As a Kryptonian, I've Become a Homelander
WTR-lab
Novel SummaryShen Che transmigrated to Krypton on the eve of its destruction, next to the newly born Clark.
In order to protect himself, he decisively kicked the real Superman out of the spaceship and took over the place of the real Superman, landing on Earth!
He thought he would become a savior adopted by a rancher, but he unexpectedly crashed into the headquarters of the Vought Corporation, becoming not only a superhuman controlled by a conglomerate, but also gaining a yandere childhood friend—Homelander.
Despite being exploited by conglomerates and feared by the Super Seven, Shen Che remained calm, because he had awakened the [Silver Super Template], which defies the laws of physics!
Years later, the Justice League was first formed.
Batman pulled out a greenish kryptonite and said coldly, "This is your weakness!"
Shen Che snatched it and chewed it like a mint: "It tastes good, do you have any more?"
The real Superman, who had finally arrived on Earth after enduring countless hardships, was filled with grief and indignation: "You possess godlike power, so why don't you save the world!"
Shen Che sat atop the Water Tower, with his arms around the woman from the motherland, looking down at her: "Saving the world? Sorry, I only save clients who have purchased Water Supreme VIP insurance."
This is an invincible and exhilarating novel where the protagonist, wearing the invincible Superman panel, does things like Homelander, and dominates American comics with his yandere childhood friend!
Chapter 1 Kryptonian is about to explode, I kicked away the real Superman
The muffled sound of the crust tearing awoke Shen Che.
Too noisy.
He wanted to cover his ears, but stopped halfway through lifting his hand.
This hand was too small, chubby, and even the fingernails hadn't grown hard yet.
He had turned into an infant.
The air was full of the pungent smell of sulfur.
The crystal dome overhead made a creaking sound, dropping a layer of grayish-white stone powder.
Red light filtered in from outside the window, making the wall skin in the room look like it was soaked in blood.
Someone was crying nearby.
A woman's voice, intermittent and out of breath.
"Jor-El, is there really no other way?" The woman's voice trembled.
"The core has already collapsed. Laura, Kryptonian is doomed." The man's voice was very deep, like sandpaper grinding over an iron plate.
Jor-El? Laura? Kryptonian?
Shen Che lay in the incubator, cold sweat soaking the soft cushion behind his back.
In his past life, he had worked himself to death on Wall Street, staying up late to look at financial reports for an M&A case and dying suddenly at his workstation.
Now that he finally restarted a game, they gave him hell difficulty?
Starting off by turning into fireworks along with the Planet?
You've got to be kidding me.
He struggled to turn his neck.
His cervical vertebrae were as soft as noodles, and halfway through the turn, his neck muscles twitched with pain.
Looking past the transparent isolation cover, he saw it clearly.
In the middle of the room was a metal launch pad.
On it parked a streamlined spacecraft.
The hatch was open.
The inner lining was a dim blue gel.
This volume could only hold one person.
To be exact, it could only hold an infant.
Next to the spacecraft, Jor-El, wearing a silver robe, was picking up an infant wrapped in a red blanket.
"Karl-El. My son." The man kissed the infant's forehead, "You will carry the hope of Kryptonian and live on Earth."
Karl-El. Clark Kent. Real Superman.
Shen Che understood.
That was Superman's exclusive escape pod.
And he was just cannon fodder whose name wasn't even mentioned.
A poor guy destined to be buried together with this group of aliens.
Shen Che ground his toothless gums, a taste of blood welling up in his mouth.
In your dreams.
Since I had come back to life, I had no intention of dying a second time.
Care whether you are the Child of Destiny.
The only one who will survive is me.
My Lord was still undergoing the parting farewell of life and death.
Laura held her husband and cried so hard she couldn't stand steadily.
No one looked at his corner.
Shen Che began to act.
Turn over first.
For a few-month-old infant, this was heavy physical labor.
He held his breath and exerted force with his waist.
His center of gravity was unstable, and he smashed face down onto the soft cushion, his nose bumping and aching sourly.
Tears physiologically welled up.
He sniffed, using his hands and feet together to crawl to the edge of the incubator.
There was a metal buckle on the edge of the box.
He reached out to grab it.
His hand was a section too short.
He moved forward again.
His belly pressed against the edge, the fabric rubbing his skin painfully.
His short little hands finally touched the buckle.
He used all the strength he had for nursing to flick it down.
Click.
The isolation cover popped open a crack.
Shen Che, like a big-headed fish, squeezed out through the crack.
Slap.
He fell onto the floor.
His chin bumped against the cold metal mesh.
It really hurt.
He couldn't care about the pain and started crawling.
The ground was shaking.
The source of the tremor was getting closer and closer, and the crystal tubes on the wall burst one after another.
Broken glass splashed all over the floor.
A fist-sized piece of ceiling debris smashed down, landing right where he had been lying just now.
Shen Che swallowed his saliva and bypassed the glass shards.
His knees rubbed red marks on the ground.
The launch pad was five meters away from him.
Five meters, normally a distance of a few steps, was now a river that could not be crossed.
