The ability to identify people by voice finally came online.
"It's the Joker who doesn't know how to jungle!"
When talking about Ian's fan base, besides Madison, the Gotham Joker was the most prominent. Hearing that eccentric speech, Ian subconsciously uttered the name that was a taboo in Gotham.
Joker.
He was one of the top villains in the DC Universe. Compared to another top-tier like Darkseid, although the Joker's life level was lower, he possessed a conceptual, terrifying ability.
The DC Universe would always have a Joker. If the old Joker died, the universe would give birth to a new one. For this reason, while no one ever knew the Joker's real name, he didn't need one either.
People only needed to know that he was the Joker, the eternal nightmare of Gotham's overlord, Batman. According to Ian's thoughts, the Joker should be a kind of quantum life representing the abstract entity of DC.
Don't ask Ian why he liked to use the word quantum, because his current education level was only middle school. Naturally, he had to believe in the great logic of "if you can't decide, use quantum mechanics."
In short, the Joker was a collection of chaos, madness, disorder, evil, and corruption, representing the pure symbol of the inherent evil of human nature. Although he looked like a pure lunatic, he was smart enough to contend with Batman, evil enough to lure Superman into corruption, and his level of terror reached the point where no place outside of Gotham could contain him.
Even Ian didn't know how to deal with the Joker. Aside from the method of stripping the Joker naked and throwing him into a slum in India, he couldn't think of any legal way to suppress the Joker's arrogance.
How to deal with the Joker?
Ian didn't know.
He didn't have the spare time to think for Batman right now either.
"Your dad looks like he has about a hundred and eighty or ninety breaths left."
Accompanying the Joker's voice sounding again.
Ian's expression immediately changed with medium shock—as for why it wasn't great shock, it was mainly because the Joker's statement wasn't exaggerated. Ian's old man was indeed often on the verge of being beaten to death.
Great shock would make people feel Ian was hypocritical; medium shock was more consistent with sincere filial piety.
"Bang!"
Ian instantly smashed through the alloy gate, still feeling a bit anxious. Standing outside the door wasn't some loudspeaker placed by the Joker, but a man in a suit wearing layers of colorful stockings over his head.
The stockings were stacked layer upon layer—red, green, purple, yellow—like a twisted colorful pyramid, almost covering his entire face. In the only gaps, a pair of eyes flickered with the light of excitement.
It really was the Joker.
There were at least a dozen layers of stockings, each painted with exaggerated Joker makeup. God knows how many digits the Joker's monthly expenditure on foundation alone would reach.
In Gotham, besides Batman, no one could really afford to keep the Joker.
"Surprise——!"
Just as Ian kicked open the gate, the Joker anticipated and dodged the bursting metal. He dodged to the side and then turned back, his already prepared hands clapping hard right in front of Ian's face.
Powder exploded between the two.
The system prompt sounded in Ian's ear immediately.
"Inhaling mysterious toxic powder, Savage Tyrant experience +339"
"Inhaling mysterious toxic powder, Savage Tyrant experience +321"
"Inhaling mysterious toxic powder, Savage Tyrant experience +322"
...
The Joker, who rarely had a few bits of kindness toward humans, had planned to scare Ian and then suck the Joker gas powder back into his own nostrils. In the end, he found that his nose wasn't as useful as Ian's.
Ian's nose was like a water pump. If the Joker hadn't been completely unable to inhale in time, he would have felt that even the polluted gas already in his lungs would be snatched away by Ian.
"Hu hu hu~"
There was really a wind blowing into Ian's nose, mouth, and even ears and eyes—the Master Ian's best trick was to use all seven orifices.
It wasn't sinister.
After all, if the seven orifices could bleed, it naturally meant they could inhale. This was actually very scientific.
"What kind of pharmaceutical master is Batman! You are the uncrowned king of Gotham's chemical world!" Ian even used a respectful title. He didn't know how high the technical content of the Joker's gas was, but he respected this kind of technology that had more gold content than super-strengthening drugs. Gotham's true pharmaceutical master was indeed the God of Medicine, Joker!
"Ah?"
Seeing that Ian's expression didn't look like he was infected, and instead of falling, he showed surprise, even with the Joker's level of composure, his expression froze for a moment.
