Accompanied by Raven's song—which was heavy with a profound sense of humiliation.
"Digging, digging, digging in the tiny garden" became a hypnotic, demonic background track. Finally, with a sharp thrust of his shovel, Ian Kent's tool struck something hard and cold.
"Found it!"
Ian gave a cheer. The entrenching shovels he had mimicked with his hands reverted to their original form. He began to scramble at the surrounding mud and debris with his bare hands, acting as if he were afraid a metal shovel might accidentally damage something precious.
"You actually care that much about that demon? Being this careful?" Raven immediately ceased her "performance," exhaling a sigh of immense relief as she hurried over to take a look.
A few minutes later, a high-end, double-door refrigerator—now caked in thick mud—was hauled out of the ruins of the Kent family's backyard by Ian.
The refrigerator doors were slightly deformed from the impact, but the overall structure remained intact. After being connected to a power source, one could even hear the faint, rhythmic hum of the compressor kicking back to life.
Don't ask why there was still a power source available. If Ian walked around without carrying hundreds of outdoor power units, he would be too embarrassed to tell anyone that he had a follower who was a God of Thunder—someone for whom electricity was free.
"See! I told you it was here!"
Ian patted the refrigerator door triumphantly, then exerted force to pry open the door that had been jammed by the deformation. Although the fridge still worked, as the saying goes: out with the old, in with the new.
He had secretly insured the entire house through an insurance company under the Wayne Group.
Because of this, broken items would be claimed for compensation, and items that weren't broken would be smashed and then claimed for compensation. The original new home, having been blown up, was instantly transformed into a wealth-generating site.
After all.
For Ian—who possessed a "Full Industry Chain" and was dedicated to becoming America's Little Industrial Cthulhu—issuing inflated invoices was merely a matter of moving his lips.
From now on.
Every time the house was blown up.
It was roughly equivalent to the Kent family winning the lottery. This was what one called foresight.
"Good, good, there's still some frost."
Ian looked as though a weight had been lifted. As the refrigerator opened, a blast of cold air mixed with a scent of sulfur and minty freshener puffed out.
The internal structure of the fridge was very peculiar. The conventional storage compartments had been removed, and the entire refrigeration chamber resembled an independent, reinforced transparent storage box.
In the center of the box, a massive bull's head with curved horns had its eyes tightly shut. Its nostrils flared slightly as it emitted a steady snore.
It seemed to be having a very sweet dream.
It was the head of the bull-demon known as "Baal." As a guardian of the treasures kept here, he didn't seem particularly qualified, though one couldn't really blame him for dereliction of duty.
After all, the fridge contained food that Ian cherished dearly.
A few whiffs.
And even a demon would get lightheaded.
"Sleeping quite soundly."
Ian offered a critique, then reached inside without ceremony. Like grabbing a shopping bag, he snatched one of the bull's horns and hoisted him out of the refrigerator.
The demon Baal seemed completely oblivious, his snores continuing like rolling thunder.
Ian casually hung the snoring demon head onto a specialized hook at his waist, letting it dangle like some bizarre ornament.
Then, his attention was drawn to something else in the freezer compartment.
It was several vacuum-sealed packs of very fresh-looking chicken breasts. Perhaps because the fridge had lost power and restarted, combined with being buried in the ruins, they had begun to thaw slightly.
This was the thing Ian had been so careful about, fearing he might damage it—it was only now that Raven realized Ian wasn't actually worried about the bull-head Baal.
"It's just a few bags of chicken breast?"
Raven was confused. She didn't take Ian for the thrifty type.
"This is no ordinary chicken breast!"
Ian gave a pained cry, quickly fishing out the pieces of meat. Without a second thought, he ripped open a packaging bag, grabbed a piece, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing vigorously.
[Savage Tyrant EXP +7]
[Savage Tyrant EXP +11]
[Savage Tyrant EXP +13]
...
A string of minuscule experience gain notifications flashed through his consciousness.
"Even a mosquito's leg is meat!"
Ian explained in a muffled voice to the dumbfounded Raven while devouring the meat, "These are hormone-fed chickens specially produced by my own factory!"
"Pure hormone-cycle farming. I guarantee there's not a single grain used, and absolutely no traditional feed! They are super chickens raised from birth on nothing but 'Nine Dragons Strength' energy drinks!"
"It takes a hundred chickens to refine... I mean, to grow into one. The technology is maxed out; the nutritional value and energy purity are extraordinary! I definitely can't waste something that was so hard to come by!"
He swallowed a large chunk of meat.
He was clearly enjoying it.