He panted heavily, alternating his hands and feet.
He crawled looking just like a frightened turtle.
A bit comical, but life was more important.
An instrument on the left burst out a spark.
The burnt smell spread.
Shen Che was rolled around by the air wave.
His forehead bumped against the table leg.
He shook his dizzy head, bit his lower lip, and continued to move toward the launch pad.
Ahead were the stairs.
He grabbed the first metal step with both hands.
He pulled upward hard.
His legs kicked twice in mid-air before barely managing to rest on the edge.
The farewell above had reached its end.
Jor-El put the infant wrapped in the red blanket into the spacecraft.
"Earth has a yellow Sun." He touched the hatch, his voice trembling, "You will be like a god."
Go to hell with your like a god, that's mine now.
Shen Che sneered in his heart.
Laura turned around, covering her face and sobbing.
Jor-El walked down the steps to hug his wife.
Right now.
Shen Che used his hands and feet together, quickly crawling up the last two steps.
His fingernails scraped a subtle sound on the metal plate.
The spacecraft was right in front of him.
Inside lay the future savior in blue tights.
Clark was blowing bubbles with his eyes closed.
Sleeping very soundly.
Shen Che grabbed the edge of the hatch with both hands and laboriously poked half his body in.
The space was too crowded.
Clark's red blanket occupied more than half of the space.
Shen Che panted.
He looked at Clark's chubby face.
Sorry, big brother.
I'll borrow your cheat to use.
Shen Che pulled back his chubby little legs, his knees pressing against Clark's waist.
Take a deep breath.
Push hard.
It didn't budge.
This kid was too heavy.
There was another loud crash outside.
The entire building tilted.
There was no time.
Shen Che retreated a little, his legs bending to the limit, and forcefully exerted strength like a spring.
Bang.
Clark slid directly out from the other side of the spacecraft like a red bowling ball.
The infant woke up in mid-air, letting out a loud cry.
"Wa—"
Jor-El and Laura below turned back abruptly.
"Karl?!" The two screamed in horror.
Laura scrambled over to catch the child.
Taking advantage of this chaos, Shen Che rolled into the depths of the spacecraft in one motion.
The dim blue gel pad immediately wrapped around his body.
Soft and squishy.
He turned over, facing upward.
The launch control panel was right at hand.
There was a red startup circular button on it.
Jor-El found something was wrong and rushed toward the launch pad.
"Whose child are you? Come out!"
The man's face was full of anger, reaching out to grab the hatch.
Shen Che looked at him.
His toothless mouth grinned.
He raised his chubby palm and fiercely slapped it against that red button.
Beep—
The hatch closed instantly.
The sound of the air valve locking sounded.
It blocked Jor-El's fingers outside.
"No!"
The sound of desperate slapping came from outside.
The system synthesized voice echoed in the cabin.
"Coordinates locked. Earth."
"Ten seconds countdown to ignition. Ten, nine, eight..."
The vibration outside intensified.
The metal steps broke.
Jor-El held Clark, looking despairingly at the sealed spacecraft.
"Three, two, one. Ignition."
A sense of weightlessness suddenly struck.
A strong push-back pressed Shen Che tightly against the gel pad.
His chest felt stuffy, almost spitting up milk.
The spaceship ejected a dim blue tail flame, smashing through the crumbling crystal dome.
Through the porthole on the top of the cabin, Shen Chelooked down.
The core of Kryptonian had been completely torn apart.
Dark red magma broke through the surface like a fountain.
The bustling crystal city collapsed and melted in the raging fire.
Then, the entire Planet exploded.
The scorching White light stung him into closing his eyes.
The spaceship broke through the atmosphere.
Against the backdrop of Kryptonian completely blowing apart, Shen Che, carrying the plundered destiny, turned into a meteor and smashed toward Earth.
Chapter 2: Descending to Earth, Smashing Through Vought Tower, Childhood Sweetheart Female Homelander
New York, Manhattan.
The night sky was burned through.
A fireball with a faint blue tail flame smashed through the clouds, heading straight for the city center.
That was Vought Tower.
A PPT was being presented in the eighty-second-floor executive conference room. The glass curtain wall shattered without warning.
Gale-force winds mixed with glass shards poured into the room. The solid wood conference table was smashed into two halves on the spot.
Alarms screamed. Red lights flashed wildly.
In the dust and smoke, a silver-gray elliptical capsule was stuck in the floor interlayer.
The executives were covered in dust on their suits, collapsing onto the floor and coughing so hard they couldn't catch their breath.
Hiss——
The hatch released a puff of white vapor, slowly sliding open to both sides.
The executives held their breath, and someone pulled out a handgun from behind their waist.
Shen Che lay in the deep blue gel and sneezed.
His nasal cavity was filled with the smell of scorched carpet. He rubbed his nose, grabbed the edge of the hatch with his chubby little hand, and poked his upper body out.
A room full of adults stared fixedly at the alien infant.
Shen Che blinked and didn't cry. He knew he had landed safely.
This was Earth.
Three days later, the Vought underground laboratory.
