276-280

Chapter 276: I'm the Backup Plan? 

The next day, Cody bought a plane ticket back to Gotham City. 

"This trip turned out a bit more complicated than I expected," he said to Constantine, taking a bite of fried fish and then trying a fry. "Can you believe it? I literally just had my first bite of British food since landing at the airport and entering London. It's been that long." 

"That's good," Constantine said, casually flipping through a newspaper and chuckling at Cody. "After this meal, you'll have eaten all the edible food in England." 

"...You're being a bit extreme." 

"Maybe, at most, add a Greggs; that stuff actually tastes pretty good—but other than that, I'm sorry, there's nothing else, at least I don't think so." 

Cody looked at Constantine with a mix of doubt and disbelief, asking, "Really nothing else?" 

"Ever heard of 'Stargazy Pie'? That pastry with a dozen dead fish heads sticking out of it—you can't possibly want to eat that too, can you?" 

"I actually have heard of that..." 

Constantine didn't find any interesting news in the paper, so he lazily placed it on the table and asked in a low voice, "I've been meaning to ask since yesterday, how exactly did you do it?" 

"I have an item that can help me avoid a... well, a special situation," Cody answered him. "You've seen it, that little totem on my phone charm, though it's gone now." 

"That thing has that kind of ability?!" Constantine felt his decades of professional knowledge being seriously challenged. "It has no magical aura, nor does it have any characteristic traces of any sect or magician. In fact, it looks completely like a child's scribble—most importantly, a person couldn't just do that so simply. It would definitely require immense power, perhaps even an equivalent sacrifice, and prior negotiation with one of the factions." 

"I'm a bit different from you guys. I don't quite fit into this world; there was never a place for me here," Cody explained. "But you're different. As you said, each of you is native-born, with layers upon layers of karma and destiny intertwined around you—especially like yesterday, breaking destiny like that is incredibly difficult." 

"Interesting." Constantine listened to Cody's explanation, deep in thought. "'Non-native born,' that sounds like some kind of extraterrestrial visitor." 

"No, I mean that cross-district operations don't work. Your Western theology and my Eastern Underworld don't have any extradition agreements." 

"...So, if Lester had used that item, he might not have fared as well as you?" 

"He most likely wouldn't have fared as well as me. He'd probably be completely done for." 

Cody didn't say it outright, but in reality, the system's prompt to him at the time was: [This item cannot be effective on this target in this event]. 

Presumably, in the original destiny, Lester had indeed perished with Namos. 

"Alright," Constantine sighed. "I guess things don't always go as planned. Miracles and magic will never be free in this lifetime..." 

"Anyway, if you need anything, you can find me," Cody wiped his mouth. "Paid miracles and magic aren't bad, don't worry—I have clear prices." 

Constantine curled his lip, took out another cigarette, and lit it. 

"Smoke less." 

"You're not skin and bones right now. A couple of puffs won't kill you." 

Cody sighed and got up, walking out of the restaurant. 

"How does that saying go? 'A leopard can't change its spots.'" 

"Of course, you could also put it another way—'Destiny has its own plans for you.'" 

When Cody woke up, the plane had already landed at Gotham Airport. 

"Good, at least there were no complications this time." 

After leaving the airport, he hailed a cab to his small house. On the way, he saw a few prisoners out working, indicating that Gotham's correctional labor system was still operating steadily these past few days. 

Performing "blood dialysis" on a city is a long-term project, and Cody wasn't impatient. At least for now, the city could be considered safe and sound. 

Of course, the crime rate might be slightly higher, but there's always a bit of a gap between battle reports and the front lines. The situation was actually much better than it seemed. 

"Ugh, I totally missed you!" 

As soon as he entered his home, Cody enthusiastically hugged—his own pillow. 

Yeah, he was crashing. 

It was currently late at night, what else was there to do but sleep? Work? 

Wasn't that anti-human? 

With this thought, Cody drifted into sleep— 

"You went to the UK, Africa, America, but I found no video records of your flight leaving Gotham." 

He couldn't get an inch of sleep. 

Ah, that familiar feeling. 

It had been so long since he'd heard that hoarse, dark, emotionless voice, and Cody actually felt a little nostalgic. 

But mostly, he was annoyed—the other person seemed to have a talent for irritating people; a single sentence could make him uncomfortable. 

