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

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"As an angel king, I was preoccupied with saving the multiverse this morning, so it's really inconvenient for me to get involved in this kind of thing... If word got out, it would really feel like using a cannon to kill a mosquito."

Ian spoke hesitantly.

Sam Winchester, seeing Ian's unyielding attitude, felt his anxiety and despair almost overflowing. He knew that conventional requests and favors seemed utterly useless against this eccentric fellow. He gritted his teeth, as if making a firm decision, and suddenly grabbed the bulging, stained old backpack next to him.

"Ian! Wait!"

Sam's voice carried a desperate urgency. He suddenly turned his backpack upside down and forcefully shook it onto the cafeteria table!

Suddenly, a pile of magazines and books with provocative covers, sensational headlines, and varying printing quality scattered across almost half the table. Titles like "Guns and Angels," "Hot Hell," and "Devil's Night" bombarded the eye with their explosive titles and suggestive cover images of women (or men), and even included a few old-fashioned, yellowed books with more explicit covers.

The students who had been secretly watching them widened their eyes instantly, letting out suppressed gasps and snickers. The cafeteria lady almost dropped her soup ladle.

Sam's face flushed red, but he still forced a smile and pointed at the pile of "spiritual food" to Ian, saying, "These...these! These are all from my brother Dean's private collection! They're all rare and can't be found on the market! If you're willing to help me, these...these are all yours!"

Ian's gaze swept over the pile of "exquisite and unique" items, a clear look of disdain on his face. He shook his head and refused with righteous indignation.

“Mr. Sam Winchester! Have some self-respect! Do you think I, Ian Kent, am the kind of person who would indulge in such lowbrow pleasures and need these paper stimulants to stimulate dopamine release? My mind is as vast as the universe, and I have absolutely no interest in this kind of superficial art of the flesh!”

Ian glanced around.

He even elegantly adjusted a non-existent bow tie before adding, "However, I can introduce you to my second brother, Jordan. He seems to be quite interested in this kind of... uh... 'anthropological research data' lately, and he can take on your business."

Sam: "..."

He felt a throbbing sensation in his temples.

Seeing that this "honey trap" had failed.

Sam took a deep breath and unleashed his final trump card. He quickly stuffed the pile of magazines back into his bag, leaned forward, lowered his voice, and spoke with extreme seriousness.

“Ian! I know you’re particularly interested in things like starting a company, manufacturing, and making money! Our Winchester family has accumulated a wealth of valuable exorcism notes over generations! They contain detailed records of the weaknesses of various supernatural creatures, the details of various ancient exorcism rituals, and even some recipes and blueprints for homemade exorcism tools! From the optimal duration of the blessing of holy water to the choice of the particle size of salt bullets, to the rune carving techniques for dealing with demons of all levels... everything is included!”

He stared intently into Ian's eyes and offered the most tempting terms: "If these things were in your hands, with your 'wisdom' and 'business acumen,' you could absolutely establish an efficient, standardized, and low-cost production line for exorcism items! Just imagine, holy water would be as cheap as mineral water, salt bullets would be sold by weight, and rune daggers would support custom engraving... This would completely transform the entire exorcism industry!"

Sam also learned how to manipulate Ian and became a complimenter. Sure enough, his words were like precise magic, instantly striking Ian's weak spot!

Ian's previously indifferent and lazy expression vanished instantly, his eyes lighting up as if countless stars were twinkling within them. He even unconsciously sat up straight, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, as if mentally calculating just how great he could be.

He stroked his chin, his gaze drifting into the distance, muttering to himself, and even quoting a famous saying he'd heard somewhere.

"An era where everyone can afford exorcism tools? Interesting... Technology serves the people, no, magic, and exorcism also serve the people..."

Great, needless to say.

Ian seemed to see a vast, global supernatural products business empire rising up, and he was the "Lei Buss of the exorcism world" hiding behind the scenes and controlling everything!

A few seconds later, Ian snapped out of his daze, his face instantly switching to an expression of utmost sincerity and brotherly loyalty. He grabbed Sam's hand and shook it vigorously.

“Sam! My brother! My nineteenth best friend! You’re being too polite! Helping a friend is my duty! How could I, Ian Kent, stand idly by while your father and brother go missing? Don’t worry! Leave it to me! I’ll take care of this!”