The cold incandescent lights were blinding. The air was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant.
Shen Che lay naked on the stainless steel operating table.
The tabletop was a bit cool. He rolled over and pressed his belly against it.
Standing nearby were several experimenters in white coats, sweating profusely from their foreheads.
"The seventh one." A man wearing glasses held up a syringe.
The needle bent ninety degrees. It didn't even pierce a layer of Shen Che's skin.
"What kind of monster is this anyway? Hatched from a meteorite?" The man slammed the waste syringe into the tray.
Shen Che rolled his eyes.
A Kryptonian steel body, and you're trying to pierce it with an aluminum alloy needle?
But his current body coordination was still that of an infant. Wanting to turn over and sit up, his left leg tripped over his right leg, and with a smack, he fell back onto the tabletop.
A bit embarrassing.
He simply stopped moving and closed his eyes to feign sleep.
After a few days of testing, Vought's upper management figured out one thing.
This infant was invulnerable, and his strength was great enough to bend steel bars.
They regarded Shen Che as a top-secret asset.
Shen Che was transferred to the isolation zone on the ninth underground floor. A single bulletproof glass room.
Next door also lived a test subject.
She was a little blonde girl, looking about three or four years old. Wearing a white hospital gown, barefoot.
She was squatting in the corner, gnawing on her thumb. Her nails were bitten down to the quick, oozing blood.
This was Chloe. The future Female Homelander.
At this time she was not yet called this name, and the doorplate only read "Test Subject-7".
Shen Che pressed against the glass, watching her.
Chloe sensed the gaze and abruptly raised her head. Her blue eyes were filled with ferocity.
She pounced at the glass like a wildcat.
Bang!
The bulletproof glass shook from her impact. She opened her mouth and bared her teeth at Shen Che.
Shen Che didn't dodge. He patted the glass.
The glass was fine, but the entire wall shook along with it.
Chloe froze. She took two steps back, tilting her head to size up this newly arrived brat.
One week later, Vought arranged a "social test".
The two children were put into a padded activity room. In the middle was a pile of plastic building blocks.
The surveillance camera rotated on the ceiling.
Shen Che slowly crawled over and grabbed a red building block.
Chloe rushed over and snatched it away.
Shen Che looked at his empty hand. He wouldn't argue with a child.
He picked up a blue one instead.
Chloe slapped the blue block away with one hand and shoved her hands toward Shen Che's shoulders.
She had great strength; an adult could have several ribs broken by her push.
Shen Che didn't budge an inch.
Having soaked in the yellow Sun for a few days, he was now as heavy as a lead block.
Chloe grew anxious, gripping Shen Che's arms with both hands and pulling backward with all her might.
Shen Che sighed. Brats were really troublesome.
He backhanded and grabbed Chloe's wrist, giving it a gentle flick.
Chloe fell flat on her rear onto the mat. She was stunned.
No one in the laboratory could suppress her in terms of strength.
Her mouth downturned, and her eye sockets turned red. The temperature of the surrounding air rose sharply, and a red glow began to appear in her blue eyes.
She was about to lose her temper and release her Heat Vision.
Shen Che didn't want to cause trouble. He grabbed that red building block and shoved it into Chloe's hand.
"Play." His articulation was unclear, his voice sounding babyish.
The red light in Chloe's eyes dissipated.
She pinched the building block, looked at the block, and then looked at Shen Che.
That was the first time in her life she had received something given by someone else. Not a syringe, not an electroshock device.
She inched closer to Shen Che. Shoulder touching shoulder.
Days passed by one by one.
The laboratory saw no daylight, and time was a fuzzy concept.
Shen Che grew very fast. Kryptonian genes made him shoot up and grow taller in just a few short years.
He showed maturity far beyond his peers. He didn't cry or make a fuss, and learned things the first time he saw them.
The people at Vought Company felt he was a perfect product.
Only Chloe knew what kind of person Shen Che was.
When she was five years old, a newly arrived nurse used a bit too much force while drawing blood for Chloe.
Chloe shivered with pain, biting her teeth hard without making a sound.
The nurse cursed with a dirty word and gave her head a shove.
Shen Che was sitting in the corner doing a puzzle at the time.
He stood up and walked behind the nurse.
He kicked the back of the nurse's knee. Snap.
The nurse screamed and knelt on the ground, bone shards piercing through the trouser legs.
Shen Che clapped his hands and pulled Chloe behind him.
"Change someone else to draw it." He said, staring at the guards outside the door.
From that day on, the way Chloe looked at Shen Chechanged.
That wasn't the look of looking at a companion. It was looking at a god.
She was extremely starved for affection, and Vought only cultivated her as a weapon. Shen Che was the only person who protected her.
This dependency, as they grew older, began to distort crazily.
At ten years old.
A television was added to the activity room. It played superhero advertisements inside.
Chloe was wearing a custom blue uniform with a Stars and Stripes cape draped over her.
"Shen, does it look good?" She spun around, her blonde hair flying.
"Not bad." Shen Che stared at the stock market news on TV.