So he enthusiastically greeted his old friend's well-being: "Are you seriously ill?" 

"Did you check the time? Do you know what time it is? Are you aware that you're disturbing the peace? I need to sleep, big brother." 

At this moment, Cody's overflowing urge to complain was completely unrestrainable, bursting out all at once: "Why do you always come through the window? I've told you so many times to use the door. When will you ever listen to a normal person? Also, Commissioner Gordon said you were off duty, and Alfred said you've been working late recently—so you have no time for guests but time to investigate me, huh? Aren't you worried about sudden death?" 

However, the pointy-headed bat completely ignored his words, maintaining his usual self-absorbed demeanor. He continued to state, "Things happened in London and New York. People died—suspiciously." 

"What are you trying to say?" 

"For a long time, I've vaguely sensed that there are areas in this world beyond science and common sense. If I had to describe it, it's probably what people call 'magic.'" 

"And then?" 

"I know a bit about your travel companions, John Constantine, Papa Midnite, Gary Lester—and you also went to a tribe in Sudan." 

Cody began to search around, looking for anything suitable to throw at someone. 

"Are you sick?" he asked. "You investigated my trip out of town so thoroughly? Are you not doing your job in Gotham?" 

"Ever since the Holiday Killer incident, I set up some intelligence gathering operations in the UK to avoid being caught off guard," Batman replied. "It doesn't take much time." 

Cody was speechless. 

"Those people you traveled with don't have good reputations, and the tribe you visited also had rumors of black magic—I hope you don't go astray." 

"Oh my god... No! I went to save the world! Not to destroy it!" Cody clutched his head in anguish. "Damn it... That's just Constantine's social circle. What can I do?" 

"...So, you genuinely have the ability to protect Gotham from attacks by certain mystical forces?" 

Hearing that question, Cody finally understood. 

"You son of a b****, I'm the backup plan?" 

Chapter 277: Aftermath 

Facing Batman's pointed questions, Cody sighed. 

"Forget about mystical attacks for a moment—at least Gotham doesn't need to worry about that short-term. First, tell me, can I still find you tomorrow?" 

"You can find me if you need to." 

"I do, but I really don't want to talk in the middle of the night. It's not good for my sleep schedule..." Cody whispered, "It's about the situation in Africa. You know that tribe has always been short on water and poor, right?" 

Batman remained silent. He had, of course, checked these basic intelligence reports as well. He just wanted to know what Cody intended to do. 

"It's like this..." Cody paused, then said, "Do you have any way to change their current situation—at least so they don't starve to death?" 

"The Wayne Foundation already has donation programs for impoverished regions globally," Batman replied. "Unfortunately, that tribe's level of poverty isn't even ranked in Africa. Due to the help of black magic, they've had far fewer deaths than other tribes." 

Cody was speechless. 

"Such tribes are everywhere in Africa, and the fate of that naturally arid land isn't solely determined by Africans... It involves historical issues, natural environment, and a somewhat distorted local system. What we can do is quite limited; aid is merely a drop in the bucket. In fact, they've become heavily aid-dependent, with local industries almost completely wiped out by material aid, and financial aid mostly lost to corruption. It's already good if aid doesn't backfire." 

"...Alright," Cody replied. "I guess this is a long-term project. Changing the fate of a region typically takes decades to start." 

"You might be able to help a small tribe with money," Batman replied. "But salvation can only come from themselves—or a divine intervention." 

"Every little bit helps. Doing good deeds isn't about size, and besides, the Lord doesn't care," Cody sharply commented. "God doesn't meddle in affairs to begin with. There's no punishment for treating him like a clay idol, and no reward for bowing down to him." 

Batman looked deeply at Cody. 

"You said you were an atheist," he stated, "but you also acknowledge that God exists." 

"My atheism means no 'superstition.' I don't do good deeds because I 'superstitiously' believe in God; I do good deeds because I want to do good deeds. And I won't say he's fake out of 'superstitious' atheism. Since he exists, he's real." 

As he spoke, Cody yawned. "Be pragmatic, be a good person, correct your mistakes, and there's no such thing as an unquestionable authority in the world. Oh, right, express delivery services aren't very developed in Sudan, so do me a favor and send some stuff to that tribe." 

Batman frowned and then asked, "What kind of stuff?" 

"Two large items. It won't take much effort, just hand them over to a local tour guide." 

