Ian's maneuvers were truly leaving Raven at a loss for words.
"..."
Ian's lightning-fast "progress" over the last two weeks had left Raven stunned by how quickly modern psychiatric conditions seemed to evolve. Standing in the center of the church, she felt her temples throbbing.
The understanding of reality she had built up since gaining consciousness and battling Trigon's shadows was being systematically dismantled by this middle schooler with the detachable head.
The scene was, frankly, a bit sanity-eroding.
*Clang, clang, clang~*
Ian Kent's head was still swinging from the ceiling like a bizarre human wind chime.
Of course, the thing Raven found most incomprehensible was Ian's body. It should have been stuck in the floor, yet it was moving around freely, casually performing surgery to attach a golden mouth to someone!
She saw it clearly: Ian's body strode with a light step toward the tied-up Jonathan, completely ignoring the laws of physics. His head and body were clearly in two different spatial planes, yet they shared the same nervous system and will. There wasn't a single stutter in his movements.
This wasn't simple teleportation or illusion; it was a state of existence Raven couldn't fathom, touching upon an absolute blind spot in her magical knowledge.
'Could it be that his mental illness let him redefine his own rules?' Raven, being a magic user, believed in the power of the mind over matter, but the fact that she even considered this possibility showed her demigod brain was redlining.
A chill crawled up her spine.
Raven felt that if this were the case, the boy named Ian was truly the pinnacle of "bizarre"—far more unsettling than facing the whispers of her father, Trigon. At least Trigon fell within the understandable categories of "evil and chaos."
While Raven struggled to find a "rational" explanation, Jordan—freshly equipped with his new mouth—seemed to have discovered a whole new world.
Following Ian's simple and direct "surgery," a flash of golden light had appeared where Jordan's mouth used to be. A small, solid gold mouth carved with intricate, luxurious patterns was now "welded" to his face, sporting a slightly curated "smiling lip" look.
"Mmph?!"
Jordan was startled at first. But then, as he tried to vibrate his vocal cords, the golden mouth actually produced sound—a uniquely metallic resonance that made his voice exceptionally deep and powerful.
"Whoa! This feeling... is so unique!" Jordan "spoke" in wonder, even trying to lick the cold metal lips with his tongue.
"It's a bit chilly, but speaking feels... more weighty! Yes! I feel like my words are worth more now! If a girl wants to kiss me, I'm definitely going to have to charge a fee!"
"Other girls might not even have real diamonds in their teeth, but my whole mouth is genuine solid gold!" As expected of a hormone-driven, show-offy second brother.
His logic was so warped it made even Ian think something was wrong with his head. Raven, of course, felt it even more directly.
"..."
She looked at the curly-haired boy with the solid gold mouth prattling on, then thought of his father, Superman—the Man of Steel, the hope of humanity. Then she looked back at Ian.
A terrifying thought bubbled up uncontrollably: 'Superman... is he really the hope of the world? Or is Superman actually a long-term, high-functioning psychiatric patient?!'
You couldn't blame Raven for thinking this. Her mind was incredibly sharp; she could calculate complex probabilities in an instant.
The odds of producing two sons like this through genetics alone had to be infinitesimal. It couldn't be that combining Kryptonian and human genes caused some unpredictable chemical reaction, could it?
"Truly, the prophecies of Earth being in constant peril were not exaggerated!"
Raven's expression was pained. In truth, after the Trigon incident at school, she had thoroughly investigated Ian and his family. She knew Ian had more "superhero personas" than could fit on a sheet of A4 paper, each accompanied by a trail of events that defied common sense.
The more she thought, the more alarmed she became.
Her gaze swept over Damian Wayne. Despite being tied up, he remained highly alert, trying to kill her with his eyes. Yes, she knew this brat's father was Batman—the Dark Knight famous for his paranoia, control issues, and equally questionable mental state.
She didn't know this because of her investigative skills, but because ever since she'd caught him, Damian had told her "who his father is" no less than a hundred times. A total self-doxxing.
As for Ian's relationship with Superman, that was something she'd dug up herself. It hadn't been hard; she could match all the "abstract" heroes of Metropolis to their sources.
