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

Page 369

Her teeth were grinding together.

And Ian, who has no sense of boundaries, is still pushing his luck.

"Auntie~ I am Ian, can you grant my wish?" Ian leaned forward, mimicking Madison's slurred voice, and asked in her own cloyingly sweet voice.

"..."

The woman's gaze grew increasingly strange. She narrowed her eyes slightly, her voice still elegant, but with a hint of danger in it: "You seem to have recognized who I am?"

This is something that anyone with an intelligence level below two digits can discern. After all, Ian's sudden attentiveness was too abrupt; his eyes showed only shock, not confusion.

“Of course I know! You are the only being who can defeat God, great darkness, Aunt Amara—if you ask me, there must have been a mix-up at birth. I have to help my father find his long-lost sister!” It’s hard to imagine that Ian’s address at this moment was so smooth and without any awkwardness.

He had always been the most shameless member of the Kent family, and his ability to speak so righteously even when things were going so far as to take advantage of her was truly beyond Amara's expectations.

"Do you know who I am? How dare you talk to me like that?"

She was the first to be incredulous.

"What's this? You should wait until I'm eighteen and see how brave I am then... Fine, I won't say anything about how you'll do this or that just because I'm brave."

"That's too frivolous, not suitable for a fifteen-year-old like me. Let's just say the bigger the storm, the more expensive the fish. You've come to me for a reason, there must be one. It must be that my wish to have a powerful aunt is finally about to come true." Those who know Ian know that when his voice is full of emotion, he will never tell the truth.

"What kind of child would make such a wish to Santa Claus at Christmas?" Amara certainly didn't believe Ian's words. She stared speechlessly at the boy in front of her, who seemed to have nothing but cowardice.

"No, it wasn't a Christmas wish, it was Halloween. I wished for a black aunt on Halloween, which makes perfect sense," Ian said, indicating that he never chooses holidays when making wishes.

"??????"

Amara's expression completely crumbled.

Amara's golden pupils narrowed slightly, and the temperature in the hellish guest room plummeted. The wailing souls on the walls fell silent, and even the bed woven from demonic arms quietly shrank back into its covers.

of course.

Amara's emotions were similar to those of these demons.

She subconsciously took a few steps back, and her dark dress, as if affected by her emotions, turned dark red, still surging slightly like lava representing red heat.

"Don't come any closer!" Amara saw Ian's restless look and clearly had never seen such a bold person before. She was afraid that Ian would rush over and cling to her leg for the rest of his life.

“It’s not just your love of being a writer, but your shamelessness is as great as God’s. I think the one who switched the babies is Clark Joseph Kent.” Amara took a deep breath, trying to maintain her elegance. She was trying to use sarcasm to make Ian back down, so she remained sharp and sarcastic.

however.

“If that’s what you’re saying…” Ian blinked, his face brimming with the logic befitting a logical monster, “then I should call you auntie, shouldn’t I?”

His expression was so sincere, as if he were simply stating a fact rather than forcing a family reunion, and his eyes held only a longing for the reunion, devoid of any other thoughts.

"..."

Amara never realized she could be so silent.

She had lived for countless centuries, witnessed the birth of the universe, the fall of gods, and even torn apart several overconfident supreme beings with her own hands—but she had never encountered a creature like Ian.

Ok.

It should still be a biological organism, right?

Amara's gaze slowly fell on Ian's hand holding the pen. The pen twirled gently between the boy's fingers, seemingly casually, yet faintly revealing a power fluctuation that was not of mortal origin. That power was still very immature, like a newly awakened flame, flickering uncertainly, yet carrying a certain familiarity that made her heart tremble.

Therefore.

So she wasn't really sure if Ian had mispronounced his name. Everything was so similar; God loves creation, so He's very persistent in being a third-rate writer.

It's hard to say that the glory surrounding Ian wasn't due to someone's affection for him after he felt a connection with Yingguo.

"Do you think you can claim kinship just because you can't verify someone's origins?" Amara continued, trying to make Ian blush with shame and embarrassment with her venomous words.

Her golden eyes flashed with a dangerous light.

Unfortunately, these impurities might not exist in the "underlying code" that makes up Ian. Ian remained calm and composed, instead thoughtfully stroking his chin.

"You can't even confirm my background?" He gleaned some key information from the other person's words and, after a moment of contemplation, immediately seized the opportunity.

"So, even if I were actually your child, you wouldn't know? Oh, I see. My mother certainly wouldn't mind having another person love me, so I still have a chance to call you that..."

Ian's eyes lit up, as if he had discovered a new continent. Seeing that this guy's thoughts were about to veer in a strange direction, Amara, looking alarmed, quickly raised her hand.

"Stop! Stop! Shut your wicked mouth!"

The air in hell became completely still, as if all sound had been sealed off by this great, dark entity, mainly because Amara was terrified of hearing that terrifying name from Ian's mouth.

It seems even her aunt can't satisfy the other person anymore; they're just too eager to improve... Amara really wants to teach them a lesson, but even the proud Amara knows she can't easily reward someone with a torturous package when she needs their help. Besides, judging from the cosmic information she's read...

Torture might actually be a reward for this boy. As for killing him, Amara wouldn't consider it; she knew more secrets than most high-ranking beings.

The rule entity grants this boy the right to not die, which is partly due to the influence of God's hand, and it is definitely not just because of favor or affection.

“Listen, little one, don’t try to claim kinship with me. You have no blood relatives in our world. But I can tell you where you really come from.”

