American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

A tire track appeared on the floor of Wayne Manor.

Because Xiu En was pushing a wheelbarrow.

He hummed a strange tune he'd picked up from who-knows-where, while golden particles danced merrily around him, like a swarm of bees welcoming a bountiful harvest home.

But before he could even stop the car, a strong aroma of cookies wafted into his nostrils, completely overpowering the burnt smell emanating from the Uru metal car.

"Yes, welcome back, Mr. Shuen."

Afu had somehow ended up standing at the end of the corridor, and he came to Xiuen's side.

The all-powerful butler carried an exquisite silver tray upon which a steaming mountain of cookies was neatly stacked.

"Your car seems to be quite heavy."

Afu's gaze lingered on the pile of Destroyer fragments that were still sparking with electricity.

"I just baked a small batch of cookies. Would you be interested in a small exchange?"

Ah Fu bowed slightly and pushed the tray forward.

Each cookie, under the refraction of light, exhibits a metallic sheen that is not typical of pastries.

Xiu En stared at the plate of cookies, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He glanced back at the Uru metal truck, picked up a piece of metal, and took a bite. Damn, who could resist Afu's little biscuits?

"make a deal."

Xiu En even skipped the haggling process of asking if he wanted another cup of milk tea.

He grabbed three cookies with one hand and stuffed them into his mouth, while carefully pushing the wheelbarrow in front of Afu with the other.

"I've upgraded this car too, and I'm giving it to you as a gift. No need for change. Oh, by the way, that bag of pork was a gift from a guy with a big beard. Remember to use it to add to the dishes tonight."

Afu gave a polite smile and took over the wheelbarrow.

"Dinner will be as you wish."

In the shadows of the living room, Bruce Wayne put down the tactical tablet in his hand.

Although he had instructed the butler to do so, he couldn't help but say a few more words when he saw Xiu En hand over the metal so easily.

"You'd better not sell the stuff to Luther or anyone else just because of a few cookies."

His eyes, which seemed to pierce through all darkness, were now fixed on the wheelbarrow that Afu was pushing in.

Even from several meters away, he could feel the astonishing energy fluctuations contained within that pile of scrap metal.

They were piled up haphazardly in a wheelbarrow stolen from a construction site, like a real pile of construction waste, covered with a greasy bag of roasted pork leg.

"Relax, boss, you're overthinking it. I'm just keeping this in the family."

Xiu En leaned back on the sofa, comfortably crossing his legs, continuing to devour cookies as quickly as a hamster, while responding incoherently.

"Anyway, it's too much trouble for me to chew on these pig irons, so I might as well give them to you. Just remember to make the leftover scraps into French fry shapes for me later."

Bruce stepped forward and picked up a piece of breastplate.

The sensation from his fingertips caused even Gotham's most worldly-wise billionaire to slightly narrow his pupils.

Perfect energy conductivity.

Extreme physical hardness. And even when broken, it still resonates with the unique rhythm of magic.

This is priceless.

It is the Justice League's strongest support when it faces those cosmic threats in the future.

"French fries, right?"

Bruce's lips curled up by a single pixel.

"As long as you can guarantee that you won't blow up the ceiling of my lab when we eat it, I'll even accept it if it's shaped like onion rings."

He turned to look at Afu, his eyes once again shining with the light of a tactical mastermind.

"Have Lucius halt all projects in Sector B-13. We need to redesign the outer shell alloy formula for the Repulse armor."

Soon after

Inside Laboratory Number One beneath Wayne Manor.

Bruce Wayne, wearing monocle tactical glasses, carefully scraped a layer of powder from a piece of Uru metal fragment with tweezers.

His world now consists of crests, troughs, and energy readings, completely shielding him from the high-decibel biological noise around him.

"Boss, you didn't see it. There's an old man in the sky with only one eye holding a very expensive-looking spear. I thought he was going to throw it, but he just kept watching."

Xiu En gestured enthusiastically to indicate the name.

"And the food over there smells like lightning, all tingly and numbing. What was that big guy called again? Destroyer? The texture was absolutely amazing, hey, are you listening?"

"Um."

Bruce typed a line of code on the keyboard about the resistance of divine metal to high-frequency oscillations.

"And that blond guy with the hammer, crying like a 200-pound child. If it weren't for waiting for you to have this feast, I might have stayed a little longer to see if Asgard over there was paved with gold bricks."

