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

Chapter 237 The Kent Family, Each Person a Thinker
On the edge of the universe, Darkseid rebuilds his legion from nothingness under the gaze of death; deep in hell, Trigon's wrath stirs up his followers; inside the Batcave, Bruce is overwhelmed with dealing with the "media storm" launched by Green Arrow... and Miss Death even seems to have betrayed Ian.

Even Darkseid couldn't fathom Lady Death's intentions—this might be a little-known secret, and no one knows what Lady Death saw at the end of time in the DC universe.

In short.

Returning to the present time.

Just as the woman who led her to the end of time had predicted, Miss Death took the lead in plotting Ian's destined death.

And all this.

Ian, who connects all the events, is currently fast asleep in his demon manor, a gift from the King of Hell, located in the heart of the metropolis.

Ian sank into the mattress, which was as soft as a cloud.

He was covered with a blanket woven from succubus fur—don't ask where the fur came from—a satisfied and peaceful smile played on his lips, and he was even snoring softly.

I can tell.

Ian was indeed having a wonderful dream.

The dream was bizarre and fantastical.

It is full of Ian's superb logic and business acumen.

He felt as if he were in a gigantic, futuristic interstellar dock, his massive image occupying almost every visible spot on the entire dock.

Countless robotic arms are busy transporting boxes of menacing crabs onto uniquely shaped cargo ships.

"Yes! Yes! That's it, take them all to Mars! I've already built the ponds over there, so transport all the crabs there, raise them for a couple of days, and then bring them back!"

"Don't call them 'bathing crabs,' that sounds awful. If we gave every single crab a Martian residency permit, wouldn't they be genuine Martian crabs? Just ask them if they ever made their home on Mars!"

“I’ve already thought of the advertising slogan—the ultimate delicacy from the Red Planet, one bite and it’s like embracing the entire Mars! Sell one crab on ten plates and you’ll be selling to New Yorkers, Londoners, Parisians, oh, and of course, the Shanghainese from the East.” In his dream, Ian was immersed in his interstellar business empire.

Completely unaware that the outside world had already been thrown into turmoil because of him.

Also unnoticed by him in his deep sleep were the three boys who had been intentionally or unintentionally "forgotten" in the ruins of St. Caesar's Church by him and their respective fathers. The brothers Jordan and Jonathan, and the acquaintance Damian, should have spent a night in the cold wind, growing up and maturing.

however.

After all, three cobblers with their mediocre skills can already combine to form Zhuge Liang.

The night wind grew colder and colder amidst the church ruins.

Damian Wayne couldn't help but sneeze again, feeling as if the tip of his nose was about to freeze. He glanced at Jonathan and Jordan Kent beside him, who were also tightly bound but looked much better than him, and couldn't help but speak again, his tone filled with suppressed frustration and unease.

"So, no one's really coming to save us, right?"

Even though he was slow to realize it, he had already begun to notice this.

Jordan tried to loosen his wrist, but the rope, imbued with raven magic, remained sturdy. "Stop complaining, Damian. Save your energy for figuring out a solution."

"A solution? What solutions do we have?"

Damian said irritably, "This rope is enchanted; you can't break free by brute force. And we're not like Dick (Nightwing) or Jason (Red Hood) who are experts at rope-breaking..."

Just then, Jonathan, who hadn't said much, suddenly seemed to have thought of something!
“Wait! Jordan… I remember Ian said that Kryptonians can overcome the suppression of Kryptonite, and that you can cure your sensitivity to Kryptonite if you want to.”

"Yes, self-desensitization. Ian is the smartest among us brothers who knows Kryptonians the most. Didn't Dad listen to his explanation and become unafraid of Kryptonite?"

Jonathan was the child in the family who interacted with Clark the most, so he learned about some of the changes in his Superman dad's body.

"There's such a saying?" Jordan paused, then closed his eyes and concentrated. Fine beads of sweat even appeared on his forehead from the exertion. A few minutes later, just as Damian was about to give up hope, a soft "snap" was heard, and the ropes binding Jordan's hands actually loosened slightly!
Jordan with Kryptonite on his head!

He actually regained a tiny bit of his super power!

"It works!" Jordan exclaimed in surprise. "Although it's very weak, I can feel it! The Kryptonite's suppressive effect on my superpowers isn't that strong!"

"Ian really does know everything."

He once again felt admiration for his younger brother.

Seeing hope, the three of them immediately cheered up.

Jonathan and Damian kept encouraging Jordan, while Jordan focused intently, concentrating all his mental energy in his mind, trying to hypnotize himself into believing that the kryptonite couldn't affect him.

Don't even say it.

The unique characteristic of American TV series—that offspring have greater potential than their ancestors—is now being somewhat demonstrated in Michael Jordan, who, as a teenager, has actually broken through the threshold of his family's inherited mental strength.