"Damn! I knew the Ian Virus was more toxic!" He hammered his head in annoyance and lingering fear. Seeing Ian staring at his face, his emotions shifted smoothly again.
"Do you want to touch my... head? I mean this one on my neck. I specially prepared a twelve-fold surprise headgear for today to make it look like a turtle's head."
The Joker must have paid attention to the Stocking Superman in his daily life and knew that Ian was very fond of stockings. However, the abnormally thick foundation on that headgear made Ian a bit reluctant to touch it.
Master Ian only liked pure, natural stockings.
"Well, next time for sure, next time for sure. First, tell me where my dad is?" Ian was someone who could clearly distinguish between work and life.
He wouldn't let his fan meeting affect his family's happiness.
"Superman, yes, Superman."
The Joker's green eyes rolled.
"Actually, I'm looking forward to seeing the Death of Superman—without family, you would definitely focus on writing, right?" He licked his lips with a painted smiley face and asked "reasonably."
Even though the Joker felt he was already trying his best to imitate those vulgar ordinary people's thinking.
However.
This reasoning still didn't quite fit the worldview of the "Family Man."
"Dong!"
Ian's knee accurately hit the Joker's crotch.
"Aowuuuu——"
The Joker instantly curled up like a shrimp. The face under the stocking headgear turned purple-red, his eyes rolled back, cold sweat poured out, and his hands tightly clutched his lower body. His voice was twisted and confused.
"Unscientific! How... how can it be this uncomfortable?! It didn't even hurt this much when I hit it with a hammer! This isn't pain... it's discomfort! It's the feeling of the soul being defiled!"
The Joker began to roll all over the ground.
Frantically seeking an answer.
He wasn't acting spoiled; it was really uncomfortable.
"Because I know pain can't threaten you, I temporarily mutated you a bit and added some happy nervous systems to your balls. Now, when you pee, you can feel the satisfaction of being in love, and when you poop, you can feel the warmth of three generations living under one roof—if you don't tell me where my father is."
"I can even make the air you breathe full of the smell of justice. From now on, you'll be the Justice Joker, unable to stop helping old ladies cross the street and helping old men use the urinal every day."
As he spoke, Ian took out the memo paper he had just written on.
On it was the reality-altering text from his "Writing the World." Although Ian's writing power wasn't strong enough and could currently only modify reality temporarily, this ability was exceptionally effective on the Joker. After all, the Joker was just an ordinary human, even if he carried significant weight in the DC Universe.
Who isn't significant?
The consumption of affecting the Joker was actually much less than the consumption of affecting powerful lives.
"Oh, Ian who should be locked in a dark room, you really learned to be vicious at such a young age, you have a bright future!" The Joker squeezed his legs and performed a "carp leap" from the ground.
"This matter won't pass without adding another chapter! I won't yield to a junior like you!" When the Joker spoke, he always had a dramatically exaggerated tone.
His emotional rendering was way off the charts.
"Then add ten more chapters. Stop talking nonsense. If my dad dies, I'll turn dark and come to Gotham as a villain to eliminate you!" Ian keenly sensed the "Ian Virus" mentioned earlier.
This threat might not be very lethal to the Joker, but it definitely wasn't small either. Ian looked straight at him. "Tell me, why can't I find my father on Earth?"
While talking to the Joker, Ian was also performing his basic operation—multitasking, using the Black Box to scan every area of the entire Earth.
However.
Nothing was found.
His Black Box had even scanned out those old guys who were hard to hide, ancient guardians and old gods, and even power fluctuations like the Red of All Life.
Unfortunately, there was no feedback on Superman's life fluctuations.
Ian was getting truly anxious.
his words made the Joker clutch his head in a bit of a breakdown.
"Oh, damn, the most effective way to deal with me is for the student to surpass the master, making me forgotten and swept into the dust? You're not just vicious, you're also fierce!"
He suddenly pointed to the sky as if admitting defeat. "Alright, alright! Your dad is on Mars! He's playing a 'who is the real man' game with a certain blackened version of himself~"
As he spoke, the Joker commented that Ian's dad didn't look like a real man right now. Ian felt like he was spewing crap, but being eager to save his father, he decided to come back and sew the Joker's mouth shut later.
After getting some information from the Joker's mouth, Ian smashed through the dome of the Batcave without a word. Rubble fell like rain, and his figure had already broken through the dome, turning into a stream of light shooting straight into the sky!