It must be said.
This explanation clarified a certain situation—there was a reason why Jonathan loved to sneak Ian's chicken breasts! After all, not every chicken breast had such an immediate muscle-building effect!
Perhaps.
At some time.
In some corner.
Jonathan had searched all of Metropolis and could never again find this kind of divine tonic that made one feel their muscles growing uncontrollably just by taking two whiffs of it.
*Smack, smack, smack~* Ian ate with great relish, his cheeks bulging, and he even found time to add: "Mom taught me not to waste food."
This was a blatant attempt to cover things up.
He was finding a reasonable excuse for his gluttony.
"Uh..."
As Raven watched him raw-dogging these half-frozen chicken breasts, the twitching in the corner of her eye was reaching the speed of a vibration motor. She couldn't help but ask cautiously.
"That's raw meat, right? Even if your family advocates for nature and a return to the primitive... you shouldn't be *this* primitive, right?"
Miss Raven spoke very carefully.
She was mainly afraid that a careless word might trigger an even more severe symptom of Ian's illness—to this day, she still didn't know the full extent of his condition.
Perhaps the mental hospitals of the entire Earth had never seen such a complex case.
"Raw meat?"
Upon hearing this, Ian...
Proudly waved the remaining half-piece of chicken breast in his hand.
He gave a slight smile, his youthful desire to show off fully on display.
"No, it's not raw meat. My house doesn't have any of those messy 'political correctness' or 'naturalism' factors."
Ian pointed to his throat and stomach.
"Actually, I don't blame you. After all, you're only a demigod; you don't have the talent of a full god like me."
"It looks like I'm eating it raw, but in reality, by the time this meat hits my stomach, it has already turned into tender, juicy roasted meat!"
Ian's explanation was dead serious.
"??????"
The bewilderment on Raven's face was genuine and heartfelt.
"That's how it is."
Ian explained solemnly again: "My esophagus, like my other organs, has its own ideas. It felt its original function was too low-class, unworthy of being in my body. Harboring this sense of inferiority, it worked hard to evolve a roasting function."
"From the throat to the stomach, it's constant-temperature slow roasting the whole way, locking in the juices and bringing out the aroma. It can even do molecular gastronomy... Actually, this matter is clearly recorded in Chapter 36 of 'Batman's Poignant and Sadistic Love'! As they say, art comes from life—the setting where Batman can use his abdominal muscles to heat and sear a steak was inspired by this!"
Ian had thought his masterpiece was a bestseller across all of America.
However.
Raven's expression looked as if she were far behind the times, having failed to read one of the best-selling works of the century—and this wasn't Ian's own boast.
He didn't even buy his own books, yet they sold incredibly well. There were even tax departments that suspected him of using the book for money laundering operations.
"There's actually an author whose illness resonates with yours... As expected, the things modern people eat are just wrong; too many additives." It was unclear how Raven's mind had wandered toward food safety issues. Perhaps it was because she felt her brain's CPU was starting to overheat and smoke.
Nonsensical speech is a classic symptom of CPU overload.
How should one put it? Raven was truly trying her best to understand his claims. However, while she understood every English word Ian spoke, they seemed to become completely wrong the moment they were linked together.
The resulting sentences were bizarre to the extreme, making her doubt if she had ever truly learned the English language.
The esophagus... evolving its own roasting function?
Batman's abdominal steak sear?
And that book that sounded absolutely ridiculous?
Raven thought for a long time but couldn't figure out what was wrong with this world. She decided to abandon the thought, fearing her magic core would short-circuit from the logical conflict.
And so, Raven forcibly averted her gaze from Ian and the raw meat in his hand, letting it fall on the demon head hanging at Ian's waist, which was still fast asleep.
"If you... are full." Raven's voice carried a hint of exhaustion. "Should we get on with business? Start preparing for the matters related to my father?"
She emphasized the word "business."
The habitually busy Raven hadn't wasted time like this in many years.
"Alright, no problem. What I just ate was just the appetizer. Let's welcome the real feast—don't worry, you can't beat Trigon, but I, Master Ian, have a way." Ian finished off the last few pieces of chicken breast in short order, letting out a very long, satisfied belch.
Ian clapped his hands.
He turned his attention to the demon Baal at his waist. He extended his index finger and gave the bull's forehead a neither light nor heavy flick.
"Hey! Magic Bucket! Wake up! It's time for work!"
In the next instant.
The demon Baal gave a violent jolt, snapping out of his deep sleep. A flicker of confusion crossed his large, bell-like bull eyes before they quickly focused on Ian's face.
