SUP Chapter 21: Where’s My Giant Evil Spirit?

The strategist entered the game with money.

He wanted Ian to serve as his “advisor” on tax matters.

However, at this suggestion, Ian warily shook his head.

“Then I’d just be your accomplice!” He was a true law-abiding citizen, not one to stop crimes but absolutely unwilling to become an accomplice in any form.

What a joke!

He was Ian!

Ian Kent!

The son of Superman could never collude with criminals! That was his line of thinking, and in Ian’s view, it didn’t contradict his demand for a refund only.

A refund only.

The ones losing out were just the insurance companies, the epitome of vile capitalism! It was like delivering justice for the toiling masses! In this light, it quietly aligned with his dad’s superhero spirit in some way.

A perfectly closed logical loop.

Ian refused decisively.

“Calculate it quick, you damn kid!” The black robber clearly couldn’t guess Ian’s thoughts, waving his tightly gripped pistol, threatening Ian again.

“Knowledge shouldn’t be used like this.”

As Ian continued shaking his head.

“Beep beep beep Beep beep beep”

Suddenly, police sirens blared outside the store.

Clearly, a police car was approaching.

“?????”

The black robber was instantly startled, glaring furiously at Ian, “It’s you! You called the cops, didn’t you! You’ve been stalling me all along!”

“I already agreed to give you a refund, and you still set me up!?” The robber acted as if he were the victim, his grievance and rage reaching a peak.

You’d think he’d suffered some heinous betrayal.

“Huh?”

Ian was stunned for a moment.

“I didn’t!”

He was telling the truth.

“Didn’t? If it wasn’t you, then who!” the robber stared silently at Ian for a moment, then both turned to the cashier, who swiftly reacted, grabbing the cash register and smashing it at the robber.

The robber was knocked to the ground, his biubiubiu dropping as well. The cashier quickly vaulted over, kicking the pistol under the shelves.

And that wasn’t all.

He kept stomping fiercely on the robber’s head, even after the robber passed out, only stopping when Ian hurriedly stepped in to prevent a robbery from turning into a murder.

“He’s really about to be kicked to death.” Ian crouched to check the robber’s breathing, confirming he’d earned himself a +1 in merit, then looked at the trembling cashier leaning nearby.

“Is that excitement or fear?”

Ian pondered thoughtfully.

“Phew~”

The cashier let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Of course it’s fear! That was so dangerous, we almost died.” He began marveling at how good it felt to be alive, his face full of post-ordeal relief.

“Uh.”

Ian glanced quietly at the unconscious robber, “Actually, you wouldn’t have died, not even close… Didn’t you notice his gun was fake?”

Yes.

The reason Ian had gone in and out three times.

Was because he’d noticed this detail that absolutely guaranteed his safety.

“?????”

The cashier froze, clearly just learning this.

“You could tell? No way!” Skeptical, the cashier ran to the shelves, got down on the floor, and pulled the gun out from under them.

After a quick check.

“Hiss, you’re right! It’s a fake gun! The craftsmanship is so good, it feels more expensive than a real one!” The cashier turned to Ian in utter amazement.

“Your family sells guns or something? How’d you spot that?” The cashier asked curiously, perhaps the only explanation he could think of.

“Hm? Isn’t this just a basic life skill in Metropolis?” Ian replied with a surprised look, his tone so matter-of-fact it left the cashier speechless.

Goddamn basic life skill.

What normal person learns this stuff!

Not like we’re in the city next door!

“…”

The atmosphere grew awkward, the two staring at each other for a full minute. Ian thought it over, then returned the thirty dollars and forty-five cents he’d pocketed.

Honest conduct.

Ian had his principles when it came to taking advantage. Since the robber was down, his perfect three-way-win plan clearly had no ground to stand on.

“Keep it, you.”

But the cashier didn’t take it. He walked back to the register, bundled the organized money, and put it in a safe.

“My name’s Tate Langdon.” Perhaps because they’d faced a robbery together, the cashier introduced himself, feeling a bond of shared hardship with Ian.

“Hi, Tate.”

