Perhaps for most people, Hell is a place that makes them pale at the mention of it, but in Ian's eyes, there is no significant difference between Hell and Heaven.
Hell is Heaven's shadow.
Therefore, having visited Heaven, one should naturally go down to Hell as well; this is the kind of experience a mature human being should gain. If you treat it like a trip abroad, it won't feel strange.
"MacArthur once said going to Hell is like going home, and even Dumbledore once stated that going to Hell is merely a greater adventure."
Ian, as always, loved to quote famous people. He was already impatient to start his trip abroad.
"Since it's a trip abroad, of course, I have to bring some local specialty products." Ian gripped Lady Death's compass. He did not choose to activate the Hellcat immediately.
There was still some pre-travel preparation work to be done.
"Where are the specialty products?"
Ian sat in the driver's seat of the "Hellcat" roadster, tapping lightly on the steering wheel. The dim light inside the car reflected off the unassuming little black box in his hand—the black box looked like an old-fashioned MP3 player on the outside, but it was actually a top-tier hacker tool capable of breaking into the US military's satellite system.
A known enigma from the Marvel Universe. Ian merely input his request, and a complex stream of code immediately jumped onto the black box's screen. Three seconds later, a holographic map of New York City unfolded on the windshield, and a dozen flashing red dots marked the locations of Detective Beckett and her team.
"Looks like I can open a side account as a Tech Emperor, too! The kind who was bullied by delinquents as a kid and grew up cynical!" Ian wove a background story for his side account while dialing a number.
He called Beckett's phone. A noisy background sound came through—police sirens, the static from walkie-talkies, and the hurried footsteps of police officers.
"Did you catch the killer?"
Ian cut straight to the chase.
"Are you constantly hiding somewhere and spying on me?" Beckett's voice carried fatigue. "Your timing is perfect. We just found a man who looks exactly like Will Graham."
"A man who looks exactly like Will Graham?"
Ian blinked. He knew Detective Beckett couldn't see him, but that didn't mean he shouldn't blink. Good habits are not just for when others are watching.
"Yes, he has Will Graham's appearance and height, but he shot himself the moment we walked in. The prosecutor wants to close the case as a suspect committing suicide out of fear of guilt, but my gut tells me this guy is definitely not the real Will Graham. He's just a scapegoat."
Detective Beckett wasn't sure why she was sharing this with Ian. Perhaps it was due to her usual curiosity about superhumans, aside from her crime fiction reading.
The boy on the other end of the line was clearly not normal, not an ordinary person—Detective Beckett was certain of this in her heart. She knew she had personally watched him take a bomb out of a microwave oven.
"Just as expected. You should trust your intuition. The person you caught is definitely a scapegoat who underwent plastic surgery, and perhaps the identity information in the police DNA database was swapped as well." Ian nodded in agreement with Detective Beckett's intuition. It seemed Miss Misha's guess was incorrect, but not entirely wrong.
Will had prepared a fall guy long ago.
"Can you come to the precinct to help identify him? You mentioned you had an exchange with Will before." Beckett sighed. She didn't understand why America's prosecutors were less capable than a child.
"Sorry, I have other things to deal with today." After a moment of thought, Ian politely declined. He had to pack the specialty products before going to Hell to be a superhero.
"You're so busy, yet you have time to chat with me on the phone here?" Beckett's tone immediately became suspicious. Her intuition once again made her feel a slight unease.
Hearing this, Ian grinned. "Just wanted to confirm with Detective Beckett before my trip abroad. Enough talk, I have to go catch a guinea pig."
His tone was full of eagerness.
"?????"
Beckett clearly didn't get the brilliant analogy.
But Ian had already hung up.
He turned to the black box.
His fingers tapped quickly on the virtual keyboard, pulling up several encrypted databases. A few minutes later, he used his mimicry ability to layer a mask over his handsome face.
The Face of the man who caused 9/11
Never goes out of style.
"Hellcat, autonomous driving mode. Destination: St. Mary Cemetery." Ian ordered the on-board demon. The controversial mask on his face looked quite menacing.
The bubble-bodied car that drove itself slid silently through the night, eventually stopping at the entrance of a desolate cemetery. A faint, yellow light glowed in the gravedigger's hut.
"Visitor registration!" Ian strode towards the hut, knocking on the window. An old man with a face full of wrinkles opened the door, sizing him up warily.
"Sir, it's so late. Who are you here to pay respects to?" the gravedigger asked, his eyes lingering on Ian's mask for several seconds.
Ian did not answer directly.
He asked a question in return.
"You've been guarding this cemetery for so many years, have you ever seen a terrorist?" Ian used Batman's gravelly growl. His voice could be adjusted at any time depending on the environment.
