Speed!"

Savita used the same lines he'd said to the Flash to respond to Ian's question. He didn't know that Ian knew perfectly well he was merely a remnant of the Flash's future—the so-called God of Speed ​​was just a dark version of Barry's future, representing what Barry might become if he continued to abuse the Speed ​​Force.

“As a superhero, I am now willing to die. Let’s do it.” Ian looked at the weapon in Savita’s hand. The futuristic-style armor had several high-tech cold weapons on it.

He wanted to use Savita's weapons to level up.

however.

Savita, however, did not fall for it.

"A noble spirit, but no one will remember your sacrifice... A life as insignificant as an insect will only have an unremembered death and end."

Savita gave a cold laugh.

Then, he switched to a seductive voice, "Submit to me and you can change your destiny. Glory and honor will be within your grasp. You can stand amidst everyone's cheers and become the person you want to be."

how to say.

Ian bet this guy used a future version of the sound card.

The devilish tone was perfectly captured.

"Don't be like the Flash; you'll die for nothing."

While talking to Ian, Savitar didn't turn around, but his metal glove suddenly reached back and precisely grabbed the Flash's throat as he tried to launch a sneak attack.

The Flash's feet kicked futilely in mid-air.

Gradually losing strength.

"Forehead……"

Ian tilted his head.

They looked at the Flash, who had once again become a weakling.

"Alright, I submit."

He decisively agreed.

Such a straightforward answer may have caught even Savita off guard.

"..."

Savita remained silent.

After a while.

“Very good.” He chuckled softly, his tone softening slightly. “I like people like you who know how to assess situations. Only people like you can have a place in the new world of the future.”

It's hard to tell whether this assessment is praise or criticism, but Savita was certainly very satisfied with Ian's attitude, looking down at the boy with an arrogant gaze.

"Now, kneel down, kneel down to me, kneel down to your god, and then join me in welcoming the stars." Savita's tone was filled with unquestionable authority.

"No problem, I'm fine with anything."

Although Ian said that, his body language betrayed him, and he didn't do anything. Under Savita's unfriendly gaze, he quickly tried to speak in a high-pitched voice.

"I will willingly submit to you, but... as great as you are, could you help me with a small act of revenge?" Forgive Ian for not knowing how to make his voice sound obsequious.

He could only imitate the old eunuchs' voices slightly.

Pretending to be obsequious.

Fortunately, Savita didn't seem to care about that.

“A very reasonable request. I will show you my power, and then you will submit willingly.” Savita nodded, demonstrating his magnanimity.

Upon seeing this, Ian immediately showed a happy expression.

"Thank you, the supreme god of speed. Here's the thing: there's a bar in Los Angeles called Light Bar, and I need your help to smash it."

"Of course, just don't touch the collectibles, just smash the shop. Actually, to be honest..." Ian's sob story and the reasons why he couldn't take revenge himself hadn't even begun to unfold.

"I don't need to know your past."

Savita spoke coldly, forcefully interrupting Ian's little story.

He's like a real domineering CEO.

"With a single breath, you'll understand what kind of being you've submitted to." With that, Savita vanished from the parking lot as his Speed ​​Force surged.

A breath passed.

Two breaths passed.

Fifty breaths have already passed.

"Where is he? Where is Savita?" The Flash struggled to sit up, smoke still rising from his uniform collar. He looked around; apart from the wrecked vehicles, the parking lot was eerily quiet.

Savita is gone.

With a wave of his hand, he unleashed his incredible speed.

It seems they no longer have any intention of returning, or perhaps they've simply lost the will to do so.

"I guess that's all, the banquet is about to begin."

Ian walked quickly to his car.

"I've seen your family photos. You're Ian... What did you do?" The severely injured Flash was puzzled. He dragged his broken leg and limped after him.

“I used my super brain.” Ian opened the trunk and began tying ribbons around Sam, the guy who had brought him bad luck, as if he were wrapping him up as an apology gift.

The Metropolitan God of Gamblers needs to gamble one more time.

"You...you shouldn't be committing a crime?" The Flash was bewildered again, not knowing why there was someone in Ian's trunk, or what Ian was doing.

"Enough of that, Uncle Barry. Use your remaining leg, which isn't completely broken yet, and use your speed to hop over and buy me a big box."

Ian has already packed up Sam and is all smiles.

"?????"

Barry Allen removed his mask.

His expression of utter astonishment was as if he had seen some kind of demon. Indeed, what kind of person could come up with the idea of ​​having a cripple hop to buy something?
"I may not be able to move much."

Barry Allen declined Ian's request.

"It's not just because I broke more than a dozen bones, you should get me a stretcher. The biggest reason is that I've been suffering from this corrosion, which reduced my speed by at least half even before I was injured."

talking.

Barry Allen showed Ian his arm, which had a grotesque scar that looked very eerie and was now gleaming with a bluish light.

“Then I’ll go buy it myself right away.” Ian didn’t insist. He didn’t have time to look at Barry Allen’s arm for the moment because he knew what he had done.

"I took a huge risk to save you. By market price, you owe me at least twelve thousand yuan. If you don't honor it, you'll have to go on the must-eat list with Uncle Bruce."

Ian's tone was more serious than ever before.

What's this "must-eat list"?

Barry Allen opened his mouth, but still couldn't understand what Ian was saying. He wasn't actually that taciturn, but he just didn't know how to communicate effectively with the other person.

The two seemed to be on completely different communication channels.

Could it be.

Is this what they call the generation gap?

Barry Allen was completely bewildered.

And at this time.

Ian was about to fly out.

Suddenly.

The night wind suddenly stopped.

It was as if something had descended upon this area.

Even Barry Allen could sense it, so Ian certainly couldn't have been completely oblivious. The boy, around ten years old, quickly looked around at his surroundings.

"Hmm? Speaking of human relationships..."

Suddenly, Sam Winchester, who had been dressed up in a flamboyant manner by Ian, sat bolt upright in the carriage. Like a zombie, the boy's brown curly hair was still smeared with engine oil, but his suddenly opened eyes were bloodshot.

"Goo~"

Barry Allen felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

This was even without the other person looking at him. Sam, as if possessed, looked at Ian.

"Now, you owe me a favor."

He spoke softly.

A smile that seemed out of place for someone her age curled at the corners of her lips.

Abbreviation.

Xie Mei smiled.

(End of this chapter)