The setting sun truly painted silhouettes on everything.
The Hellcat's tires tore sulfur-scented tracks across the asphalt. On the suburban skyline, Ian's car carried him at a speed far, far above the legal limit.
This was normal.
After all, suburban roads had no speed limits... or cameras. For veteran drivers who truly obeyed traffic rules, a place without speed limit signs or control measures meant there was no speed limit.
The little car, which hadn't killed anyone for many hours, was just such a veteran driver.
Deeply familiar with this rule.
"Taking everything in my stride~"
"Don't need reason, don't need rhyme"
...
In appropriate scenes, Ian's Hellcat loved to switch to appropriate songs. The one playing on the stereo now was a song of freedom that was once very popular in America.
Highway to Hell.
Of course.
Like everything the world saw in America.
It came from Australia.
Just like the people living on this land now were all "imports"—What? Asking what's native to America? The people who can answer that question are currently specimens in a museum.
"Oh, no wonder you said this place is Hell~" Ian was a little slow to realize and suddenly understood. He patted his backpack, but the demon head inside offered no supporting response.
Ian didn't care about the applause.
"Six or seven kilograms, this is the symbol of my merit." Ian had been continuously cleaning the recovered bullet fragments. The weight of over a thousand pieces was slightly more than he had anticipated.
"I'm going to forge them into copper chains. Then, when I take my pet out for a walk, I'll have a leash." Although Ian had picked up a ginger cat, that was needed to execute a scheme to appease his mother. So, from beginning to end, he only had the demon head he could take out for a walk.
It didn't matter.
A walk was a walk, regardless of the pet.
"Right, you've expended a lot today. Here, replenish some trace elements." Ian selected a few of the best-looking bullet fragments, unzipped his backpack, and tossed them into the demon head's mouth.
Because he hoped his trash can/gas station would be full of fuel tomorrow, his attitude towards the demon head was naturally better than it had been the last two days.
"Don't run."
Ian restrained the ginger cat trying to escape and stuffed both the ginger cat and the demon head back into the backpack. The "seal" on the demon's mouth had been removed for feeding.
"Damn it! It's trying to crawl into my mouth! Get it out!" The demon head screamed as if its tail had been stepped on. Unfortunately, it hadn't had a tail for a long time.
"That's no excuse for you to eat my cat!"
Ian severely warned the demon.
"If you dare to eat my cat, I'll make you wear lipstick every night and use a squeaky voice to be a sexy companion for shut-in men. How long do you think it'll take for you to earn enough for me to buy a new cat?"
He was getting better and better at threatening others.
Honestly.
At least for the Minotaur demon, Ian's threat was truly more effective than an exorcism spell.
It instantly went quiet, feeling wronged but daring not to speak. It could only grit its teeth and refuse the ginger cat's curiosity about the world inside its mouth. It truly wondered why the cursed God had to create creatures like cats!
The Minotaur demon shivered.
It didn't want to eat the cat.
But it felt like the cat wanted to eat it.
"Damn it!"
The demon grew angrier the more it thought about it.
It silently wept.
This time, it was actually being despised by the ginger cat. Perhaps because it found the Minotaur demon's head to be a comfortable cat bed, the cat Ian picked up quieted down in the backpack.
Ian had left a ventilation hole.
"Don't blame me. Blame that Batman suit from before. I was corrupted by Batman after wearing it. It gave me strategy but also made me ruthless."
Ian thought his words made perfect sense.
No one knew if wearing Batman's suit would contaminate one with a trace of cosmic karma.
His logical loop was perfect.
But the Minotaur demon clearly hadn't reached his level of thought.
"You were just role-playing, weren't you..." The Minotaur demon complained weakly. It had truly lost too much today, and its entire head was utterly weak.
"That's why I'm only ruthless. You're confused." Ian sneered. The Minotaur demon laughed at him for overthinking, while he laughed at the Minotaur demon for not understanding the bond between himself and Batman.
As for what kind of bond this was, well, terms like mentor and foster father seemed to be all used up... While thinking, Ian realized he, too, had moments where things felt tricky.
"Sigh."
It must be that he hadn't added enough attribute points to intelligence.
He couldn't sustain long-term brain function.
