Blood-colored light obscured the sun.
The sky of Hell was a congealed, dark crimson. Countless translucent souls drifted across the cracked earth, wandering aimlessly with hollow eyes reflecting eternal agony. This was Limbo, the edge of Hell, the place where lost souls wandered for all eternity.
"They say souls are assigned housing after death, but in this Hell, there are actually so many souls who can't afford a place to live." Ian sat atop the roof of the Hellcat, feeling a wave of sentimentality.
This was clearly the result of Lucifer's poor management. That "Lucifer the Three-Year-Old" didn't possess a shred of the wisdom of an Evil God like Lord Ian. The best revenge against God would obviously be to build a Hell that was more beautiful than Heaven.
As long as every soul in Hell had a house and a car, and every man and woman was assigned a few shapeshifting imps with the abilities of Mystique, who would still long for the bliss of Heaven? In a total reversal of poles, being in Hell would be the real paradise!
"Alas, I have a heart full of passion, but unfortunately, I don't have a Hell residency permit. I can only drop by occasionally to visit and help the demons by trimming away some of their extra kidneys and hearts..."
Ian liked cutting things. He had only promised not to scalp them.
"Praise you! Great Ian-God! Your ideas are simply wonderful! You are so ruthless and full of guile; you were born to be a Great Lord in Hell!" The demon head, Bar, used the same few tricks over and over to suck up to him. Having exhausted its talent, it also wanted a share of the demons' kidneys from Ian.
What? Those were its kin? Demons ate their kin! A demon that didn't eat its own kind wasn't a good demon! The engine of the Hellcat, which wanted to fill up at an "all-you-can-eat" gas station, also let out a joyful roar, leaving two trails of green smoke on the scorched earth.
"Full of guile... I like that evaluation. If you know how to praise, then praise me a few more times." Ian had always felt that was a compliment. He patted the head at his waist with satisfaction.
In the distance, a massive gate constructed of bleached bones gradually became clear—the entrance leading to the deep reaches of Hell. On the hills of ghouls before the gate, countless rotting arms were waving feebly.
"Wooo—"
As the Hellcat approached, the ghouls suddenly let out a collective, piercing wail. This sound woke the sleeping gatekeeper, a five-meter-tall lava giant who stood up from the pile of corpses. The chains on his body clattered loudly.
"Stop, traveler!" The gatekeeper demon's voice was like muffled thunder. "This is the realm of Hell, the living shall not—"
He certainly didn't stop on purpose; the Hellcat simply didn't give him a chance to finish speaking. It executed a rocket-boosted dash directly into his face. The entire car slammed into the demon's chest like a maddened bull.
*Boom~*
It wasn't just the gatekeeper who suffered; the gates of Hell, which didn't have time to open on their own, were also collateral damage. The Hellcat sent the gatekeeper demon and the gates flying together into the inner ring of Hell.
In this layered, dimension-within-dimension Hell, this was perhaps the first time such a thing had happened since ancient times. Hell had welcomed a quite "localized" Great Sage of Motorcycling!
"Meow-woo~" The Hellcat pressed down on the gatekeeper demon, letting out an excited honk. Dozens of metal straws suddenly popped out of its fuel tank, stabbing in unison toward the massive body of the gatekeeper.
It was in a hurry. It hungered for the nourishment of demon blood. Just as Ian could never forget the taste of a Demon God after eating one, the Hellcat, having tasted demon blood, found everything else flavorless. This was a classic case of having its palate spoiled.
"Get off! Damn it! You're not a demon! What are you?" The gatekeeper struggled frantically, but the straws the Hellcat extended were like leeches, biting down and refusing to let go. Perhaps because the gatekeeper's rank wasn't low, his skin was incredibly tough.
Even though the Hellcat used all its strength, it only produced a "gurgle-gurgle" sound of a blockage. It failed to break the defense. Naturally, it couldn't draw out a single drop of Hell-brand demon oil.
"Woo-woo~" It honked piteously, its lights flashing like it was filing a complaint. Its exhaust pipe puffed out several clouds of black smoke to show its disappointment. Lord Ian could not stand to see his beloved Hellcat go hungry. It had saved the lives of Ian's family.