“Even Jesus would have to stop me twice before he could stop me,” he said, patting his chest with a strong and resolute tone, as he casually put the magazines into his bag.

The movements were incredibly fluid, as if they had been rehearsed a thousand times in the mind.

Chapter 198 Apocalypse, A Tumultuous Time

Ian's backpack was very, very big.

It can hold anything.

He swept away hundreds of books that had been shaken off the table.

“I will keep these top-secret files for you. I will find a friend of mine, a professional, to do trace analysis. Maybe there are clues about the Yellow-Eyed Demon hidden in them.”

Ian's tone was righteous and serious, with a hint of meticulousness. His hands moved so fast it was dazzling; Sam only saw a blur before his eyes and the table was completely empty. Even his own stationery, which he had accidentally spilled, looked like a lighter to anyone who didn't know better.

"Forehead……"

Sam watched Ian's attitude change 180 degrees and the smooth motion of him taking the magazine, and his lips twitched uncontrollably a few times.

Feeling conflicted, he was momentarily at a loss for whether to be happy or speechless.

"Thank you... thank you..."

Sam said dryly, but inexplicably felt relieved. In any case, Ian had finally agreed, and he didn't care too much about how the future of the exorcist world would be affected by this.

Of all the Winchester family members, he was the one who disliked his family business the most.

"You're too kind! We don't need to say such things between classmates!" Ian waved his hand, exuding a heroic air, as if he wasn't the one who had been making all sorts of excuses just moments before.

With his dramatic flair, Ian put his arm around Sam's shoulder, causing Sam to stiffen. Ian, on the other hand, gazed intently into the distance, as if he could already see an incredibly bright future.

"This is nothing short of a supernatural industrial revolution! In the future, people will remember the Winchester family's insignificant contributions, and Ian, the benevolent lord, for my sacrifice."

"Think about it, I can sell standardized holy water spray in nine different tiers, like 45-degree holy water, 20-degree holy water, etc., just like selling alcohol, to meet everyone's needs."

"Mass-produced enchanted salt bombs, crosses that can be remotely consecrated via an app, and more... How many hunters with limited budgets and innocent families will this save! We will change the world, Sam! We will be saints in the exorcism world! My magic... uh, I mean, to what extent will my business empire explode!"

Ian became more and more excited as he spoke, as if he could already see the moment when his magic power was so great that he could take up his old profession as a dimensional demon god and carry out the "magic loan"—a moment that was both grand and traditional.

"Don't drag me into this, I don't know anything." Sam felt a chill run down his spine and didn't want to continue the conversation. All he wanted was to find his missing father and brother.

I don't want to become the Rockefeller of the exorcism world.

"Don't worry, I definitely won't take you with me."

"I've thought about your idea of ​​'everyone can afford to exorcise demons' again, and it is indeed very forward-thinking. From now on, we will say that this idea is mine."

"Don't look at me like that. It was our teacher who taught us to learn from Edison." Ian was an honest and sincere person, and his scoundrel nature lay in his innocent scoundrelness.

Nothing to hide.

"..."

Sam found it difficult to refute Ian's logic; after all, he was a fairly honest kid.

“My dad and brother might be in Seattle.” Sam only wanted to talk about business, so he quickly revealed some of the clues he knew to Ian.

“Seattle? It’s not that far, no problem.” Ian immediately pulled himself back from his reverie, patted his chest again, and made a confident guarantee.

"Don't even mention Seattle, I'll find your dad and brother even in the City of Light. I want to see them alive, and if they're dead... well, if they're really... well, it's okay! I'll go to a parallel universe and bring back a brother and dad for you! I guarantee they'll be the same type, with synchronized memories and no discomfort whatsoever."

There was a real light in Ian's eyes.

Sam was so taken aback by this overly "thoughtful" after-sales service that he waved his hands repeatedly, sweat beading on his forehead: "No! No! Ian! Forget about the other brothers and dads! I really only want my own dad and brother!"

"I want the original!"

He emphasized it again at the end.

Ian stroked his chin and nodded thoughtfully: "Hmm...that makes sense. Original parts are definitely more compatible than aftermarket parts. Okay, let's go find your original dad and brother!"