"Ian who should be locked in an underground dark room, he must have some saved drafts, spit them out, spit them out."
The Joker stumbled and crawled to the cave entrance.
Looking up at the figure disappearing into the starry sky, he shouted hoarsely: "Hey! Don't you want to rent a mount?! The mount I recently caught in the wild has twelve wings! It flies faster than light!"
Watching the light spot disappear instantly, he kicked away a piece of rubble in annoyance.
"Damn! Can't trick you!" Just then, the Joker suddenly remembered something and quickly took out his phone to send a voice message: "Harley! Go and take down the 'Gotham Gazette' for me."
"Tomorrow's front-page headline! The title must be—'Shocking! Superman's son, with the help of the great Mr. J, rescued his trashy old man and the even trashier accessory, Batman!'"
"Use bold fluorescent pink font!"
This was something that finally made the Joker feel a bit of comfort. Crouching in the ruins of the Batcave, while humming a pirated Gotham-style tune, he took out a gold-plated and diamond-encrusted shovel and began digging.
"Digging and digging and digging in Gotham's garden~"
"Planting seeds of madness, blooming flowers of chaos~"
"Watering them with the most toxic fertilizer~"
"Who is the madman? You? Me? Or him?"
This was of course not the Joker's original song, but Ian's original song. The things Batman didn't dare to monitor didn't mean Mr. J didn't dare. He had set up many drones outside Ian's Demon Manor.
Earlier, when Ian was digging up living corpses to assemble a perfect body for Dr. Hannibal, the Joker was amazed by Ian's songwriting talent.
Now.
He had also adapted the song of his big idol, Ian, to add a bit of fun to his labor. He dug while laughing, mud splashing, as if looking for something in this forgotten corner. Finally, in an inconspicuous place, his shovel hit the previous ground.
Soon.
He completely dug open the ruins. The Joker carefully brushed away the surrounding clumps of soil, revealing that yellowed slip of paper.
"I knew there was a short story on it!"
Yes, the motivation for the Joker's labor lay here. He picked up the paper with his fingers wearing purple lace gloves, his green eyes trembling with excitement in the dim light.
On the paper, there were densely packed words. Ian couldn't control the exercise of his creative talent.
"In the smog-shrouded corners of Gotham City, once only the Joker's frenzied laughter and chaotic declarations echoed."
"But since meeting Ian, that young man who always carried a gentle smile but hid a determined light in his eyes, everything had quietly changed."
"At first, Joker only sneered at Ian's 'naivety'—fighting evil with happiness? How ridiculous! Joker snorted at this."
"The first time Ian saw him, the Joker was already terminally ill."
"He only knew how to destroy and scream."
"However, everything changed from the moment he met Ian. Under Ian's glory, Joker was bathed in radiance, breaking through the limitation that the Joker, as a Perfect-level Gotham Baby, could no longer evolve. In the rotation of invisible data turbulence, he became a Mega-level Digimon."
"[Crossed out here, rewritten the four big characters 'Gotham Baby']"
"Even without an Evolution Device, one of the two Kings of Gotham, the Joker, received a blessing! Under Ian's influence, the Joker unknowingly evolved a happy nervous system on the spot, becoming a, one, an... anyway, a lump of Happy Joker!"
The story was only this long.
The words after it made the Joker a bit of an "unhappy Joker."
On it, not only was the wonderful transformation of the happy nervous system written, but it also mentioned a special gift—"Ultimate Invincible Super Concentrated Universe Limited Edition Joker Gas."
This gas, according to the description on the note, was specially prepared for Ian by the Joker on Christmas Day when he had a sudden burst of inspiration. Its production process was extremely complex, requiring the collection of the purest toxic gas from deep underground in Gotham City and undergoing a series of mysterious and ancient alchemy steps for extraction.
Legend had it that just one drop of this gas could make the residents of the entire city fall into uncontrollable laughter until their last bit of strength was exhausted. It was not only highly contagious but also long-lasting. Once released, it would spread like a plague, penetrating everywhere.
What was even more exaggerated was that to ensure the uniqueness of this gift, the Joker specifically added the pollen of a strange flower that bloomed only on the highest peak of Gotham on the night of the winter solstice as a catalyst.