"Uh-huh."

Bruce changed the magnification of the microscope.

"If they don't pave their Rainbow Bridge with gold bricks, I'll tear it down."

"Um."

Xiu En smacked his lips, feeling that this kind of one-sided output lacked a sense of accomplishment.

He glanced at Ivy, the sunflower perched on his shoulder, who was listlessly fanning her flower head with its leaves.

"It seems our billionaires are more focused than three-year-olds when faced with new toys."

Xiu En jumped up from his chair.

"Let's go, Flower. Since our sugar daddy's busy forging iron, let's see if Gotham has reserved any evening entertainment for us."

Bruce responded this time, pointing to the wall of car keys next to him: "Don't drive that bat-shaped one. And don't eat the car."

"Tch, stingy."

Having his intentions exposed, Xiu En chose to fly away on his own.

Gotham's nights are always shrouded in gloom.

But tonight is a little different.

A walking soft spotlight is strolling through the streets of the Diamond District.

Although Xiu En had deliberately reduced the brightness, the golden energy that had just been replenished with Rainbow Bridge energy still inevitably emitted a faint golden halo.

This made him look like a charlatan who had just descended to earth.

"This air is practically a gas chamber with excessive sulfur content."

Sunflower's disgust could almost be visualized in Xiu En's mind as a vomiting emoji.

"The islands over there are still the best, even though there's a really fierce old lady in a tight-fitting dress."

"Stop complaining, at least there aren't any aliens here who want to blow you up at the drop of a hat."

Xiu En stopped in front of a hot dog stand that was still open for business.

The stall owner, a large Latino man, was staring in disbelief at the luminous figure who had illuminated the dark street within a five-meter radius of his stall before he even reached it.

The ketchup bottle in his hand was trembling.

"Hey, boss."

Xiu En smiled broadly.

"A hot dog, extra mustard, please. By the way, would you pull out a gun if I didn't pay?"

The stall owner calmly kicked the sawn-off shotgun under the counter further inside.

"The meal is free tonight, Father."

The vendor wisely scooped up all the hot dogs from the heating rack.

"Just kidding, selling hot dogs this late? Looks like Gotham's been a bit safer lately?"

"Yes, sir."

Xiu paid for the food and, while chewing on a hot dog with little meat, deliberately wandered into the depths of Crime Alley, seeking out dark spots.

The gazes of those who usually belonged to gangsters, drug addicts, and robbers in the surrounding shadows recoiled as if burned the moment they met Xiu En's protective golden light.

In Gotham today, even a madman would know who this glowing guy who wanders around is.

"How boring."

Xiu En sighed and swallowed the last bite of noodles vaguely.

"In this vast Gotham, isn't there anyone who's got a screw loose and can jump out and liven things up? I'm not picky, even a lamppost will do."

As if in response to his prayer, or perhaps as some malicious joke of the Gotham Will, the manhole cover in front opened.

Immediately afterwards, a huge claw covered in green scales pushed open the manhole cover and emerged, but the claw froze halfway out under the bright light of the street lamps.

If a crocodile could have expressions, its face would probably say, "I want to go home."

Wellen Jones.

Or, as Gotham citizens are more familiar with, Killer Croc.

His eyes, which had adjusted to absolute darkness, were now narrowed to slits.

His immense strength, enough to overturn an armored truck, seemed to be entirely used in that instant to control his muscles so that he wouldn't slap the truck out of a stress response.

He knew he would die if he took the picture.

The luminous object squatting in front of him didn't even flinch at the stench of the sewer.

On the contrary, the luminous man had a bright smile on his lips.

"Hey, I knew this alley had good feng shui."

"What a coincidence! Isn't this the little crocodile that was fighting with the vampire?"

The sunflowers silently waved their leaves on Xiuen's shoulder, a gesture that resembled shooing away flies.

She couldn't understand why Hugh would have a social interest in an amphibian that was polluted and had skin disease.

"Here, I don't have much to give as a gift when we meet old friends."

Xiuen pulled out half a baguette bread from his pocket; its hardness was comparable to that of a police baton.

"A-Fu's handmade products are extremely high in iron. I see you're still growing, but the scales aren't quite shiny enough. Eat some of these to replenish your iron."

