SUP Chapter 106: New Class Obtained! Superman Awakens! (Part One)

DC Universe.

[Leader LV1 (1/10)]

Along with a new ordinary profession quietly appearing on his personal panel.

Ian lifted his head from "Ian's Genesis God Book," his expression joyful. He had personally verified it, so there was no need to ask something like the American version of Zhihu, Quora.

There was no need to ask God OAA either.

This super bootlicker demon book indeed had the power to create something from nothing. Golden light flowed like living creatures between the pages, and rows of patterns and symbols that didn't belong to any known writing system had already appeared on them.

"Perhaps it should be called Ian Script," Ian knew that angels had their angelic language, and demons had their demonic language, so naturally he should have his own language too.

Mages from various worlds were all worth learning Ian Script.

After all, Ian had indeed created his own unique magical system.

He had even just laid the foundation stone of his own system, though due to insufficient magical power, this newborn magical source only managed to attempt experimental magical creation.

[Four-Dimensional Appendix Modification Technique]

Never mind how ridiculous this spell's name sounded, but being able to transform the useless appendix into a practical wallet, anyone who truly understood magic should realize how cool this spell was.

"And it's very practical too," Ian knew the safest place was inside one's own body. What anti-theft measure in the world could be safer than storing all your wealth inside your own body?

You had to know, not everyone in this world had a Fortress of Solitude like him.

Ian still had to consider more for his future "believers." He didn't want others to think he was the kind of high-and-mighty Lord Ian with a "let them eat meat" mentality.

Getting deep into the grassroots.

Considering the hardships of mages.

This was the true Lord Ian.

"I believe the believers will feel my goodwill," Ian felt very good about himself. He already had the virtues a superior should have, with his mind full of creative ideas for the "people."

However, those creative ideas couldn't be implemented yet.

How to put this feeling? It was like a newly enthroned emperor with grand ambitions, the lack of magical power was the most important factor limiting his performance.

"Damn it, my super brain is clearly nurturing many magical spells," Ian's current feeling was like having his brain juice sucked out with a straw.

Inside his skull, it was as dry as a sponge that had been sun-dried for three days.

He had that waterlogged brain feeling of magical power fullness, but now it had become the empty feeling of a dehydrated brain. This was probably a manifestation of excessive magical power consumption.

Using the demon book relied heavily on magical power.

No wonder the previous Hell Prince performed like a weakling.

"Mature magic books should know to provide magical power for their masters," Ian's PUA was everywhere, but the book on the desktop only grew a small mouth on its cover.

Making aggrieved "ying ying ying" sounds.

"All you know is crying, you'll never get to eat three demons in this lifetime," Ian sighed helplessly. At this moment, the demon head placed in the cabinet seemed to sense the keywords and opened its eyes.

"If it won't eat, I will."

This guy had already tasted the beauty of getting something for nothing.

True depravity was nothing more than this.

"Fine, wait. Tonight I'll use my poop to make you some egg tarts... Grass, you think I'm rewarding you?" Ian grabbed a black cloth and directly covered the demon's expectant face.

He almost forgot, biologically speaking, dogs weren't the only ones with "coprophagic behavior."

Cows were the same.

"Looks like I'm the only normal one in this room," Ian was slightly unwilling, but he could only take the long view. Accumulating magical power wasn't something that could be completed overnight.

Fortunately, he had already anchored himself as another form of capitalist.

How much magical power Ian could have.

All depended on how hard his believers worked.

The growth of the Ian Divine Cult would undoubtedly be rapid, this was beyond doubt. After all, he had just created his own magical system and already had a guinea pig who couldn't wait to become his believer.

This was proof of a bright future.

"I wonder who this lucky person will be, to have such sharp investment vision," Ian had guesses in his heart, but he wouldn't say them, because not saying meant he would never guess wrong.

The flexible application of equations and inequalities was just this simple and unpretentious.

[You are creating, Writer experience +1]

[You are creating, Writer experience +1]

[You are creating, Writer experience +1] ...

Magical power actually wasn't consumed, but rather its activity was used up and needed time to recover. So taking advantage of this time, Ian also began simultaneous creation of literature and comics.

His two hands were reasonably divided in labor, one hand drawing comics, one hand writing novels. This was the benefit of having a super brain. Ian felt he would eventually be able to develop the ability to use hands and feet together.

When that time came, music, chess, calligraphy, and painting could all be done simultaneously. As for growing a few extra hands, that wasn't under consideration. Normal people should only have two hands and two feet.

"So hungry."

Ian's creative inspiration coexisted with hunger. His stomach had already made many loud "gurgling" sounds, but he knew that if he wanted to complete his class change, he couldn't even bite his pen cap.

Being careful and cautious was never wrong.

Ian believed in his willpower.

