What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

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All matter was drawn towards the center of the bomb.

then.

He then discovered that the bomb he had thrown had come to life—combining with the surrounding matter that had been drawn to its center, it had become a colossal object, giving the impression that the difficulty had been artificially increased.

"Damn it! Where's the water?! Give me some water!"

Neptune is relatively weak on land.

He ran frantically around, seemingly oblivious to everything around him. The behemoth appeared quite interested in him and relentlessly pursued him, almost becoming one of its own.

"Bruce, I'll take you to your base!"

Superman flew over.

He reached out and grabbed Batman's skull. Batman froze, too afraid to move, and the two of them flew towards a certain place in this eagle-catching-chicken pose.

"Zizzizi~"

A scene resembling a television screen glitching appeared on the tea.

“It seems Bruce has taken precautions to prevent Heaven from spying on that place.” Martha Wayne was not surprised at all; she knew how severe her son’s paranoia was.

“Yes, I have to find the source of the pollution.” At this moment, Ian also thought of the reason why he wanted to go to heaven. He needed to solve the problem of the notebook that was causing the pollution from the source.

of course.

While you're at it, try the flowers, plants, birds, animals, bricks, and even the water from the so-called sacred lake... Wherever a gourmet goes, he must always remember that he is a gourmet.

“It’s tasteless.”

Ian plucked some flowers and put them in his mouth. He was slightly disappointed because he didn't receive any experience points from the system. This scene made old Jonathan look a little embarrassed in front of Martha Wayne.

Fortunately, Martha Wayne just chuckled and didn't judge Ian's pica behavior further.

“Your wealthy Uncle Bruce might be willing to spend a lot of money to buy some photos of his mother.” Martha Wayne straightened her clothes before Ian prepared to leave.

“Excellent, excellent, Mrs. Wayne, your suggestion is brilliant.” Ian’s eyes lit up upon hearing this, and he couldn’t help but think that Martha Wayne was indeed a woman who married a capitalist.

As he snapped a series of photos of Martha with his camera pointed at her, he was already mentally calculating his sales strategy: a profile view is one price, a full-face view is another, and a smile is yet another.

What is this called?

This is called "drawing inferences from one instance to another".

Mr. Ian has always had a natural talent for being a capitalist!

“Mrs. Wayne, I have a business proposal that’s guaranteed to make a fortune.” Ian had finally found someone with a business mind, so of course he wanted to seize this hard-won opportunity.

Martha Wayne gracefully set down her teacup.

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Oh?"

She didn't see old Jonathan silently put on his headphones.

next moment.

Mrs. Wayne immediately sensed Ian's extraordinary wisdom. Ian's eyes lit up, his expression filled with anticipation for the future, and his tone was brimming with excitement.

“Perhaps we should sell indulgences together. I’ll be in charge of smuggling people across the border, and you can take care of their accommodations—I’m about to go rescue the angels, so it’s really not unreasonable for me to sell some indulgences on Earth!”

Ian clasped his hands together.

It's like announcing a great invention.

"..."

Mrs. Wayne was stunned for a long time.

She turned to look at old Jonathan, who was drinking tea with his head down.

Why is this child in heaven?

The question was asked bluntly, with Mrs. Wayne's surprise on her face. However, old Jonathan, wearing his Heaven-made headphones, didn't hear a word of it.

He was still drinking his tea with his head down.

in silence.

Completely oblivious to the subtle tension, Ian continued his enthusiastic pitch: "We don't sell to criminals or murderers; we specifically target wealthy capitalists who have been pardoned."

"Doesn't this prove that I'm kind enough and deserve to go to heaven as if I'm going home?" He genuinely felt that he was a good person.

This perfectly meets the self-judgment criteria for going to heaven.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Mrs. Wayne sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead. “Ian, if you really want to sell indulgences… you’ll have to go to Bruce’s father.”

She ultimately showed Ian the right path.

“Where is my Uncle Wayne? Is he under the table?” Ian crouched down and lifted the tablecloth, but couldn’t find Batman’s father. He looked up at Mrs. Wayne, puzzled.

"..."

Martha Wayne opened her mouth, but ultimately couldn't say anything. Her eyes dimmed, and after a moment of silence, she simply shook her head at Ian without saying a word.

Old Jonathan coughed and patted Ian on the shoulder.

"Don't ask anymore, child."

Whether he had music playing in his wired headphones or not, only he himself knew. Hearing this, Ian blinked, his exceptionally high emotional intelligence allowing him to understand Old Wayne's situation at that moment.

It seems he'll have to go to Hell to find old Wayne, but perhaps that's not such a bad thing. He's almost at the entrance to Hell, and the price of the Indulgence Scroll must be even higher there.

Maybe even the devil will make a bid.