The relationship between personas like "Stocking Superman" and the real Superman was an open secret among Metropolis newsrooms.
Based on this research, she had formulated her plan.
Capturing Jordan wasn't a random kidnapping. Raven knew the bond between Jordan and Ian. Jonathan and Damian, who showed up to help, weren't the rescuers she was looking for.
Raven caught Jordan—and intentionally spoke of "sacrifices" to scare the three unlucky boys—solely to bait Ian. This was the fastest, easiest way to find him.
Raven wasn't stupid; she'd traveled the world long enough to know that if she really wanted to sacrifice three people, she wouldn't "carelessly" leave them with their communication devices to "secretly" call for help.
To be honest, if Raven hadn't been incredibly cooperative, there was no way Jonathan's group could have hidden their activities just by covering up with their clothes.
'In that sense, this Jonathan is also quite 'enlightened,' Raven sighed wearily to herself. Fortunately, the plan was a success.
Ian had come.
The only thing that exceeded her expectations—and spiraled out of control—was that Ian's abilities had become even more abstract, and his mental state had surged even further into the lead. Her old "version" of Ian was completely obsolete.
'How has he not been fast-tracked into Arkham with a bulk-discount membership yet?' While Raven was having a mental brainstorm, Ian's body on the ground started moving again.
He leaned in toward Jonathan, and his head hanging from the ceiling began an enthusiastic sales pitch.
"Jonathan, look at Jordan's new style! Isn't it cool? Solid gold! Built-in subwoofer effect! Want one too? I treat my brothers equally—no favoritism here!"
Ian was displaying his "fair and equal" brotherly love, terrified that Jonathan might feel neglected.
"..."
Jonathan looked at Jordan's gleaming gold mouth. Terror was written all over his face. This was a "fair treatment" he absolutely did not want to experience.
"I don't want it! I play football; I have to go through security!" Fortunately, Jonathan had a flash of inspiration. He knew Ian didn't like football, so he improvised an excuse.
"Alright then," Ian sighed in disappointment, but immediately switched to a seductive expression. "Then how about an upgraded version? 'Golden Pupils'?"
"Made with eco-friendly materials, they'll definitely pass security. Built-in focused thermal vision and flare effects—guaranteed to be flashier than Dad's heat vision!"
"Plug and play! Hot-swappable!"
Ian certainly knew how to innovate with his abilities. His thoughts were as avant-garde as ever. Hearing this, Jonathan actually hesitated, seemingly considering the practicality of the Golden Pupils.
The heat vision part was genuinely tempting. As a son of Superman, not being able to use heat vision was a bit of a sore spot. He cared, even if he had his own path. What son doesn't want to hear his father say, "You take after me"?
The more he thought, the more Jonathan wavered.
"Stop! Both of you, stop!"
Raven felt the alarm bells ringing in her head. Knowing Ian, he was absolutely capable of performing an on-site eyeball replacement surgery! That was way too much of a sanity drain!
To prevent Ian from actually pulling out some golden eyeballs and practicing medicine without a license, Raven waved her hand, restoring Jordan's mouth.
"Huh?"
Jordan cried out as he felt the weight lift from his face. The solid gold, ornate mouth that made his words "weighty" vanished instantly, replaced by his original, flesh-and-blood mouth.
*Clatter~*
The gold mouth had only been in use for a few minutes before the original "pushed" it out onto the floor. Surprisingly, Jordan looked a bit regretful. Truly, men are always fickle with the new.
"A pity. You didn't even get it warm yet, Jordan. It seems you're just destined to lack 'Gold' in your life; you can't hold onto real gold or real essence." Ian's head on the ceiling wore a look of profound regret, as if a great work of art had been destroyed.
"????"
Looking at the two of them looking so melancholy, Raven finally held her forehead. She couldn't hold back her retort any longer: "I mean... what the hell are you two so disappointed about?! That was just a metal lump that violates all biological structures!"
Raven was still a materialist. Probably because Ian was forcing her to be.
"Hmm?"
Ian's head on the ceiling immediately shot her a "you just don't get it" look, snapping back.
"Woman, your thinking is so limited! This was a solid gold item! It combined artistic value, practical value, and investment value!"
