In front of Superman, you have no choice but to give yourself to a little girl.

DC Multiverse.

Wayne's figure appeared in the sky above the Earth Metropolis—a distance Clark could see.

As expected, the familiar red and blue figure flew to a spot not far in front of him at a speed far exceeding the speed of sound.

"Wayne, when... why are you staring at me?"

"..."

"Wayne?"

"...You're wearing red underwear?"

Wayne remembered that when he left, Clark was still averse to red underwear, so how come he likes it now?

"You wouldn't know that."

Clark struck a bodybuilding pose, showing off his shapely buttocks outlined by his red underwear. He was clearly very satisfied with his appearance—was this the price of becoming "Superman"?

Or is it a "curse" of the DC multiverse? After all, quite a few male DC characters wear their underwear on the outside, and Clark isn't the only one; it's just that Clark's is a bit more "bright."

Clark had no idea what Wayne was thinking. He simply adopted a serious expression and crossed his arms—"The history of wearing underwear on the outside dates back to the last century..."

"I don't want to hear about your twisted history."

Wayne waved his hand to stop Clark from continuing.

Clark didn't seem to care—maybe Wayne just didn't like red underwear? Maybe he'd wear gold underwear instead?

Wayne's face darkened as he sensed what Clark was thinking. "Even if you changed to a colored one, I still wouldn't wear my underwear on the outside."

Clark shrugged; he had long since accepted the fact that Wayne could read minds.

"Wayne, what brings you here all of a sudden?"

Clark, still curious, casually asked, "Why didn't Kara come with you? How's she been lately?"

"Kara... she should be alright, right?"

Wayne thought for a moment, what did Kara usually do? During the day, she would do missions, fight crime, go shopping with Diana and the others, have afternoon tea... and then at night she would frantically tag him to go to her room.

Clark nodded. "That's fine then."

He didn't ask Kara why she didn't come along, since the two places were quite far apart, and it was good that Kara didn't have to go through the trouble of making the trip.

Let's not talk about that anymore.

Wayne waved to Clark. "Let's go, we're going to Bruce's."

He didn't plan to say it so many times; it would be better to explain it all at once in front of both of them.

Clark didn't ask any more questions. Wayne had helped him before, and although he didn't think he could help Wayne much, he wouldn't refuse to help if needed.

......

Gotham, suburbs, Bristol district.

A slightly somber, dense oak forest envelops rolling hills covered in greenery, where sits a massive Gothic Revival-style stone manor house—Wayne Manor.

In the front yard of the manor, two figures descended from the sky.

Wayne didn't call Bruce out because he knew that the old bat couldn't possibly have left no surveillance cameras in the manor—he glanced at the number of cameras and it was almost in the triple digits.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Alfred came out and invited them to come in and sit down.

Follow Alfred into the manor and into the study—a tall bookshelf, a grandfather clock, a large solid wood desk, a classic carpet... The window overlooks the front lawn.

Bruce sat in a classic sofa chair, one elbow on the armrest, his palm supporting his chin, and the other holding a file with some kind of record. On the desk in front of him was a cup of steaming coffee.

"sit."

Bruce put down the file and gestured for the two men to sit down on the sofa opposite him.

But his gaze was fixed on Wayne—this kid is too fast; last time he didn't even have time to find him ten or eight beauties.

However, what he was more concerned about now was why Wayne had come all this way.

Although he didn't know what had happened, Bruce didn't ask; he was waiting for Wayne to speak.

Without further ado, Wayne sat down and snapped his fingers—the surrounding scenery instantly transformed into an endless dimensional space.

Clark and Bruce opened their mouths slightly, somewhat stunned.

Then Wayne made a fist with his right hand, and countless celestial bodies converged and were born. At the very center of these celestial bodies, a "planet" far larger than any star quietly floated.

Wayne rewrote its laws of physics to prevent Peter and the others from being crushed to death by gravity if they stood on it in the future.

Many more regions and plates will appear on this planet in the future, but for now... it's still a blank slate.

After a long silence, Bruce and Clark, having come to their senses, looked at Wayne together.

"Someone wants to play a game with me..."

Wayne's eyes held a meaningful smile. "Would you like to participate?"

Ten minutes later.

The surrounding scene has now transformed back into Bruce's study.

"So...we're going to have to fight people from more than one universe?"

Clark rubbed his temples, finding it hard to process this information—wait, how long had he been in the industry? He'd only beaten one Zod since his debut.

However, compared to others, Clark is doing well. Before Zod, Bruce wasn't even sure about the existence of aliens, and now he's about to fight people from outer space.

"Is it just the two of us?"

Bruce pointed back and forth between Clark and himself. If there were really only two of them, what was the point of fighting? They might as well just surrender.

"Don't worry about that, I've found you teammates."

Wayne made no mention of the fact that "teammates can be found by themselves"—mainly because he wanted to see them all together, which he thought would be quite interesting.

"Where's my teammate information?"

Bruce frowned. Teaming up with strangers...

Wayne casually conjured up phantom images of Johnny and the others.

"Stephen Strange, known as 'Doctor Strange,' Kamar-Taj... just think of it as an alternative 'Hogwarts.' Where were we? Oh, Kamar-Taj's outstanding graduate, who never beat Voldemort, but will beat someone much more powerful than Voldemort in the future."

"Loki Odinson, yes, the Loki you're thinking of, the Norse god of mischief, also a sorcerer, maybe not as professional as Strange, but he has a lot of crooked ideas."

"Thanos, whose original job was the Director of the Cosmic Family Planning, is now working for me like a slave. He's not bad, he's a tank, and he also has energy output, so he's no weaker than Clark."

"Johnny Ster, a human torch, just treat him as a filler."

Wayne introduced his teammates to them one by one, and Clark listened attentively.

Bruce frowned more and more as he listened—wait, what kind of teammates are these? Two out of the four don't look like good people, another doesn't seem very reliable, and only the one called "Doctor Strange" seems okay.

After hesitating for a moment, Bruce finally spoke up, "I don't trust them."

"It's okay, as long as you trust me."

"..."

Bruce fell silent. He wanted to say, "Actually, I don't really trust you either," but he didn't say it in the end.

Whether he said it or not doesn't matter, Wayne has already made a note of it for him—he'll choose a "good place" for his "random landing point" later.

Poor Bruce had no idea that he was being targeted by the official team before the game even started.

Wayne thought for a moment, "Oh, by the way, if you're going, I can have someone send you some equipment."

"What equipment?"

"31st-century technology, how about it? Interested?"

Wayne seemed to be whispering the devil's lure to the world's corruption, "And there's time-manipulating technology... so~ do you want to participate~"

"...When does the match start? I need to get ready."