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

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This is a new ability he unlocked after his divine power was fully restored.

It can express that one's family had a sudden flash of inspiration.

It is very vivid and lifelike.

“It’s us. Our whole family are aliens in Bruce’s eyes. Even your mother, who married me, is a Kryptonian. That’s much closer to him than Darkseid.”

"You can choose not to use backdoors, but you can't be without them. And you need to create at least thirty, no, three hundred, and distribute them in layers so that Bruce can discover about two hundred and fifty of them himself."

"The remaining fifty are a buffer zone. He will eventually discover all the backdoors, so after this suit of armor is forged, you will need to maintain it for him regularly."

Over the past forty years, Clark has clearly experienced his fair share of Batman's schemes. He seems to have matured into a superman, outwardly great and righteous, yet also possessing targeted defenses against internal threats.

Although such precautions are not very effective most of the time, it doesn't mean they shouldn't be taken. After all, people always need to grow—in fact, his explanation to Ian was just a superficial one.

This was to make Ian take it seriously.

A deeper reason is that Clark has another concern—the King of Gotham has many plans targeting other heroes, and he is always worried that others will get out of control.

however.

This means that if Batman loses control, he could become a disaster even more terrifying than Superman. Superman took to heart Batman's warning during the post-disaster reconstruction.

“You’re right, Dad. I’m still too young.” Ian actually quite enjoys getting hit, but he knows this isn’t the time to talk about that.

The nine backdoors I had prepared were definitely not enough.

Older gingers are more spicy.

Dad's three hundred-plus backdoors sounded very secure, and adding another zero would probably make it even more secure. Just when Ian thought he had definitely surpassed his father...

"Jingle Bell!"

Clark's phone rang.

"Clark! Why did you take so long to go to the bathroom?! Do you know there's a giant light bulb in the sky?! This is big news!" An angry voice came from the other end of the phone.

It was Clark's newspaper owner who was roaring.

Superman instantly switched to the panicked tone that only Clark Kent would use, "I was indeed in the bathroom, yes, the kind of severe constipation. Oh, of course I know that."

“And I also got close-up photos of the big light bulb from my informant.” Clark said, glancing at Ian, who could only silently let his head light up slightly again.

It's not too bright, perfect for a staged photo.

"Exclusive photos? Hahaha, then go on, go on. Oh, I'm not supervising your work, it's just that sometimes, being the boss is really not an easy job."

The newspaper owner's attitude changed instantly.

Clark quickly gave a few more perfunctory replies and hung up the phone.

"Click~"

I don't know where he pulled out the camera, but professional reporters are different. After taking a few pictures of Ian's skull from all four directions, he instantly swooped down from the clouds.

"Don't cause any trouble outside today. Your mother and I both want to get a good night's rest." A figure sped away and disappeared into the horizon, leaving Ian silently turning off his phone.

"Ding dong~"

Because they returned to Earth.

Ian's half-broken phone also received a delayed text message.

A bank notification popped up.

[Adam Keaton's transfer has been received: $1,000,000,000] This is clearly one of Batman's aliases; heaven knows how many identity accounts he has on Earth.

It has to be said that the King of Gotham is really straightforward when it comes to payments. He paid the money immediately before the goods were even produced, which is much more straightforward than many bosses who delay payment for several months.

Ian guessed that young Master Wayne was afraid he would forget about this little thing once he turned his back.

"Mom probably doesn't know the house is gone yet. I need to buy a big house right away, or Mom will definitely kill me." Ian's gaze turned towards the direction of the house.

The new site is completely charred black.

The fire has long been extinguished.

A faint aroma of burnt food lingered in the air.

The original home is now just a pile of broken walls and ruins.

But in the middle of the ruins, the two older brothers were busy setting up a barbecue grill and skillfully flipping the meat skewers, as if this was not their bombed-out home, but a newly built commercial district.

"???????"

Ian rubbed his eyes.

That’s right.

His two older brothers weren't sleeping in the Hellcat, but were eating barbecue and dividing their spoils—yes, Ian could clearly see Jordan holding a wad of cash.

"I paid for Jordan's hospital visits! How does this guy have so much money?!"

Ian was very indignant.

I don't understand why I wasn't included when the family property was divided.