He handed the bread forward, and golden light flowed from his fingertips, illuminating Wellen's scaly face with an almost holy glow.

Wellen stared at the bread that gleamed metallically in the light.

Isn't this a threat?

Isn't that definitely a threat?

His years of survival experience in Gotham's underworld told him that if you didn't obey, he'd shove this thing down your throat! Although Shu En certainly didn't have that thought, it didn't stop Killer Croc from having wild fantasies.

The claw that had been extended halfway out suddenly shrank back into a ball as if it had been electrocuted.

"No... I'm not hungry."

Immediately before Xiu En could comment on whether this action was polite, the enormous body displayed agility.

Driven by an indescribable fear, Wellen, along with the head that had just peeked out, swiftly retreated back into the darkness.

What followed was the sound of him desperately tightening the manhole cover inside, trying his best to completely shut out the terrifying light source; you could even hear him using his back to brace it from below.

"Hey! I haven't finished giving them yet!"

Xiu En tapped the closed manhole cover with the hard baguette in his hand, producing a crisp, ringing sound.

"The villains this year have terrible mental fortitude."

He stood up and took a bite of the bread he had been preparing to give away, with a hint of regret.

"I was originally going to ask him if he knew where there were any large rats."

He shook his trench coat, and the golden light subsided slightly.

The long night was rather dull for Shuen, who had lost someone to tease.

"Let's go, Little Flower. Our friends underground are too shy."

……

The Gripper statue in Gotham always has its face contorted in a constipated expression, but today, perhaps because it's been used as a bench by the man with the hot butt below, its expression appears even more distorted.

Xiu En sat on the back of a gargoyle on the edge of a hundred-story building, holding a cell phone in his hand.

The night view of Gotham City is right below me.

Unlike the darkness when Xiu En first arrived, the streets now have at least some human movement, probably because a human-shaped street lamp had just wandered around the city.

"Hello, if it's an insurance salesperson, hang up."

Xiu En spoke lazily into the five-second silence on the other end of the receiver.

"Xiu En, did you call just to say this and then hang up?"

Diana's voice came from the other end.

"Seriously, Ms. Diana. Did we cut corners a bit during the surgery we performed on Gotham? I just took a walk around the stinkiest spot, and it still stinks there."

He looked down at the neighborhood that had just scared away his crocodile friend.

"Xiu En".

The hammering stopped on the other end of the phone.

"You're like a cleaner with a flamethrower. You burn the trash, you burn the mold, you even burn half the plaster off the wall. Yes, it looks clean."

Diana's voice was flat.

"But Gotham's problem isn't just the dirty walls. It's the foundation, from that cursed swamp to the countless corpses buried beneath, to the residents who, even without apparent magical interference, would shoot their benefactor for ten dollars."

"This place is rotten to the core. We only cleaned up a few of the magical sources that brought darkness to Gotham before. Like the stagnant water, like the portals. But what about the darkness created by humanity itself? The gangsters, the greedy senators, the heartbroken madmen..."

"The brighter the light, the longer their shadows will be. Unless you can put the sun into everyone's heart, even if you were the real sun god, you couldn't do it, Shuen. This is not a problem that can be solved by violence and energy output."

Diana sighed, and seemed to pick up the small brush again, cleaning something little by little.

"It takes time and effort; you can't turn it into Paradise Island overnight."

Xiu En pursed his lips; this sociological and philosophical remark had made him somewhat give up thinking.

"Tsk, troublesome."

He stood up, completely ignoring the police helicopter that flew by and nearly blinded its pilot.

"You heroes are overthinking things. What about people's hearts, society, and systems? If something is dirty and can't be washed away, it's just that the water isn't hot enough or the fire isn't big enough."

He extended a finger, golden light gathering at its tip, and drew a circle around Arkham Asylum in the distance.

"If the shadow is too long, then it means we should either raise the sun directly overhead so that it has no shadow to hide, or we should hang the sun in all four directions."

Xiu En chuckled softly into the phone.

"A steady, gradual approach is Batman's job; as for me? I'm only responsible for mudslides. I'm hanging up now, I'll contact you another day."

Before he could even hang up the phone, reality gave him a small Gotham-like shock.

An explosion was heard right below this building.

Then came the sound of sirens and the sight of a group of masked men using ropes to break through a window.

See? See? Life is always full of surprises.