At dusk the next day, a truck carrying two packaged square items arrived at the tribe. 

When the driver drove the vehicle into the tribe under many wary eyes, the old shaman emerged from his tent and conversed with the driver, which dispelled most of the hostility. 

"This is from that young Chinese man from last time, right?" The wizened old man smiled at the tour guide beside the driver. "It's been quite a trip." 

"Job done, money paid," the guide said dryly. "Where should I put your items?" 

"Just next to the tent." 

Once the driver and guide had finished unloading, the outer layers of the two items were removed, and everyone stared at the contents, speechless. 

One was a peculiar square cactus, and the other was a square compost bin. 

Both were strikingly similar, appearing as perfectly regular cubes, especially the square cactus, which looked entirely fake. 

"Here's your letter." 

The tour guide also handed a letter to the old shaman. He opened it and found instructions written on both sides in Arabic and English, which was very thoughtful. 

"Namos dealt with, no worries. The cactus is a special variety, growing up to three meters tall and a minimum of one meter. Each meter of growth takes about two and a half to five hours. It requires no water and can only be planted in sand. When planting, you can directly cut off a whole cubic meter; it won't take root, but it will grow. Don't eat it; it won't fill your stomach. But you can juice it—warning, drinking cactus juice might make your tongue a bit green, so be aware. Next to it is a magic compost bin. Put the cactus in there, enough of it, and it will immediately convert into magical fertilizer—though it looks a lot like ashes or powder, it really is fertilizer, so don't snort it. It can help you accelerate plant growth in barren land, very quickly. It can help a small sapling become a ten-year-old tree in half a minute, but it can't accelerate cactus growth, so don't think about creating a closed loop. You can plant the cactus anywhere, but use the compost bin carefully. Don't let anyone discover it—I hope you don't encounter a second Namos. -by A Kind Passerby" 

[Cactus price: $1,000. Note: What, don't like cacti? Then go find a plant that doesn't require tilling or water.] 

[Compost bin price: $10,000. Note: Sorry, I'm not just any compost bin. I don't process foreign world plant matter—only plants from my world can produce fertilizer.] 

Cody had already started thinking about how to deal with the Sudan situation on the plane, but in reality, after much deliberation, he couldn't find a good solution until he got Bruce's answer last night, which led him to look for solutions from other worlds. 

There weren't many cost-effective options. After careful consideration, he finally settled on the combination of the cactus and the compost bin. Both were items from "My World." The cactus's properties would aid in large-scale greening and water acquisition; as long as someone kept planting it, it could continuously expand. 

As for the compost bin, it couldn't expand in scale, but it could ensure that the tribe wouldn't starve. 

If possible, Cody actually wanted to buy two buckets of water to create "infinite water," but the system had clearly stated that infinite water was one of the fundamental settings of the MC world and was very important, so it couldn't be effective in this world. 

After completing this task, Cody felt lighthearted. He then went to the supermarket and bought a large pile of snacks. 

"Knock, knock, knock." 

"Who is it?" 

"Me." 

"? Old Ma?" 

In the classroom, Jason, who was teaching the children, put down his wrench and scurried to open the door. Outside was Cody, carrying large bags of groceries. 

"My goodness," Jason said, clearly surprised. "You were only gone for a few days, and you're already back?" 

"Ha, a few days is a long time. I even went and fought a demon." 

"Keep dreaming..." 

Chapter 278: A Letter From an Old Friend 

After checking in on the kids and Solomon, Cody went to see Commissioner Gordon, Harvey Dent, and even Freeze and Poison Ivy in prison. 

Unfortunately, everyone was still swamped with their own business. Cody, being a man of leisure, seemed especially irritating in the eyes of these overworked, overnighters. Plus, it had only been a few days since they last saw each other, so practically no one wanted to deal with this idle guy. Everyone, pushed to their breaking point, unanimously shooed him away, out of sight, out of mind. 

"Commissioner Gordon said he had an endless stream of surrender cases to handle, then practically ran out of the police station, muttering 'too kind' while snatching the pastries I brought, and then ushered me out. He didn't even let me inside." 

"Prosecutor Harvey was also processing criminals at an assembly-line pace, classifying and sentencing them with surprising zeal. We sat across from each other for ten minutes without a word. When I left, the guy didn't even notice." 