"Crazy quantum collected from the Tenth Dimension!"
"Melting the Comedian's last words, Batman's nightmare, and Lex Luthor's jealousy! [Luthor was secretly hidden by Batman in the laboratory further below, this is what you found yourself.]"
"Containing eight million Ha-Ha factors per cubic centimeter!"
"Packed in an anti-matter crystal bottle!"
"Even Darkseid would have to do a tap dance after smelling it!"
To be fair, seeing these descriptions by Ian, the Joker doubted his life a bit. He didn't think the gas was made this way... nor did he think he could make such a gas.
This wasn't Ian's story.
This was Ian's wish.
"..."
Speaking of the Gotham Mr. J, very few people could make him feel speechless. He first crumpled the note into a ball, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed twice, then felt the taste wasn't right, spat it out, smoothed it out on his palm, and finally carefully stuffed it into the front chest pocket of his purple suit, even patting it to make sure it wouldn't fall out.
No one could explain what the Joker was thinking during these few short movements. Then, he continued to wave the semi-gold-plated shovel that was leaking diamonds to dig and dig in the ruins outside the Batcave. Finally, he dug through the buried Batcave entrance. The Joker crawled in like a mole coming out of a burrow.
"Ah~ home sweet home!"
The Joker looked around and spoke bashfully.
The Batcave was still cold, damp, and full of Bruce Wayne's "I'm rich but I just like living in a basement" weird aesthetic. The main control console screen was still flashing with the cut-out image of the Injustice Superman, looping the phrase "Did you miss me?"
The Joker ignored it.
He walked straight to the storage cabinet and took out buckets of colored paint, his familiarity looking like he was back home. The Joker grinned, configured various spray paints and pigments, and began to graffiti frantically on the walls, the floor, and even Batman's bed and quilt.
His theme was very clear.
That was, the R-18 fanfiction of "Batman's Poignant and Sadistic Love"—"Batman, Poke Me Ten Thousand More Times," a 98-rated artistic fan comic.
The kind that wasn't recommended for eyes to see before lying in a coffin.
"Ge ge ge——!" He laughed wildly, wielding the ink like rain, his brush moving like the wind. The poses of Batman and himself became more and more outrageous, and the plot became more and more indescribable.
Batman's cape was torn into the Joker's suspenders, his belt was loose, and his muscles were twisted into a welcoming shape. The Joker's painting skill was uncanny and very realistic, and there were many Robins watching the battle around the screen. His laughter echoed in the cave, still frenzied, but with a joy as if completing a mission.
Just then, there was a slight movement at the entrance. It was a familiar footstep that the Joker could distinguish without turning back—light, leaping, and accompanied by the crisp sound of high heels hitting the ground.
"Is the newspaper office thing settled?" the Joker asked without turning his head.
"Of course it's settled. It only took me ten minutes. Now, it's yours." Harley Quinn flipped in, wearing her signature red and blue Joker outfit.
This female version of the Joker had dual guns in hand, her eyes carrying a bit of a grin.
"Very good."
The Joker still didn't turn back.
He continued painting the "bondage play" scene on Batman's suit collection cabinet.
"Eh? Where's that boy?" Harley Quinn first appreciated the creation covering the wall, then looked around, wanting to find the author who had recently "obsessed" the Joker.
She naturally couldn't find Ian.
In the entire Batcave, there were only her and the Joker.
"Oh, Ian Kent, he went to save his crybaby dad," the Joker replied casually. The spray paint in his hand didn't stop; he was adding one hundred and eight shiny abdominal muscles to the Batman in the comic.
Obviously, as the number one fan, the Joker had updated the image of the Bat-family to the latest version, which was the full-body abdominal muscle version of Thomas Wayne in Ian's movie.
"You actually really let him go to save Superman?" Harley blinked, a bit surprised. "I... I thought you were here to enjoy his pain and lead him toward the darkness."
Upon hearing this.
The Joker's spray paint suddenly stopped.
"You said 'walk out of the darkness,' right?" he said softly, his voice like he was talking to himself. "Sorry... I feel a bit powerless. I feel... he just wants to stay in the darkness."
Harley was directly stunned on the spot. This didn't look like the Joker she knew. The King of Chaos, who took pleasure in destroying hope and took pride in leading others to corruption, was actually showing... hesitation at this moment?