But he didn't trust his hungry mouth. Respecting the thoughts of various body parts too much, this was the consequence of being spoiled. Ian frantically used writing and drawing to divert his attention.

The pen was really smoking from being wielded so much and just as he was immersed in creation.

"Ring ring ring~"

Ian's black phone rang.

"Hello, this is Ian."

Ian simultaneously stopped writing for a mid-field rest. He answered the phone. The caller ID showed nothing, but he remembered it was his old man's phone number. Perhaps Batman had informed his father about this phone's information.

"Ian, remember to go see the psychologist at three o'clock sharp this afternoon. For the sake of your studies, Dr. Hannibal specially made time for you on the weekend," Clark's voice came through the phone. The background noise was the characteristic bustle of a newspaper office, with keyboard typing and paper rustling sounds rising and falling.

"What about the patient who was originally supposed to have weekend treatment?" Ian clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder. He remembered that his psychologist had always been in an overbooked state.

"Apparently he fell in love and no longer needs to see a psychologist," Clark was working while talking on the phone, and seemed to suspiciously use some super speed for cheating.

Hearing this, Ian's eyes narrowed.

"Did that patient fall in love with star anise, or fall in love with bay leaves?" Ian continued probing his father, but Clark seemed only confused by his words.

"What are you talking about?"

Clark would rather suspect his hearing or the phone was malfunctioning than doubt Dr. Hannibal. This performance was somewhat unexpected to Ian.

"Nothing, I just feel like Dr. Hannibal has the aura of someone whose cooking would taste very good," Ian responded thoughtfully. He didn't believe Clark hadn't done a background check on Hannibal.

Therefore, for this situation to occur.

There must be something fishy behind it.

As for telling his old man directly?

Laughable.

In the superhero track, even between father and son, there was still competition. The merit belonged to Lord Ian. Tonight he wanted to see his ancestor make the front page news.

Clark didn't notice Ian's little schemes.

"Anyway, remember to go."

Clark continued, with the sound of a broken printer in the background, "Have Jordan accompany you. I need to interview a real estate tycoon this afternoon."

"I'll fix your workshop when I come back tonight, don't tell your mom, she'll be back even later." He instructed Ian while repairing the printer.

"Where's Mom?" Ian perked up his ears to listen to the movement in the next room, understanding the situation. He didn't think his second brother, who had been tired for half the day, would still have the energy to accompany him to see the doctor.

"Your mom is going to interview astronauts. NASA seems to have discovered aliens, she's very excited," Clark spoke while seemingly repairing the printer.

"..."

Ian opened his mouth.

He didn't quite understand why his mom was so interested in aliens.

There were clearly some at home and not just one.

"Remember, come straight home after seeing the doctor, don't wander around," Clark warned somewhat vigilantly. Only after getting Ian's definite promise did he hang up the phone.

"The one who made the promise was Ian, it has nothing to do with me, Ancestor," Ian grabbed his stockings, looked at the time, and prepared to drive his little car out to level up on the way.

Twelve noon.

There was still quite some time until three o'clock.

Metropolis should welcome a new hero guardian, otherwise, with Clark only in his forties, when would Ian have to wait to become Metropolis's new sky?

Thirty-year crown princes were common but Ian, a reserve superhero who had been preparing for twelve and a half years, didn't want to be one at all.

He had rebellious bones.

The kind that had to rebel now!

"Perhaps the people's adoration could also help me grow," Ian certainly wasn't going through a rebellious phase. His rebellious bones only appeared when there was profit to be made.

[Leader LV1 (1/10)]

Mainly it was the appearance of this new profession that gave Ian a tiny bit of an idea. Who said people from the DC Universe had to suffer discrimination and couldn't become Lord Ian's believers?

What the Marvel Universe had.

Ian wouldn't allow the DC Universe to lack! Even if Jesus came... Jesus better not come. With unfledged wings, Ian didn't want to be labeled as a heretical god spreading alternative doctrines.

He just wanted to find some excellent Pals to cultivate magical power for him. Of course he wasn't wrong, but secular views would always be influenced by various factors.

For example, Ian looked at his demon collection and demon book.

"It's all your fault for making me look like an evil god," Ian demonstrated his exceptionally excellent scapegoating skills again under the somewhat bewildered gazes of the demon head and demon book.

"Aren't you an evil..."

Just as the demon head opened its mouth, wanting to speak but stopping.

"Ding dong~"

The doorbell rang from downstairs.

Ian didn't bother Jordan and chose to go downstairs and open the door himself.

He was eager and hopeful, hoping it was a super villain coming to abduct children. However, he discovered it was a man in an expensive suit outside. This kind of man wouldn't reveal his true nature without sending out demons to bewitch and seduce him.