"What a demon with no discernment! A smart demon would know to stab its own blood vessels into my cat's fuel tank!" Ian suddenly pulled a short sword shining with Holy Light from his palm-sized pants pocket. A not-so-vigorous holy fire was ignited upon it, emitting a rule representing absolute sharpness.
"No! You're an Archangel! The Archangels are attacking Hell! Lord Lucifer, save me!" The gatekeeper's pupils dilated, his hideous face full of terror. His cries for help echoed across the empty Hell wasteland.
However, there was no response. It made sense—Lucifer was currently busy disciplining his brother, so why would he be interested in bothered by one of the countless demons in Hell?
*Swish! Swish!*
Ian cleanly gave the demon two slashes. The demon's physical body was like crispy roasted meat; it was instantly sliced open, and scorching lava-like demon blood immediately sprayed from the wounds. The Hellcat's straws vibrated with excitement and began to feast greedily.
"Leave some for me! Leave some for me!" The demon head Bar was so anxious its ears were twitching. It rolled from Ian's waist to the ground, opened its huge mouth, and began tearing at the demon's flesh.
[Entropy Lord XP +996]
The demon head ate the meat, the Hellcat drank the blood, and Ian swallowed the energy. Everyone seemed to have a bright future. The demon head was the weakest; it got stuffed after just a few bites and began evolving again. However, its evolution wasn't as obvious as the Hellcat's.
As it ate, the Hellcat's outer shell clearly underwent changes—the dark red armor writhed like a living thing, a sharp ram grew from the front, and the exhaust pipes turned into the shape of demon horns.
[Hell Operating System 2.0 Installing... New Functions: Soul Navigation, Sin Radar, Demon Voice Assistant]
Clearly, it had found an extra surprise in this refueling session. The upgraded Hellcat drifted excitedly in place, its tires burning a "666" mark into the ground.
"Not bad, not bad. Now you finally deserve the name 'Hellcat'." Ian looked at his beloved car with satisfaction. It seemed the Hellcat's intelligence had also improved quite a bit, as it now understood puns.
He admired the Hellcat's changes for a moment, then turned to look at the gatekeeper demon who had already become a dried corpse. The latter was actually using his last bit of strength to draw a cross on his chest.
"You're a demon, why are you drawing a cross?" Ian asked curiously.
"Might as well give it a try," the demon said with a breath as thin as silk. This self-drawn cross was incredibly effective; he finally breathed his last breath under the backlash of this behavior that "defied" his race.
"..." Ian really found it hard to evaluate the demon's behavior. He didn't expect to encounter such an abstract demon. The act of attempting to be a traitor at the last minute was truly quite "wise."
"Today is a good day~"
It was actually a song. The Hellcat retracted its straws with lingering satisfaction and let out a burp, a puff of hellfire venting from its exhaust. Bar patted its round belly, using its blood vessels to stroke the depths of its throat.
Bar, who treated its head as its main body, also had a complete sense of self—but it was truly weak. Despite eating so much meat, the horns on its head only became a bit brighter, longer, and thicker, with some tiny bristles growing on them.
"You can't even pretend to evolve well. You're truly a waste of food." Ian tucked the demon head back onto his waist and politely reinstalled the gates of Hell back to their original position.
This was the high quality of a child from an educated family. Snacking on local natives was one thing; being polite was another. No one ever said the two couldn't coexist harmoniously.
"Boo-hoo, where is this? I'm so scared." Having finished his meal, Ian remembered to brush his teeth this time, and then disguised himself as a little boy lost in Hell. To increase his appeal to demons, Ian also put on overalls—this trick worked well.
Ian cried out in a pre-pubescent child's voice, perfectly portraying a lost human cub. He purposefully tripped over a protruding tree root and fell with a thud onto the scorched earth. Then, the first low-level demon poked its head out from a lava crack.
"Oh? A fresh living human? And it's a little boy, my favorite from when I was alive." This demon, which looked like a mutated lizard, rubbed its claws together, its thick saliva making a "sizzle" as it dripped onto the burning ground. It was clearly a post-natal demon turned from a fallen human priest.
