What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

Page 374

Ian executed a drift maneuver, simultaneously rolling down the window and retrieving the demon's head. Just as the Hellcat was about to burst out of the entrance passage, Belial suddenly knelt down and screamed madly.

"Ian, the Emperor of All Laws! Take me in! I'm good at intelligence and espionage, and the Kent family definitely needs their own CIA!" The demon head said something else.

He frantically pledged his loyalty.

These words struck a chord with Ian.

The Hellcat braked suddenly at the edge of the dimensional rift.

"Come in, keep the doctor company." Ian, who had backed up, tossed the other person a "labor contract." Having already learned from the demon's head that it was the same type as the archangel's, the King of Lies signed his real name without a second thought. Seeing the car door open, the King of Lies obediently shrank to the size of a Chihuahua and crawled inside.

He was very excited.

I firmly believe that I haven't been tricked.

Instead, they boarded a flight bound for a new era.

"Fasten your seatbelt."

Ian slammed his hand on the roof of the Hellcat.

"We're going for a race!"

The Hellcat broke through layers of dimensional barriers and sped towards the human world. The ticket coin worked again; light appeared ahead, and Ian fled back to the human world for his life.

no way.

The clever Ian had realized that the power of the "Parenting Handbook" was malfunctioning, and that the mentally ill creator goddess wanted more than just a crush on him—the gates of hell slowly closed behind him, and Ian, riding his hellcat, burst through the crack like a shooting star and stepped back into the human world.

The night wind howled.

Ian took a deep breath.

Feeling the familiar air.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the murder house. The cat-eye headlights on the front of the car flashed an eerie green light, making the blood-stained words on the dilapidated mansion's exterior walls even more chilling.

The ghosts in the murder house instantly erupted into chaos.

Bloody handprints roamed wildly on the wall, the chandelier moved on its own without wind, and screams echoed from the basement—the souls trapped in this place were trembling, sensing something more terrifying than hell itself: a real demon king of hell was curled up in the back seat of this car.

That's the real body!

How could it be possible to enter the human world so easily!

All the souls were terrified.

They were screaming and shouting that the apocalypse was coming.

"Quiet!" Ian, his emotions running high, impatiently honked the horn, and the Hellcat roared to life, silencing the entire house.

"Oh, the human world, the air is filled with the smell of lies." The King of Lies, who realized that his power was only suppressed by the rules of the human world, but not rejected, once again became convinced of his choice.

It wagged its tail like a real Chihuahua. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, on the other hand, turned deathly pale; after all, he was only human, and beside him stood a demon from hell.

Where are we going?

Hannibal tried his best to remain calm, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

"Go home first, go home first, I need to ask my older brother to pray and communicate with me..." Ian activated Hellcat again, and it seemed that Hellcat had unlocked a new ability in Hell. It directly entered the space, achieving a warp-like flight, and in the blink of an eye, it brought Ian to his doorstep.

Sometimes things just happen by chance.

Ian's words, which he was about to say, were abruptly cut short.

"Bang~"

On the horizon.

A familiar mushroom cloud is slowly rising.

Xin Xin's house exploded.

It just exploded right in front of Ian.

"This has absolutely nothing to do with me! I just got back!"

Ian stood frozen in place.

Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose.

Well, he couldn't quite fake it. The perfect parabola, the just-right yield, the precise timing of the explosion—it really did seem like a professional-level warning.

The Hellcat speaker automatically started playing "Homeless," its shrill melody inexplicably mournful. Seeing the bewildered old man flying in from the horizon, Ian instinctively turned to run away.

The result is obvious.

He was once again truly caught in the crosshairs.

"It wasn't me, it really wasn't me!"

Ian quickly offered his explanation.

However, his reputation is exceptionally good.

"Jonathan and Jordan aren't home, Ian, there's no one else here. Did you deliberately blow up our new house to try and take your big house away?"

Superman's voice had a hint of gritted teeth.

He didn't see, hear, or sense anything... The answer is perhaps already obvious. Ian suspects the explosion at his new house was the work of some unseen force.

But he dared not have any evidence.

……

Inside the boxy house in hell, the lights were on, yet there was no sound.

Each confessional room was tightly shut, like countless coffins neatly arranged in the void. Suddenly, a darkness coalesced before one of the doors, silently seeping in. Inside, Lucifer's mother's aura flickered faintly; she faced the cycle of hell—that eternal moment of betrayal.

The little devils around them were mimicking the appearance of archangels.

They mechanically repeated the same sentence.

"You have been exiled."

This cycle of hell has been going on for countless years. Anyone who has been to hell knows that people there will constantly relive the moments they least wanted to recall in their previous lives.

This moment in Lucifer's mother's life clearly represents the time when she was banished from Heaven.

Seeing a group of little devils transform into the appearance of angels and God, intending to continue this endless cycle upon her, the Goddess of Creation was naturally not truly affected by it.

"Get out of here!"

Lucifer's mother's aura suddenly intensified, becoming so dazzling that the little devils all retreated.

"Your acting is completely unconvincing!"

She could clearly see the true nature of those little devils and was not tormented by the endless cycle of hell, but precisely because of this, she always felt a different kind of discomfort.

"Forehead……"

The little devils looked at each other in bewilderment.

They wouldn't dare to be so arrogant in front of ordinary people.

One of them spoke up timidly.

"Oh, Your Majesty, but the King's command is difficult to disobey."

Their king is, of course, Lucifer. Lucifer actually has a love-hate relationship with his mother, so he always orders these little devils to torment her.

"Then let's pretend I'm still there!"

The Goddess of Creation gave a stern rebuke; her words were, of course, divine pronouncements. The imps, knowing exactly how to be Hell's civil servants, immediately began their performance, mimicking thin air.

All the angels posing as archangels and God began mechanically reciting lines to thin air: "You've been banished. You've been banished."

This level of procrastination is quite impressive.

Lucifer's mother's aura gradually dimmed.

She drifted to a corner, her thoughts churning.

“The way of man is to return to man himself, that’s a good idea.” She was still thinking when she suddenly noticed a slight noise coming from in front of the gate to her sealed land.

“Click.”

The seal has loosened?

The Goddess of Creation sensed something amiss and found it hard to believe. She suddenly floated to the door and discovered that the shackles that had imprisoned her for millions of years had actually been unlocked.

“Ian Kent, it must be that doctor. He knows that to cure my mental breakdown, he has to let me out.” Her aura trembled slightly, and her tone carried a hint of gratitude.

There was less contempt.

next second.

The goddess of creation rushed out without hesitation.

Turned into a stream of light.

It rushes straight into the human world.

Hospital

In the intensive care unit, a dying old man suddenly opened his eyes.

“Ian Kent!” She (he?) sat up abruptly, her voice booming as if she were not a dying man.

The doctors and nurses backed away in horror, watching helplessly as the elderly man, who should have been dying, ripped out his breathing tube, rolled off the bed, and strode briskly into the corridor.

"Ian Kent?!"

ten minutes later.

An out-of-control ambulance hit her (or him?).

A few more minutes passed.

A motorcyclist who was thrown into the air by the impact opened his eyes in mid-air.

“Ian Kent! Does anyone know who Ian Kent is?” She (or he?) adjusted her posture in mid-air, landed steadily, and then began to run wildly.

The words have not yet fallen.

An out-of-control tanker truck ran over it.

This is yet another failed attempt to possess a human.