"This isn't just a metal lump. This is a man's romance!"
His voice was decisive, but it had zero persuasive power for Raven.
'A man's romance? A gold mouth?!'
"Gold teeth are out, so gold mouths are in?" Raven felt the veins on her forehead throbbing. She really couldn't keep up with Ian's logic. People used to call *her* crazy. Now, she really wanted to drag those people here to look at this thing!
Because her emotions were fluctuating wildly, the violet-black energy around her began to ripple uncontrollably. The air in the church became agitated. Candle flames flickered violently.
Damian whispered to Jonathan, "I think she's about to explode."
Jonathan trembled: "I... I think so too..."
But Raven took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the rage that was nearly bursting out. She kept telling herself: 'Calm down, calm down, I need to stay calm.'
"I still have business with him," she muttered several times before her energy stabilized. She looked up, trying to keep her voice steady, though her tone was helpless.
"I have real business. The bull-head demon you took from the school... is it still alive?"
"Please don't tell me you've already turned it into bull-head soup." Raven stared at Ian with a hint of prayer in her voice. She really needed the demon right now.
The bull-demon was a minion of Trigon, containing specific marks and energy. Raven needed it to track the source of Trigon's recent abnormal activities. When she asked, she really didn't have much confidence.
Given Ian's style, he could have turned the demon's core into marbles, pickled it in medicinal wine, or used it as a sacrifice for some weird ritual. Of course, the highest probability was that it had been turned into soup.
She would never forget the expression on Ian's face when she'd explained the Hell Lords to him—he'd been gulping so hard he looked ready to boil the seventy-two demons of Solomon into a broth. Because of this, she strongly suspected Ian had a taste for little demons.
After the question, Raven didn't get an immediate "yes" or "no." Instead, a flash of very genuine shock crossed Ian's eyes.
"Sss~ You're actually a commercial genius!" Ian looked as if he'd just heard a world-shaking idea. His face filled with a complex mix of wonder and regret.
"Oh, Miss, you're a commercial genius wasted on magic! Dammit! Why didn't I think of this business model when I hadn't made my fortune yet?!"
"You're right! I can have that guy take a hot bath twenty-four hours a day, and I can sell the bathwater as bull-head soup!" This sudden reaction left Raven completely floored.
"No, that's not what I meant!"
Raven stood there stunned. She tried to correct him, but Ian was now on a roll, talking a mile a minute and cutting off all her prepared follow-up lines.
"Don't say anything yet. Don't worry, I'm great at inferring one thing from another." Ian was fully immersed in his business blueprint, speaking fast with glowing eyes.
"I still have the chance! Small-scale is boring! I need to go industrial! I'll build a factory for pre-packaged, slow-boiled beef soup!"
"If crabs that took a bath in Rhine Lake can be sold as 'Rhine Crabs' for a high price, then why can't Baal—who is genuine, live, and not zombie meat—passing through a pot of water be bull-head soup? This time, my conscience is clear. I can open a legit 'West Shell' restaurant!"
"Natural ingredients, the soup water never ate feed—absolute high-end! It might be pre-packaged, but my raw materials definitely won't be two-year-old broccoli!"
"I'm a capitalist, but I have a bit of a conscience... at most, the plating will be exquisite, serving the beef soup in high-end wine glasses to sell to the big shots in New York."
Ian got more excited as he spoke, his head swinging more vigorously from the ceiling.
"??????" Raven listened to this business plan that was beyond the galaxy, her lip twitching almost into a cramp.
But soon, she caught the most critical piece of information from Ian's pile of nonsense—he used words like "letting him bathe," "living," and "passing through water"!
That meant the demon was still there!
Raven felt a surge of joy. She forcibly cut off Ian's drifting imagination, her voice carrying a hint of urgency and confirmation: "So that bull-demon is still alive?!"
"Great! Can you lend him to me? Just for a bit! I promise to return him completely intact! When I'm done, I'll give you ten back! No! A hundred more advanced, more powerful demons! You can sell demon meat in New York if you want! They'll be much more valuable than that one with just a head left!"
Raven was a magic expert, so she wanted to defeat "magic" with "magic"—stepping into Ian's logic and trying to move him with profit.