"The prison was just as hectic. Freeze and Poison Ivy seemed to have developed a workaholic tendency too, just grunting 'uh-huh,' 'oh,' and 'hahaha,' giving utterly perfunctory responses." 

"Sigh, it's really faded, isn't it? No friendship can withstand the test of time." 

Cody sighed wistfully, taking a sip of black tea as Alfred worked diligently at his desk. 

"By the way, Alfred, what are you doing?" 

"Sharing Master Bruce's workload, Mr. Ma. May I offer a small suggestion?" 

"What is it?" 

"Go home immediately and find something productive to do." 

Bang! 

Cody stood dumbfounded at the entrance of Wayne Manor, still holding his teacup, the tea not even cold yet. 

"Wait, why?" 

That evening, Cody finally decided to go back and find the kids—at least this time, he wasn't chased away. 

Gotham was still undergoing renovations. Cody rested well for a few days, finding the city exceptionally peaceful without gangs, hunger demons, or super-criminals running amok. He secretly began to consider starting a business in Gotham. 

It was impossible for a working man to stop working; he'd always be working. He just needed to find high-paying jobs to earn more asset points. 

At least, that's what he was thinking thirty seconds ago. 

[System Notification: 200,000 asset points deposited.] 

"What the hell?" Cody's eyes widened. "Where did this come from? I haven't even started working again." 

[Detected: This is your first payment and partial dividend from the "Gotham Reconstruction Project."] 

"Batman, you did good. You did so good." 

Cody's eyes welled up. No wonder they talk about redistributing wealth from the rich to the poor; those corrupt officials and gang bosses really were loaded. 

Keep hitting them hard, hit them real hard—you got this, pointy-eared Bat-big brother. 

He contentedly rolled over in bed, deciding to take a few days off—then realized his charging cable was a bit short and rolled back over. 

What's the rush? Work isn't everything. It's past three, time for some tea. 

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne was still working at his desk in the manor. 

As he was diligently writing, a news broadcast caught his attention. 

"Today's news: Scientists have made a new discovery – peculiar square cacti are beginning to appear in a certain arid region of Sudan. 

"Their growth rate is incredibly alarming. Currently, their numbers are rapidly increasing in the desert. According to our reporters who rushed to the area, as of today, large numbers of indigenous Sudanese tribal residents are competing to cultivate this giant cactus as a source of water. As a result, the cultivation area of this species is expanding by tens of meters daily in the desert." 

"This growth rate is quite bizarre, and it's currently uncertain whether this phenomenon is an invasive species. We will continue to follow up with investigative reports." 

Bruce watched the small desert map filled with cacti on the television and pondered for a moment. 

"Alfred," he said to the butler beside him. "Did you bring back the cactus samples?" 

"They have been brought back, Master Bruce – however, we couldn't acquire that composting bin. The tribal shaman was unwilling to sell it." 

"Then never mind." 

"Forgive my directness, Master Bruce," Alfred asked, "but do we truly need to scrutinize every single thing around Mr. Ma?" 

"Alfred, Sudan is about to be overrun by cacti. Not just cacti, the green woodlands around that tribe are expanding wildly too." 

Bruce replied, "I'm not sure how much of a chain reaction the things Cody pulls out will cause, but I can guarantee he has the ability to make the world go insane in ways we wouldn't recognize." 

"Keeping an eye on him is to prevent this world from becoming a runaway horse." 

While Bruce was preoccupied with runaway horses, some things truly did go off the rails. 

The day after receiving the two hundred thousand dollars, Cody woke up early. He planned to visit a gold shop. 

Back in London, he'd realized that while his [Ugly Golden Pumpkin Headpiece of Sanity Loss] could be stored in the system, it was clearly inconvenient for carving and using. If he wanted to simply cut off a piece whenever he needed money, it would no longer be recognized by the system. 

Luckily, this wasn't too difficult to handle. After returning to Gotham, he came up with a good idea: he'd commission a jeweler to melt and process the large pumpkin according to his carving skills, replicating it into many small pumpkins. This way, each tiny golden pumpkin could be stored in the shop and would be easy to use. 

This plan wouldn't go wrong, Cody thought to himself. In today's Gotham City, it was practically impossible for anyone to dare covet his gold – if nothing else, his reputation as a jinx was already well-known here. 

He hummed a tune as he walked out the door, intending to go to his small garage and pull out his beloved Deathmobile, but after casually opening his mailbox, he paused. 

