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

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They're nothing but exploitative devils.

Since the demon was not a legitimate citizen of America, but merely an unidentified inhabitant who had smuggled himself into America from Hell, Ian's exploitation of it could only be considered as conforming to the prevailing narrative.

“I’ve always said I’m good at adapting to my environment; my nickname should be Dr. Darwin.” Ian refilled the fuel tank and casually tossed the crumpled, lifeless demon head back into his backpack.

of course.

Although the devil's No. 66 gas tube has been wiped clean, its wailing is too tragic. For the sake of cleanliness and hygiene of the backpack, a few sanitary napkins will definitely need to be used as padding.

It's just a convenient thing to do at a convenience store on the street.

What's crying?

The cashier has pointed ears.

"It's nothing, I'm just listening to music."

Ian remained calm and composed, arousing no suspicion and showing no concern about encountering animal protection organizations. He had checked on his phone; demons were not on their protected list.

America has its own unique circumstances.

Animal protection organizations generally won't even glance at projects that aren't profitable.

Even if the devil's head rolled to the door of the animal protection association, it would have no chance of successfully filing a complaint. It would only be fit to sit with Runren's representative, Donut Wang Weiheng, who was squatting in the corner.

When it comes to social rules, Ian was already a master at the age of eight. Just as he said, putting aside the threat to his life, he is actually very adaptable to his environment.

"Are you buying sanitary napkins for your girlfriend? It's rare to see such a nice guy." The convenience store clerk liked to chat, but Ian, a multi-millionaire, felt he should act like a rich man.

"No, it's a training cup for my brother." Ian tried to be as concise as possible, raising his hand like the elites, but unfortunately, he didn't have a watch on his wrist.

But this doesn't bother him.

It's nothing more than borrowing a pen to doodle.

"Your music stopped playing... Is the player out of power?" The cashier, who hadn't quite figured out what Ian was talking about, took back the pen he had lent him.

Aren't happy cups usually used with tissues?

You'll need sanitary napkins.

Could there really be exceptionally talented Splatoons in this world?

The cashier seemed to be deep in thought.

He seemed to recall the plots of some bizarre movies he secretly watched late at night.

"It's not that the power is out, it's just that my player was slightly startled." Ian achieved the desired effect, and stopped there, not continuing to frighten the demon's head.

He was, after all, a kind-hearted and good person.

"oh oh."

The cashier was impressed but didn't understand.

Ian stuffed the sanitary napkin into his backpack and went out the door, returning to the open space where his test drive car was located—he was definitely in luck, as the Dodge Hellcat was the name of a high-performance model under the American Dodge brand.

It is world-renowned for its ferocious power and the cultural concept of American muscle cars.

Ian's version is an even more extreme Demon version. As its name suggests, it has a large displacement engine, rear-wheel drive, and strong straight-line acceleration, making it a typical example of "horsepower is justice".

"I'm a car from hell~ I'm a car that kills people~"

"The killer car is driving recklessly!"

"All nine people deserved what they got. I'm not just an ordinary car; I'm an avenger!"

……

As Ian approached the Hellcat, the car's radio was playing music, and its exhaust pipe was emitting a rhythmic, sulfurous blue flame.

The lyrics are really upbeat.

It's also very exciting.

It clearly enjoyed the blood of the demons of hell.

It's obvious that the wild boar hasn't drunk fine urine.

"Nine spirit rings, all seven deadly sins combined. The remaining two spirit rings, one for disrespecting you by putting out your cigarette with your steering wheel, and the other for filling your gas tank with soybean oil?"

That's why the song touches people's hearts.

Ian sensed the emotions the other person was trying to express.

“Listen, buddy,” Ian said, mimicking the life coach on TV, “Killing is wrong. Even if they offend you, all you can do is send them to jail.”

"You can only send people to Hell after I've built a prison there... That's the so-called no-kill principle, understand? I've seen Batman, but you've never seen him."

