Is Superman stupid? Not at all; whatever Deathstroke plans to do, he's going to stop it.
He immediately countered by grabbing Deathstroke's neck.
That's it, neither of them can move now, and those people are running away; time is on his side.
Just a few seconds of stalemate is enough for these people to escape.
From what he knows of Deathstroke, a mercenary can't search the town to hunt down every person without incentive.
But Su Ming's methods aren't something one can predict with common sense.
The two figures locked in a grip saw countless fireballs suddenly appear behind those people, hitting each target, reducing all the protestors to ash.
The banners insulting the Justice League fell to the ground, burning slowly in the flames.
Clark's eyes nearly popped out; he couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Superman's knowledge of magic is nearly zero, and Su Ming certainly wouldn't explain; even Batman doesn't know the terms of his secret talks with the Inverted Man.
Is the large fireball Su Ming traded from the Inverted Man just ornamental?
Not at all; after integrating the 'Eye of Ra' into his helmet's visor, he could see many things under the sunlight, and his extraordinary brain could handle hundreds of targets simultaneously.
Asking the Inverted Man for the Fireball Technique and having it bypass himself to cast on a target was precisely to form a combined technique, wasn't it?
With this setup, even if Su Ming sees Luthor sipping coffee with his buddies in the Arctic, he could mark the targets, and the Inverted Man's space-crossing manifestation of large fireballs could send them skyward.
Su Ming can acquire any magic from the Inverted Man; even if it doesn't exist, the Inverted Man can create it; it is magic itself.
What Ma Yinglong Strong Acid Arrow, Goodbye Flying Palm, all of them, but Su Ming chose fireball.
Kill the enemy, incinerate the corpse, fake an accident... It's done in an instant; the large fireball is the champion of the Plastic Energy System.
What? You say Deathstroke killed someone? Nonsense, clearly the household's gas pipeline exploded, and he was 'just so happen' to be Deathstroke's target.
Sometimes killing requires leaving evidence to receive a commission.
But sometimes, you have to do things discreetly, making everything seem like an accident.
Now is one of those times.
"Look at this, it's divine retribution! God's anger is on my side, and he's sent down flames of wrath!"
Su Ming immediately went full-on theatrical, passionately telling Superman, spitting wildly like a rabies victim.
The more fanatical, the better; as if you say one bad thing about God, he'll kill your entire family.
Anyway, in the West, every blame can be pinned on God; you might not believe, but you can't say it out loud or question others' faith.
Superman for the first time felt a toothache, something always felt connected to Deathstroke.
Yet just like he said before, there's no evidence...
Deathstroke is tightly intertwined with him, not uttering a single spell, no gestures, and those people were burned to death.
And fire and flood have always represented God's wrath, it's almost common knowledge in the Bible.
Superman plunged into confusion...
It's his first time wanting to save people but failing to do so; he's somewhat at a loss for what to do...
"Let go of me! I'm going to church to pray to God!"
Su Ming released Superman and patted his muscular arm to remove it from around Su Ming's neck.
Go hug your own wife instead.
Superman let out a slow breath, his expression filled with agony, his voice trembling: "You killed them."
"Don't talk nonsense, I didn't; I have witnesses." Su Ming turned to show him behind: "Harley and Ivy saw it all; I was with you all the time, God killed those people."
Harley bounced down the gangway, her little head nodding continuously: "That's right, Superman, framing won't work, haha, unless... you give me something nice, I can testify falsely."
Superman released his grip; he heard Harley's words, he didn't need false testimony, much less bribing witnesses.
The situation before him was incomprehensible, but he didn't have time to bicker with Deathstroke; there are more people in the world needing saving.
However, the recent world has become so unfamiliar even to him.
Superman sighed and flew away.
Su Ming buckled his helmet, letting out a light laugh.
He's achieved his goal without leaving a shred of evidence, intimidating everyone else.
Should there be Luthor's spies, they ought to weigh their actions carefully before proceeding.
Who cares whether they are spies or not? Given Earth's current situation, it's better to err in killing than letting go; Su Ming trusts his deductions more than any investigation's outcome.
He walked towards Bo Bo at the edge of the playground; the gorilla had been observing for a while.
"Going to pray at the church?"
Bo Bo discarded his cigarette butt, asking Su Ming with a peculiar expression.
While others might not understand, Bo Bo clearly does, his suspicions about Deathstroke being the Inverted Man's agent have been confirmed.
Yet he simply won't speak of it, intending to let it rot in his gut after today.
He's a bar owner with all clients as warlocks, and with Deathstroke now the agent of magic concept, it's an overwhelming power; thinking about it makes his entire body's black fur stand up.