Chloe leaned in closer, blocking the screen.
"That female assistant glanced at you an extra time just now." She lowered her voice, her fingers twisting the edge of her cape, "I want to gouge out her eyeballs."
Shen Che shifted his gaze to her face.
Chloe bit her lower lip, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling violently.
She was serious.
"No." Shen Che said.
The light in Chloe's eyes dimmed, her fingers clenching tightly.
"Gouge them out after she gets off work." Shen Che added.
Chloe abruptly raised her head, her blue eyes frighteningly bright. She wrapped her arms around Shen Che's neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
"Okay. I'll listen to you." Her voice was sickeningly sweet.
Shen Che patted her back.
He knew he was raising a Gu poison.
But he needed an absolutely loyal blade. In this World, people without a bottom line lived the most comfortably.
Shen Che had always been hiding his strength.
He was well aware of how terrifying his Silver Age Superman template was.
He soaked in the Sun punctually every day, feeling his cells frantically absorbing stellar radiation.
He learned to control his strength. Drinking water without crushing the cup, opening doors without dismantling the hinges.
Sometimes he accidentally crushed a pen, getting ink all over his hands.
Chloe would immediately rush over and help him wipe it clean bit by bit with a towel.
The surrounding researchers completely acted like they didn't see anything. No one dared to provoke this unhinged Female Homelander.
Once, Vought arranged for a healing-type little girl to interact with them.
The little girl simply handed Shen Che a piece of candy.
The next day, that little girl was drowned in the restroom.
Her head was pressed into the toilet, and the water tank was smashed to pieces.
The surveillance camera happened to be broken.
Vought's upper management knew it clearly, but no one uttered a word. Offending a strategic weapon for the sake of a support-type wasn't worth it.
Shen Che knew Chloe did it.
He just hadn't eaten that candy. He threw it into the trash can.
Seeing the candy in the trash can, Chloe was happy for a whole day.
In the blink of an eye, they reached adulthood.
Vought Tower, ninety-ninth floor.
This was the highest point in New York.
Shen Che stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window.
The glass was very thick, isolating the sound of the wind outside.
He wore a black custom suit. His figure was tall and straight.
He held a glass of bourbon whiskey with ice.
The ice cubes struck the rim of the cup, making a crisp sound.
Shen Che took a sip. Alcohol no longer had any effect on his body, he was just tasting the flavor.
The sky outside was somewhat gloomy.
A red and blue afterimage shuttled through the clouds.
It was Chloe.
She wore her signature tights, her blonde hair dancing wildly in the wind.
She circled twice in the sky and suddenly dived down.
Hovering outside the window of the ninety-ninth floor.
Through the bulletproof glass, Chloe looked at Shen Cheinside.
She stretched out her red-gloved hand and pressed it against the glass.
Shen Che raised his wine glass and waved it at her.
Chloe smiled. She turned and rushed into the clouds, kicking up a white sonic boom cloud.
Shen Che put down his wine glass.
He rubbed the space between his eyebrows, his vision refocusing on the city outside the window.
At this moment, the center of his vision suddenly distorted.
The air rippled like water waves.
A transparent panel emitting a pale blue micro-glow emerged without warning directly in front of his line of sight.
Chapter 3: Silver Age Superman panel? Why would anyone still want to be a superhero?
Shen Che looked at the translucent blue light screen before him.
The edges of the light screen were slightly out of focus, but the characters in the exact center were blindingly white.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. The light screen was still suspended in mid-air.
Shen Che bit his lower lip with his upper teeth, a short, muffled laugh rolling from deep within his throat.
The laughter grew louder and louder, making his chest vibrate numbly.
The hand holding the wine glass trembled along with it.
Half a cup of bourbon whiskey sloshed out and spilled onto the carpet.
He didn't care.
The character spacing on the light screen was very narrow, and the layout looked like a shoddy webpage.
[Template loading complete: Kryptonian (Silver Age)]
[Current progress: 100% (Naturally unlocked in adulthood)]
[Passive trait 1: Absolute strength ignoring physical laws]
[Passive trait 2: Absolute immunity to Kryptoniteradiation]
[Passive trait 3: Absolute immunity to magic/dimensional strikes]
There were only these few lines of text. Not even an electronic prompt tone.
Shen Che stared dead at the four characters "Silver Age". His knuckles clenched until they turned white.
When he was working round the clock on Wall Street in his past life, he would occasionally flip through a few American comics.
There were many kinds of Kryptonians.
The Superman in the movies who was bombed into skin and bones by a nuclear bomb and stabbed half to death by a green stone was the most common near-death version.
The Silver Age was different.
That was the era when American comic settings were at their most unrestrained.
What kind of concept was Silver Age Superman?
That was a monster that could take a hot bath in the core of a star.
A sneeze could blow out a solar system.
Finding an iron chain, he could pull hundreds of Planets around for a walk in the Universe.
That was a living deity who did not need to abide by the law of conservation of energy.
Shen Che put down the wine glass. The glass bottom struck the marble tabletop, making a crisp sound.
He had to test whether this thing was real.