Ian knew he had encountered a car with warped values, a sinful mind, and a ruthless heart, but he also firmly believed that one day he could influence the other and get him to start making cars again.

"Amen~"

Hellcat's radio suddenly switched to a Christian station.

It seemed as if they had been somewhat influenced.

"This is right!"

Ian nodded with satisfaction, "When you are good enough and kind enough to be worthy of my second-generation holy soul, I will ask my teacher Tony to teach me how to evolve you into a Transformer."

He made a promise.

Mature millionaires know from a young age how to be a capitalist who can easily make grand promises.

This is not.

Thank you~~

Hellcats switched to a radio show where quirky entertainers thanked their audience.

The car body shook excitedly.

It's obvious it has good taste, and this is its first time experiencing PUA (Pick-Up Artist) tactics. The Hellcat's four doors opened automatically, and Ian plopped down in the passenger seat.

"From now on, this will be Ian's exclusive seat." Ian fastened his seatbelt, and the seat automatically adjusted to the most comfortable angle. A line of engraved text slowly appeared on the passenger-side dashboard in front of him.

[For Ian's exclusive use]

The calligraphy composed of letters is quite elegant.

Ian was extremely satisfied.

This was the ideal vehicle he had heard about in his dreams, in the poems of the poet Ezra Pound.

"Let's go! Let's stroll around the streets!"

Ian gave the orders.

The Hellcat then shot off like an arrow.

What is intelligent driving? This is what intelligent driving is all about! The Hellcat weaved through traffic like a black mamba snake, and Ian even felt as if he could hear the echo of an old friend from the word "man".

"Buzz~"

The engine was roaring.

Although it's a wild car, it clearly also has a gentle side. Even amidst the exhilaration of speed and passion, it still obeys traffic rules and knows not to run red lights.

"Yes, yes, obeying traffic rules starts with you."

Ian felt that his killer car might actually be salvageable and could be forgiven by God—he should believe in God here, because if he believed in the Father, his beloved car would probably be sent to the scrap heap.

Ian was enjoying the superior experience brought by intelligent driving. Outside the window, the harmonious society of the metropolis during the day kept passing by in his eyes. There was always so much tug-of-war between the homeless and the urban elites.

"Give me back my bag!"

"Madam! Look at my skin color!"

"Help! If you don't let go, I'm calling Superman!"

"Damn it! Even so, I'm going to accept this bag that nature has given me—I'm a gambler, so I bet Superman's life isn't as valuable as mine!"

"I will win!"

……

Beautiful.

This has always been the way of daily life in a metropolis.

Ian admired the scenery that could only be seen in America.

He didn't intend to get off the bus to stop them. In this dog-eat-dog world, whoever is weaker can't protect their bag; the laws of nature are vividly reflected in this country.

One was saved.

You can't save everyone.

The bags bought from Black people were then recycled by them. Even Ian, as the second-generation Superman, couldn't stop this market law. Hayek's powerful hand would know how to regulate it.

"parking!"

Ian only turned his gaze away from the scenery when the sound of sirens shattered his moment of "enlightenment." Faced with the police, Hellcat also chose to obey the law.

It might be like Ian, who loves to obey the law.

"It's you again! Stan Lee, right?" The familiar traffic cop walked over with a stern face, tapping on the car window with his fingers. Through the empty driver's side window, he saw Ian sitting comfortably in the passenger seat.

Ian remembered this face—the culprit behind the last fire hydrant incident.

"drving license."

The traffic police officer glanced at Ian's new car with some envy.

The voice was serious.

"It's been revoked."

Ian often blinks when he lies.

Hear the words.

The traffic police officer had a "I knew it" look on his face. He still vividly remembered Ian's driving performance. "Very well, I'm sorry to inform you that you may be arrested."

As he spoke, he pulled out his handcuffs and gestured for Ian to get out of the car.

"I wasn't even driving, the car was moving by itself, what kind of driver's license do I need?" Ian sat calmly in the passenger seat, looking confused. He just felt that America's traffic police intelligence needed improvement.