Finally, I received a relatively reliable promise.

Sam breathed a long sigh of relief.

It felt more tiring than fighting a room full of vampires.

"Well, I'll go back and prepare for class now. I'll wait for you here tonight." He didn't dare stay any longer, afraid that Ian would come up with some even more outrageous ideas.

After handing Ian a note, Sam quickly got up to leave, practically fleeing the cafeteria. Seeing his customer leave, Ian returned to his table to enjoy his meal.

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Some people bring their own hot sauce, while others bring their own sandwiches. Ian brings some minerals and poison to his lunch, which can be considered following the crowd.

The first period in the afternoon is a safety and hygiene class.

Because the homeroom teacher, Ms. Misha, was still organizing Hannibal's funeral and was unaware that Hannibal himself had already attended, and because the place was said to be haunted, she was quite frightened.

This class was taught by a contracted substitute teacher—Ms. David. Don't ask why it's such a strange combination; there really are male mothers and male women in America.

Yes, Ms. David was a tall, impeccably made-up, and well-dressed professional teacher—though not particularly attractive. She, or rather, he—walked into the classroom with confidence, a gentle yet undeniable smile on his face.

"Good afternoon, students. I am your substitute teacher for today's Safety and Hygiene class. You can call me Ms. David." Its voice, after years of training, is now indistinguishable as male or female.

Although he was a terrorist, the course content was mostly normal, mainly covering campus safety knowledge, personal hygiene habits, and some basic first aid knowledge.

Of course, as a security course in the United States, it inevitably involves some "unique" content.

"So, students, you must remember this." Ms. David pointed a laser pointer at a cartoon on the projection screen: a student pointing a gun at another student.

"Under no circumstances should you kill your classmates or teachers. Never point a gun at your classmates or pick up a rocket launcher you brought from home."

"These are all very dangerous and illegal behaviors. If you see a classmate coming to class with a bulging backpack, you must report it to the teacher or campus security immediately."

The students below were used to this, and some even whispered that the teacher must be crazy. They were all practically in high school; how could they not understand these everyday things? Of everyone, only Ian tried to hide his bulging backpack, but no one else noticed.

Clearly, due to survivor bias, these students who haven't experienced real combat lack some vigilance about life. Fortunately, Ian is indeed not a campus killer.

The course proceeded smoothly.

However, when explaining the section on "physiological and mental health during puberty," Ms. David inevitably began to incorporate some American pop culture that she was personally very interested in and involved in.

"Students, you are at a crucial stage in your self-discovery and identity exploration. You may be confused about issues such as your gender and orientation."

"Whether people prefer boys, girls, or any animal, it's perfectly normal. The important thing is to accept yourself and bravely express your true self... and also to respect, or rather, to offer help and praise to those who dare to act on their needs."

This is where they're starting to add their own agendas.

She even began to speak with a preaching-like enthusiasm. When Ms. David said, "If any students still have something to say about this, they can contact me privately for help,"

Ian raised his hand.

"This handsome young man, please speak." Ms. David was pleased to see someone interacting with her, so she became careless and didn't flash her camera, lacking vigilance.

"Huh? Handsome? Male classmate?" Ian stood up, his face showing an extremely serious, even somewhat offended expression, and he spoke loudly in an accusing tone.

"My God! Your teaching is full of prejudice and discrimination! What gives you the right to arbitrarily define my age and assume I'm in puberty? And what gives you the right to arbitrarily assume my gender isn't an IKEA shark, a walking ball of spaghetti, an Apache attack helicopter, or a cyberpunk red-light district guy?"

Ian filed charges.

The entire classroom fell silent instantly.

All the drowsy students were jolted awake and stared at Ian in disbelief.

Ms. David's smile froze instantly, her mouth slightly agape, as if she hadn't quite grasped the sudden question that was beyond anything she had prepared in her lesson plans and training materials.

Ian continued to deliver his righteous and stern speech.

“Your behavior of ignoring my self-identity and forcibly categorizing me is a serious disrespect for my helicopter identity! I feel extremely hurt! I must complain to the principal! I must complain to the education bureau! You are creating discrimination and hatred!” He used the simplification of gender.