Walking over to the mahogany desk, his gaze swept across the tabletop.
On the upper left corner sat a solid titanium alloy paperweight.
Shaped like the V-tower of Vought Company, usually used to hold down documents, it was quite heavy.
Shen Che extended his right hand.
His index finger and thumb pinched the tip of the tower.
He deliberately held back his strength, not daring to use his true force, just like pinching an eraser normally.
The metal tip of the tower made a teeth-aching creaking sound.
The titanium alloy squeezed out between his fingers like a piece of soft candy that had been left out for too long.
Then, he slightly closed his five fingers.
There was no sense of obstruction at all.
With a muffled thump.
The entire titanium alloy paperweight was crushed to pieces by raw force.
The grayish-white metal powder drifted down in a flurry, landing on the uppers of his black leather shoes.
Shen Che froze for a second.
He rubbed his fingers together. The pads of his fingers didn't even leave a red mark, only stained with a little dust.
Outrageous.
He just wanted to pinch a fingerprint out, but ended up grinding it directly into powder.
This kind of power completely overturned the ceiling of biological flesh.
Shen Che bent down, wanting to blow away the titanium powder on his shoes.
He took a slight breath in.
His lungs seemed to have turned into a bottomless pit. The surrounding air instantly poured back into his nasal cavity.
Sensing something was wrong, he quickly shut his mouth.
Too late.
The tiny wisp of exhaled airflow was like an invisible air cannon, slamming obliquely toward the ground.
The Persian rug was torn open with a half-meter-long gash.
The airflow hit the floor and bounced back, grazing the edge of the desk.
The half-empty wine bottle on the table shattered with a snap. Glass shards splattered everywhere.
A few drops of amber-colored liquor splashed onto the legs of his suit trousers.
Shen Che straightened up.
He pulled a tissue and lowered his head to wipe the wine stain on his trouser legs.
He cursed a dirty word in his heart.
He had to keep this mouth of his under control in the future.
If he had blown with all his might just now, ManhattanIsland in New York would most likely have been wiped off the map by now.
He threw the dirty paper ball into the wastepaper basket.
His gaze returned to that transparent panel once again.
Locking firmly onto the last two lines.
Kryptonite immunity. magic immunity.
This was the true life-saving card.
The two major fatal weaknesses of ordinary Supermanwere directly welded shut by this Silver Age template.
This meant that no matter which Universe's Batman he encountered in the future, if he dared to take out glowing green Kryptonite to stab him—
He could directly snatch that broken stone away, chew it up like a mint candy, and swallow it down.
As for those mages who drew circles and chanted spells every day?
Their magic hitting his Silver Age skin probably wouldn't even spark a static electricity spark.
Shen Che walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and pressed his palm against the bulletproof glass.
For these eighteen years, he had been acting like a subservient grandson in Vought Company.
Sunbathing punctually every day. Cooperating with people in white lab coats for blood draw tests.
Pretending under surveillance to be a good prospect whose abilities were within a controllable range.
Because he didn't know where the upper limit of this Kryptonian body was.
He was afraid that Vought would get desperate. He was also afraid that Earth was hiding some black technology that could restrain him.
After all, this was a messy fused World.
But now, this layer of concern was gone.
With the Silver Age panel in hand, what else was there for him to pretend?
What kind of superhero was there to be?
Wearing tights all day and going to the streets to help old ladies cross the road?
Going to fire scenes to rescue poor wretches who couldn't even afford Vought's basic medical insurance?
That wasn't called being a hero. That was called being free labor.
Only someone whose brain was flooded with water would do such a losing business.
Shen Che shoved both hands into his suit trouser pockets.
Looking at the bustling traffic down below the building.
Vought Company.
The current person in charge was that old fox, Stan Edgar.
Those old fogies on the board of directors treated superheroes as commodities.
Making movies, producing merchandise, and selling derivative copyrights.
This business model was indeed super profitable.
But Stan got one thing wrong.
Capital could indeed control people. But capital could not control a deity that had transcended dimensions.
Starting today, it was time to change how to play.
He was going to turn The Seven into his private security guard.
And pinch all those disobedient small fries to death.
He was going to turn Vought Company's annual financial report into the balance figures in his own overseas accounts.
And trample those high-and-mighty financial conglomerates under his feet to use as stepping stones.
From now on, this World would recognize only one rule.
Shen Che was pondering how to kick those old men on the board of directors out first.
Knock, knock, knock.
The door was knocked three times. The sound wasn't heavy.
Before Shen Che could speak, the door lock clicked. The door hinge turned.
High heels stepped on the carpet, making a muffled sound.
Madelyn walked in.
She was an executive of Vought Company, responsible for the public relations and daily operations of The Seven.
A woman in her thirties, maintained so well that there wasn't an ounce of surplus fat.
Today she wore a wine-red silk shirt.
Three buttons of the neckline were undone, revealing a section of fair collarbones. Her hip-hugging skirt was tightly fitted.
She was holding two white porcelain coffee cups in her hands.
Heat drifted upward from the rims of the cups.