Then.
The thing that left Raven dumbfounded happened.
She had originally thought the demon would surely erupt in curses and various hexes. She hadn't expected that the bull-demon's face would instantly bloom with an expression that was almost fawning, yet held an indescribable, sincere joy!
Even though he was only a head, he was incredibly excited, attempting to perform a bowing motion.
Furthermore, he began to sing praises in a loud, emotionally charged voice.
"Praise you! The great, supreme, and sovereign All-Dharma Emperor Ian, who walks among mortals!" Baal's voice carried a trembling quality.
It was as if he had seen his savior.
It was the kind of thing that would make a cult leader weep with envy.
"Your loyal, humble servant Baal misses your brilliance every second of every day! To see you at the first moment after waking is simply the greatest blessing the Abyss has bestowed upon me! Your Majesty, you have no idea—every minute and every second without your guidance is like suffering in an eternal night!"
The flattery flowed like water, vivid and emotional, with a fervor comparable to the most devout believer seeing their deity.
Most importantly, with Raven's rich experience in dealing with demons and her keen perception of energy and emotion, she could clearly tell—this demon Baal was actually telling the truth!
"?????"
Raven's brain stalled once again.
A demon.
He wasn't being forced, wasn't bound by a contract, and these weren't words spoken against his will out of fear! The other party was truly radiating reverence and love for this eccentric human, Ian Kent, from the depths of his soul!
This simply overturned Raven's understanding of demonic existence! The essence of a demon is chaos, evil, selfishness, and betrayal!
They might submit to a greater power, but they could never produce such... pure and positive emotions! This was more horrifying than seeing Trigon dance ballet!
It completely contradicted everything Raven had known about demons for years!
"!!!!!"
Silence reigned for a long time.
It wasn't until Ian waved his hand with an air of nonchalance, calling a halt to Baal's unending hymn of praise, that Raven finally recovered from her massive shock.
Full of confusion, she looked Ian up and down with the gaze one would use for an alien creature. Finally, she couldn't help herself and expressed the tidal wave in her heart in the most concise way possible.
"How... did you train him?"
She really couldn't think of a more appropriate word.
Compared to the demon Baal's performance, to be honest, the word "training" seemed too mild.
"Simple."
Hearing this, Ian revealed a profound, mysterious smile.
He even used his hand to help, manually twisting the corner of his mouth to an exaggerated angle, making a classic "Crooked-Mouth Dragon King" face.
"First, we must know that demons are also life forms. As long as there is life, there are pursuits, there are dreams, and there is a love and yearning for a better life!"
Upon hearing this.
Raven's expression seemed to say, "Keep making it up, I'm listening."
This reaction didn't affect Ian in the least. He didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with his words as he continued to talk eloquently with a passionate tone.
"You just need to let them know that following you means having a future! It means having a prospect, having a wonderful life. If they perform well enough and earn enough 'Ian Coins,' they can exchange them for human world tour packages, and even experience the feeling of shitting on an Angel's head! This is bound to be something no demon can refuse!"
"Yes, I am that kind of leader. The demons all believe I can Make Hell Great Again!" The more he spoke, the more invested he became, his eyes even flickering with a light that suggested he believed it himself.
As the saying goes, if a lie is told a thousand times, it becomes the truth.
In any case, Ian had completely convinced even himself of this rhetoric. His self-validation was impeccable, possessing the kind of confidence found in a big boss from the West.
As soon as his words fell, the demon Baal at his waist immediately shouted again like the most fanatical believer, his voice shaking the surrounding ruins so much that dust fell.
"Oh! Praise the All-Dharma Emperor, God Ian! You are the only sun illuminating the Abyss! MHGA!" The two of them were in perfect sync.
Raven opened her mouth.
Looking at this human youth with "sincere" eyes and that emotionally charged demon head, she couldn't utter a complete evaluation for a long time.
She felt her worldview needed a total format and reinstall. Finally, she silently, without a word, pulled an incredibly exquisite portable energy detector flickering with magical light from her robes. She pointed it at Ian and began a careful scanning analysis.
"What are you doing?"
Ian asked curiously, subconsciously cooperating with the check.
"Touching my kidney costs three hundred, touching my pectorals costs five hundred—oh, not there, that area isn't open yet." He even proactively provided a price list.
"Hmm??? How can there be no High Demon bloodline?"
Raven checked for a while, then froze on the spot.
"Is it possible that, aside from my Kryptonian blood, every other substance in my bones is just pure charisma?" Ian never blushed when he lied.
"..."
