dmims Page 398
Page 398
His gaze moved from the drunken Lois on Superman's shoulder to the violently dismantled blast wall, and finally settled on Clark's hand, which was tucking a blanket around his wife.
The Kent family may have ingrained the habit of "carrying people" into their family instincts.
At that moment, Batman finally understood the "quantum inheritance" behind Ian's outrageous behavior. Of course, this wasn't the most surprising thing for Bruce Wayne.
"How can it be!"
Bruce's voice trembled slightly, a rare occurrence.
"What? How is that possible?"
Clark smugly dusted off his hands.
"You think I won't find you just because you're hiding in a place like this?" He looked directly at his old friend and said in a deep voice, "Bruce, I'm smart too, no less so than you."
Superman finally got his chance to show off.
He was having a great time.
Clark was pleased that he had successfully located Bruce Wayne's hideout. He went into the room, gently placed Louise on Bruce's specially made bulletproof bed, and casually pulled over the blanket inlaid with Kryptonite gems to cover her, his movements so gentle that it was hard to believe he was a creature capable of punching a planet.
Bruce Wayne watched this scene unfold.
His eyes flickered, and he silently walked to the wall, bent down and picked up a piece of superalloy several meters thick—the outer wall of his safe house, which was made of superalloy.
Several meters thick.
Theoretically, it can withstand the impact of a nuclear explosion.
But now, it's torn apart like a piece of paper, with marks of violent damage on the edges. Superman could tear this thing apart as easily as tearing a small piece of butter.
“I’m not talking about how you found me,” Bruce’s voice was as soft as if he were sleepwalking. “I’m talking about how you were able to open a new door in my safe house.”
He slowly turned around and pointed to the kryptonite embedded in the wall.
This place was practically a Kryptonian "miracle house." The emerald green crystals glowed eerily under the emergency lights, something that should have caused any Kryptonian unbearable agony. Yet, Clark stood in the center of the area with the strongest radiation, even clutching a piece of Kryptonite in his hand, and was covering his drunken wife with a blanket as if nothing had happened.
"!!!!!"
Superman suddenly opened his palms.
The kryptonite he had previously used to weaken himself lay perfectly intact in his palm, radiating undeniably deadly radiation. He, who should have collapsed from exhaustion, was instead left to rot.
Aside from a slightly flushed face from the alcohol, I felt no discomfort.
He held it the whole time.
From the rooftop to flying, to tearing through the wall—he held kryptonite the entire time. Logically, he should have collapsed long ago, howling in agony, having lost all his power.
But he didn't.
Not only did he not fall, but he carried Louise, flew over a hundred miles, and tore open Gotham's most fortified stronghold.
“This…is impossible…” Clark regained his senses, looking even more terrified than Bruce Wayne. His super brain, fueled by the combined effects of alcohol and kryptonite, was racing to find an explanation.
only.
Aside from genuinely wanting to get drunk again and then go up and punch Bruce Wayne twice in the back of his mouth.
Got nothing.
"So, Kryptonite is a colossal lie you fabricated?" Bruce Wayne silently operated the nano-repair device, tiny swarms of mechanical insects busily working at the breach in the wall. The explosion-proof alloy flowed and reformed like liquid, and a few minutes later, the "new door" that Clark had violently broken open had vanished without a trace.
It's like it never existed.
“If you tell me it was really you who fooled everyone, I think I’d be glad you didn’t betray your own brain.” Bruce Wayne turned around, his grey-blue eyes looking directly at Clark.
Clark opened his mouth, speechless for a moment. He looked down at the kryptonite in his palm; the green crystal still emitted a faint glow, but the radiation that should have caused him unbearable pain was barely perceptible.
“No. I don’t know why, it suddenly became less effective—actually, it’s still effective. Look, the blood vessels in my palm are much clearer when I hold the kryptonite.” Clark explained somewhat flusteredly, turning his palm over to show the blood vessels under his skin that were clearer due to the radiation.
"..."
Bruce Wayne silently labeled Ian's file as "infectious disease," then added another question mark, possibly indicating a "genetic disease." Yes, all three Kent children were somewhat abnormal, making it difficult for Bruce Wayne to believe that the Kent couple were normal.
Now, Clark's "words of wisdom" are making Bruce Wayne suspect that Clark has stopped pretending, is finally showing his true colors, or has finally revealed his true nature after drinking.
The smell of alcohol in the air was enough to ignite it, and Bruce Wayne's bat-like nose certainly wouldn't miss it. His bat-like nose wasn't as good as Superman's, but it was far more sensitive than a dog's.
“Okay, so your body has evolved again.” Bruce looked Superman up and down, his expression subtly changing, and a hint of disappointment crept into his voice.
He had always wanted to see a real super brain.
Unfortunately.
Superman has failed to grant him his wish for many years.
"Judging from your reaction, you came to see me not because of your body's evolution. So, has your youngest son finally been taken by God and locked up in a dark room?" Bruce walked to the medicine cabinet in the corner, put back the bottle of sleeping pills he had taken out, and then took out a red pill and swallowed it.
Clark's gaze unconsciously drifted towards the Metropolis.
“No.” His voice and expression were clearly contradictory, but Bruce didn’t press for details, only raising one eyebrow.
"Let's get to the point."
Under Bruce's scrutinizing gaze, Clark finally revealed the story of the mysterious woman and the vanished building. As he spoke, Batman's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
"Perhaps you didn't misread it."
Bruce suddenly said.