Madelyn used her heel to push the door shut and casually locked it from the inside.
Reaching back, she tossed her wavy curly hair.
She raised her head to look at Shen Che.
Her gaze was sticky.
Carrying an undisguised calculation, it was as if she were appraising an expensive piece of porcelain that she had personally polished and waxed, getting ready to play with.
Chapter 4: Madelyn wants to play mom? A backhand slap teaches her how to behave.
Madelyn walked in and casually double-locked the door.
She placed two cups of black coffee on Shen Che's mahogany desk.
Today, she wore a strong musk perfume that overpowered the bitter, burnt smell of the coffee.
She walked around the desk, her high heels stepping on the thick carpet without making a single sound.
Shen Che leaned back against the genuine leather chair. He didn't move.
Usually at this time, he should have already stood up and pulled out the chair for this female executive.
Madelyn felt things were a bit strange today.
She walked over to Shen Che, placing her hand on the back of the chair.
"What's wrong with you today, Shen?" Madelyn leaned down.
The collar of her wine-red silk shirt was wide open. A large patch of fair skin below her collarbone blatantly struck the field of vision.
Shen Che's nostrils flared slightly. He turned his head away.
The thumb and index finger of his right hand rubbed together unconsciously, brushing away the titanium alloy dust remaining on his fingertips.
He found the smell on this woman very choking. Like a spoiled sweet orange.
"The board of directors is very satisfied with your recent evaluation." Madelyn didn't feel awkward and naturally withdrew her hand.
She leaned against the edge of the desk. Her legs crossed, and her body-hugging skirt rose up a notch.
"Stan is very happy. He says you're Vought's most perfect product. Much more obedient than that crazy girl Chloe."
Mentioning Chloe, Madelyn's tone carried obvious disdain.
Shen Che lifted his eyelids and looked at her.
Looking at this face that thought it controlled everything.
In his past life on Wall Street, he had seen plenty of such female executives.
Treating the wage earners under them like dogs, giving a sweet date and then a slap. They played it to perfection.
"They plan to have you go to Washington next week." Madelyn picked up her coffee and took a sip.
A bright red lip print was left on the rim of the white porcelain cup.
"Attend a charity gala. Those congressmen really like your type. You know, well-behaved, sensible, powerful yet obedient."
Shen Che glanced at the black coffee on the desk. Heat was rising straight up.
He didn't touch it.
Madelyn placed her hand on Shen Che's knee.
Through the suit pants fabric, her red-polished fingers gently rubbed.
"As long as you are obedient. Vought Company will give you everything you want. Money, fame, or even..."
Her voice softened, carrying a sticky tune as if coaxing a child.
"Even maternal love. I understand you, Shen. You need someone to guide you."
She emphasized the word "I" heavily.
The tolerance of motherhood and a woman's charm mixed together. Like a pot of overcooked poison.
She was certain this trick would work.
Over the past eighteen years, she had used this trick to tame all the freaks in Vought Tower.
Those love-starved superheroes, as long as they were given a little sweetness, would crawl at her feet like dogs.
"Take it away." Shen Che spoke. His throat was a bit dry.
Madelyn froze.
She hadn't heard Shen Che speak to her in this tone for about seven or eight years.
"Shen, are you throwing a temper tantrum?" Instead of taking her hand away, Madelyn slid it up an inch along his knee.
She sighed. "Did Chloe upset you again? I said, you don't need to worry about that crazy girl, you only belong to..."
Slap.
Shen Che grabbed her wrist.
Madelyn stopped her movement. Her wrist felt like it was caught in an iron clamp, her bones hurting a bit.
She still wasn't flustered. She thought this was just youthful rebellion.
"You're eighteen, Shen. Do you still remember when you just came out of that Underground Room?"
Madelyn turned her other hand over to cover the back of Shen Che's hand.
"How thin you were back then. It was I who withstood Stan's pressure and brought you from the ninth floor to the top floor."
She leaned closer to Shen Che. Her breath hit Shen Che's chin.
"I watched you grow up. No one cares about you more than I do. In my eyes, you are not only the company's trump card, but also my child."
Shen Che laughed at this.
His chest vibrated, and his Adam's apple rolled once.
"What are you laughing at?" Madelyn frowned, somewhat dissatisfied.
"Laughing at your acting skills." Shen Che released her wrist. His fingers tapped twice on the chair armrest.
Tap by tap, hitting the solid wood, the sound was muffled.
"Underground Room? You brought me out because the budget of the seventh laboratory exceeded its limit that year, and you needed an asset that could be monetized immediately to fill Stan's bad debts."
Madelyn's face stiffened for a fraction of a second.
"You arranged for me to be next to Chloe because Vought needed a chain to tie down that crazy girl."
Shen Che stopped tapping and looked up at her.
"You unbuttoned your shirt just now, you probably already unbuttoned it in the hallway, right."
"What's with the loving mother act."
Madelyn's chest heaved violently.
The lies being torn apart to her face made her lose a lot of face.
But she was a veteran. She took a deep breath, and put on that tolerant smile on her face again.