This was the capability of Lord Evil God.
"Of course not. Why would a terrorist come here?" The gravedigger was visibly stunned. He looked at Ian with a strange expression, the mask becoming even more conspicuous in his eyes.
"Alright." Ian shrugged, his tone carrying a sense of blessing. "Then you'll get to see one today. Don't mind my mask; it might look anti-social, but I'm actually a very 'socially anxious' terrorist."
The moment his words fell.
He pulled two micro-bombs from his pocket.
He threw them precisely toward two adjacent gravestones deep within the cemetery.
"Boom!"
The shockwave from the explosion shattered the glass of the gravedigger's hut. After the smoke cleared, the two gravestones had been reduced to dust, leaving two scorched pits on the ground.
"No!!! Damn it! What are you doing!" The gravedigger's expression instantly twisted. He abruptly pulled out an old-fashioned revolver and fired six shots at Ian.
"Bang bang bang!"
The bullets hit Ian's cheek, but they acted as if they had struck rubber, only raising strange ripples on the surface of his skin before falling weakly to the ground.
"How is that possible!"
The gravedigger's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight.
Ian touched the spot where he was hit.
"I have a super brain in my skull," he explained, believing he was offering a patient scientific lesson. "So, of course, my body would evolve super defenses to protect it."
This was clearly an explanation that only a person of high intelligence could understand. Surprisingly, the gravedigger suddenly calmed down. He slowly lowered the gun and stared at Ian outside the house.
The anger in the "old man's" eyes was gradually replaced by a strange tranquility.
"How did you find out?" he asked in a low voice, his voice completely changed—it was no longer that of an elderly gravedigger, but a much younger man's voice.
"Found out what?"
Ian grinned.
"Found out I was hiding here."
The gravedigger's expression was infinitely gloomy.
Ian paused, then removed his mask, revealing a triumphant smile. "I looked into your case. You once had a wife and child."
"And 'The Ripper' became active after their deaths." He took a step forward, approaching the window. "This proves their passing was a great blow to you—you cared about them deeply."
"Very clever."
The gravedigger was silent for a moment.
Then, he reached up and slowly peeled off a perfect, simulated mask from his face. Beneath the mask was a handsome but gloomy and ferocious young face.
It was Will, "The Ripper," the serial killer the police had been chasing for so long.
"It seems you were certain I was hiding here, so you wanted to provoke me." He dropped the gun. Instead of running, he climbed out of the window.
Ian did not stop him. He slightly tilted his head.
"I just had a feeling that if I blew up your wife and child, you would show up," he added with a tone of profound emotion. "It was an unexpected bonus to find you right away."
Lord Ian was actually just being infuriating. He truly possessed super intelligence, and by relying on his cleverness and a tiny bit of help from the black box, he had already confirmed Will Graham was working here as a gravedigger.
"Damn you! This is all because of you! All because of you!" The moment Ian's words landed, Will's pupils contracted sharply. His long-suppressed anger erupted like a volcano.
His originally elegant and gloomy face twisted into a grotesque snarl.
"Bang!"
Will fiercely swung a fist at Ian. The air was torn with a sharp, explosive sound. Before climbing out, he had secretly injected something into his body. The drug now took effect, his muscles visibly swelling, blue veins popping out beneath his skin, and his blood vessels bulging like writhing snakes.
However.
*Pat*
Ian casually caught the punch, a blow powerful enough to punch through steel plate.
He didn't even shift his feet.
"There are differences even between superhumans," Ian's smile remained sinister. "You can't just cook up some LexCorp-Tech and get the power to defeat me."
It was the truth.
Having been involved in a cosmic-level event just last night, now facing merely an enhanced man was boring for Ian. He had no intention of showing off in front of the other man.
"Do you know what the Vice-Monarch of Metropolis is? The Vice-Monarch of Heaven is working for me!" Of course, speaking the truth didn't count as showing off. After saying this, Ian returned a punch to Will.
Even though it was a light punch, its power was considerable.
"Pfft—!"
Will's chest caved in, blood gushing from his mouth. His entire body flew backward like a rag doll, crashing heavily against a gravestone in a parabolic arc.
Debris flew.
His spine was almost broken, yet he still struggled to get up.
"Got you." Ian's teeth gleamed white in the moonlight. Black residue from swallowing the bomb earlier still clung to the corner of his mouth, a problem he hadn't noticed even now.
A classic case of an oversight right under his nose.
"I haven't lost. You can kill me, and I'll still achieve my goal. Besides, you won't be able to disturb me and Hannibal anymore." Will looked straight into the eyes of the superhuman before him.
