Liu A'dou and the other passengers all made it safely back to the ground. The passengers were still a bit excited after seeing Superman.
Once again, Superman had saved countless lives. The people of Metropolis cheered, completely forgetting how much damage the villains had caused just to challenge him. Not that they cared anyway. They were die-hard Superman fans.
Now Liu A'dou finally understood how popular Superman was in Metropolis. Even the combined fanbase of Kaitou Kid from Gotham City and New York didn't come close. Superman didn't even say hi to him—not out of rudeness, but to protect Liu A'dou's identity. In the end, Superman shot into the sky like a rainbow beam.
The police took the four terrorists away. Reporters swarmed the scene. Since they hadn't gotten a word from Superman and the police had nothing to say, they turned to the passengers for details.
Some of the survivors were more than happy to talk, like Liu A'dou and his group.
"Can you tell us what happened?"
Faced with the reporter's question, Liu A'dou seemed to think for a second. Then he suddenly said, "It was intense, but I wasn't scared. There were four hijackers in total..."
He went on and on. But the reporters started focusing on the people around him—especially the one wearing sunglasses. She looked really familiar. Actually, the young man talking also looked familiar.
"The Ice Queen." Someone finally recognized Elsa. Immediately, Liu A'dou was forgotten. The reporters swarmed Elsa.
Everyone wanted to know why Elsa had returned to Metropolis. And, of course, why she hadn't used her powers to freeze the hijackers.
That question was tricky. If someone ran with it, they could argue that not freezing them was ignoring lives in danger, but if she had frozen them, it would've been breaking the law. A total no-win situation.
"We all believe in Superman." Liu A'dou couldn't let Elsa fall into that trap. He squeezed through the crowd and said, "We were all sure Superman would come save us."
"Alright, our ride's here. Thanks for the concern, everyone. See you at the Superhero Expo."
Reporters in Metropolis were no joke. Their questions were sharp.
The group was staying at a hotel right next to the expo venue. There were still three days until the event opened. Liu A'dou needed to go check the booth setup, while the others were free to explore the city.
The exhibition was at the International Convention Center in the heart of the city. It was massive. Tons of entertainment companies were there to promote their games, toys, or movies.
This time, Liu A'dou was promoting his new movie and toy line.
"Old Chu, did everything arrive yet?" Chu Yuxuan was already back at the company. He'd been supervising the whole booth setup.
Chu didn't mind being called Old Chu. "Everything's here. Just waiting for the event to start."
The booth had a heavy metal vibe, designed to feel like a mechanical planet—Cybertron. A giant metal nameplate hung from the center screen.
"Nice, nice. Next, we need to get all the toys up. The Transformers and lightsaber models can be handed out as gifts." Elsa would play some interactive games with the audience. Anyone who participated got a prize.
Having Elsa perform meant they didn't even need a host. Suddenly, Liu A'dou felt a little guilty. It was like he was always squeezing Elsa for everything—like a slave driver, always finding new jobs for her. But then again, Elsa had rested for 10,000 years. It was time she got busy. And honestly, she looked pretty happy doing it.
Back at the Daily Planet office, Clark had just returned from saving the plane when he saw his longtime crush Lois Lane rushing out.
"Lois, where are you going?"
"I'm going to interview the hijackers." Her gut told her this hijacking wasn't that simple.
"I'll go with you." Clark couldn't let Lois take that risk alone.
"Then get your stuff ready. I'll be waiting downstairs. You've got three minutes—no extensions," said Lois.
Three minutes was plenty. Superman sped up. No time for the elevator—he dashed down the stairs like a gust of wind, clearing hundreds of steps in an instant.
Lois checked her watch. She felt a breeze sweep through the underground garage, brushed back her hair, and saw Clark already standing in front of her. She checked the time again. No delay. "Let's go."
Lois was a strong woman. She never let a man drive. On the way there, she gave Clark a rundown of what she'd learned. As a top reporter with wide connections—and good looks—big shots were always willing to give her info. So even before the interview, Lois had already gathered quite a bit.
The key detail was the hijackers' nationality. They were from a small Middle Eastern country that had accidentally killed civilians during a conflict half a year ago.
Clark nodded. He sympathized with them, but he couldn't agree with hijacking a plane.
Still, Clark would cover their story through journalism, calling out the U.S. for its unjust military actions. That small country, named Bialya, had been ruled by a dictator. A civil war broke out, and the U.S. used human rights concerns as a pretext to support the opposition. But after three years, the war still hadn't ended.
Bialya had gone from a rich nation to a ruined mess. The current president was no saint, but the rebel leader backed by the U.S. was just another warlord selling out the country for power.
Before the pro-U.S. rebels rose, people had at least been able to live in peace. Now, all they had was the dream of democracy and freedom—and starvation.
Thanks to U.S. propaganda, countless naïve people chased after the American dream. But they all seemed to forget that both Europe and the U.S. were built on bloody conquest and plunder—the Age of Exploration, the Industrial Revolution, genocide of Native Americans, World Wars. They made their money first, then cleaned up their image.
Ideals are built on material wealth. Democracy and freedom only work when there's a strong economic base. Without that, and without education, those ideals become poison—killing people with false hope.
After three years of war, the government army and the U.S.-backed rebels were now stuck in a stalemate. But U.S. drones kept spying on and attacking towns controlled by the government army. That's how the funeral tragedy happened.
Superman felt powerless. His Kryptonian father had taught him to observe humanity from above. And from that view, it was clear the U.S. was meddling in a civil war just to protect its own interests in the Middle East. But his American foster parents had taught him that this was the American spirit—fighting for world peace.
If the U.S. hadn't interfered, the rebels would've lost long ago. But weapons and supplies alone weren't enough anymore, so America sent in troops.
They brought "freedom and democracy," but what they really brought was death. They dragged the country deeper into war, handed out cheap goods to keep civilians under rebel control, and won support that way. Over time, U.S. sanctions crushed the government side. Starving civilians began to resent their own leaders—even the president.
It was only a matter of time before Bialya was completely taken over by the U.S. So in the face of tragedies where civilians died with no justice, a few desperate patriots turned to terrorism and hijacking to get revenge.
That was the misfortune and sorrow of being born in a small country. When the world's superpower crushes you, there's no way to fight back. It's like drowning—slowly sinking deeper until you're gone forever.