"My body isn't strong enough to match my brain." Ian, feeling a bit dejected, packed the remaining bullet fragments into a bag and casually tossed one into his mouth.
"Crunch, crunch~"
It was very crisp.
Like a peanut.
Ian chewed it up and swallowed it.
This was an attempt.
However.
It was useless.
Nothing happened.
The experience points for [Savage Tyrant] did not increase.
"Still gotta go touch my Uncle Galactus."
Ian failed to exploit a system bug, so he could only wait for the profession unlocked by the Planet Eater to potentially give him truly good intestines.
The Hellcat continued to speed down the highway.
It was leading Ian to a new "mission" point.
America was full of crime hotspots, just like the endless missions in a certain canned game factory's game. Ian figured he should be able to learn to fly today.
"What is that?"
Ian hummed along to the music and stared ahead. Soon, he realized something was wrong. It was still the suburbs, but what was with that impressive factory with the [LEXCORP] logo?
"Luthor's company!"
Ian's mind instantly cleared.
"No, no, no! That's a dungeon my dad should be farming! I'm not qualified!" Ian was very clear about his own positioning. As an independent NPC, he only wanted to bully ordinary villain NPCs.
As for villains like Luthor.
Even Ian, the immortal.
He wasn't keen on getting stuck with such a nuisance.
"Abort! Abort! Abort! Change the dungeon!"
Ian patted the dashboard in front.
The Hellcat immediately made a sharp turn and a U-turn.
It was obedient.
However, that didn't stop it from expressing its opinion on the choice through song.
"I'd hate to look into those eyes~"
"And feel like I can't change~"
...
Honestly.
That was a bit passive-aggressive.
"You don't understand. I'm just planning for the long term, one step at a time." Ian's rebuttal was actually quite reasonable. He hadn't brought his dual-wielded weapons this time, after all.
Not only couldn't he exert his fullcombat power, but he also didn't have anyone to help him distract Luthor. In such a situation, Ian felt he was better suited for simpler dungeons.
"Vroom vroom vroom~"
The Hellcat answered with the roar of its engine. It became a Black Mamba again, speeding along the highway, driving Ian directly into the city, and straight into an incredibly bustling street.
"Someone is going to trade military supplies here?"
Ian was a bit surprised.
He looked left and right.
This was a relatively safe neighborhood. The streets were clean, the pedestrians were well-dressed, and there were no visible homeless people. Even the shady guys engaging in "zero-dollar shopping" were wearing suits and ties.
He even remembered to leave a tip after robbing something!
Clearly, they were the good kind of shady guys who were properly clocking in for work! Ian was very curious. Could a crime transaction he needed be happening in such a tranquil and peaceful neighborhood?
"Trust me, Pilot." This time, the Hellcat's radio didn't quote a song but a very short line from a video game.
"Hmm, hmm, I see. The most dangerous place is the safest place." Ian still believed in his little car. He surveyed the surrounding areas where criminal transactions might take place.
Lots of clothing stores.
And various department stores.
Soon, the boy's gaze locked onto a rather upscale fast-food restaurant, at least the kind where the food was freshly fried. He quickly jogged over and pushed the door open.
"Here, it must be here." Ian declared confidently. His stomach immediately rumbled twice. He was always hungry after using his self-healing ability. Although the hunger wasn't usually intense as his physical fitness increased, that didn't stop Ian from wanting a win-win situation.
"First, fill my stomach. I need to be full to have the strength to steal things... No, I mean, to be a superhero." The force with which he ordered food was like a hungry glutton who hadn't eaten for three days.
Twenty burgers, ten portions of fries, five milkshakes, and thirty fried chicken legs. If he weren't afraid of being bullied by others' strange looks, Ian could have ordered even more fast food.
"This is the confidence of a rich person."
Ian sat down at a large window table and even elegantly tucked a napkin into his T-shirt. The only disappointment about this meal was that his Coca-Cola couldn't be served in a stemmed glass.
"Glug glug glug~"
Ian gulped down the happy water that wasn't just for making fat people happy.
He looked at the table full of food, and just as he was about to say his pre-meal prayer. Suddenly, a figure dashed past the floor-to-ceiling window and bolted straight into the fast-food restaurant.