Just as Raven was speechless.
*Ding~*
Her phone rang.
It was a payment notification.
"!!!!?????"
Raven stared at the ridiculous items listed. As someone whose economic situation was already not great, this was adding insult to injury. She looked up at Ian with a blank stare.
Who could understand!
A girl who usually hunts demons and has many big things to worry about, who also has to spend time earning living expenses—how hard is that? How did someone just easily swipe half her savings like that?
"How did you do that?"
She hadn't expected the fees Ian mentioned to be actually deducted. Furthermore, it happened without her permission; she didn't enter a password, and her bank card wasn't even used.
"Used a bit of Wayne Tech." Ian's target for shifting blame was always specialized—if it wasn't Luthor's group, it was Bruce's. Perhaps this was just another form of obsession.
"..."
Raven thought of the relationship between the Kents and the Waynes and silently held a grudge. The magical girl, for whom earning money was very difficult, stubbornly raised her hand again, wanting to cast a spell.
Not that she intended to take Ian down.
Rather, she suspected Ian's hidden bloodline was buried very deep.
One must understand that in Raven's knowledge, demons would only have such an instinctive tendency toward loyalty for one kind of existence—because of this, she now seriously suspected that Ian Kent wasn't a half-Kryptonian, half-human at all. Neither human blood nor Kryptonian blood had such a strong attraction for demons.
"I think I've figured it out!"
A trace of solemnity flashed in Raven's eyes.
She knew well the personality of the dictators in Hell and how varied their tastes were. Therefore, she now suspected that Ian was the child of Clark Kent and Lucifer Morningstar!
Yes!
Otherwise, how else could the demon Baal's attitude toward Ian be explained?
Raven attempted to use magic to probe Ian's origins.
However.
The magic that was once invincible lost its effect at this moment.
She found nothing.
"What's going on?" Raven's brow furrowed tighter and tighter, and a bead of sweat even formed on her temple. This was wrong. Even if Ian were some unknown, powerful hybrid, her magic should at least have some basic reaction, rather than being like this—as if she were scanning a conceptual void.
After being tested for a long time, Ian, getting a bit impatient, raised an eyebrow. Seeing Raven's serious yet futile look, he sighed helplessly and said in a "you're really not sensible" tone.
"Sigh, I say, Miss Raven, you're... not being very savvy here."
Raven looked up at him in confusion.
Ian pointed at the device and the magic circle in her hands, then pointed at himself, lecturing her righteously.
"This is typical freeloading behavior, you know? You want to study me without paying? Where in the world is there such a good deal? With my status, you should at least give me several tens of millions or a couple hundred million!"
"You aren't too poor to afford it, are you?"
He made a lion-sized demand, throwing in a bit of provocation.
The word "poor" was like a precise arrow, instantly piercing Raven's heart!
The truth is a sharp blade! Raven had indeed... not been as well-off lately as she used to be.
Tracking Trigon's whereabouts, preparing various magical materials to counter her father, maintaining her own concealment... every single item was a massive expense. The wealth and resources she had accumulated previously had indeed been significantly depleted.
Ian's casual truth-bomb made her defenses crumble instantly. An uncontrollable blush "whooshed" up Raven's pale cheeks, spreading all the way to her ears.
It wasn't anger so much as the embarrassment and annoyance of having her sore spot poked. She opened her mouth, wanting to retort but finding nothing to say.
In the end, she could only glare at Ian fiercely and sullenly put away the useless detector.
Just then.
*Ding-dong—*
A crisp notification sound rang from Ian's pocket.
Ian fished out his gaudy-looking phone, which was encrusted with suspicious gems, and glanced at the message on the screen. His expression instantly became... serious?
"Alright, enough small talk. We have business." Ian quickly stuffed the phone back into his pocket, then snatched the bull-demon Baal—who was still hanging at his waist, excited about participating in a "great cause"—and shoved him into Raven's arms like he was passing a basketball.
"Here, you hold him first," Ian instructed. "Be careful, don't break him for me. Otherwise, a single Trigon won't be enough to compensate."
Suddenly transferred into a stranger's arms, the demon Baal was a bit dazed. He shook his head and asked.
"Your Majesty? What's happening? Are we not going to carry out the great cause?"
Ian explained concisely: "The plan remains the same. We'll use you as bait to lure out his old man... uh, or your previous boss, Trigon."
"And then..." He paused, saying very directly, "Eat him."
These words were so blunt that even Raven was stunned for a moment.
She subconsciously thought this terrifying plan would scare Baal. After all, to the vast majority of demons, Trigon was a supreme, inviolable incarnation of terror.