She stared at him, trying to find the familiar frenzy, distortion, or even that spine-chilling pleasure in his expression, but the Joker at this moment was calm to the point of being a stranger.
"Puddin..." Harley Quinn hesitated for a moment but couldn't help asking the confusion in her heart. She felt that the Joker now looked different from the Joker she knew.
"What's wrong with you!"
This was an expression of concern.
In response, the artist Joker didn't answer immediately but put down the spray paint can and lightly tapped his chin with his fingers covered in pigment, as if thinking about a philosophical question.
"Harley." He suddenly spoke, his voice low and steady. "What style do you think I am?"
Harley was caught off guard.
She stammered and thought, trying to use the public's perception of the Joker to answer.
"Uh... madness? Chaos? Liking to see others break down? Using pain to create art?" She counted on her fingers. "For example... driving good people crazy, making heroes fall, making the world become as... happy as you? First give him hope, then crush it with your own hands, let him understand that the world has no meaning, and then he will completely belong to you."
When she said this, Harley Quinn was a bit hesitant, but she still spoke sincerely, telling her understanding of the Joker, which was indeed a bit sharp.
Of course.
It was only a bit.
As one of the Joker's most outstanding works, Harley Quinn could still only rely on guesswork to understand him. The Joker listened quietly, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, but his eyes became deeper and deeper.
"Interesting."
He said softly, then picked up the brush, dipped it in pigment, and walked slowly toward Harley.
Harley didn't dodge, just looked at him curiously.
The Joker stood in front of her, using the brush to lightly apply paint on her cheek, modifying her original Joker makeup. His movements were very light, as if completing a fine painting.
"That won't happen, Harley," he said in a low voice, his voice gentler than his usual self. He used the brush to lightly apply paint on Harley's fair cheek, painting a Joker-style slit-smile that he was more satisfied with over Harley Quinn's original makeup. "You are a very talented person... but that's all."
Harley was stunned.
"You won't believe it, Batman won't believe it, no one will believe it..." the Joker continued, the brush lightly outlining the corner of her eye. "But I can see it..."
His face got closer and closer, his breath blowing on Harley's face.
Harley's heartbeat suddenly quickened. She asked in a low voice.
"What... did you see?"
Harley's heart raced, thinking he was going to kiss her—but the Joker's lips didn't fall. He just leaned into her ear and said in a voice that was almost inaudible.
"I see... the Ian Virus is a real existing reality." He said that sentence in a mosquito-like voice, the word that Harley Quinn had repeatedly heard from the Joker's mouth recently.
Ian Virus.
Harley's pupils suddenly contracted.
Originally.
All along, Harley Quinn thought it was just the Joker's banter, but hearing the Joker's voice as if afraid of someone hearing it, she subconsciously wanted to continue asking.
However.
The Joker's hand arrived first, pressed against the woman's lips.
"Hehehehehe~"
The Joker had no intention of explaining. He took a step back, the frenzied smile hanging on his face again, as if the whisper just now had never happened.
He started graffitiing on the wall again.
...
In the starry sky of the universe.
Ian Kent broke through the atmosphere.
He reached out, and two pitch-black biological armors appeared immediately. Ian's legs were bound with Speed Force external legs, and red electric arcs crackled in the vacuum.
That was a gift he got from Barry Allen's Speed Force wife with his own ability. At this moment, it was forcibly bound to the mimetic armor by him, once again turning into a speed booster.
"Start!"
In the next instant, he turned into a super-luminal meteor piercing through the galaxy. Space twisted in front of him, time stretched behind him, and stardust exploded like fireworks.
His figure was like a stream of light tearing through the galaxy, trailing a long energy wake behind him, his speed truly as fast as the Flash. The asteroid belt he passed through was shaken into powder by the shockwave.
"Old man, you must not die... If you die, I don't dare to go to heaven to fish for people right now. I can only take Mom to remarry Uncle Clark in the parallel universe next door."
"I can't protect paternal love, but I must protect my mother's exclusivity. That wouldn't waste my reputation as a filial son."
Ian was muttering in a low voice. It wasn't that he was truly a very filial son, but he believed that as long as his muttering could be heard by his old man, it could stimulate his father's infinite fighting spirit.