She first ran a few steps towards the restroom, then backed up and dove right under Ian's table. Before Ian could fully react, a group of men in black suits followed closely into the fast-food restaurant. They attracted the attention of many diners, but since they weren't holding guns, no one panicked.
"What's going on?"
Ian curiously watched the men in black.
They searched the fast-food restaurant, looked around, and found no target. Then, led by some brilliant mind, they rushed towards the direction of the fast-food restaurant's restroom.
Perhaps they thought the target would escape by climbing out the window there.
It was an old classic trope. Ian wasn't surprised by this. After all, it was perfectly rational for people wearing black sunglasses indoors in the afternoon to have poor eyesight.
"Hey, brat, you can come out now."
Ian kicked the girl hidden under the tablecloth.
"Damn it, Ian! Don't kick my chest!" The girl crawled out from under the tablecloth, swearing and frantically grabbing napkins from the table to wipe the shoe prints off her clothes.
Yes.
It was Madison.
Ian's deskmate from school.
"Are you acting in Fast Food Restaurant Horror right now? A Hollywood B-movie?" Ian remembered that Madison liked to go to auditions on Saturdays and Sundays, so he boldly made a guess worthy of Kogoro Mouri.
"No, can't you tell? I'm genuinely being chased and intercepted by a group of psychopaths!" Madison was still shaken. She snatched the cola from Ian's hand and chugged a few sips to calm her nerves.
"Are you going to die?"
Ian didn't get angry about this. He picked up another drink. He had been used to this for several years, so he wouldn't exhibit any food-guarding behavior when his food was snatched. The emotion in his heart wasn't even as strong as his realization that his deduction had only made him Kogoro Mouri instead of Akechi Kogoro.
"Probably not going to die?"
Madison was also a little unsure.
"If you're not going to die, then wait for me to eat." Ian straightened the slightly messy table. He hoped that Miss Death wouldn't think he was a sloppy person when he prayed.
Truthfully, he was a little afraid that Miss Death would take advantage of it.
"No! I'm talking about a group of perverts trying to catch me. How can you be so calm?" Madison couldn't understand why Ian was still so unfazed.
She suspected Ian didn't believe her.
"We live in an era where superheroes and supervillains are running rampant. Isn't this just normal life?" Ian looked at Madison with a slightly strange expression.
"..."
After a long pause.
"Shit!"
Madison was speechless, but she had to admit that Ian's words always held a certain logic—feeling stifled, Madison grabbed a box of fries from the table and started munching.
She understood Ian's rules very well.
So, without needing a reminder, she very consciously pulled out a ten-dollar bill and slapped it in front of Ian.
"You get forty-five bites. You calculate how many bites you've taken." Although Ian no longer needed to care about such small change, he was still very quick to put the money into his pocket.
"You're eating alone, and you ordered so much?" Madison was surprised by Ian's abnormal appetite. She felt that this food was definitely enough for her to eat for at least a week.
He began his eyes-closed prayer.
Madison, however, was a person with intense curiosity. "Do people like you also believe in religion? Scientology? Straight Man Cult? Or the Flying Spaghetti Monster?"
It had to be said.
This deskmate's filter for Ian was far too strong.
"I only believe in the New Superman Cult, but that doesn't stop me from contacting the goddess who is the symbol of Death." After praying, Ian knew how to test Miss Death, who was pretending to be absent.
"No choice. Can't go a day without contact. She's too clingy." As soon as he said it, Ian felt the invisible large hand firmly squeezing the brain matter under his crown.
It didn't hurt.
But the hand was violently shaking, as if trying to shake the water out of it.
Hmm.
Miss Death seemed to truly just be pretending to be absent.
"Why is your head shaking? Did you eat something? Can I have a piece?"
Madison had been staring at Ian the whole time.
"This is just engaging in intimate interaction."
As soon as Ian's words fell.
He felt the invisible large hand retreat as if avoiding something.
He became elegant again.
"My goodness, what are you talking about?"
The blonde girl was very confused. Her deskmate was indeed speaking human language, but although she understood every word, she couldn't grasp what the words meant when strung together.
