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

Page 134

"Where's Jonathan?" Ian was slightly puzzled when he couldn't find his older brother. After all, according to usual, Jonathan should have been up and starting to mix protein powder by now.

"He left home at six in the morning, saying he was going to go to the church." Clark knew his son's whereabouts perfectly well, and after a moment of silence, he added.

"He is indeed in the church now."

This was clearly a confirmation made using his own abilities. Ian truly pitied his second brother, but the brother was also lucky; at least he didn't yet know just how abnormal his father's hearing was.

“We both need to work overtime today, so you’d better not go out again and bring back any weird stuff,” Clark said earnestly.

"Ah."

Ian nodded.

He did not refute his father's idea.

however.

“Hey! How can you say Ian’s car is weird? She’s so cool!” Louise retorted while nudging Clark’s shoulder.

Clark then leaned on the table to provide Louise with emotional support.

"dudu~"

The sound of Hellcats horns blared outside.

"It's going to rain tonight, so you'd better come back and help Ian build a room for his car in the yard. Don't let the relentless rain ruin my son's beloved toy car."

Louise, after drinking, becomes quite assertive.

"Ah."

Clark nodded, leaning on the table.

"Thank you dad."

Ian quickly thanked him.

"It's nothing, it's just a carport, we can set it up easily."

Clark is attempting to mislead.

“It’s a room! It’s a member of our family now, isn’t it? It’s a girl, it told me that last night… using its car radio.”

Louise corrected Clark's statement.

“I knew my car was a female cat! I could tell from day one!” Ian was very happy, as he once again proved that he indeed possessed a discerning ability beyond that of ordinary people.

"Okay, one room, I understand."

Clark nodded helplessly.

"So, can I take you to work? You're almost late." He glanced at the time, then picked up Louise, who was still holding a glass of red wine, and disappeared from the room.

Ian, who already considered himself incredibly powerful, didn't even notice the door opening and closing.

"..."

There was silence for a moment.

"They must have broken through the window."

Ian could only console himself with this thought; what else could he do? He thought he had begun to close the gap between himself and his father, but for some reason, he now had the illusion that the gap was widening.

"Dang~"

God must have a grudge against Ian.

Otherwise, why would Ian hear something hitting the window as soon as he lifted it? Any coincidence in the world can always be blamed on God.

"I wonder what Jonathan was doing at the church, dating a Catholic girl?" Ian wondered to himself as he walked toward the source of the noise.

I saw.

The window was tightly closed, and a thin, spiderweb-like crack had appeared on the glass. In the center of the crack, a dark fly was stuck, its six legs twitching incessantly.

"This fly is almost as big as my little finger! What does it eat to grow so fat?" I carefully pinched the fly's back and pulled it out of the crack in the glass.

"The Fly Clan cultivator fought with all his might against the Upper Realm, but unfortunately, he was killed by the immortal." Ian stared at the fly in his hand; the fly was still alive and showed no signs of dying.

The guy even struggled a couple of times on his fingertips.

The wings were buzzing.

The force was somewhat reminiscent of the powerful Fly Clan.

"Wow, it's pretty strong?" Ian raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. He carefully examined the shiny black fly in his hand, feeling that it was different from ordinary flies—the fly's exoskeleton gleamed with an eerie metallic sheen in the sunlight, and its compound eyes were more scarlet than those of ordinary flies.

“That’s when we need to call in the professionals.” Ian remembered that the appearance of demons was always associated with flies, so he believed that there must be a very special bond between the two.

They climbed up the stairs, step by step.

Ian pulled the demon's head out of the cabinet.

“Let me taste this. What’s going on? Is a demon possessing it?” Ian made a reasonable guess, but things didn’t seem to be the same as he imagined.

Before the demon's head could react, Ian shoved a live fly into its mouth. It chewed it a couple of times instinctively, then suddenly its murky pupils contracted.

"Well--!"

It let out a muffled groan that was somewhere between pain and pleasure, then swallowed it. After a long while, it spoke, its voice filled with shock: "That's really powerful. This is definitely not an ordinary fly."

The demon minotaur is spouting nonsense again with an air of certainty.

"Doesn't it smell like the devil?"

Ian pressed for an answer.

"No." The demon head answered honestly. It pondered for a moment, its expression growing increasingly astonished. It even felt a slight increase in its strength.

That was the feeling of digesting some kind of soul.

"It must be a Kryptonian fly."

The demon's tone was unusually certain.

"I have a relative who has eaten the soul of a Kryptonian, and this is exactly what my relative described as the taste." It does have some authority, but it doesn't seem to be too authoritative.

The type I heard from a friend is slightly similar to the one I checked for plagiarism.

"You mean this fly is a super fly that ate my dad's Super Oli Gei, drank my dad's Super Iced Tea, and then grew up little by little?"

Ian frowned, his expression one of disbelief.

The air was suddenly quiet.

"..."

The demonic minotaur remained silent.

A few seconds later, it cautiously opened its mouth.

“Great God Ian, I don’t think that’s the case. A reasonable guess is that it was a mutated fly that escaped from some laboratory.”

"Perhaps your scientists, who are even more insane than demons, used Kryptonian blood to cultivate this fly, and as for the fact that it bred a soul that doesn't belong to it."

The demon's head made a careful analysis.

"Blood is also a bodily fluid."

Ian stroked his chin and thought for a while. He felt that what this guy meant was similar to what he had expressed. As for this kind of plagiarism, he would just give him a slam dunk on the head.

The demon's head dared to cry but dared not speak.

I have absolutely no idea where I went wrong.

really.

Accompanying you is like accompanying a tiger.

The more uneasy the demon felt, the more unpredictable the heart of the Hell Lord became. Thinking this, the demon head saw Ian run out of the room again and begin searching the entire house.

Are there any other flies?

Ian wants to find a second mutated fly.

Especially the toilets.

Ian turned the place upside down. However, after searching for a long time, including outside, he couldn't find a second fly in the house.

We've also looked outside the house.

Not only are there no mutated flies.

They didn't even find any suspicious vehicles.

"Can you spit it out? I think there must be a demon behind it." Ian returned to his room with a hint of helplessness, picked up the demon's head, and softened his tone.

however.

This made the demon's head tremble even more.

"The great God Ian..."

It wanted to cry but had no tears.

Do you think I'm that amazing?

The voice of the demon's head was filled with a sense of cowardice.

It feared this was a new way for Ian to torture himself, but it clearly underestimated Ian's character. Ian didn't act unreasonably; he just sighed and scratched his head.

"I still haven't experienced enough. When I encounter something so strange, I should have let my Uncle Batman taste it first." Ian was genuinely reflecting on his handling of the situation.

The demon minotaur didn't dare to respond and just wanted to change the subject.

"Can you make your second brother stop?" It sighed heavily. Clearly, the soundproofing kit that Jordan bought from who-knows-where hadn't even kept its ears safe.

"It's like this when you first awaken and unlock new gameplay." Ian understood his second brother quite well because he knew that his second brother really had a mental illness accompanied by repression and social anxiety.

Jordan had even seen a psychologist earlier than him, but he kept pretending he hadn't. There was a reason he knew Ian's drugs could be sold at school.

"Hey."

The demon's head sighed again.

"But it's been three hours already."

It was mainly listening to this sound that made it tremble with fear. After all, Ian could only beat and torture it, but the little devil in the other room had much more terrifying intentions towards it.