Ian curled into a ball, his shoulders shaking piteously. "I... I can't find my daddy and mommy..."
His acting might not have been Oscar-worthy, but it was still commendable.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid~ Uncle will take you to find them." The demon grinned with a blood-red maw, chuckling. It stuck out a tongue covered in barbs, but just as it was about to touch the boy, the boy grabbed the tongue directly.
"Gotcha!" The "little boy" who was just shivering suddenly did a kip-up and pulled the demon right in front of him. What followed was a collaborative effort between the car and the demon head.
[Entropy Lord XP +99]
A small demon's energy wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
[Entropy Lord XP +87]
[Entropy Lord XP +56]
[Entropy Lord XP +33]
...
"Someone help me..." Ian turned into a little 'femboy' in a nun's habit. He knelt before a cross and prayed.
"I just jumped off a building, how did I end up here?" This time he was in the form of a middle schooler with a backpack.
"Is there any kind-hearted person..." Ian, who possessed [Myriad Forms of Creation], instantly manifested a wig for himself. He was the true "Shapeshifting Man."
[Entropy Lord XP +21]
[Entropy Lord XP +19]
[Entropy Lord XP +13]
Continuous "fishing" law enforcement resulted in a bountiful harvest for Ian. However, his digestive capacity had its limits, but that didn't mean the demons could escape his schemes.
He actually kept his promise—he indeed hadn't touched a single demon's scalp. The youth simply stuffed the demons he couldn't finish or digest into his extra dimension.
One, two, so many—amidst the great harvest, Ian felt he had found his own paradise. If he didn't lack preservatives, he actually wanted to make canned demons.
"Oh! Ian-God! I feel that this wave has at least brought me to the Middle-Level Demon Ninth-Rank Great Perfection Peak, Limit Ninth-Rank, Middle-Level Demon Ninth-Rank King Sealing Realm level of improvement!" The demon head was well-versed in the level classifications Ian had taught it.
"Keep up the good work!" Ian was busy labeling his latest captured demon, and his casual brush-off gave the demon head a huge boost.
It had already evolved a brain that automatically perfected and filled in the blanks for everything Ian said—this wasn't just a short statement; it was Ian-God's trust, favor, and affection for it!
"Praise Ian-God!" The demon head finished its self-indoctrination. Loyalty +1.
"Continue, continue. Reveal your essence a bit, pretend to be injured. You'll definitely be able to trick a few more demons over." Ian also possessed a full leader's mindset. He knew a boss couldn't do everything himself; otherwise, what would be the point or joy of being the boss?
"Yes, yes!" The demon head hurriedly complied. Another wave of luring and trapping. Ian wasn't worried about catching demons into extinction, because you can't run out of demons, this was common knowledge known to all DC people.
"The American Wildlife Protection Association hasn't forbidden law-abiding citizens from catching demons!" Ian was flying through his tasks, and for a moment, he seemed to have forgotten why he came to Hell.
How should I put it... it wasn't exactly putting the cart before the horse. After all, what was the "cart" and what was the "horse"? Lord Ian had his own scale to measure it. As a soul transmigrated, who could say that liking to hoard food was neglecting one's proper business?
Just as the youth began his forced reasoning again, on the sulfur mountain in the distance, Crowley, who had just returned to Hell, held up a pair of binoculars with trembling hands, constantly watching Ian's sudden visit.
"Sigh~" As the current spokesperson for Hell, Crowley knew that if he personally witnessed such a slaughter of minor demons and did nothing, he would surely lose some support and authority.
"I have no choice but to do something!" Crowley was a man who took fame and fortune very seriously. Seeing Ian get more and more out of hand, he gritted his teeth and made a bold decision.
He extended his palm, gathered magic in it, and then acted very decisively—the Acting King of Hell removed his own two eyeballs with the speed of a lightning bolt. Not only that, he sealed the eyeballs inside an iron box. This way, with his eyes sealed and unable to see anything, the crisis of his authority being damaged was naturally resolved.