Time passed second by second, and the stars in the night sky moved slowly.

Finally, after more than an hour of arduous effort—

"Click!"

A clear snapping sound rang out! The rope around Jordan's wrist broke instantly!

"I did it! I can do it! I am the motherland... I am Superman!" Jordan shouted excitedly, and immediately reached out to untie Jonathan and Damian from their restraints.

The three of them were overjoyed to finally regain their freedom. They stretched their stiff and numb limbs, breathing in the cold air, feeling as if they had been reborn.

"Phew... I've finally gotten rid of that damn kryptonite influence!" Jordan let out a long sigh of relief, feeling the gradual recovery of his solar energy. He patted his chest confidently.

“Even with a handful of kryptonite, I can fly back!” Jonathan quickly found his belt, which Raven had carelessly tossed aside, in a pile of junk in the corner and put it on. He turned a switch on the belt and placed a Clark Kent statue on it, a faint bio-field covering his entire body.

"Don't worry, I can fly too."

Perhaps the first person in the family to awaken my power of thought was this unassuming eldest brother, who actually managed to borrow a bit of power from his father through the statue of Clark Kent.

"And you?" Both of them turned their gaze to Damian beside them.

"What me?"

Damian glanced at the two Kryptonian boys who were ready to take off, then looked down at himself. His usually arrogant face showed a rare hint of... embarrassment and helplessness?

“Hmm…” He cleared his throat, trying to remain calm. “Although I am Batman’s child, unfortunately, here’s a little-known fact: my father was never actually bitten by a radioactive bat, so… genetically speaking, I do not currently have the ability to fly independently.”

Damian was, after all, a fan of Ian and knew about the Batman mutation theory that Ian had spread. He thought everyone was as convinced of it as he was, until he was whipped around by the Gucci belt. He looked up at Jordan and Jonathan and asked in as natural a tone as possible.

"You two...who will take me along?"

Damian rarely asked for favors.

There's no other way now. He doesn't want to wander around Seattle on such a cold, deserted night. Who knows if there are any scoundrels who would like his taste?

“No problem, Damian, I’ll take you…”

Jonathan, being kind-hearted, was about to nod in agreement upon hearing this.

however.

"Wait!" Before he could finish speaking, Jordan grabbed him.

In Jordan's eyes, which bore a resemblance to Ian's, a shrewd, money-grubbing glint instantly flashed—a trait Jonathan was very familiar with, one that Ian had instilled in him.

I saw.

Jordan approached Damian, a businesslike smile plastered on his face, and rubbed his fingers together as he asked, "Shall I show you around? Of course, young master Damian! But... look at this, it's the middle of the night, and it's a heavy-duty flight, a high-risk physical task... wouldn't you... do me a favor?"

That's why people say that if you've ever hung out with Ian, a big capitalist, once you've been tainted by the capitalist aura even a little bit, you really know how to seize opportunities to make money.

Damian: "..."

I've seen people ask for money.

But I've never seen such a direct hint about giving money before.

He was clearly taken aback by Jordan's blatant "paid service".

Of course, while it's rare to see someone ask his teammates for transportation fees, he is, after all, the young master of the Wayne family and has seen all sorts of extraordinary events.

"As expected of Mr. Kent's brother, he has learned a little bit of the craft." Damian did not hesitate and even gave Jordan a thumbs up.

"It's just money, take it. How many tons do you want? Give me an address, and I'll have someone deliver the cash to your warehouse. Or I can take you to the bank that Lao Deng owns to move it?"

Batman is indeed a villain, capable of giving birth to Damian, this demonic being. He even slightly raised his chin, revealing a kind of indifference to money typical of a top-tier rich kid.

"Several...several tons?!"

Jordan was stunned by the arrogant quantifier, his eyes widened, his breathing quickened instantly, and his smile became even brighter, even carrying a hint of flattery.

Where had he ever heard of calculating money by weight?

"Deal! Young Master Damian, I suddenly find you much more pleasing to the eye. This must be your regal aura. Please wait a moment! Jonathan! What are you waiting for!"

He shoved his still-dazed brother, "Quick! Get the young master a sofa! Put it on my head! I won't feel at ease taking this money if I don't provide the young master with excellent service!"

Jordan said some things that were not entirely true.

"No... Jordan, you hang out with Ian a lot, don't you?" Jonathan sighed, rubbing his forehead, as he watched his brother instantly transform into a sycophant. He finally understood: his two brothers were definitely born with a lineage of "genius" when it came to making money!
"Okay, I don't want the money. Just remember not to mention my name when Dad scolds me." Despite his complaints, Jonathan obediently started looking around, trying to pick out a clean and sturdy-looking sofa or chair from the piles of secondhand furniture discarded by residents and waiting to be picked up by others.

