SUP Chapter 76: What Is a Father?

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

Only the faint chirping of crickets from the lawn's green belt outside could be heard.

Ian held the demon's head, staring nervously at the door blocked by the wardrobe. He kept whispering repeatedly in the demon's ear, "Quickly tell him that no living being can resist demonic temptation, that his son put up a heroic resistance but ultimately was defeated by you, this evil demon."

"Emphasize that it was such stubborn resistance that even you admired, but there was no choice since you were too powerful." Ian kept his voice as low as possible, making it sound like the buzzing of mosquitoes.

Even so, he was still extremely nervous, somewhat regretting that he hadn't taught Klingon on the way back. Otherwise, he could have had encrypted conversations with the demon in the language of nerds.

"I..."

The demon's perceptive abilities allowed this demon with only a head remaining to clearly sense how powerful the oppressive force outside was. It didn't dare speak such suicidal words.

It was hesitating. It was just a small demon, which was also why it could serve as a vanguard. Therefore, unlike those great demons, it had no way to stand tall before Superman.

Superman has low magic resistance? The demons who believed this had grass eight hundred meters high growing on their graves!

Just as the minotaur demon was about to resist to the death.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Ian's hammer had struck again.

"Quickly tell my father that facing your temptation, I put up stubborn mental resistance but couldn't hold out. Also, you're not allowed to directly repeat my words anymore."

He also issued a warning.

"This won't work!"

The demon gritted its teeth and put up very stubborn resistance.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The muffled sound on the head was really painful, very painful, with an inexplicable soul-touching agony. The minotaur demon somewhat admired itself for managing to withstand a full eighteen strikes.

Unfortunately, it truly couldn't withstand the nineteenth strike.

Really, the enemy was truly too strong. It completely agreed with this assessment at this moment. With no way to resist, the minotaur demon could only choose to comply.

"Superman! Your son... your son really has strong willpower... but... huh? Kekeke? Demons don't laugh like that. Ouch! I'll laugh! I'll laugh!"

"But, heh, kekekeke, my temptation is very terrifying, very terrifying, very terrifying... I didn't forget my lines! I'm just still building up emotion!"

"My temptation cannot be defied by any living being! I am the most powerful demon in Hell! Look! I spoke very fluently! Very imposingly! I've heard it before! I know how to say it!"

...

The minotaur demon was extremely indignant.

Ian was somewhat cursing in his heart. He was very certain that with such poor acting skills, this demon definitely couldn't make it in politics in the future. At most, it could mix around in Hollywood as a guest actor. And just after the minotaur demon obediently finished its lines, the room once again fell into a silence where even breathing could be heard.

Outside the door.

There was no response.

Ian pricked up his ears with maximum vigilance.

The next moment.

His intuition made him feel a chill down his spine.

"You know I can see and hear you instructing a defective demon, right? And that arrhythmic heartbeat of yours." His father's voice suddenly came from behind him.

Ian spun around abruptly.

He saw his father was trying to squeeze through the not-so-large window of his room. When saying not-so-large, it was only relative to Superman's robust physique.

"Oh no! I forgot to lock the window!" Ian looked at the hammer in his hand with slight panic, having a tiny thought of filial piety and paternal kindness, but ultimately didn't have the courage to charge forward. He stared wide-eyed at Clark, who had completely squeezed into the room, quickly hiding the hammer behind his back and holding his breath, not daring to make a sound.

If Ian was like this.

The demon's head turned completely pale.

"You're right! It's all this little brat instructing me!" Its survival instinct was quite strong as it frantically threw the blame around. As everyone knows, demons' flower language is being good at betrayal.

Regarding this, Clark, who straightened his wrinkled shirt, just coldly glanced at this demon.

"You know the person you're accusing is my son, right?" His words carried some seriousness that made the demon's scalp tingle. For the first time in its life, the demon tasted what it meant to be caught between a rock and a hard place.

Well, it wasn't human to begin with.

Due to the demon's abilities, it could sense Superman's terrifying biological field and horrifying holy soul. The oppressive feeling caused crimson sweat to continuously seep out frantically from the demon's head.

"Sizzle sizzle sizzle~"

After the demon's sweat dripped onto the floor, it corroded small black spots on the wooden flooring. At this moment, it felt an even more surging oppressive force that made its soul tremble.

"You also know this is the floor I paid for, right?" Clark's voice was at least eight octaves lower than usual. Ian could even hear his father grinding his teeth.

The loss of one floor plank.

For a frugal farm boy, this was no ordinary heartache.

"It has nothing to do with me! This really has nothing to do with me!" As they say, no one knows a father like his son. Ian reacted extremely quickly, throwing the demon's head toward Clark like a hot potato.

Clark caught it firmly with one hand, the demon's skull deforming under his grip. However, for the demon, this was far less painful than Ian's wicked hammer strikes.

Facing the fate of possibly being crushed, it ultimately showed some quick wit in desperation.

"If I said I'm not a demon, I'm just a very useful trash can, would you believe me?" The demon's voice was shrill, not daring to look directly into Clark's eyes.

"I'm very valuable! I can be a garbage recycling station, definitely able to earn enough money to compensate for your floor!" It was even starting to steal Ian's ideas.

"??????"

Clark looked at the creature in his hand that called itself a "trash can," then looked at his son's face written with innocence. After his eye twitched a few times, he took a complete set of deep breaths.

Seemingly trying to calm his emotions.

"Tomorrow,"

Clark finally spoke, his voice carrying obvious restraint, "I'll find you a sufficiently safe and reliable large cabinet to store your... strange and peculiar toys."

He clearly paused on the word "toys."

"Huh?"

Ian had expected to receive "fatherly love."

He didn't expect it to actually be real fatherly love instead of Clark taking off his belt on the spot.

"Is this really okay?"

He hadn't quite recovered yet, so his tentative words seemed slightly cautious. To be fair, Ian had thought Clark should have an extremely rigid personality.

"As long as you don't stuff this kind of ghostly thing under mine and your mother's bed, and take appropriate safety measures, then there's no problem." Clark's expression looked extremely helpless.

However, he still nodded at Ian. As someone who had once been an equally special child, Clark perhaps understood better than anyone how to learn to accept a child's uniqueness.

His parents.

Had already set the best example for him in the past.

Now, it was naturally his turn.

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