Amara took a deep breath and suddenly understood why Lucifer had to have his men pass the keys to him; he was clearly still afraid after being entangled in the other's family ties.

no way.

She could only get straight to the point.

however.

“I don’t need to know where I come from—that way my connections can have endless possibilities! Yesterday I might have been Lucifer’s cousin, today I could be your nephew, and tomorrow I might be God’s long-lost son… Could you ask God to tell the angels that I am his most trusted child?”

Ian sat cross-legged on the dragon bone desk, swinging his shoes which were still groaning loudly. Hearing this, the lava patterns on Amara's long dress paused for a moment.

"Besides, I'm very happy now. I don't dwell on my past. I only care about our family's future..." Ian's sudden seriousness made Amara a little uncomfortable.

Fortunately, the understanding Ian didn't continue to make her uncomfortable. "Don't you really want to consider becoming sworn brothers with my father? My father has great potential, he's a true emperor."

He tried one last time, and a demon head on the wall, which was being used as a chandelier, burst out with a "poof" of hellfire. After being glared at by him, it immediately shrank into a ball.

"Does your father know that you're casually helping him find relatives outside?" Amara covered her forehead, trying her best not to impulsively attempt to destroy everything.

“He will know that I am doing this for his own good. Have you heard of an ancient Eastern saying… or am I saying something?” Ian looked at Amara with wise eyes.

"If you don't work hard when you're young, you'll regret it when you're old." This means that if children don't work hard outside, their fathers at home will suffer a lot—after all, I am a very filial person.

Ian's heartfelt words made Amara want to slap him. The dark entity stared at this stubborn creature, and could only sigh helplessly in the end.

"You clever brat, you've figured out I have a request of you, that's why you dare to be so presumptuous, isn't it?" Ian remained noncommittal and offered no direct response to this question.

Amara gave Ian a long, hard look.

"Well then, you have books and writing skills, but you're missing a good pen. I can pluck one off the wall for you. It won't be as good as God's, but it'll be just as good." She was clearly trying to curry favor with Ian in exchange for some help from him, so her tone was one of barely suppressed annoyance.

Ian's ears suddenly perked up.

"God has a really good pen?!"

He always manages to perceive the real key points, the elements that others don't want him to notice.

"Don't even think about it. God values ​​his pen more than his own world. He's just like you, an unknowing third-rate writer." Amara could see through Ian's little scheme, of course.

"First of all, I'm not a third-rate writer, I'm a bestselling author. Secondly, how good is that pen? Can it write cursive? Does it write smoothly?"

"Does God usually wear his ear or put him in his pocket?" Ian asked with a hint of enthusiasm, as if he were a thief surveying the difficulty of committing a crime.

“I told you, that’s God’s treasure!” Amara raised her voice to emphasize, and the temperature in the room plummeted by thirty degrees. The lava patterns on her skirt began to surge violently.

"Oh, baby, that's wonderful! Baby is precious, I really want it." You can't blame Ian for pushing his luck, since the other party is unwilling to have any blood relation with his father.

Altering bloodlines is certainly no challenge for the great darkness.

"Damn it!" Amara was speechless. Finally, she couldn't hold back any longer. She slammed her hand on the table and shouted, "Let me out! I'll take God's pen from you!"

This is also why he directly revealed himself.

"I knew you wanted me to do something naughty for you."

Ian forced out the other party's true purpose: he felt that his wisdom was superior to that of God's sister, and to round it off, without going into details, it was equivalent to being superior to anyone else.

He's quite modest.

"The important thing is to let me out!" Amara's red dress fluttered without wind, her voice filled with gritted teeth, and as she spoke, all the eyeballs on the wall seemed to burst.

"But you've already come out, haven't you?"

Ian remained unmoved, simply pointing to the other's complete form. Amara glanced at him sideways, then offered a helpless explanation to the boy.

"This is just a projection of my will. In fact, my true body is still in the basement of your damn Kent Manor!" This is probably what it means when love runs deep.

Before you know it, Amara starts swearing again.

"manor?"

Ian blinked.

The haunted manor Crowley gave him? He was somewhat taken aback, but he dared not agree. Being bold was one thing, being reckless was another.

“You know, I’m a kid,” Ian suddenly sighed, playing the underage card, and said in a somewhat worried tone, “I’m afraid God will spank me.”

Even as Amara stared at him with an annoyed look.

He remained unmoved.

He just went on and on with his terrible acting.

"Damn it! You just tried to steal God's pen!"

Amara spoke through gritted teeth.

"I was just thinking about it secretly, I never thought about committing a crime. Besides, if I could steal something from God, it would be worth it even if I got a spanking."

“Anyway, if it’s broken, I can just tear it off and throw it away; a new one will grow back.” Ian’s logic remained impeccable, and his words caused Amara’s expression to change repeatedly.

The projection of this great, dark incarnation began to flicker. She suddenly leaned down, her icy breath brushing against Ian's ear: "Let me out, and I'll give you everything you want."

Perhaps time is running out.

Amara's tone carried a hint of urgency. However, Amara's clumsy attempts at persuasion were not as skillful as those demons who had practiced for two and a half years.

Why not look for Lucifer?

Ian still hasn't responded.

“Because you are different.” Amara’s figure began to fade. “Although your power is weak, your essence is closest to God. Your power is the most suitable universal key.”

A very apt metaphor.

It made Ian feel incredibly awesome.