RNP Page 373
Page 373
Lucifer's mother's aura flickered slightly, as if she were pondering his words.
Ian pressed his advantage, blinked, and said sincerely, "To be honest, I haven't received a single bad review since my debut. How will you know I'm not a better choice if you don't give it a try?"
His expression was so sincere.
He seemed to genuinely believe he was better than Hannibal Lecter, the genius who could seamlessly switch between cannibalism and top-tier psychiatrist, at calming the emotions of a creator goddess. Lucifer's mother's aura flickered; she was clearly not entirely convinced.
"If you're really that good, why did you book that appointment with that... what's-his-name doctor?" Even if Lucifer's mother had something to do with humans, she still looked down on them. After all, humans were the culprits who had caused her to be imprisoned in this place, and she had despised God's most prized creation since the beginning of humankind.
obviously.
The conflicts in the Goddess of Creation's marriage are actually quite similar to those in most human marriages; the cracks arise from one party's failure to understand the other's personal preferences.
“A true master always has the heart of an apprentice.” Ian responded without changing his expression, spreading his hands, his tone relaxed, even carrying a sense of genuine pride.
"How can I know I've surpassed my peers if I don't get to know them?" His confidence was almost supernatural, even stunning Lucifer's mother.
The aura of the Goddess of Creation contracted slightly, as if reassessing the human before her.
“There is something unusual about you… well, very different.” She narrowed her eyes of light above Ian, giving him a meaningful look.
"So, you can appease my anger?" The Goddess of Creation sat back down on the sofa, willing to give Ian a chance because of his special qualities.
after all.
That still very immature power.
This reminded the Goddess of the ages before the birth of the universe. Perhaps this was a trick by God, but the Goddess of Creation felt she needed to think about it further.
Seeing that the goddess had calmed down, Ian immediately got into position, his expression serious: "No, no one can quell your anger; only you can overcome it."
As the boy spoke, he pulled a book from his pocket and pretended to flip through it.
“What are you looking at?”
The goddess's gaze fell on the book.
"That's not important. What's important is you. I only care about your situation." Ian smiled slightly, not even bothering to cover the book title—"The Parenting Bible: How to Deal with a Rebellious Child." Sure enough, just as he expected, Lucifer, the creator goddess, despised humanity and therefore never cared about human writing.
She utterly disdained to understand human writing. She was the first light at the dawn of creation, an omniscient and omnipotent being; how could she possibly concern herself with the things possessed by the very creation she despised? Simply put, because she disdained to understand, the creator goddess was an illiterate being on a level of omniscience and omnipotence.
She didn't even glance at the book title.
“You’re right, my situation is the most important. I have endless anger inside me.” The goddess was clearly distracted by Ian’s voice and didn’t bother to examine what he was holding. The doctor had something similar; perhaps humans all like to have a book open on their laps.
"You just said you felt ignored?" Ian tapped his fingers lightly on the sofa armrest, his face bearing the "I completely understand you" expression typical of a professional psychologist.
He began by asking questions in a gentle, guiding tone, revealing some information he had overheard earlier, while quietly turning the page to the chapter on "Dealing with Separation Anxiety."
I understand how you feel.
"Of course you'll feel angry if you're ignored."
"It's like a flame, like a storm, it needs an outlet... Don't hide it, if you have any grievances, you should speak out, and I'm willing to be a listener."
Ian began his first official unlicensed medical practice.
“Don’t keep it to yourself; if you have any complaints, speak up.” Ian’s voice was as gentle as if he were coaxing a sulking child. He placed his hands on his knees, leaning slightly forward—this was the “active listening posture” emphasized on page 37 of the parenting guide. Hearing this, Lucifer’s mother’s aura trembled slightly.
Like a candle flame flickering in the wind. She seemed genuinely moved; the halo of light suddenly expanded, and the temperature in the consultation room rose abruptly. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Ian's forehead.
But he maintained his professional smile. Fortunately, the aura of the Goddess of Creation gradually stabilized, coalescing once more into a clearer human figure. Ian mentally gave himself a thumbs up—the parenting manual was proving incredibly effective against the Goddess of Creation; it was now obvious who Lucifer resembled more.
"It seems you do have some skill; you didn't advise me to tolerate or try to understand that bastard." The goddess's voice carried a rare hint of approval, as if she had finally gained genuine understanding.
“We can’t wrong ourselves, can we? It doesn’t matter who is right or wrong. What matters is that you feel ignored, so you certainly have the right to express your dissatisfaction.”
Ian smiled gently as he turned to the page on "positive affirmation." A pleasant glow rippled around him, like a cat being stroked. The boy pressed his advantage once more.
"Take the bait in their own hand! Auntie, your husband neglects you because he likes humans, so I suggest you find a new hobby and then ignore him for a while."
"And also to distract myself." Ian continued to practice medicine strictly according to the knowledge he had acquired, and his words received strong approval from the Goddess of Creation.
"An eye for an eye! You're right!" The voice of the Goddess of Creation sounded very excited, repeating the same sentence over and over again.