Ian was polite but didn’t introduce himself. Tate didn’t seem to mind, grabbing a few packs of high-end “family planning” items from the shelf.

“This store’s actually my dad’s.” He first explained why he fought back, then clarified what he was doing.

“You were right earlier, my dad does have insurance.” After a brief hesitation, the cashier grabbed a few packs of Camel cigarettes, the American equivalent of China’s Zhonghua.

“…”

Ian looked around, found no cameras, and realized what the guy was up to.

Embezzlement!

The seemingly honest glasses-wearing guy wasn’t honest at all! He was definitely planning to pin it on the “taken-down” robber! Sigh! In Metropolis, Ian was still a pure lotus flower! This robbery didn’t yield a three-way win, just a two-way one, rewriting a world where only the robber was wronged!

“Impressive!”

Ian was thoroughly shocked, gaining a new understanding of Metropolis’s daily life. He even started doubting whether the store owner was really the cashier’s dad.

“People inside! Hands up!”

The sirens had been blaring forever, the robber was practically catching a cold on the floor, and only now did the police finally show up. This wasn’t Ian’s first encounter with after-the-fact cops.

Say what you will.

They seemed to have a superpower for predicting when things were over.

“We’re the victims! We need blankets!” The cashier raised his hands, calling out to the armed police entering, having already hidden plenty of “stolen goods.”

He seemed far more experienced at handling robberies than Ian had imagined.

“I’m traumatized, I need a ride home!” Ian, quick to adapt, raised his hands too, seizing the chance to score free transport back home.

…

Normally, police don’t play the good guy. But under the charm of Ian’s “reasonable looks” attribute, he ultimately got a kind female officer’s help.

The police car stopped at his doorstep.

“Thanks.”

Ian bid farewell to the female officer, who’d suggested multiple times along the way that he try his luck in Hollywood. He patted his pocket, his assets now a dollar more than before he’d bought food.

Yes, the cashier had refunded Ian thirty dollars and forty-five cents, but he’d forgotten he’d already given Ian a dollar in change after the purchase.

Ian’s actual spending was only $29.45. What can you say, it proved the cashier might have some smarts, but his math skills were clearly at the American average.

“It’s like someone paid a dollar for me to eat a ton of pre-made food!” Ian’s logic was self-consistent again. He stared at his nearby front door, hesitating slightly. Not because he hadn’t figured out how to explain coming home so late, but because he was unsure whether to bring the evil spirit into his house.

It wasn’t just risky, it’d be bad if his Superman dad found out. Mainly, Ian hadn’t fully thought through how to explain bringing an evil spirit home.

Should he go with a classic hero script, claiming his natural talent led him to stumble into a mysterious mage temple, where the [Supreme Mage Wang Defa] took him as a disciple, or a naive script where he thought he’d picked up a “magic lamp”? Either way, both screamed plagiarism.

“Where’s my writing talent! Get moving, come up with a plausible origin story!” Ian racked his brain, believing he could hide his changes for a day but not forever.

As for whether to confess the truth, Ian had thought it over carefully. Compared to admitting he was a transmigrator with a system.

He felt his “origin story” should stick to the current version.

“Still, I could snitch about being scammed by Constantine’s buddy…” Ian mused, pulling out the thermos Charles had used to hit him.

The thermos’s dented surface was proof of Ian’s iron head.

“My head’s still faintly aching, and this evil spirit’s pretty annoying too… Wait, what’s going on!” Ian had meant to shake the thermos to vent at the spirit inside, but he suddenly noticed the thermos seemed to have lost its power. Not only had the inscriptions become blurry.

The evil spirit inside was gone!

“Where’s my giant evil spirit!? It escaped?” Ian was stunned, pressing his eye to the glass to peer inside, but the thermos was truly empty.

A trick by the spirit?

Or did it really escape?

As Ian puzzled endlessly.

“Hm?”

He noticed, to his surprise, his chest was flickering.

He didn’t know how long it had been flickering.

Ian hurriedly pulled out the object under his shirt: the pendant Madison had given him, now emitting a pitch-black glow.

Very similar to the color of the evil spirit’s body.

[NEXT CHAPTER]