He immediately listened attentively.

Let's see what kind of "battle for heir apparent" Jordan is up to. We see Jordan counting money for Jonathan while simultaneously brainwashing him.

“We’re minimizing the damage! Yes, Ian blew up the house, we’re just making good use of the accident scene. He’s the one who should explain this to Mom and Dad, not us.”

"God knows how desperate we were when we saw our house burning after he rescued you and ran away," Jordan said, his voice rising and falling, his face still covered in dark, smoky makeup.

In this regard.

Jonathan didn't respond; he just clutched his large box, still shaken. "Thank goodness the statue is alright. It must be divine protection!"

The eldest brother still cares so much about his idol.

“Don’t be superstitious.” Jordan shook his head. “Like Ian said, there’s only one God in Metropolis, and that’s the Father. He’s just too smart, which is why he blew up our homes.”

"I bet he's in his room researching that nuclear bomb that fuses and then breaks apart." Jordan's physics skills don't seem that great, but thankfully he's now a Kryptonian warrior.

Otherwise, with this level of knowledge, it would be very difficult to get into university.

"Oh? Superstition?"

Jonathan didn't correct Jordan's distinction between nuclear fusion and nuclear fission; he's a football player who's now starting to think about using mystical methods to make a blunder.

"Then how do you explain that our barbecue has never burned since we put up the Hestia statue?" The older brother asked Jordan, holding his collection of statues.

"That's because I'm good at cooking. Ian said I also have a super brain. A super brain can learn anything quickly. I was just kidding with you," Jordan said confidently.

"That's the protection of the gods!"

Jonathan, however, persisted.

The two argued until their faces turned red.

No one noticed that the little brother in the sky was silently observing all of this.

"Alas, what an eventful spring."

Ian knew he wasn't the one to take the blame.

He did indeed blow up the house.

He didn't say much.

Now all he can do is try to salvage the situation by relying on his financial resources.

"Let me find a new house."

With half an hour to go before school, Ian's gaze swept across the city, and soon he spotted a real estate agent diligently handing out flyers on the street early in the morning.

He was a middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt with an overly enthusiastic smile.

People who are able to come out to work at this time are obviously very hardworking.

Moreover, this person seems quite clever to seize the opportunity presented by the many people who lost their homes last night to promote real estate. Ian prefers dealing with smart and hardworking people.

"It's him!"

Ian dove to the ground.

"Armor Hero! Transform!" The mimicry armor quickly writhed on his body, transforming into ordinary school clothes. When he emerged from the alley, he was already a harmless-looking teenager with a schoolbag on his back.

at this time.

Real estate agents are still pitching to commuters heading to work in the early morning. On the streets of the metropolis, the morning sun has just begun to shine on the sidewalks, and the air still carries a trace of the warmth of last night's fireworks.

"I'm Phil Dunphy! A professional real estate agent, your best choice!"

"Buying a house? What you need isn't location, or school district, but me! Because—I can change your life." Real estate agent Phil was a kind-looking man.

His smiling face gave him a somewhat henpecked look.

He was holding a thick stack of flyers he had printed himself.

As Ian approached.

It also warmly wishes Ian a wonderful school time.

Of course, normal people wouldn't try to sell real estate to children, but that doesn't stop children from actively approaching them.

"I want to buy a big house with a big garden, several garages, several studies, and preferably some cats and dogs. Although my pet is not a dog, my mother's pet is a cat."

Ian got straight to the point.

They didn't even look at the flyer in the other person's hand.

After all, the real estate information prepared for working-class people is not suitable for wealthy Mr. Ian.

Billionaire.

They should live in a big house.

"Huh? You want to buy a house?" Phil was taken aback. He looked at the boy in front of him, who looked to be under fifteen years old, and his very professional smile seemed to be a little amused.

"Buying a house should be a decision for adults, right?" Phil didn't mean to send Ian away; he figured Ian was probably a kid from a family that was preparing to move.

of course.

Perhaps he was dissatisfied with his current living conditions; vain young people are not uncommon these days, but Phil didn't intend to mock or scold him. He enjoyed playing with children, so he had prepared a set of arguments to persuade Ian that he needed to study hard if he wanted to live in a better house.

however.