"Hmm? Who sent me a letter?" 

Cody curiously pulled out an envelope with a stamp. Ever since he arrived here, the only purpose of the mailbox was to receive bills and notifications – after all, people in the East rarely wrote letters anymore. Phone texts became strictly for verification codes and notifications, and video calls and chat apps were far more convenient. Thus, he had no habit of writing letters to people. 

The only time Cody had received a letter was just before Christmas, from Harvey, hand-delivered rather than placed in the mailbox. 

"So who wrote me a letter?" 

He opened the mailbox, tore open the envelope, and found the handwriting looked quite familiar. 

"Old Ma, it's been a long time since we last met, and I haven't heard from you. I wonder how you're doing in Gotham City. 

"Before, Camilla and I talked about moving back to Metropolis to continue our lives, but now, if you want to find us, don't come to Metropolis – because it's even crazier here than Gotham now... 

Chapter 279: A Small Taste of Numerical Shock for Metropolis 

After reading the first two paragraphs of the letter, Cody immediately knew who it was from. 

A smile unconsciously formed on his lips. Receiving a letter from an old friend after so long was a wonderful thing. In fact, he often thought of this friend; being gone for so long without any news was indeed a bit worrying. 

But when he saw the line, "Metropolis is crazier than Gotham now," his eyes immediately widened. 

"Holy crap, is something wrong with this universe's Metropolis and Superman?" 

Countless fragmented images flashed through his mind: the God among Men wreaking havoc in Injustice, the deranged and frantic Superboy-Prime after his dreams shattered, the steel-boned Cyborg Superman Hank Henshaw, the pale-skinned cloned zombie Superman Bizarro. 

There were many versions of a deranged Superman, but their only commonality was pure strength and power, and terrifying battle records of widespread destruction. In other words, there was no negotiating, and he'd have to fight with his life on the line, and still might not win. 

"Don't mess with me..." 

Cody's heart rate and blood pressure shot up. His vision blurred for a few seconds as he clutched his head before continuing to read the letter. 

"Back when we were in Gotham, we heard news reports that an alien had appeared in Metropolis. He sounded like a hero, so Camilla and I didn't dislike him. We thought it would be very reassuring to have a powerful superhero protecting us after moving back to Metropolis." 

"But we were wrong. After Superman appeared, Metropolis became very strange. We'd see all sorts of inexplicable super-powered individuals flying around the city with him all day, fighting and tearing down buildings." 

"There's also a rich lunatic named Lex Luthor; he's always shouting about the Superman threat, but that bald guy looks exactly like those rich bad guys in Gotham, so I don't believe him at all." 

"Until three days ago, Superman just went completely berserk, practically tearing down all the skyscrapers in the entire city. Holy cow, can you imagine a person shooting lasers from their eyes? Buildings in an entire area would slide down from high places with a whoosh, like hot butter being cut by a knife, and the sound of them hitting the ground made us think there was an earthquake. 

We couldn't take it anymore. We moved to another city rated as safer, Central City." 

"We don't know if you're still in Gotham City, still in that little rented room, so we wrote this letter and sent it to the landlord, hoping it eventually reaches you." 

"Friend, if you're coming to see us, don't come to Metropolis, don't come to Metropolis, don't come to Metropolis! We're heading to Central City right now!" 

"Missing your old friends—Drake Lane, and Camilla" 

Cody stared blankly at the letter, walking back into his small room step by step. He repeatedly examined the words on the paper, making sure he hadn't misread. 

"It's over, it's all over," he mumbled distractedly. "Superman really went crazy—which Earth's Superman is this in my world?" 

"It's been three days, and Metropolis hasn't been destroyed yet? Why hasn't Batman stepped in? Where's Luthor? Luthor, help! If Superman goes bad, aren't you supposed to get better?" 

After a brief moment of despair, Cody's eyes refocused. He suddenly thought of a logical flaw. 

"This is a letter from Drake, and it was forwarded. In other words, Batman must have been the first to read it." 

"Since Batman hasn't made a move today, it means that, in his opinion, this matter has been resolved, or there's simply no need to worry." 

Realizing this, hope reignited in Cody's heart. He immediately sat down at his desk, opened his computer, and searched for news about Metropolis from the past three days. Sure enough, two headlines popped up consecutively on the search page. 