"Who are you looking for?"

Ian slightly regretted not hanging the demon head on his butt.

"Oh, so someone is home. I thought everyone had gone out," A well-dressed middle-aged man stood outside the door, his hair meticulously combed and a confident smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Richard Castle."

The man introduced himself, even flirtatiously raising an eyebrow, "I'm a bestselling mystery novelist, a regular on the New York Times bestseller list, hailed as one of the most charming men of our time."

"If you're a fashionable boy, then you must have read my works," Castle held a bunch of things in his hands, all seemingly high-end but useless detective props.

"Oh, it's you, that fool on the plane..." Ian's upbringing made him swallow back his moment of realization, "So it's the famous bestselling author!"

He switched to flattering words.

"That's right, it's me. Want an autograph?"

Castle really thought Ian was a fan of his readers.

He obviously didn't recognize Ian as that boy who drove the sports car. Since Ian's Hellcat was covered with quilts, this writer hadn't had time to explore Ian's small courtyard out of curiosity.

"No thanks," Ian wasn't interested in mystery novels, and besides, even "Holmes" had become his believer. How could he lower himself to collect other people's autographs?

That would be disrespectful to his believers!

Wait.

He seemed to have secretly said that guess in his heart that he would absolutely never say out loud. Still not cautious enough. Fortunately, no one could hear his thoughts.

Ian patted his steel chest in relief.

Castle looked at him strangely but didn't comment further. He took out a letter from his suit, "I found this place based on some scattered clues."

"Someone wants me to meet a certain mysterious author," Castle looked at Ian, "I think the person who stole my new book's promotional resources is you... your father."

His gaze shifted to the inner room behind Ian.

"I get it, you're someone Mr. Wayne sent to learn, you must have lost him quite a bit of money," Ian suddenly understood, realizing the visitor was a bragging rookie author.

He often bragged too.

He understood this feeling.

Ian revealed a knowing look.

Castle touched his nose.

He felt Ian's gaze made him feel like he was sunbathing.

"Actually, your colored contacts look really nice... In fact, I think he wants me to mentor an author. Did I guess wrong? Not your father, but your mother?"

Castle first stared at Ian's eyes for a moment, then tactfully corrected Ian's incorrect statement. He couldn't very well feel angry because of a child's misunderstanding.

Castle was a mystery novelist.

After eliminating several possibilities, he also understood that the person in front of him was the author someone wanted him to mentor and guide. A teenage child indeed needed a sufficiently excellent mentor.

Castle felt narcissistic in his heart.

"That's just what he wants you to think. You don't understand Mr. Wayne's wisdom," Ian invited Castle into the house and even poured him a cup of yesterday's old tea.

He had always been well-mannered.

"Um... Earth Exploration Publishing is indeed a publishing house under Wayne Group... Wait, you mean the person who commissioned me to come here is Bruce Wayne?"

"The Bruce Wayne everyone knows? He's your family's relative!?" Castle, who had taken a sip of tea, seemed to finally realize this belatedly, his eyes widening.

Seeing Ian nod, he had the feeling that he would never get his promotional resources back in this lifetime.

"Actually not a relative, but my dad owes him some money, while he owes my dad several lives," Ian solemnly corrected Castle's statement. He was sizing up this writing apprentice that Bruce Wayne had sent over, wondering if there was also an opportunity to make him a member of his Ian Divine Cult.

Was there such a character in the DC Universe?

Ian couldn't be sure.

"Isn't this an even closer relationship than relatives..." Castle's intelligence might not be low. He figured out the character relationships and immediately felt the extraordinary nature of this family.

Owing so many favors.

No wonder they would have someone come to mentor their family's child in writing.

"Do you like writing very much?"

Castle asked tentatively.

"I don't like writing very much, I'm very good at writing... eat something," Ian enthusiastically started making lunch for Castle. He had to endure hunger but he could let others eat their fill.

This was Lord Ian's magnanimity.

"You don't need to be so polite."

Castle, who had sat down in the living room, quickly waved his hands.

"No, this is etiquette," Ian's voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the clashing sounds of pots and pans. He directly boiled a large pot of water in the kitchen.

"Alright then, thanks. I actually haven't had lunch yet either. Do you need me to help?"

Castle thought perhaps people in Metropolis were all this hospitable.

He didn't want to refuse the child's kindness.

"My cooking skills are very good, trust me, I've read many cookbooks," Ian drove Castle out of the kitchen and even closed the door. Then he began putting all the parts he didn't like from the ingredients his mom had stockpiled in the refrigerator into one pot, which was all the broccoli, and that evil imported kangaroo meat.

As long as Castle ate it all, he wouldn't have to eat it. Ian's abacus was rattling loudly. American household stoves all had very low firepower, so Ian decided to let the family's kitchen utensils taste something good.