At the very least, he could surely hold out for a bit longer. In the pitch-black universe, stars were like dust, and Ian's goal—Mars—had now turned into a dark red disc in his field of vision.
The rust-red surface of Mars was already clearly visible. However—approaching Mars orbit, a sudden change occurred. In the depths of the starry sky, densely packed light spots emerged.
Those weren't any alien fireflies, but one familiar figure after another.
Clone Supermen.
Thousands upon thousands of them, like a swarm of locusts covering the sky. They wore uniform black battle suits, their eyes were hollow and lifeless, their faces stiff, having no soul but only cold instructions.
Exterminate the Justice League members who came to rescue.
"Go back! Wait for the result of the holy duel!"
This was the voice of the Injustice Superman, even more devoid of human touch than the last time they met. His words echoed in Ian's ears, and all the Clone Supermen surrounded Ian.
These clones floated in the starry sky, their muscle lines as perfect as killing machines produced on an assembly line. The incomplete "S" mark on their chests was like a scar after being violently torn.
"Technology and hard work, get out of my face!"
Ian didn't slow down but instead accelerated into the clone army.
In an instant.
He ignited his blood.
His whole body burned with pitch-black flames.
[Incinerating World Pulse: For every 1% of your own blood ignited, the attack carries annihilation damage equal to your maximum health. When stacked to 100 layers, you can choose to release "Final Tremor Blast."]
Directly dealing damage equal to 200% of your lost health to all enemies within range—your burning blood is the abyss of all things, the prologue firework for you to open the eternal doomsday.
Flames with annihilation damage ignited from Ian's fist, and energy ripples of a "colorful black" color spread out like waves. The nearest clone had just raised its arm when Ian's fist had already punched through its head—at the moment the first drop of blood boiled in the blood vessel, Ian's fist had already pierced through the head of the nearest clone.
This power was indeed huge. What burst out from between his fingers was not blood, but pitch-black annihilation fire. The brain matter of that Kryptonian replica was burned into nothingness before it could even splash.
It wasn't shattering, but annihilation. That head, along with everything above the neck, instantly turned into nothingness, as if it had never existed. A black "Annihilation Mark" appeared behind Ian. His skin was covered with black veins spreading like living snakes, and every heartbeat pumped out a wisp of annihilation power.
"Bang!"
The temple of the second clone caved in, and black fire overflowed from the skull cracks.
[Annihilation layer +1]
Ian's figure turned into a bloody shadow in the frenzy of Clone Supermen.
Every punch accurately hit the crown of the head.
The third clone tried to intercept with heat vision but was punched into the eye socket—when the eyeball exploded in the cranial cavity, pitch-black tongues of fire gushed out from the seven orifices.
"Too slow! Even worse than the degraded superheroes of the Zombie Universe!" He spun and kicked the jaw of the fourth clone to pieces, then grabbed the head of the fifth and slammed it against his knee.
"Even with human wave tactics, this shouldn't be able to defeat my old man!"
One after another.
Every punch that fell was accompanied by the complete disappearance of a clone and the stacking of that black mark behind Ian. His fists were no longer flesh and blood but two hammers of annihilation. Every swing tore through space, leaving black cracks. Clones fell like straw, yet they came one after another, fearless and undying.
For every clone Ian killed, the layers of "Incinerating World Pulse" stacked by one.
[Annihilation layer +17]
Tens of thousands of clones rose from the surface of Mars, their black capes forming a curtain that obscured the sky. The black fire burning on Ian's fists drew scorched marks in the vacuum of the universe.
His blood was burning, and his life was draining, but for every 1% loss of life, his attack stacked one more portion of annihilation power, and the Berserker's "Reverse Blood Furnace" power was also triggering.
The weaker he became.
The stronger he was.
This was definitely not as simple as 1+1=2.
Cracks began to appear on Ian's body, and black energy overflowed from the gaps in his skin, but he didn't care. Pain? That was just the temperature of the fuel.
Power and momentum were rising explosively.
A clone attacked from behind, punching toward his spine.
"Berserker experience +13"
Ian's spine was attacked, triggering the upgrade mechanism. Unfortunately, it didn't break, so there wasn't much experience, but with the help of the self-healing ability, he regained his mobility in the blink of an eye.