"The weather in Hell is truly good today. Unfortunately, I can't see anything." Crowley muttered to himself with a sigh. He felt proud of his own cleverness. To reach his current position as a human soul, his intelligence naturally far surpassed most demons. Just like the lackey next to him, who didn't possess such wisdom.
"Excellency, are we just going to watch that Archangel do as he pleases? That guy is weakening the future hopes of our Hell!" The lackey angrily brandished a pitchfork, his tone righteous and filled with hatred. He was truly indignant for the other demons; after all, Hell had its own "flowers of the future" as well.
Upon hearing this, Crowley reached out and patted the lackey demon next to him. "Otherwise? Let him stuff me into a fuel tank too? Make me fuel for that wicked ride of his? Damn it, that car isn't a demon at all. It's using the sin contained in demon blood as fuel! This is more terrifying than an angel, it's incredibly... wicked!"
His voice was filled with the helplessness of a punching bag, yet his strike was not affected by this emotion. It remained decisive. He simply clapped his hands together and smashed the lackey demon's head into dust.
"Boss..." The lackey, having lost its core, collapsed instantly. In the blink of an eye, it became a pile of red earth, nourishing the land of Hell. The murderous Crowley expressionlessly pulled out a pack of tissues.
"Only those who recognize the situation can live long. It's the same in both the human world and Hell." As he wiped his soiled hands, he couldn't help but think of his conversation with Lucifer before returning to Hell—that boy might not be powerful, but the glory he possessed was absolutely the nemesis of all angels and demons. The blessing bestowed by Death was never that boy's most troublesome attribute.
God's favor was! Those who couldn't see through this couldn't kill the boy, and those who could see through this didn't dare to act lightly. This was the real "stubborn psoriasis" that spanned both Heaven and Hell!
"Sigh, while he's here, I'll go squat in a long-lasting toilet stall." Crowley turned and left, heading to his secret toilet for a tactical hiding.
Meanwhile, the Hellcat had already carried Ian further. He rode on the roof of the Hellcat, checking today's haul.
Low-Level Demons x 147
Middle-Level Demons x 63
High-Level Demons x 23
Mutated Demons of Unknown Species x 7
...
This is how the "hoarding party" is. They love to count their loot. Amidst his own laughter, Ian was carried by the Hellcat through layers of dimensions to the most representative building in Hell.
That highest, largest, and most conspicuous throne. Not a single Great Demon jumped out along the way; after all, any being that could become a Great Demon was crafty.
Even though Ian's Hellcat passed through a Hell Lord's dimension, the Hell Lord just happened to have stepped out—because of this, Ian's journey was very smooth. So smooth it made him feel a bit disappointed.
Fortunately, the Hellcat was playing songs for him. The lyrics were very rhythmic, and highly suspicious of flattery. However, learning to rhyme and flatter were major prerequisites for becoming a high-level demon in the DC Universe.
"Look, Lucifer's throne is uneven, and there are stone blocks constantly floating on the seat... I bet they are the only things in this world that have ever kissed the King of Hell's asshole!" What truly revitalized Ian was the form displayed by the throne, though his sudden brainstorm made the demon head and the Hellcat dare not respond or agree.
"The human souls are all nearby." The demon head changed the subject, though not too awkwardly. This was the playground where Lucifer watched countless humans sink.
Surrounding it was a giant building composed of countless cubes, looking like a distorted beehive from afar. Each cube was a transparent cell, imprisoning a fallen soul, repeating their most regretful moment day after day.
Ian stepped on the Hellcat's hood and performed a beautiful landing, stopping in front of this "City of Repentance." Black snow constantly fell in the air, looking like the ashes produced after paper is burned.
"Welcome to the Hell Real Estate Development Zone! This location is guaranteed to be in the capital's second ring road!" Ian naturally remembered he was here to save people, but finding Hannibal in this boundless "city" wasn't easy. There were many Hannibals in the world, and even if there were names posted on the doors, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Opening the room of the first Hannibal Lecter, Ian went to the wrong person—in the cell, a middle-aged man in a suit was kneeling on the floor, holding a little girl whose face was bruised and purple. He was weeping bitterly, frantically repenting and apologizing. The needle of a syringe on his wrist was very conspicuous.