"You don't understand, Shen. This is My Lord's rule."
She reached out her hand again, this time wanting to cup Shen Che's face.
"Your rebellion period has come a bit late now. Be good, good child. Don't ruin the relationship we've built between us."
"You need me, Shen. If you leave me, the media outside will tear you to pieces, and Stan will cut off all your benefits."
She threw out these bargaining chips one by one. She felt she had a sure win.
Shen Che stood up.
He was very tall. Standing at 1.9 meters, his rising movement brought up a gust of wind.
Madelyn was forced to step back half a step, her waist pressing directly against the edge of the desk.
She tilted her head up to look at Shen Che. Suddenly her neck felt a bit sore.
Shen Che looked down at her. Looking at her chattering lips.
So noisy.
He now had the Silver Age Superman template.
Did he still have to listen to this old procuress talking about some bullshit rules here?
It was simply an insult to this template.
Shen Che raised his right hand.
The hand that had just crushed the titanium alloy paperweight.
He needed to control his strength well. He couldn't smash her head like a watermelon.
That was too dirty. He'd have to call cleaners to wash the carpet.
Pulling back more than half of his strength. Using only an ordinary person's hand strength.
Backhanded.
He swung it out.
Slap!
The crisp sound of flesh collision exploded in the spacious office.
Madelyn's words weren't finished yet. The smile on her face hadn't even had time to retract.
This slap struck solidly on her left cheek.
After all, Shen Che had just awakened the Silver template. His control over his strength wasn't perfect yet.
Even though he felt he had just gently brushed it.
Madelyn's entire body was like a kite with a broken string, her feet leaving the ground directly.
She spun half a circle in mid-air, crashing heavily onto the spacious mahogany desk.
The desk let out a dull boom.
The four thick table legs forcibly shifted three inches across the Persian carpet, plowing out four deep grooves.
Documents, fountain pens, and even the cup of black coffee she brought in were all knocked over.
The scalding coffee splashed onto her wine-red silk shirt, blurring into a large patch of brown stains.
Madelyn rolled a circle on the desk.
Finally falling miserably onto the floor.
One of her high heels fell off, rolling under the sofa.
Dead silence fell in the office. Only the whirring sound of the air conditioning vent remained.
Shen Che shook his wrists.
His palms felt a bit numb. Not because of exerting force, but because he wasn't used to it.
He looked down at that wine-red lump of flesh on the ground.
He didn't speak.
On the carpet.
Madelyn let out a weak moan.
She covered her left cheek. Her fingers were full of blood.
That slap split the corner of her mouth.
A few teeth stained with blood were spit out from her mouth, falling onto the carpet and rolling twice before stopping.
The left half of her face swelled up at a speed visible to the naked eye. Like a purplish steamed bun.
Her meticulously styled wavy hair was plastered across her face, stained with coffee and blood.
She struggled to prop up half her body, panting heavily. Her chest heaved violently.
She looked up at Shen Che.
The calculation in her eyes was gone. Maternal love was gone. Charm was gone too.
Everything was shattered.
Only pure fear remained.
Like a mouse stepped on by an elephant.
She finally realized that the standing man in front of her.
Was not some rebellious child who needed to be reformed by maternal love.
Nor was he a pet that Vought Company could tie down with contracts, fame, and fortune.
Chapter 5: Sorry, I am the real granddaddy of Vought Company.
Madelyn collapsed beside the mahogany table.
She looked at Shen Che as if looking at a monster.
Her swollen left face compressed her vision, tears mixed with blood dripping down.
Shen Che lowered his head and glanced at her.
He didn't help her up.
He raised his hand and adjusted his suit tie.
He had used a bit too much force with the slap just now.
The topmost button of his shirt flew off with a "snap" sound.
The button hit the wall-hanging painting and bounced into the thick carpet.
Shen Che looked at the open collar and frowned slightly.
It was a bit chilly.
He couldn't be bothered to care.
He directly raised his leg, his leather shoes stepping over Madelyn's still-trembling calves.
He walked out of the office and pulled the door shut behind him.
The hallway was very quiet.
A scent of deodorant drifted in the air.
Two female assistants holding folders stood against the base of the wall.
Their eyes looking at him carried fear, not even daring to breathe heavily.
Shen Che ignored them and walked straight toward the core conference room at the end of the corridor.
The double-door carved walnut gates were tightly shut.
Four armed security guards stood outside the door.
"Mr. Shen, The Seven are holding a meeting, you can't..." The security Captain reached out to stop him.
Shen Che didn't even stop his pace.
He casually brushed aside the security Captain's arm.
The security Captain stumbled back five or six steps, his back hitting the wall with a muffled thud.
His arm was almost dislocated.
Shen Che pressed his hand on the walnut doors.
Pushing forward.
"Snap."
The brass door lock directly broke inside.
The two heavy wooden doors slammed into the wall, making a deafening loud noise.
The hinge of the right half of the door couldn't withstand this force, creaking as it sagged downward by half an inch.
Everyone in the conference room stopped their actions.