[Undying's Wrath: When you receive any form of damage, you recover 1% of your maximum health per second, which can heal all injuries including fatal ones.]
The heavier the injury, the faster the recovery. When health is below 10%, you will receive a moment of instantaneous repair from rebirth in flames. The celebration of life will continue until all your energy is exhausted.
Death? That has always been a luxury for you.
None of them were instantaneous fatal injuries. For Ian, there was no need to care at all. He didn't even trigger the instantaneous repair of rebirth in flames, charging toward the direction of Mars.
Without turning back, Ian reached out and grabbed the opponent's head, giving it a fierce twist—the head and upper body of the clone that wanted to hit his kidney after hitting his spine instantly turned to ashes and dissipated.
"Crack!"
When the ninety-ninth head was crushed in his palm, Ian's skin was already covered with web-like black patterns. The blood vessels throbbed violently under the skin, and every heartbeat made the clones within a thousand meters tremble collectively.
A clone attempted to ambush Ian with a Green Kryptonite weapon. Ian didn't dodge or avoid it, letting the green light shatter against his chest, then grabbed a handful of shards and stuffed them into the ambusher's mouth.
As an idealistic second-generation Kryptonian.
It was reasonable for him to have "overcome" the fear and weakness of Kryptonite.
[Annihilation layer +1]
Just as the last layer of annihilation was collected, Ian suddenly became still. The prologue firework of the eternal doomsday arrived. In an instant, the 100 layers of annihilation power accumulated in his body, along with 99% of his burning blood, all erupted! Centered on Ian, a circle of black pulse waves spread out silently.
It wasn't an explosion.
But a burst of annihilation.
All clones froze simultaneously, their hollow eye sockets reflecting a terrifying scene—that blood-stained figure slowly opened its arms and released an incredibly terrifying pulse.
"Final——"
100% of the blood boiled at this moment.
The moment the blood vessels burst, billions of black pulses erupted from Ian's body. That wasn't light, but the materialized "non-existence," an abyss that could even etch the vacuum.
"Tremor Blast!!!"
A black torrent swept through the entire star field.
Piercing through all the clones in a large area of the starry sky.
"Boom——!!!"
The entire Mars orbit seemed to be seized by an invisible giant hand and crushed fiercely.
Sunlight and starlight were also being swallowed, and the clone army melted away like an avalanche. That scene was as if the universe itself was being ignited and burned away by Ian's blood.
The torrent swept through the star sea.
When the black tide receded, the starry sky was as clean as a pencil drawing wiped by an eraser.
Only a few clones floated at a safe distance, their biological instincts frantically alarming—yet they saw Ian reconstructing his body from the void, his burning pupils locking onto the final target.
"Now."
Black ripples spread beneath his feet.
"The trash is cleaned up."
Ian dived toward Mars. The few remaining clones weren't afraid to die and wanted to block him, but Ian took out the Gungnir and directly skewered them into a living kebab.
"This kind of low-quality replica can only fight Wonder Woman at most. So, is it the Injustice Superman who brought them back again, wanting to replace my old man?"
"This guy went to another universe to level up and came back to fight the boss? And almost succeeded?" Ian carried worry as he dived toward the Martian atmosphere.
His right fist was filled with the lingering power of the Incinerating World Pulse, but just as he was about to break through, he slammed into an invisible barrier.
"Boom——!"
Golden and pitch-black energy ripples exploded in the void. He was like a baseball hit by a bat, flying backward and smashing through a dozen floating clone wrecks before barely stabilizing himself.
"What the hell is this?"
Ian shook his numbed arm and scanned the entire planet. The visual feedback made his pupils shrink—the exterior of Mars was wrapped in layers of things like chains.
It looked like magic.
But with some differences.
Those invisible, untouchable chains throbbed like blood vessels, and every contraction caused a slight space collapse, as if the entire Mars was locked down, forbidding any life from entering.
"Damn! What the hell is this again!"
Ian tried three more times.
None succeeded.
Even the ultimate move "Writing the World" was hard to start—this was a manifestation of insufficient writing power, thus unable to perform reality modification, even with the enhancement of the magic book.
While Ian was sweating profusely.
"Pointless."
The voice of the Injustice Superman suddenly sounded. That voice sounded like a dozen vocal tracks overlaid together, having both Clark's richness and some non-human electronic noise mixed in.