"What's the meaning?"
Clark's supercomputer went into energy-saving mode the moment it found the "external brain." Bruce didn't answer directly, but gestured for Clark to follow. They passed through a hidden passage in the safe house and arrived at an underground laboratory. The central device looked like some kind of modified cosmic massage machine.
The surface is covered with patterns of various alien technologies.
"Sit down."
Bruce activated the console, and countless holographic screens unfolded in the air.
As Clark stepped into the device, a strange fluctuation immediately enveloped him. His vision began to shift—Gotham's concrete walls gradually became transparent, replaced by countless overlapping dimensional shadows. And at the point where the light and shadow intertwined, the vanished, peculiar building reappeared in his field of vision.
The blue telephone booth also stands quietly on the rooftop.
"this"
Clark turned to Bruce in shock.
“Ever since I learned about the multiverse war, I’ve been building this machine.” Bruce’s eyes gleamed with the confidence and wisdom characteristic of a mad scientist.
“Yes, Clark, don’t look at me with that disgusting shocked face. Being drunk has given you a vision you don’t normally have, a gaze that can see through the multiverse and the gaps between dimensions.” Batman’s fingers tapped on the console, barely suppressing the urge to gouge out Clark’s eyeballs for research.
Of course, just as Superman refrained from hitting him, he also restrained his own inner impulse.
perhaps.
This is how close friends get along.
"What is that woman doing now?" Bruce Wayne asked the dumbfounded Clark, who was more accustomed to the Kryptonians' shameless behavior in evolution than the Kryptonians themselves were.
"She's knocking on the door, inside..."
Clark's gaze pierced through layers of dimensions, focusing on the white figure. The woman with the umbrella gracefully knocked on the door carved with countless symbols of life.
A light, cheerful humming sound came from inside the door.
Then came a cheerful female voice.
"Oh! Another one who wants to customize a mysterious past, to have an interesting soul that will make family and friends fantasize, and at least eight hundred mysterious people attend his funeral?" The doorknob turned automatically, and as the door opened a crack, Clark saw that it was a Victorian-style studio inside.
"Huh, it's actually the Time Lord. What an interesting soul."
The Goddess of Death—or rather, Miss Death—was floating in mid-air, with eight small, glowing mirrors suspended in front of her. Without turning her head, she spoke softly to the newcomer.
The woman stepped lightly into the house.
Her white dress rippled with a faint light in the dimensional gap. She saw Miss Death lying in front of a floating mirror, in which Ian's furtive figure was reflected.
"Time Lord, I haven't seen you for a long time. If it were any other day, I would definitely have a good chat with you and hear about the epic and adventurous life you have lived."
"However, I've found something even more interesting now."
"My mentor, who inspired my career's second spring and is also my dear believer, is doing something big, preparing to give God a surprise gift package of '88,000 babies in one birth'!"
“This is what a true warrior looks like. Lucifer has finally found the new lord of Hell he has been longing for.” Miss Death’s tone was filled with more than just emotion and amazement.
I also felt a bit of admiration.
Chapter 173 Ian's death is imminent!
A light drizzle is falling.
In the small, glowing mirrors in front of Miss Death.
The Metropolitan God of Gamblers, who believes that the bigger the storm, the more valuable the fish, is back on the card. This time, the roles are reversed, and even Lucifer, who was previously a radical, thinks Ian is too radical.
"Are you crazy? Sending a child to that old man? Are you rewarding him?!" Lucifer was advising Ian to tone down his talents, but Ian always ignored such advice.
"As long as they give birth to 88,888 babies in one pregnancy! As long as they're busy taking care of the children, I'll be safe, and those two won't be able to continue to harm me!"
"It's just a little shiver for my older brother, but the whole family is safe again. Any capitalist would take a gamble! And I'm a qualified capitalist!"
"It's perfectly reasonable! It's perfectly reasonable!" Ian had been enlightened by Lucifer. If Lucifer thought that the love potion would work on the Creator Duo who had bound themselves to mortal bodies, then the pregnancy potion he got from Thanos would definitely work as well. Adding a pregnancy spell would be like double insurance.
Under the sofa, Ian and Lucifer, like two sardines crammed into a can, peeked out at God and the Goddess of Creation having their candlelight dinner.
Seeing Ian's resolute expression, Lucifer was completely stunned.
"Eight, eight at most... Don't go too far!" He tried to get Ian to back down, but Ian's will to survive was unusually strong at this moment.
He felt his plan was absolutely brilliant, a truly permanent solution to the crisis.
"That's called strategic defense. Your father used the child to bind the marriage, while I gained peace—in most cases, breastfeeding and estrus don't coexist under normal circumstances."
Ian thought this was the best way to dissuade the Creator Goddess from openly pursuing him. He lowered his voice, his eyes peering through the gap in the sofa—God was using Jonathan's body to cut steak for the Creator Goddess.
The movements were elegant to the point of being slightly affected.
"You call 88,000 children 'breastfeeding period'? That's a cosmic disaster!" Lucifer's eye twitched. He had finally met someone even crazier than himself.
The Lord of Hell could even see from Ian's suspicious gaze that he was wondering if Ian was afraid of having too many younger siblings fighting over the inheritance. This was a direction that a normal person would pay attention to.
“Although I’m still missing a good pen, I have a brilliant plan right now.” Ian ignored Lucifer’s protests and pulled out “Ian’s Magic Book” from his pocket.
"It can't affect my damn parents."