However, to Raven's shock once again, after hearing the plan to "eat Trigon," the bull-demon Baal's eyes first bulged, showing extreme astonishment. But immediately following that, the astonishment transformed into ecstasy!
"As expected! I knew it! This day would eventually come!" Baal was so excited that his entire head trembled in Raven's arms. Drool leaked uncontrollably from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto Raven's robe with a "sizzle" of corrosion.
"Great! His Majesty is finally going to move against that old bastard! I knew there would be meat to eat if I followed His Majesty! When His Majesty eats the meat, I, Baal, can at least have some soup... No, even just smelling the aroma or licking the scraps would be fine!"
Raven: "???"
Looking at this demon in her arms who was salivating with excitement at the thought of feasting on his former master, she hurriedly shifted her posture, grabbing Baal by the horns to hold him up and avoid having her magic robe completely burned through.
At the same time, she keenly noticed that the energy fluctuations from this demon Baal were significantly stronger than when they had met during the school incident! This rate of rank advancement was highly abnormal!
Could it be... this was also related to his unwavering loyalty to Ian?
A terrifying thought flashed through Raven's mind. She suddenly looked up at Ian, who was preparing to leave, her voice carrying a hint of suspicion and alarm.
"Just... how many demons have you two eaten?!"
Ian had already hovered into the air. Hearing this, he looked back and revealed a meaningful smile.
"That's not important~ What's important is that you stay here and prepare the summoning ritual or whatever. I have to go to the warehouse and pluck some Archangel feathers as insurance, in case we underestimate Trigon and he manages to slip away—you know, Archangel feathers, the holy light energy is top-notch."
"It'll definitely suppress a demon. It'll make it easier to 'shut the door and beat the dog'... uh, shut the door and beat the dad!"
Having said that, without waiting for Raven's reaction, energy surged around Ian. With a *whoosh*, he turned into a streak of light, flying off toward the outskirts of the city and vanishing over the horizon in an instant.
Raven stood there, holding the still-drooling Baal, looking utterly blank and confused.
"He even... knows Archangels?"
Raven murmured to herself.
No matter how she looked at Ian's behavior, he didn't seem like someone who could communicate with the forces of Heaven or possess a holy soul. He was the polar opposite of the virtues represented by Angels.
The demon Baal, whom she was holding, heard her whisper and couldn't help but let out a sneer. Using a mocking tone that had reverted to that of a demon with a distinct "Hell" accent, he said.
"Hmph! Ignorant! You understand God Ian far too little! Know them? How could a relationship of equality be worthy of His Majesty's status!"
Baal's voice was full of pride and awe: "God Ian doesn't *know* Angels—he *farms* them! He keeps Angels in his sweatshop! Don't say I didn't warn you! You'd better show some respect when speaking to God Ian! Otherwise, the next one hanging in the fridge might be you!"
"Farming... Angels?" Raven's brain stalled again from the impact of this information. This was even more ridiculous than hearing Trigon dance the jig!
There wasn't a single word of truth from this demon's mouth.
"Are you playing me?"
After coming to her senses, Raven's face turned red with anger. She swung her other hand, imbuing it with pure magical energy, and gave the non-stop talking Baal a fierce slap across the face!
*Slap!*
After the crisp sound, Baal was left dazed. Feeling the sharp pain from the spiritual level, he sensibly shut his mouth and chose to go into a state of self-isolation.
He didn't say another word.
Of course, his bull eyes still flickered with a longing light for those "scraps."
Meanwhile, Ian had landed outside a large factory building in a seemingly ordinary, even somewhat dilapidated industrial park on the far outskirts of Metropolis.
As soon as he landed, he saw Madison, that little punk girl, holding a tablet computer. She was bossily directing a group of workers in coveralls as they unloaded cargo from several old, battered trucks.
At this moment.
Even Ian was stunned.
"No, I told you to be more frugal, and then you give the Angels *this* kind of stuff to eat?" There aren't many people in this world who can leave even Ian aghast.
The little punk girl was one of them.
It couldn't be helped.
How could Ian not be shocked?
Even he couldn't have imagined this method of "reducing expenditure and increasing revenue"—look at those food crates. The boxes were printed with blurred Cyrillic markings and a signature logo.
They were definitely old stock from the Soviet Union.
They were probably older than Ian's grandfather.
Ian was a capitalist, and he had at least a bit of a conscience. But Madison truly had the style of an entrepreneur—even if you use zombie meat, you can't have it be *this* much of a zombie!
***
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