While thinking about it.

Ian patted the bull's head that was pretending to be dead behind him. It turns out that even demons can go to heaven; this world is still one where shortcuts outweigh difficulties.

“Perhaps you should go and save the world, child.” Mrs. Wayne seemed to have been stirred by some emotion. She wasn’t angry, but she still reminded Ian that it was time to leave.

“Yes, yes, Mrs. Wayne, Grandfather, I really have to go save the world. The MVP will always be the MVP.” Ian picked up his teacup and drank it all in one gulp with great gusto.

Old Jonathan smiled with satisfaction.

"Keep it up, kid. We'll see you save the world again. You look like you're much better than your dad." He encouraged Ian in a gentle tone.

Hear the words.

Ian's golden eyes lit up again.

"Wait! Grandfather, say that again! I want to record it!" He quickly pulled out four or five cameras, ready to record at the same time, in case one camera lost data due to quality issues.

"No problem at all."

Old Jonathan repeated it with a smile, and Ian checked the video with satisfaction, making sure the picture was clear and the sound was loud. This was valuable material that could be used to spur on his father.

"Dad needs to work really hard and prove himself." Ian knew he needed to use his influence on his father more often to make him genuinely believe that he was a superhuman.

Martha Wayne watched this scene, sighed softly, and then said gently, "Ian, if you can... please pass on a message to Bruce for me."

Ian immediately raised his camera and pointed it at her.

“No problem! You tell me, I’ll record! It’s much better for you to say what you want to say yourself than for me to relay the message.” This small favor doesn’t cost any money, so Ian is always happy to help.

Seeing this, Martha Wayne straightened her clothes.

“Bruce, you know we love you. So please, never give up hope.” Martha Wayne’s tone was extremely heavy and serious.

She seemed to be giving Bruce Wayne some advice about something she was very worried about.

"Could you please say a few more words to Uncle Bruce?" Ian asked Martha Wayne after she finished speaking, without stopping the recording.

In this regard.

Martha Wayne did not refuse.

She made another recording at Ian's request, repeating what Ian wanted him to tell Bruce Wayne, and Ian got a new video as he wished.

"Perfect!"

Ian was overjoyed. This place truly lived up to its name as paradise. The moment he entered, he gained the means to rival Batman. Paradise truly did fulfill everyone's desires and wishes.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Wayne, and my hardworking grandfather! Once I've trained my father to be a superhuman, I'll have him come to see you!" Ian closed the dozen or so cameras with satisfaction.

He waved to the two of them, knowing he needed to hurry—Bruce might be able to find a way to solve the Kryptonite contamination, but ultimately he would still need to eliminate the source of the contamination.

Otherwise, it will come back to life with the spring breeze.

God knows when the source of pollution will spread from the restricted area. No one can fathom God's intentions; the best solution is to let the evil god devour the source of the evil Cthulhu pollution.

"We'll meet again, no need to rush." ​​Old Jonathan smiled kindly. He watched Ian glance back before flying straight up and heading towards the now terrifying and eerie Holy City.

Under the watchful eyes of the two, Ian's figure gradually disappeared at the end of the garden. A gentle breeze swept by, the petals swayed softly, and the tranquil courtyard returned to silence.

"We'll meet again someday."

Martha Wayne lowered her head and took a sip of tea.

She felt the tea was a bit bitter.

This is a rare sight in heaven.

The woman unconsciously rubbed the rim of the teacup with her fingertips, her expression slightly dazed.

A complex emotion flashed in her eyes as she thought of Bruce, her husband, and her son, whom she hadn't been able to truly embrace since that rainy night.

Old Jonathan noticed her emotions and comforted her, saying, "Not just us, I believe you and your husband will see each other again, and of course, your son too."

Martha Wayne sighed softly, a faint smile barely appearing on her lips.

"maybe."

Her voice was soft, and her smile remained elegant.

“That kid’s personality doesn’t seem to resemble Clark’s at all.” This was clearly a change of topic, and old Jonathan didn’t bring up Martha Wayne’s worries again.

“Clark and I aren’t like each other, but that doesn’t affect our relationship. Family will always be family,” old Jonathan laughed and responded.

His laughter was deep and warm, like the ever-shining sun over the Kansas plains. Martha Wayne nodded in deep agreement and chuckled softly in return.

“You adopted a Kryptonian, and then your Kryptonian child adopted an archangel… Now I just want to know what kind of outrageous things your family will produce in the future.” Martha Wayne raised an eyebrow, her tone wistful, noting that wealthy families were perhaps a bit inferior to the Kent family.

"Ian is not an archangel."

Old Jonathan looked down at his teacup, where the image had reappeared—Clark was standing on the ruins of Metropolis, looking up at the sky as if searching for something.