"Baby... Daddy was wrong... Daddy shouldn't have..." The man's crying stopped abruptly. The scene reset. He woke up from the sofa, feeling miserable all over, so he began searching all over the room.
"Daddy, Daddy, don't hurt yourself anymore!"
"Get lost!"
The man once again picked up the syringe and tremblingly pushed the unknown liquid into his body. His reason was swallowed by the drug. When he woke up again, the man once more saw the corpse of his child. The cycle of weeping and repenting played out again.
Then, at the most heartbreaking moment, the Hell cycle's reset would arrive. Like a brand new day, yet the exact same day, the man repeated this process over and over. Every cycle, he would forget what had happened before.
Drugs. A mistake. Weeping. Hell gave the man chance after chance, yet he was never able to make a different choice. Just like in another cell, there was a streetwalker also named Hannibal Lecter.
A heavily made-up woman was counting cash. Every time she got to the seventh bill, she would see a smiley face drawn on it and her expression would change drastically as she screamed and ran toward the door.
However, when a voice appeared behind her asking for her services, her fingertips would hesitate the moment they touched the doorknob, and then the entire world would reset to her sitting on the edge of the bed counting money.
"Was the customer she met actually her first love?" Ian didn't know what the streetwalker's guilt stemmed from. He searched quite a few Hannibal Lecters but couldn't find the person he was looking for.
He only witnessed all sorts of different people repeating their cycles, and every prisoner had never once changed their own fall. This was to be expected. According to Ian's understanding, over countless years, not a single person in Hell had ever successfully walked out of the "cage" that trapped them.
Even though the door to leave the cage was never locked and they could leave at any time, not a single person could take that step.
In response, Ian also put his spirit of being helpful to use.
"Brother, do you still have property in the human world? Can you afford an Indulgence?"
"You can? Great! You're truly my good brother. Once I find a psychiatrist, I'll come save you~"
"Can't afford it? Then please move out. I have a great use for this room. I'm going to establish a private prison of the new era in Hell. I need to collect 99,990 cells gifted to me by nature."
He checked the cells one by one, stopping occasionally to chat with the "residents." The souls who were kicked out stood in the corridor in a daze, having lost their purpose in life after being detached from the cycle.
"Where... where should I go?" someone asked Ian.
"You're an American and you don't know how to be homeless? Naturally, you go out for a walk and be a happy hobo in Hell!" Ian also enthusiastically pointed out a bright path for the souls he had dragged out.
"No! You can't do this!" The souls who were kicked out of their rooms felt incredibly conflicted. They hadn't quite woken up from the cycle, but that didn't stop them from realizing their situation.
Who would have thought that even after going to Hell, there would be a time when they were homeless!
"I certainly can do this. See this coin? Seeing it is like seeing Lucifer. I am the Vice-President of Hell, the Second Master. The Second Master does whatever he wants." Ian felt he had encountered Hell-rife rabble. He had already saved these people from their cycles, yet these people still didn't know how to be grateful. It served them right that they went to Hell after death.
"But we're still in Hell!"
"Yes! We want to go to Heaven!"
"Unless you send us to Heaven, don't even think about taking our house!"
Many human souls surrounded Ian in protest.
"Fine. You can't afford Indulgences and you can't repent for your crimes. You guys might as well go up to Heaven to cool off." Ian gave the Hell-souls a fierce kick in the ass, sending them flying like stars into the distance. Each soul got one kick.
He treated everyone equally. This was also a form of great, selfless love by fulfilling the wishes of these Hell-souls. After finishing this good deed, Ian continued to empty out the cells in Hell.
He also frantically carved teleportation arrays into the cells, striving to implement long-distance inmate deployment in the human world. This way, his old man surely wouldn't have to worry about him not following the 'no-kill' rule.
"What are you doing?" The demon head Bar watched Ian installing sewing machines and production lines in the cells. Its already large bull eyes showed a tendency to evolve into dot eyes.
"One look and I can tell you've never visited a private prison. Our private prisons over there are all like this. I provide cells for the sinners, and the sinners naturally must repay me with labor—you should know, America has eighty-year-old presidents, but it absolutely has no free cells!" Ian's voice was resounding, every word striking the demon head's heart.