Just like in many TV dramas, in America, a country of freedom and democracy, many people do indeed leave their unwanted old furniture and appliances by the roadside with a "FREE" sign for anyone to take. However, this custom is not entirely due to the virtue of "beauty inside and out".

After all.

Many phenomena that large corporations have touted ultimately stem from the same factor—poverty. It is poverty that has fueled the booming secondhand market and this unique "street sharing" phenomenon.

It's not just that many people can't afford new furniture, new items, or even new kettles that has led to the booming secondhand market. In fact, most of the furniture that's placed on the roadside and given away for free is furniture that can't be sold in the secondhand market. If they don't give it away, they'll have to pay a lot of garbage disposal fees.

Yes, the so-called phenomenon of Americans being good at helping people in need is essentially due to economic pressure and a reluctance to pay hefty garbage disposal fees.

Giving it away directly frees up space and saves money.

Why not?
When it's time to cooperate with America's official beautification and promotion, just go along with it—who would tell outsiders that the cost of disposing of large garbage here is outrageously expensive?

Therefore.

Large pieces of furniture can often be seen on the roadside. Jordan had Jonathan search through this "junk" to at least get Damian a soft sleeper.

Thus, in the deserted streets of the metropolis late at night, a strange scene unfolded: three young heroes who had just escaped a period of hardship did not immediately go home or contact their parents, but instead rummaged through piles of broken and tattered old furniture on the roadside like scavengers.

Jonathan tried hard to find one that wasn't too dirty, while Jordan specifically picked the ones that looked the most luxurious but were missing limbs. Damian, the son of Gotham's richest man, was also involved in the rummaging, and he actually showed great interest in this "trash-hunting" activity!
'This carved wardrobe may have a broken leg, but the wood is genuine mahogany... Wow, this sofa is actually real leather, though it's been scratched quite badly by the cat... Interesting! Really interesting! I'll have Afu prepare a bunch of these for me to put in the bat cave later, so I'll have new entertainment after training!'
The hobbies of the wealthy are so simple and unpretentious.

Jonathan, hearing Damian's excited tone, couldn't help but look up at him with the eyes of someone looking at a monster: "You think rummaging through the trash is fun?"

"My God, are all rich people this abstract?" This was quite different from Jonathan's perception of rich people. In his opinion, Damian should be a playboy's son.

Faced with Jonathan's amazement.

Damian has not yet made any response.

"How dare you speak to my dear Master Damian like that?!"

Jordan immediately jumped to defend his "patron," pointing at Jonathan and scolding, "Watch your attitude! Or I'll pay Ian to put saccharin in your precious protein powder!"

That threat was truly powerful! Jonathan shuddered at the thought of Ian's unpredictable pranks and the possibility that Jordan might actually team up with Ian to do something like this. He immediately made a zipping motion over his mouth, signaling to shut up.

The three of them argued and bickered, mainly Jonathan and Jordan arguing, while Damian watched with great interest. They walked along the deserted street, their steps uneven.

The three men searched for their target among the abandoned furniture. As they walked, they stopped in front of a rather impressive-looking villa with a private garden.

It was precisely because there was something special displayed outside, as if it were meant to be given to anyone who passed by, that it was able to attract the attention of Jonathan, Jordan, and Damian at the same time.

Those weren't the usual broken sofas and rickety chairs.

It is not a sculpture, but an extremely exquisite one.

An angel statue.

The statue is about the height of a person, carved entirely from a pure white stone. The craftsmanship is exquisite, with lifelike details. The angel's head is bowed, and his hands are folded in front of his chest, as if in prayer or in mourning. Although his wings are folded, every feather is clearly carved.

This workmanship looks expensive.

Even in the dim light of night and under the sparse streetlights, the statue exudes a serene and sacred glow, contrasting sharply with the dilapidated furniture around it.

"Wow..." Even the well-traveled Damian couldn't help but exclaim in amazement, "This craftsmanship... it's definitely the work of a master. How could anyone throw something like this out?"

Jonathan frowned as well: "It looks...new, not damaged."

Jordan's eyes lit up again: "This thing... must be worth a lot of money, right? Maybe it's some kind of antique! Should we make a video call to Ian and have him appraise it?"

"Let's not, he's really grumpy when he wakes up."

Jonathan, still shaken, intervened.

"My idol can appraise antiques?"

Damian seemed to have discovered another amazing ability of Ian's.

Chatting.

The three of them instinctively moved closer to the angel statue. A feeling mixed with curiosity, admiration, and a strange attraction lingered in their hearts.

"Did you guys think it moved a little just now?" As soon as the three of them turned their attention back to the statue after their conversation, they immediately noticed something was wrong.

The moment the three people looked away.

Angel statue.

It seems that around that time, she secretly... raised her lowered head.

(End of this chapter)