"You don't understand now, but you definitely will when you die. Miss Death is the supreme being, the destination of life—at least the destination of most ordinary lives."
Ian wasn't just showing off.
He was just trying to probe, having remembered his deskmate's miraculous healing ability. However, his deskmate, who could probably instantly save even a dying person, still didn't seem to understand.
"Death? A goddess? Is this some new cult that targets pathetic nerd boys?" Madison was completely bewildered. She truly looked confused, as if she couldn't be on the same frequency as Ian. She could only try hard to figure it out and started speculating, wondering if Ian was going through a phase of showing off his suppression?
Otherwise, why would he be so mystical and join some goddess cult?
"Honestly, you should go out more. Come with me later. I have a group of girlfriends—spend an afternoon with them, and you'll know what a real goddess is."
Madison's enthusiastic attempt to help a friend still had a slightly flirtatious flavor.
It was very much like someone trying to pimp.
"Alright, looks like you really don't know." Ian had now finished his probing. He believed that while his deskmate's acting was good, it definitely hadn't reached the level of Oscar-worthy naturalness.
"Am I supposed to know?" Madison ran a slender hand through her messy hair, her eyes blank. She twitched slightly at the corner of her eye when she saw the "Rolex" drawn on Ian's wrist.
"I know you're bold and dare to curse anyone, but Death is really not an evil god... Look, look. If there was no Death, could we have such delicious hamburger meat?"
Ian didn't know if Miss Death had left, but he just went ahead and bragged. "And such delicious dead pork chops? If they weren't dead, could I eat such a delicacy?"
Saying this.
Ian started gnawing on a pork chop.
"..."
Madison only regretted not studying hard. Even though she clearly knew Ian's words were twisted logic, she still couldn't refute them, after all, people really couldn't gnaw on a living pig.
That image.
It was scary just thinking about it.
It was only because there was no alcohol here, or Madison would definitely have had a few drinks.
"All junk food. Eating too much will make you gain weight."
Her kind reminder was likely an attempt to change the subject.
However.
Ian took it seriously.
"Junk food is great. My foster father loves to eat it."
He was ravenously stuffing his face.
His posture made Madison feel like he hadn't eaten for ten days to half a month.
*Gulp*
The blonde girl swallowed her saliva.
"Foster father? Do you mean godfather? Since he loves it, I think you should take some back for him, instead of using him as an excuse to gorge yourself here?"
Madison's words sounded very reasonable.
However.
She wasn't as logical as Ian.
"My foster father is in jail right now. He can't eat it, so I'm eating it for him. He can definitely smell it through the bond we share." Ian firmly believed this.
His cheeks were stuffed, like a hamster.
"..."
Madison patted her forehead, clearly not believing Ian's nonsense.
"You're even making me laugh with anger."
She shook her head, feeling helpless.
Looking at the table full of food, Madison didn't continue eating. It wasn't because she was disciplined, but because she noticed Ian glancing at her after her forty-fifth bite.
"With the way you eat, how can you have muscles? Was the muscle photo you mass-texted everyone last night Photoshopped?" Madison looked at Ian with suspicion.
"Huh?"
Now it was Ian's turn to be confused.
"I didn't do that."
He pulled out his phone to check.
Damn it.
Batman's revenge, though delayed, had arrived!
"We agreed there would be no more consequences!"
Ian felt he shouldn't have trusted any liar who came out of Gotham—fortunately, it didn't matter. Even someone as powerful as Batman probably underestimated Ian's thick skin.
He quickly adjusted his mood.
"Want a feel? The first time is free. Subsequent times are ten dollars. Wait, no... how much do you think I should charge to accommodate every pretty girl in school?"
Ian lifted his T-shirt, revealing his abdominal muscles, which weren't exaggerated but were very impressive—Madison's eyes widened, and she couldn't help but sigh genuinely.
"Did you... inject a cocktail of performance enhancers?"
The blonde girl seemed knowledgeable.
Her question was forceful.
"No."
Ian's answer was also righteous. He drank enhancement serums, he didn't inject technological supplements. As long as the terms were different, the two could be considered different things.
Could cold tossed Houttuynia cordata taste the same as Houttuynia cordata liquid?