Metropolis Suffers Shocking Change! Superman Reveals His True Colors? 

A City of Many Disasters—A Bizarre and Terrifying Storm 

The first news article was published exactly three days ago, and the second one yesterday. Drake's letter was also written yesterday. 

"Two disasters in three days," Cody's mouth twitched slightly. "Life in Metropolis is really fast-paced." 

He clicked on the first news article, which even included a video, looking like that day's news report. 

"Greetings, viewers, autumn has arrived in Metropolis." 

The blonde female reporter, holding a microphone, spoke to the camera with a smile on her face. "I'm news anchor Carol Samuels, and on today's program, I'll be taking you through the beautiful sights of this great city." 

"A city famous throughout the world. You might have heard songs about Metropolis, or stories about Metropolis. In any case, I once thought that the city of Metropolis was more bustling than ten cities combined—therefore, I am honored to introduce it to you, my hometown, Metropolis." 

"Look at these bustling streets, look at the people here." She introduced with a hint of pride, "The residents of Metropolis are the friendliest people in the world; they will extend a helping hand to any visiting tourist. They live here, with ideals in their hearts, feet firmly on the ground, carrying that unique Metropolis trait of unflappable composure—" 

"Holy cow! What is that?!" 

A gasp came from beside her. Then, the camera immediately swung sharply, panning past the blonde reporter's stunned face, and then focused on the sky. 

"Look, in the sky!" 

"Is that a bird?" 

"No, it's a plane!" 

"No," the female reporter murmured, her voice trembling slightly with fear. "That's—Superman!" 

Boom! 

The camera suddenly began to shake violently. As the red and blue figure flew through the city, skyscrapers collapsed with a roar. 

"Oh my god!" Camilla screamed in front of the TV. "Drake! Come quick! Superman's gone mad!" 

"What?!" 

Drake scurried into the living room. "Has he finally gone mad? Oh my god, he's already so destructive when he fights criminals. Half the buildings in Metropolis have been torn down by him at some point. If he's going full power now..." 

Boom! 

Before he could finish, the ground began to tremble slightly, making his body sway. Then, a massive sound echoed from outside the window. 

"God, I wish we hadn't lived so close to downtown." 

Camilla watched the TV screen with a pounding heart, listening to the huge noises from outside the window, once again feeling the changes in the city. 

Her face was ashen as she looked at the flying, earth-shattering God among Men on TV. At this moment, his divine power seemed to have gone out of control. 

On the TV, the screams of the citizens were a chaotic cacophony. 

"What is he doing?!" 

"He's smashing through all the buildings!" 

"He's crazy! Superman's crazy!" 

Chapter 280: Titans 

"Everyone, get off the streets immediately! Find shelter in low-rise buildings or take cover—Quick! Quick! Quick!" 

"Superman's gone crazy, run!" 

"No, no, no, oh my God, half a building just collapsed!" 

Amidst the panicked screams and desperate flight of the crowds, damaged buildings began to crumble, sending countless fragments of debris raining down. Huge chunks of concrete, rebar, and sharp glass shards scattered like falling petals, striking pedestrians on the streets. 

Clearly, the citizens of Metropolis lacked sufficient experience. The crowds stumbled and scattered in disarray, pushing and obstructing each other, forming a tangled mess that was heartbreaking to watch. 

"Oh, my God..." 

Drake and Camilla were hiding in the corner of a damaged building, their faces pale, watching the red cape streak across the sky at high speed. 

"I told you, the apartment should have had a basement," Camilla grumbled softly. "Now the house is smashed, and we have nowhere to hide." 

Drake replied quietly, "Hiding in the basement would be a real disaster. If our house truly collapsed, we'd be completely trapped inside. Who knows how long we'd have to wait for rescue? Trust me, a building that's already been damaged is probably safer." 

After their exchange, they fell silent, looking at each other. Drake surveyed the surrounding ruins and broken walls, feeling a wave of sorrow. "When we were in Gotham, we only heard that Metropolis had a powerful superhero who brought down severe crime rates to maybe once every few months. We thought life here would be as good as before... but no one mentioned that serious crimes here now involve destroying half a city block!" 

Madam Camilla echoed, "Exactly. These people are running around in a panic. It just shows they've been too comfortable and don't exercise often." 