If Batman knew what 'magic' symbolized, he definitely wouldn't sleep at night.
Su Ming shook hands with him, letting out a bizarre laugh: "Yes, devoted believers need his chapel... Well then, Bishop, do you have any Divine Blood in your church? The kind that makes people feel woozy when drunk?"
Bo Bo chuckled and shook his head. Deathstroke even jokes about God; he is utterly reckless now.
But God really isn't around now.
"Alright, yellow-black lost sheep are rare, but 'Divine Blood' is available to anyone with money. Follow me."
...................
He led the three of them, twisting and turning through alleys, and upon pushing open an inconspicuous door, they found themselves back at the Forgotten Bar.
They've been coming here too frequently lately; Su Ming is starting to consider it as a base.
However, considering Circe in Luthor's camp, it's not particularly safe. That woman has lived for thousands of years and knows many ways to reach the Forgotten Bar.
If it's just to escape a flood, any magic realm would suffice.
But knowing that Luthor and his crew are behind it, the Forgotten Bar, Maya, Spirit Thin Prison, Dreamland, and Hell are no longer safe.
Only Death's Realm of the Dead is safe.
But the task Death has given Su Ming hasn't progressed at all, and he can't report to her, making it impossible for him to go to her.
He can't swallow his pride.
"Oh! It's Harley Quinn! The real Harley!"
As soon as they entered, Trish screamed and ran back to the room behind the bar.
Su Ming looked at Harley with some confusion, and Harley was equally puzzled.
She never had any connection with the Magic Realm; this is definitely her first time here, and she doesn't know this little girl.
But it's possible Harley killed her parents in the past.
So, Harley just smiled and leaned on Ivy like she was boneless.
Soon Trish came running out, carrying a big box from the room, filled with large photos of Harley and various merchandise.
Harley Quinn bobbleheads, Harley Quinn dress-up dolls, Dr. Quizer snowflake balls, and even a 1:1 scale solid wood hammer, along with several sets of Harley's uniforms and tights from different eras.
Su Ming's mouth twitched slightly. So Goth girl Trish is actually a little fangirl of Harley?
Although Harley indeed has the potential to be a teenage idol...
Unique, reckless, daring to love and hate—rebellious girls idolize her understandably.
But who made the Harley merchandise?
Her current red-and-white T-shirt paired with sparkling shorts looks great, but not everyone can pull it off.
Deadpool also has plenty of fans. He has sold his own merchandise before, and when he was short on cash, he'd even sell his 'authentic uniforms.'
Once he found that a hardcore fan bought his uniform online, purchasing 300 old uniforms of his, he decided to visit this fan's house to make friends.
He discovered his fan was a 300-kilogram-plus fatty who claimed not to have showered for thirty years, even more averse to bathing than Deadpool.
The fatty warmly welcomed Deadpool, embracing him and saying Deadpool was his idol.
The fat squeezed through the old bullet holes in the uniform like sausages, with lots of black hair on his skin—fleas and bugs instantly crawling over Deadpool's face.
Then Deadpool threw up...
"Harley, can you sign for me? I've always liked you!"
Trish placed the big box in front of Harley.
Harley looked at Poison Ivy and proudly raised her chin.
She took a photo of herself from the box, a younger version of herself from when she was in Gotham, wearing the old red and black uniform.
Of course, it was staged. She remembered this was after committing a crime; she saw a photographer while fleeing, so she purposely lingered to pose for the shot.
Because of the photo, Batman caught her.
However, Harley was quite pleased with Trish's collection, as it only contained her related items, with no Joker in sight.
Trish is truly her fan, not a so-called shipper fan.
"Of course, sweetie, I can sign for you, but could you give me the hammer? I need a handy weapon to save the world."
Harley confidently picked up a pen to sign the photo, leaving a kiss imprint, while smiling and pointing to the hammer.
A wooden hammer, smeared with stains, much better than her current steel and concrete block.
"Ah, of course, it's originally your weapon."
Trish handed the hammer directly to Harley, her eyes glowing with the excitement of meeting her idol.
Don't mention Harley asking for a hammer; she'd give her life, she's that fanatic.
Harley was noticeably taken aback by her fervor; even in her Harley Gang, she didn't have such ardent fans. She awkwardly chuckled twice and accepted the hammer.
"Really, it's my 'Dorothy,' heavens, I can still see her, mwah mwah mwah..."
Harley hugged the hammer, quickly recognizing it excitedly and giving it a few kisses.
"Wait, you named your hammer 'Dorothy'?" Su Ming quipped from the side, giving a weapon a humanized name—isn't this a sign of madness?
If Su Ming named his Nightfall Greatsword 'Tom,' and Godslayer 'Jerry,' Batman would definitely consider him insane.