His gaze was full of madness.
"Kill me. Kill me, and you will ultimately become me." Will, still spitting blood, actually smiled. He struggled to prop up his upper body, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Don't worry. I won't kill you. I have a no-kill principle, so I'm going to lock you up in a real prison. Miss Misha hopes you'll suffer a hundred times more torment than Dr. Hannibal."
"Lord Ian is kind, so I'll upgrade the package for free. How about ten thousand times?" Ian didn't understand the other man's mysterious confidence, so he punched Will unconscious again.
A hand chop wouldn't work.
But a fist hammer... simply marvelous.
"Specialty product collected! The first batch of Hell Reform Camp is ready for internal testing!" Ian stared at Will, who had a large bump on the back of his head, was completely unconscious, and whose genes were starting to collapse. He immediately began packing him up.
Yes.
The specialty product was Will.
What could Earth possibly have that Hell doesn't?
Only humans!
Live, breathing humans!
"You better not die from taking too many drugs." Ian offered up a dose of Batman-Tech gene stabilization serum, which rescued Will, who had no bodybuilding experience but dared to misuse the drugs, from the brink of death.
He stuffed the unconscious Will into a burlap sack printed with "Happy Holidays," and like a Santa Claus carrying gifts, he swaggered back to the Hellcat.
The police cars, attracted by the explosion, appeared right on time. The sound of sirens grew nearer in the distance, and the red and blue flashing lights could already be faintly seen on the street.
"The punctuality level of this is so high that it's a travesty it hasn't been rated as a superpower." Ian roughly threw the "specialty product" into the trunk. The Hellcat's engine gave a savage roar.
It carried Ian away into the night before the police cars could arrive. Ian first returned home, pulling a demon head with horns growing on its skull out of the refrigerator. The head was asleep.
He patted the demon head's cheek.
"Great Ian-God, forgive me. The weather was too hot, and your refrigerator was too cool," the demon head's eyelid fluttered before slowly opening its crimson eyes.
"We demons all enjoy summer hibernation."
It had, after all, learned some true skills from Ian.
"I'm taking you home for a family visit!" Ian returned to the Hellcat, tossing the demon head into the main driver's seat, and excitedly announced the news to it.
The demon head's brain instantly cleared up.
Its CPU spun rapidly.
"I, I don't want to go back to Hell... I just want to stay by your side." The demon head cautiously observed Ian's expression. It clearly suspected this was some sort of loyalty test.
Ian-God, who wielded the authority of depravity, was absolutely capable of pulling such a stunt.
Just as the demon head was going through an insane amount of overthinking.
"Bang!"
Ian punched it on the forehead.
"You have to want to go home, because I want to take a look around your house. Escorting a vicious criminal, rescuing innocent souls, and helping an underage demon who wants to go home... three reasons, and none can be missing." Ian always had a contingency-planning mindset. After all, he didn't know how many days he would be "running away from home."
Although he had texted his mother saying he was going to a classmate's house and even locked her phone so she couldn't call him, this was still Ian's first time staying out all night.
The necessary precautions still had to be taken. Ian was a filial child, so he couldn't let his mother think he had become a bad boy before the age of fifteen.
"Bang!"
Ian gave the silent demon head another punch. The punch made the demon head see stars, but it finally snapped out of its struggle to "fathom the Emperor's mind."
"Ah! So that's it! Ian-God is finally ready to rule Hell! I will stand firmly by your side!" It believed that given Ian's nature, he could at least become a Grand Duke in Hell.
A bright future awaited.
"Tch, I'm a friendly visitor. I'll definitely be very polite." Ian pointed the Hellcat in the right direction, correcting the demon head's inaccurate statement in the process.
He was a pacifist.
He only became a man of nuclear peace when he couldn't be a pacifist.
"Really? You won't cause a huge scene?" The demon head's tone was skeptical. After all, it had learned a lot about Ian these past days.
"Have you read our history?"
Ian suddenly asked.
"Uh... I hate history..."
The demon head was unwilling to disclose the fact that it was an academic underachiever in Hell.
It was really too shy and awkward.
Clearly not a dominant breed of bull.
"If you don't know it, then what I'm saying is true." Ian nodded earnestly, making a guarantee and a promise. "I am a very traditional Human, and my moral character is much nobler than other Humans—trust me, I definitely won't scalp any demons."
Upon hearing this.
The demon head felt an imaginary chill running down its missing spine, and its horns visibly faded in terror. It found Ian's statement utterly horrifying.
It suddenly felt very fortunate that it was a collaborator and not a poor soul about to be subjected to a "friendly visit." The atmosphere became quiet. The Hellcat sped through the night, guided by the brass compass.