A ten-meter-long elliptical mahogany conference table.
Vought Company's core products were all sitting here.
The air was mixed with a strong smell of cigars and cheap perfume.
A-Train leaned against the back of his chair.
His blue goggles were pushed up onto his forehead.
His right leg was still shaking under the table at an extremely high frequency.
The glass water cup on the table rippled in circles.
The Deep sat opposite him, wearing a green scaly uniform.
Holding a small silver nail file in his hand, he was filing his thumb.
The fishy smell of the sea that lingered on him year-round rushed straight into the nose in the air-conditioned room.
Queen Maeve crossed her legs, holding a slender women's cigarette between her fingers.
Unlit.
Starlight, as a newcomer, sat at the very edge.
Her hands placed uneasily on her knees.
Black Noir in the corner was clad in pure black armor, like a lifeless sculpture.
Shen Che walked in.
His leather shoes stepped on the floor, producing a steady sound.
He walked straight toward the position at the very top of the long table.
That was the main seat where only Stan Edgar and Madelyn were qualified to sit.
"You walked into the wrong room." A-Train stopped shaking his leg.
He picked up the chewing gum on the table and threw it into his mouth.
Chewing with a loud noise.
"This is The Seven's conference room. Mascots should go to the fifth-floor studio."
Shen Che didn't look at him.
Walking to the front of the main seat, he pulled open the wide high-backed leather chair.
Sat down.
The leather chair let out an unbearable groan.
Shen Che's weight was much heavier than a normal person's, and the hydraulic rod instantly lowered by five centimeters.
He adjusted his sitting posture, stretching his long legs under the table.
His hands crossed and placed on the tabletop.
The Deep stopped filing his nails.
Throwing the nail file onto the table.
Making a crisp sound.
"Don't you have ears?" The Deep stood up.
His green scales reflected the cold white light.
"Get back to your doghouse. Your suit is blocking my view of the PPT."
Queen Maeve snapped the cigarette in her hand into two pieces.
"Shen. Get out. Didn't Madelyn teach you the rules?" Her tone was very impatient.
Shen Che leaned against the back of the chair, raising his chin slightly.
"She just taught me." Shen Che's voice was very calm.
"But right now she's lying on the carpet looking for her teeth."
The conference room went quiet for two seconds.
A-Train blew a bubblegum bubble until it burst.
With a "pop" sound.
"Your bragging skills are even prettier than your face." A-Train laughed so hard he rocked back and forth.
"Just you? You can't even outrun me, and you dare hit Madelyn?"
Shen Che looked at this group of self-righteous so-called heroes.
As if looking at a bunch of circus monkeys.
"I am not here to negotiate with you."
"Nor am I here to listen to your jokes."
Shen Che extended his right index finger and tapped it once on the solid wood tabletop.
"Thud."
A muffled sound.
A pit was casually tapped out of the hard mahogany tabletop by him.
Wood splinters pierced through the clear lacquer.
A-Train and The Deep were stunned for a moment.
Queen Maeve straightened her body, her gaze falling on this wooden pit.
That was ten-centimeter-thick solid wood.
"Informing you of something." Shen Che withdrew his hand.
"Starting today, The Seven answers to me."
"Whatever endorsements you take, wherever you go to save people, whoever you kill, you must all listen to me."
"I am Vought Company's new rule. The only rule."
The Deep slammed his hand heavily on the table.
The teacup jumped up, and water splashed onto the carpet.
"I only listen to money! What the hell are you!"
He strode toward the main seat.
The Deep felt that Shen Che was just a pretty boy with a bit more strength, who had never even been on a battlefield.
He reached out to grab Shen Che's suit collar.
"I'll throw you into New York harbor and let the crabs chew your face to pieces!" The Deep roared.
Just at this moment.
A man sitting at the very end of the long table let out a short sneer.
The sound was shrill, carrying a kind of wretched, sticky feeling.
It was Translucent.
He wasn't wearing a uniform, just a set of grey casual clothes.
He had always lacked any presence among this group of people.
Usually, his biggest hobby was using his power to hide in women's restrooms to peek.
But now, he felt this was a good opportunity to establish his authority.
To fiercely humiliate this arrogant newcomer in front of everyone.
Translucent stood up.
Along with his rising movement, he began to take off his clothes.
His grey jacket was thrown onto the back of the chair.
His pants slipped down.
The skin composed of carbon-metamaterial began to refract light.
In less than a second, his entire body vanished out of thin air.
Not even a trace of a shadow was left behind.
The security cameras in the conference room simply couldn't capture him.
Only a very faint friction sound remained in the air.
That was the sound made by stepping barefoot on the thick carpet.
Translucent let out another disdainful sneer.
The voice drifted uncertainly, circumventing from the left side of the long table toward the main seat.
Before The Deep made a move, he wanted to quietly sneak behind Shen Che.
Snap this pretty boy's arm and make him kneel on the ground screaming in agony.
The nap on the carpet was flattened by an invisible heavy pressure.
That invisible figure was rapidly approaching Shen Che.
Getting ready to teach him a lesson.