As the couple spoke, they looked at each other, their thoughts drifting back to their days in Gotham. 

Back then, people were used to occasional gunfights on the streets in the mornings, food trucks constantly pushing "Happy Powder," and the occasional gang enforcer being thrown out a window. While life was certainly noisy, at least no one was tearing down buildings. 

"Crime in Gotham was almost a daily occurrence," Drake sighed, "but the damage was at least within 'human' limits. I mean, at least a building being blown up was still big news." 

Whoosh—! 

As they talked, an invisible sound wave suddenly spread through the air. A half-silver, half-black cyborg figure pulled itself into the sky with a mechanical arm, using a sonic cannon on its right hand to blast airborne debris into dust. 

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"Superman! Snap out of it!" 

Boom! Boom! 

The cyborg figure launched all its miniature cannons, unleashing continuous, violent explosions that engulfed the terrifying caped man in the sky. Horrific shockwaves, super-high temperatures of over a thousand degrees, and high-velocity shrapnel completely saturated the area, scorching and attacking his skin. 

However, the man at the center of the explosions felt nothing at all. He reached out, feeling the scorching flames, experiencing the vibrations and impacts with every cell of his body, and watched as sharp shrapnel struck his red and blue suit—then he let out a cold chuckle. 

The flames felt warm, like taking a warm bath; the shockwaves were just a tingle, too weak to even be considered a massage; and the feeble shrapnel couldn't even scratch his suit, crumpling into scraps of metal against his steel body. 

This was the first time he'd experienced such omnipotence, and it intoxicated him, making him utterly enraptured. Then he burst out laughing, charged through the flames, and casually punched his opponent away. 

The cyborg's body created a sharp sonic boom in the air as it crashed through a building and embedded itself deep into the ground. 

"Beg, Cyborg! Beg me for a quick death!" 

The caped man flew above the city sky, his wild laughter almost shaking all of Metropolis. 

"He really looks like one of those brainless, super-evil villains from the comics who's about to destroy the world," Drake couldn't help but quip. "I never imagined Superman would look like this." 

"I regret it, Drake," Camilla sighed too. "In the first few months we moved here, we didn't encounter a single crime. Back then, I thought it was so much safer than Gotham, and I truly believed I'd made a huge mistake deciding to live my whole life in Metropolis." 

At the same time, a rumble from high above echoed like thunder across the sky. The caped man turned into a blur of light and plunged into a building, shaking Metropolis once more. 

Sharp-eyed Drake saw him carrying Cyborg back into the sky, but this time, Cyborg seemed to be in a very bad state. 

"Superman ripped off that metal-head's mechanical arm and one mechanical leg," Drake sighed. "That guy's finished, he can't beat Superman – he might get torn to pieces." 

"Hey, Superman! What are you doing to Cyborg! Are you crazy?! He's a special member of the Titans, not a villain!" 

The caped man, hearing the voice, turned his head. He saw a green figure suddenly appear on the street. Though he didn't know who it was, he still scoffed, "Idiot, of course he's not a villain – but I am." 

He casually tossed the half-crippled Cyborg, smashing him directly into a nearby building, but he didn't care. Instead, he continued to mock the green-skinned youth, "Are you another foolish self-proclaimed superhero? How many more are there? You can all come at me." 

"As you wish!" 

With a crisp roar of anger, a废弃汽车 junked car smashed down like a hammer. The startled caped man spun around, and just as he raised his hand, the large vehicle, carrying immense power, hammered him into the road like a nail. 

"What's going on?" 

Drake, in the corner, looked at the girl in the red uniform with a 'W' symbol on her waist. This person seemed to have appeared in Metropolis news before; she and the green-skinned youth were teammates. 

The girl frowned. She threw the car aside but saw only a deep crater where the steel-bodied figure had been smashed, with no sign of him. 

"Superman couldn't possibly be unable to withstand the kinetic energy of a car. It has nothing to do with his own mass – his bio-field should have kept him completely still." 

"Is that so? You seem to know Superman well." 

A cold, angry voice, filled with suppressed rage, sounded in her ear. The girl's pupils suddenly constricted. 

He flew behind me? When? 

At the same time, the green-skinned youth couldn't help but gasp in alarm. He shouted loudly at his teammate, "Wonder Girl! Look out!" 

"Too late to say that now!" the caped man sneered, raising a heavy steel construction plate. 

Thud!