It flew out of Metropolis.
And arrived in Los Angeles.
The needle consistently pointed southeast, as if pulled by a mysterious force. Finally, the Hellcat stopped on a deserted forest path.
In front of it was a gloomy Victorian mansion. Broken exterior walls were covered in vines, the crooked porch looked like a gaping maw, and the windows were like empty eyes.
Gazing at the visitor.
"This place is actually a super haunted house. Built in 1922 by Charles Montgomery for his wife Nora, it later became the site of multiple murders."
"Oh, and it even featured a Suture Monster. Someone attempted to piece together a 'monster son' through biological experiments. It truly has the feel of a Hell entrance." Ian searched for information about the house online.
If you were willing to look.
Any information could be found online.
"How can a place like this exist... I feel a lot of leaked Hell-energy. A gate linked to Hell has been here the whole time?"
The demon head was visibly shocked.
"Murder House!"
Ian flipped through his pre-transmigration memories, finally realizing what this place was—the famous landmark from the first season of American Horror Story!
There was indeed a gateway to Hell here. Although the "Murder House" itself was not the direct entrance to Hell, there was a passage from Hell linked to this mansion.
And because of this.
The mansion itself was affected by the power of Hell, not only showing signs of activation but also attaching a curse: the souls of anyone who died inside the house would be trapped in this space.
They could not leave the house's perimeter. This meant that although the souls could move freely within the house, they could not enter the external world nor return to the underworld or Heaven.
"I bet Lucifer squeezed his way into the mortal realm through here!" Ian leaned on the car window, looking at the Murder House with great interest. Through the dusty windows, he could see countless souls trapped there, their faces twisted, their empty eyes staring out the window as if silently screaming.
"Why use the verb 'squeeze'?!" The demon head was so terrified it was stammering. It had never seen anyone dare to offend the Lord of Hell in such a way.
"Because I love telling the truth."
Ian pushed open the car door, carrying the sack and the demon head, and swaggered towards the mansion. The moment the wandering souls inside saw him, they immediately panicked.
"A demon hunter! He must be a demon hunter!" an old woman in 1920s attire retreated in horror.
"No, I am Ian, The Vast Heaven, Golden Tower, Supreme and Utmost, Naturally Marvelous, and Truly Complete, who saves the suffering and aids the distressed." Ian casually fabricated a title, completely ignoring the ghosts that were scattering in fright.
He busied himself rummaging through the house. Amidst the chaos of the scrambling souls, he first tore up the floorboards, then smashed the walls. Ian even dismantled the toilet.
However.
He still couldn't find the entrance to Hell.
"Where is the entrance?!"
Ian kicked the bathtub in exasperation.
The ceramic tiles shattered all over the floor.
Just then.
A cold female voice came from behind.
"Kid, don't you know that you need a key to go to Hell?"
The voice was filled with annoyance.
Ian sharply turned around and saw a tall woman leaning against the door frame. She was wearing tight leather clothes, her eyes as sharp as knives. In her hand, she was tossing an ancient coin—the very one Lucifer often played with.
"Mazikeen?"
Ian's eyes lit up.
"Want to come home with me and sit for a while?"
He invited the female demon bartender, whom he had met once before. However, enthusiasm was met with coldness. The female demon bartender simply rolled her eyes and tossed the coin to him.
"Don't be so conceited, kid."
With that.
The perhaps-narcissistic female demon turned and vanished into the shadows.
"Oh, this is Ian-God's prestige! Someone was waiting here just to hand you the key! And it's the Vice-Monarch of Hell who defeated me previously!"
The demon head was so excited it was incoherent.
"Lord Lucifer must have quite a friendship with you!"
It tried desperately to flatter him, unaware that these words immediately triggered Ian.
"Lucifer is not allowed to have a crush on me!" He rushed to the window, yelling at the Los Angeles night sky. "Did you hear that! I don't like to shower! I have a terrible temper! And I like domestic violence—"
He hadn't finished his sentence.
When the coin in his hand suddenly began to glow.
"Buzz, buzz, buzz—" The Hellcat's engine started without warning, crashing through the front door and charging into the house. Ian reacted quickly, flipping onto the roof of the car.
"Let's go!"
He laughed, gripping the roof rack.
The Hellcat roared, charging toward a wooden door that had suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor. The moment it shattered the door, what lay beyond was not the original bedroom, but a thick, viscous darkness.
There.
Was the path to Hell. The next second, the eager Hellcat, carrying Ian, Will in the sack, and the screaming demon head, charged together into the entrance of Hell.
***
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