Besides that, another abnormal movement appeared on Phobos. On the first moon of Mars, in the shadow of Phobos, the familiar sound of metal friction suddenly came.
"Ka... lo..."
That was the sound of the joints of the Hellbat Armor operating.
Ian, who participated in building the armor, would naturally not fail to recognize it.
"Hmm? The battlefield is over there?"
Ian turned his head sharply, his vision piercing through the dust, and locked eyes with a pair of blood-red eyes.
Injustice Superman.
This blackened version of himself floated silently on the surface of Phobos. The black cape wriggled like a living creature, and his exposed skin was covered with demon runes, each flickering with a faint light like a dark god's whisper.
And under his boots—that figure was struggling.
"Uh... lift your foot? You're blocking my eye contact with my Uncle Batman." Ian floated closer and pointed to his feet. The blackened Superman was stepping on Batman's head with one foot. Most of the mask of the Hellbat Armor had shattered, Bruce's chin was crushed into the rock by the combat boot, and his only intact left hand was still stubbornly clawing at the demon runes on the Injustice Superman's ankle.
Batman was looking unkempt.
Instead, he was trying to shave the Injustice Superman's leg hair with a nano-blade?
Ian felt that his brain was probably broken from the beating.
Facing Ian's request, the Injustice Superman remained unmoved. Instead, a few electronic sounds were squeezed out of Batman's deformed mouth. "Don't worry about me!"
"Go find your father! He's with..." Before Batman could finish his words, the Injustice Superman stepped on his mouth. If the mouth opened even a little, it would lick the bottom of the Injustice Superman's shoe.
"Got it!"
Ian turned and flew away.
The roar of the Hellbat Armor's overload came from behind.
"You... at least hesitate for a second..." Bruce thought gnashing his teeth in his heart. He was still trying to scrape off those weird runes on the Injustice Superman's leg.
Yes.
Not shaving leg hair.
But scraping off those weird runes.
The misunderstanding from Ian's perspective was just like this.
"Stay."
The Injustice Superman said concisely. Seeing Ian about to fly away, he immediately looked up and released heat vision to intercept Ian, which was exceptionally turbulent. Two heat visions hotter than the sun's core streaked through the air, their trajectory strangely like a venomous snake controlled by an invisible hand, drawing a tricky arc in the air straight for the back of Ian's heart!
"Holy shit?! Heat vision with auto-tracking? Cornering assist? Adaptive cruise? This 360-degree turn—damn! Does it still follow science!" Ian braked hard in mid-air and rolled sideways clumsily. The vision grazed his cape and burned two scorched space-time folds in the vacuum.
"You're freaking cheating too! Cheater!"
Ian was exasperated.
The Injustice Superman didn't answer. The demon runes wriggled under his skin, pumping more energy into his eyes like living things. The next wave of heat vision split into dozens.
Like a scarlet net covering Ian!
"Is there no end to this!"
Ian was completely enraged. The black fire of the Incinerating World Pulse exploded from his fist, smashing the incoming vision net. The remaining fist wind hit the Injustice Superman's face, distorting that cold face.
"Bang!"
Two Superman-like cannonballs crashed into the rock layer of Phobos. In the dust cloud raised by the shockwave, two figures could be seen fighting frantically at a speed hard to distinguish with the naked eye.
"Destroy the runes on this person's body; those are the shackles suppressing emotions!" Batman took the opportunity to crawl into the distance, ignoring the prompt in his ear telling him he could be saved if he praised Ian.
He was also a stubborn one.
Ian was about to act.
"Damn it!"
The Injustice Superman, who was said to have no emotions, suddenly had some feelings.
And at this very instant.
The entire solar system seemed to stand still for a thousandth of a second.
Then——
"Boom rumble rumble rumble!!!"
Mars exploded.
The rust-red surface of Mars shattered without warning! An indescribable, terrifying energy erupted from the planet's core. The entire planet shattered like glass, expanded, and then—exploded!
A nebula of dust and fire instantly swept through the entire orbit.
As if it were to affect the entire Milky Way.
At the center of that destruction.
Two golden figures were faintly visible.
"Idealistic Superman fighting Idealistic Superman!"
Ian's eyes were about to be blinded, but that didn't stop his mouth from letting out a cry of surprise.