Looking back, the boy's eyes burst with golden light.

When the radiance gushed out from within, Ian reduced the power of the rays somewhat. For some reason the color didn't change, only the brightness decreased but Castle outside the kitchen door still sensed something abnormal.

"Is something burning?"

Castle saw eerie golden light leaking through the kitchen door cracks.

He became somewhat uneasy.

The scene of his own daughter stubbornly trying to cook for him began to surface.

"No, I'm making Chinese Master Chef cuisine, glowing is normal," Ian's calm answer was reasonable, but Castle became even more anxious.

His rich imagination made him start considering whether Ian was playing with alchemy inside.

"Damn! I should have done more detailed background checks," This was a world where supernatural phenomena truly existed, so Castle's suspicion that he had entered some evil wizard's lair was also reasonable. After all, he was a writer with sufficient imagination who had always been interested in the supernatural.

"Actually I'm not that hungry."

Castle wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Actually I'm not from your local area. I heard that Metropolis's specialty dishes are very good. I saw quite a few specialty dishes on the [Food Hunter] app."

"This is also a newly launched app from Wayne Group. I'm sure you've heard of it... so, how about we go out to eat? Or using the delivery function on this Food Hunter app would be good too."

"Wayne Group is integrating the national delivery industry, the delivery speed is really fast," Castle attempted to use somewhat unnatural, even problematic language organization to stop Ian's cooking.

His long speech only earned Ian's silence.

"..."

The golden light in the kitchen suddenly shook violently twice.

No one spoke.

"Um, are you still there?"

Castle carefully knocked on the door.

He suspected the boy had poisoned himself to death in the kitchen.

"Here, I've always been here~"

Ian's voice was very calm, however, separated by just a door, his expression had already become gradually twisted, his whole person as stiff as if struck by lightning.

This familiar app.

Cunning Batman!

Despicable Bruce!

That man was indeed a qualified capitalist!

The kind who should be hung from streetlamps for an extra dozen days!

"Is this the difference between a super capitalist and an ordinary capitalist like me," Ian understood. He felt he was about to turn dark. Tonight he was going to put Batman on gay dating websites overnight.

Post him a thousand times!

He would use New Tony Teacher's black technology box to lock Batman's information onto dating websites worldwide! The entire kitchen seemed to be filled with Ian's deep resentment.

Castle outside the door was completely unaware.

"Really won't try the new delivery service?"

He was still trying to persuade Ian.

"Wayne Company plagiarized a sage's creativity. I don't eat things they recommend," Ian looked down at the dish that had turned into a black mess due to his emotional fluctuations.

Wasting food was shameful.

This couldn't stump him.

After all, he had really read cookbooks.

"The countermeasure for this situation is very simple..." Ian organized his emotions and began to use a little trick, taking out several curry blocks and dumping them into the pot.

Thus, turning decay into magic.

The pitch-black cuisine became perfectly reasonable in appearance.

"Click~"

The kitchen door opened.

"Please enjoy."

When Ian came out carrying the "cuisine," he had already returned to his polite and courteous appearance. Looking at the food on the plate, Castle wasn't horrified but rather surprised.

"My God, this is the most authentic curry I've ever seen!" He exclaimed in admiration, feeling guilty for doubting the boy's cooking skills. He didn't expect the other party to really be an excellent chef.

Castle, full of anticipation, quickly picked up a spoon and took a bite.

The next moment, his joyful expression instantly froze.

His expression changed repeatedly, holding back for a long time.

"It at least looks very authentic."

The excellent writer used truly excellent descriptive words.

"Thank you."

Ian stared at Castle.

"..."

Castle clutched his spoon, not daring to take another bite, as a multimillionaire, he was really afraid of dying here, then having his daughter and old mom inherit his wealth and enjoy a life of extravagant spending in his place.

Quick thinking came into play.

"Gurgle~"

Castle stared at the plate of still slightly bubbling black substance.

His Adam's apple rolled up and down several times. At this moment, this bestselling author suddenly felt that compared to continuing this dangerous lunch, discussing literary creation seemed like a safer choice.

"Um, little guy, how about we talk about your work? I'm very interested in young authors' creations," Castle's way of changing the subject wasn't too abrupt.

After all, this was originally his purpose for coming here.

Hearing this, Ian was first stunned.

"Of course no problem, I've always been happy to share my work and teach those who seek knowledge," Ian's newly written manuscripts also needed someone to appreciate them.

With that, he rushed upstairs like a gust of wind, the wooden stairs creaking "thud thud thud" under his feet.

"Phew~ escaped the fate of death," Castle breathed a long sigh of relief. He knew this was his chance, finally having an opportunity to dispose of that terrible "cuisine."

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