Alien invasion? Luckily, I'm Superman.

The private room was at the end of the corridor. It wasn't big; there was a table, two computers, two chairs, and a few game posters on the wall. The man went in, closed the door, then turned around, leaned against the edge of the table, put his hands in his trench coat pockets, and began to sized up Su Mo.

That gaze sent a chill down Su Mo's spine. It felt like being scrutinized from head to toe, as if someone were assessing the value of an object.

"What exactly do you want?" Su Mo's voice was tinged with displeasure. Although the other party posed no threat, the feeling of being led around made him very uncomfortable.

The man's smile widened slightly.

"Ha, what do I want?" He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out and put it in his mouth without lighting it. "I saw you walk out of a beam of light. Oi, are you an alien?"

Su Mo's fingers twitched slightly.

His first instinct was to control the man in front of him and shut him up. But his reason prevailed over this impulse. He wanted to see what this man was planning.

The man didn't notice Su Mo's subtle movements, or perhaps he did but didn't care. He pulled a small notebook from the inside pocket of his trench coat and waved it in front of Su Mo, like some kind of official identification—FBI?

"Alright, I'm Billy Butcher, codename Butcher." He stuffed his badge back into his pocket, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his voice muffled. "Your name is Su Mo, right? I see you're quite skilled; you should be able to help me. So I'd like you to join my team."

He spoke of it casually.

"Don't refuse," he added, his tone still casual. "Or try to deal with me. I'm tracked, and I receive scheduled emails. Once the email is sent, my superior will notify the Seven-Man Team to come and take care of you."

He smiled. There was something in that smile—a mixture of threat and madness.

Su Mo looked at him and remained silent for two seconds.

"Aren't you worried that I might have some ulterior motive towards humans?"

He was genuinely speechless. An ordinary person, seeing an alien emerging from light, wouldn't first react by worrying about a threat, but by trying to recruit it. What's wrong with this person's brain?

The butcher shrugged, and the cigarette in his mouth twitched.

"What do I care about humans?" His tone was indeed very casual, as if he were talking about something that truly didn't matter. "As long as I achieve my goal, it doesn't matter."

Su Mo remained silent for another two seconds.

"Okay, I'll join."

He spoke frankly. The man before him reminded Su Mo of Nick Fury. Moreover, being in unfamiliar territory, having a local figure could help him quickly understand the situation. As for being threatened? Would a giant care about the threat of an ant?

Moreover, he didn't want to attract too much attention. He was tired enough of being a hero in that world, and now he just wanted to keep a low profile, see if there was any advanced technology on this Earth, and then bring it back.

The butcher took the cigarette out of his mouth and glanced at Su Mo. He probably hadn't expected him to agree so readily.

"So what are you after?" Su Mo leaned back in her chair, her tone laced with sarcasm. "You invited me to join your team, you didn't just want to throw a party, did you?"

The butcher ignored his taunts. He tucked the cigarette behind his ear, turned around, turned on the computer on the table, tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and brought up a video website.

The screen displayed a press conference. A man in a blue bodysuit and sunglasses stood on the stage, smiling broadly. The caption read: "Locomotive issues statement regarding yesterday's traffic accident."

The butcher pressed play.

In the video, the locomotive speaks into the microphone with a complaining tone: "...The situation was very urgent. The North District Bank was being robbed, and I had to get to the scene as quickly as possible. The woman suddenly rushed into the middle of the road, and I didn't have time to brake."

You know, at my speed, anything that suddenly appears in front of me can cause an accident. It wasn't my fault; it was that woman who wasn't following traffic rules. And to be honest, if she hadn't been blocking the way, I could have arrived at the bank thirty seconds earlier and maybe prevented that robbery…”

Su Mo stared at the screen, her brows furrowing.

He hit and killed someone. The man's tone at the press conference sounded more like he was complaining about a pothole delaying him than about killing someone.

"Heh." The butcher let out a short laugh, but it wasn't very funny.

"These are the guys I'm dealing with." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the locomotive on the screen talking animatedly. "You know what? There was actually no bank robbery that day. He made up an excuse, his PR team covered it up, and that was it."

His voice was calm, but the fingers gripping his arm tightened.

"These so-called superheroes are disgusting bastards." He looked up from the screen at Su Mo. "And my goal is to eliminate that Homelander."

Su Mo looked at his expression; his face was filled with deep hatred, as if his entire family had been killed by the people of his homeland.

"Why did you kill Homelander?" Su Mo couldn't help but complain, "Did he sleep with your wife? He looks so disgusted."

The butcher fell silent.

The silence lasted for about five seconds. The only sound in the private room was the hum of the computer fan.

Seeing his silence, Su Mo suddenly had a thought and awkwardly blurted out, "Wait, your wife didn't really get slept with, did she?"

The butcher remained silent. He turned his head back to the screen, tapping his fingers twice on the edge of the table.

"Alright, let's not talk about this anymore." His voice was a little lower than before, but it quickly returned to its usual nonchalant tone. "Now that you've joined my team, tell me what you can do."

Su Mo didn't press further. He thought for a moment and then described some basic abilities: great strength, fast running speed, and better reflexes than the average person.

The butcher clearly didn't believe him. His eyes seemed to say, "Do you think I'm stupid?" But he didn't press the matter. After all, he had coerced and lured Su Mo into this, so it was normal for the other party to have some reservations.

"Okay." The butcher stood up, took the cigarette off his ear, and put it back in his mouth. "That's all for now. I'll wait for you outside."

He walked to the door, glanced back, then pushed the door open and left.

Su Mo sat alone in the private room for a while. He turned on his computer and began searching for information about this world.

First up is "The Seven Superheroes." Search results are everywhere: official website, fan forums, news reports, merchandise stores. Seven people, seven names, seven superpowers.

Su Mo looked at them one by one.

Homelander, in a blue bodysuit, red cape, and a gold badge on his chest, can fly, possesses heat rays, super hearing, and super strength. His official tagline is "The most powerful superhero on Earth." He's always smiling in photos, but that smile makes Su Mo feel uneasy. It's too standard, like a mass-produced plastic product.

Queen Maeve, in golden armor, wielding a sword and shield. The train engine, the one in the video. Blue uniform, black sunglasses, super speed. Deep sea. Green uniform, can communicate with marine life, fights underwater. The lamplighter. Green uniform, can create objects made of light. The invisible man. Black. Full black armor, face not shown, does not speak.

Homelander corresponds to Superman, Queen Maeve to Wonder Woman, A-Train to The Flash, the Deep Sea to Aquaman, and the Lamplighter to Green Lantern. The Invisible Man, however, has no direct counterpart.

Isn't this just a bootleg version of Justice League?

Su Mo leaned back in her chair, looking at the group photo of the seven people on the screen, her brows furrowed.

He remembered the look on the Butcher's face when he said, "These so-called superheroes are disgusting guys." He remembered the A-Train's evasive tone at the press conference.

The superheroes in this world seem to be different from the ones he knows.