"Wait, that's not what I meant—" Ian's smile froze on his face. He clearly said "find a hobby," how did it become a declaration of revenge in the goddess's ears?
"I know what you mean!"
The goddess looked at Ian with an inscrutable expression.
"Hiss~"
A strange hissing sound came from the air.
The next moment, Ian found himself disappearing from the room without warning after just blinking. When he came to his senses again, he was standing outside the house where the goddess was imprisoned.
"Damn it! Give me back that doctor!" The goddess roared from inside the house, shaking the ground. "You can't even give me a human being?!"
At this moment.
The chilling winds of hell swept across Ian's sweat-soaked back; the sulfurous air had never felt so fresh. Ian reacted quickly, immediately pulling a roll of A4 paper from his pocket.
The letter was densely printed with neat handwriting, totaling more than 20,000 words. This was a standard apology letter of 20,000 words that he had prepared in advance, specifically for dealing with similar emergencies.
"Amen!"
Ian squatted down and burned paper money.
In the firelight.
Ordinary words on ordinary paper transformed into golden rays that shot straight into the sky.
Thomas Wayne and Hannibal were still standing there, stunned.
Ian had already grabbed them, one in each hand.
"Wait, what's happening—"
Thomas was interrupted by Ian before he could finish speaking.
He escaped very quickly, but in a very disheveled manner.
“Run! There’s real filth in there! Hell is dangerous! I have to get back to Earth!” Ian shouted as he ran, and he began to frantically apologize to God in a devout voice.
however.
He muttered a few words.
He suddenly realized with dismay that his vocabulary was not as extensive as that of the Minotaur.
"So you don't want New Gotham anymore?" Thomas frowned, his Batman-like suspicious nature immediately kicking in. "You're not going to go back on your word, are you?"
It's no wonder that the Gotham Emperor is suspicious; he's all too familiar with Ian's form of capitalism.
“It’s the New Land of Light! I want it, of course I want it! Go back and help me fix it up, I have a brilliant plan for this city.” Ian wrote a proposal as he ran. The cover of the document was titled “New Land of Light Five-Year Development Plan,” with a note in small print below: “Note: The final interpretation right belongs to Ian Kent.”
"You call this urban planning?" Thomas glanced at the contents, and even though he had been prepared, his voice still trembled slightly.
"This is not the time to discuss this, lead the way!" Ian grabbed his sleeve, and the dimensions of hell twisted and shifted beneath their feet.
Thomas led Ian through layers of spatial folds, each step feeling like treading on the boundary between different worlds. Soon, they returned to the area Thomas had briefly "ruled"—a bustling yet eerie hellish city, its streets flowing with energy created by soul batteries.
The air was thick with the smell of sulfur and hellish hope.
"Do you really want to mess with my city like this?"
Thomas Wayne still cared a lot about that proposal.
Where is the Hellcat?
Ian interrupted him, his eyes darting around, "Find my cat first!"
Thomas sighed and turned onto a path emitting sulfurous steam. At the end of the path was a neon sign that read "Pet Paradise," with the words "Also a Demon Technology Experiment Center" written in smaller print below.
The moment the garage door opened, a dark figure lunged at Ian.
"Meow—!"
The sound of a hellcat is the sound of tires rubbing against the ground.
"Hey, old buddy."
Ian smiled and walked over, squatted down, and gently touched the front of the Hellcat.
"do you miss me?"
He was overjoyed to have his third mount back. The Hellcat rubbed against his hand, purring softly as if it were being affectionate, and the lights shone like cat eyes.
"Alright, alright, let's go home."
Ian opened the trunk—and casually shoved Hannibal inside.
The carriage was completely silent.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter straightened his wrinkled suit and tie, and calmly asked through the gap in the trunk, "Is this your way of retaliating against me for my overly aggressive treatment methods?"
"Sorry! It's just a professional habit!"
Ian quickly opened the back door.
"Psychologists should sit in the back row."
He invited Dr. Hannibal in.
We immediately prepared to set off.
Because of some problems he had just noticed, he didn't want to stay in this godforsaken place for another second.
Why are you walking in such a hurry?
Thomas leaned against the car door, his eyes slightly narrowed.
Who is inside?
He was still curious about what had frightened Ian.
“You wouldn’t want to know,” Ian jumped onto the roof of the car, and the Hellcat’s engine immediately roared with excitement, “Don’t go any closer. There’s a real super psychopath inside.”
The Hellcat's tires left four burning marks on the ground.
They hurtled towards the upper dimensions like arrows released from a bow. As they reached the exit of Hell, Ian slammed on the brakes—his servant Baal was floating in mid-air, facing a demon three stories tall. The Hellcat's headlights shone on the demon's crown, inlaid with the Jewel of Lies.
"So Lucifer also has a crush on your master?"
Belial, the King of Lies, spoke with disbelief. Baal nodded honestly—every word he spoke was true, and that was precisely the best way to gain the King of Lies' trust.
"Let's go! Quickly!"