Same logic!
"Whether they're fake muscles or not, these muscles can definitely intimidate people." Madison was still a little shaken. She pulled out her wallet and looked for small denominations.
A girl who considered a career in film and had a lot of luxury goods on her, naturally came from a privileged background. A child who carried over a thousand dollars in cash was at least the descendant of a high-level elite family. Hmm? If you ask how Ian knew she had over a thousand dollars, it was, of course, because he glanced inside Madison's wallet.
No misunderstanding.
Pure peeking.
And there was a reason for that, naturally.
"Seriously, you have to go to the police station with me to report this. I need the police station to send a female officer to protect me in person." Madison looked at Ian, who was suddenly eating faster, possessed by a wild boar.
The corner of her eye twitched.
But she still held back her inner complaints.
She spoke, still somewhat fearful, making her request.
"Here."
Madison only found a ten-dollar bill, so she handed it to Ian, waiting for the very rule-abiding Ian to give her change. The blonde, flirtatious deskmate of many years knew Ian's price list very well.
The money couldn't be too much.
It couldn't be too little.
More would earn a scolding.
Less would earn a scoff.
"Actually, I was thinking of raising the price recently, but... since we're such good friends, let's stick to the old rules." Ian stuffed all the food down his throat in one go.
After swallowing the last bite of the burger, he snatched Madison's wallet.
"Huh?"
Madison watched Ian count out eight hundred dollars and put it into his pocket. She wasn't angry, just looked confused, and began frantically trying to recall what eight hundred dollars represented on Ian's service price list.
She hadn't used that kind of service before.
She seemed to have forgotten.
"Eight hundred dollars, can you catch a female police officer for me?"
The blonde flirtatious girl started brainstorming.
The mental state of people who could sit together certainly wouldn't be too different.
"Dream on. Eat crap. No, you don't deserve to eat my crap—I'm saving your life." Ian finished speaking, wiped his mouth, and tossed the napkin from his chest onto the table.
"Saving my life from what?"
Madison hadn't reacted yet.
She saw Ian skillfully pull a new pack of stockings from his pocket.
"???"
Under Madison's horrified gaze.
Ian pulled them over his head.
"What do you think?"
He turned his head back.
The timing was perfect.
The restroom door burst open with a "bang."
Five or six men in sunglasses charged out with aggressive momentum—they were the men in black who hadn't followed the script. The one leading them was holding a large toad with its tongue sticking out.
The direction the toad was pointing was precisely where Madison was sitting.
"Damn it!"
Madison was terrified.
She grabbed Ian and tried to run out of the restaurant.
However.
"Wait! Wait for me... wait for me to poke two holes for my eyes!" Ian failed to turn his back to the masses again. He could only jog along with Madison.
*Rip*
He pulled too hard.
The nylon stockings instantly ripped into rags.
"You owe me for that!"
Fortunately, Ian could always find someone to blame.
"I have a car! My car is over there..." Ian wanted to show off a little, but he noticed a slight commotion in the street crowd. That was because the hood of his Hellcat was constantly opening and closing, as if trying to swallow a man holding a crowbar—it seemed to understand what a prison was, and yet it hadn't fully understood.
"..."
Ian's voice abruptly stopped.
"You have a car?"
Madison threw her high heels away.
She looked back in surprise.
"Why don't you wait a moment and let me log in..." Ian completely avoided mentioning his ride, instead pulling out another pack of stockings and tearing open the packaging.
"No way? How much of that stuff did you buy?" Madison was breathless, but that didn't stop her from marveling at what Ian could possibly have stored in his pockets.
"Guess?"
Ian pulled the stocking over his head, logging in once more. He knew rich people should hide their abilities, so he wouldn't easily disclose the extravagant fact that he had bought a hundred pairs and only intended to use them for one month.
"Let them come!"
"I think they're definitely not simple! Look, I have my superhero ID... wait, no, this is my expired certificate of insanity. This is my ID."
Ian finally pulled out his psychic card.
He wasn't just trying to be a hero. His intuition told him that the group of people who seemed to be male magicians were likely the criminals his Hellcat wanted him to corner.
A high-quality package delivery.
Ian definitely had to sign for it.
***
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