Although she hadn't dealt with him much, she considered herself a good judge of character; she thought this "highly profitable" exchange would surely move this business-minded boy.
Of course.
The hope was beautiful. The reality was unexpected.
Raven's suggestion was definitely a step in the right direction. However, Ian's brow immediately furrowed, and his face showed clear hesitation and resistance: "No, no. Baal is different from other demons."
"He's not just a trash can anymore... uh, I mean, he has other important roles now. We've more or less developed a tiny bit of feeling after being together."
Ian wasn't the kind of boss who would sell his employees. As he said, he saw himself as a capitalist, and capitalists rarely sold out employees for small profits. If he wanted to catch demons, he had plenty of places to find them.
"Feelings?" Raven was stunned. She couldn't understand how someone could develop "feelings" for an ugly, chaotic, inherently evil bull-demon.
This didn't just stun Raven; it made Jordan's eyes narrow. He once again felt he was the only one smart enough to see through everything.
"Yes! That bull-head... is amazing! My brother must have developed feelings for it! I totally understand!" Jordan's tone was nothing short of envious.
The scene went silent for a moment. Ian and Jonathan both looked at Jordan with extremely bizarre expressions. As brothers, they immediately understood that Jordan's mind, full of colorful waste, had definitely strayed toward some unspeakable use.
"What are you talking about?" Damian Wayne was the only one who didn't get it.
However, seeing Raven frown at Ian's rejection and seemingly unsure of how to continue the negotiation, his desire to show off took over again.
"Since my idol has rejected you, why haven't you started adding more money? One of the few true things my old man ever said is that there's no problem that can't be solved by adding more money."
"Believe me, this is the truth of Gotham." Damian's tone was nostalgic; he had clearly put this into practice many times.
"Hmm?"
Raven was in an awkward spot with no options left. Hearing Damian's "experience," though it felt weird coming from a tied-up brat, she considered it and actually took the advice.
"Then a thousand! A thousand more powerful demons! Just lend me your trash can for a bit!" Raven turned back to Ian, her expression even more sincere.
"It's not a question of how many... it's not a question of equal exchange. It's a question of principle, a question of feelings..." Ian looked at Raven's earnest attempt to raise the price. The hesitation on his face grew heavier.
Seeing him still unwilling to budge, Raven really got anxious. Her tone became hurried and serious.
"Ian! This isn't for myself! I've sensed Trigon—my father—planning something terrifying! A massive conspiracy that could affect multiple dimensions! I have to use a minion from the same source as his power to investigate his specific movements and plans! The mark on Baal is the key!"
She took a deep breath, trying to use the "greater good" to persuade him, since Ian was Superman's son and came from a heroic background: "This concerns the safety of countless worlds..."
A good idea, but she couldn't finish.
"Wait a second?!"
Ian suddenly interrupted her, his voice jumping an octave, filled with unbelievable shock that even drowned out Raven's anxious statement.
"Don't tell me that hearing the apocalypse is coming, you're planning to prepare supplies in advance... and make a fortune?" Raven was startled by Ian's sudden shout. She snapped back to reality and looked at him suspiciously.
"No, no. It's the apocalypse; why would I need to make money? To say such a thing... are you okay? Do you want some sour plums?"
Taking the chance, Ian's head fell back onto his body. Then he reached out to touch Raven's forehead, seemingly trying to see if she had a fever and was talking nonsense.
In reality.
He was clearly still after that third eye.
"Hmm?" Raven quickly dodged.
"Let's talk about Trigon again." Ian sighed in disappointment.
"Alright." Raven looked over with a mix of hope and confusion, ready to emphasize the threat of Trigon.
However, what she saw was Ian's eyes glowing, his mouth slightly open—an expression of extreme excitement and drooling anticipation. In fact... was there a suspicious drop of crystal-clear liquid about to drip from his lip?
"I mean... do you know you're almost drooling on the floor?" Raven was bewildered. Was this the time to drool during such a serious topic?
"I can bypass you, the middleman—why shouldn't I be drooling with joy!"
Ian's answer was perfectly righteous. He showed none of the dread for Trigon that Raven had expected.
***
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