"..." The demon head felt that Ian had truly come to the right place by coming to Hell. If Trigon had half the wicked brain of this guy, he would have dominated Hell and become an even more powerful King of Hell long ago.
"Oh! Wayne Enterprises will definitely be merged by me. I will have a batch of Palu-level criminals who are reformed today, and then undergo reformation in a cycle tomorrow, never remembering how many days they've been reformed!"
Just as Ian was busy setting up the 233rd "Ian Garment Factory," the entire City of Repentance suddenly shook violently.
In the sky, sulfur crystals came crashing down, and a hiss from some ancient creature echoed from the distance—suddenly, a mutation occurred.
One of the seventy-two pillar demon gods, Valac, descended treading on flames. At this moment, the sky of Hell suddenly tore open, and sulfur fire poured down like a torrential rain. Valac's true body rose from the abyss.
"Do you still remember me? Human." His demon god body obscured the sun. He looked both hideous and small, like a little girl. Behind him, wings like a giant dragon's were each burning with the never-extinguishing fire of sin. Millions of wailing souls struggled within those wings.
"Who are you? Sorry, as a person of high status, I am often very forgetful." Ian indeed failed to recognize the Demon God Valac. He didn't understand why the other party looked so full of hatred.
He had always been kind to others and rarely made enemies. Even if he did, he would ensure the enemy would never be able to continue being his enemy in the shortest possible time.
"Don't remember me? Heh. You once devoured a wisp of my avatar. I said you would eventually regret it. I really didn't expect you to deliver yourself to my door!" Valac's voice was venomous. Only he knew how much ridicule he had suffered in Hell because his avatar had been eaten. At this moment, the look he gave Ian was filled with rage.
"It's you!" Ian looked up at this ancient Demon God and blinked. His super brain rapidly searched his memory and successfully locked onto the corresponding target. He immediately had a change of face and slapped his thigh.
"Delicious Big Snack Exchange Coupon!" Ian's face was overcome with greed. Not only was he not frightened, but he actually began swallowing his saliva frantically. His words were full of annoyance, constantly blaming himself for truly being a forgetful person of high status.
"??????" Valac was stunned by Ian's reaction, and then flew into a rage. The rules of Hell distorted under his will, and terrifying power poured down like a flood. A wild wind blew. It wasn't just a wild wind; it also carried the will to disintegrate Ian's flesh.
[Berserker XP +13]
[Berserker XP +16]
[Berserker XP +19]
...
Ian's flesh began to be stripped away like fine sand, as if he was about to be blown into dust by this wind. White jade-like bones began to be exposed, looking like Wolverine being ravaged by the Phoenix Force. Of course, the situation was similar, but Ian was much more talkative than Wolverine.
"It's a good thing I hid my divine power well, otherwise you'd definitely be hit by my Ultra Bomb. My Ultra Bomb is specialized against you. If you were gone, my mouth would be very sad." Ian, who only had half a head left with flesh, still had a mouth that was moving, and it was even piteously leaking drool.
[Berserker XP +11]
Ian's flesh would not be completely disintegrated. It would constantly regrow. Because the higher the opponent's damage, the stronger Ian's self-healing became.
[Undying's Rage: When you receive any form of damage, recover one percent of your maximum health per second. This can heal all injuries, including fatal ones. The heavier the injury, the faster the recovery speed. When health is below 10%, you will gain a near-instantaneous restorative burst of rebirth. This carnival of life will continue until all your energy is exhausted. Death? To you, that has always been a luxury.]
Since he had plenty of energy, Ian naturally didn't have to worry about running out. He couldn't even trigger the effect of the near-instantaneous rebirth when health was below 10%.
After all, Ian's bones were harder than anything, and the stuff inside them was no longer just marrow, but marrow soaked through with Odin's divine power.
The Seventy-Two Demon Gods of Solomon were strong, but Odin's divine power was certainly not weak either. If Ian hadn't been worried about damaging the "Exchange Coupon," he would have definitely chosen to use his [Ian Ultraman] exclusive suicide bomb skill.
"??????" Valac noticed that Ian's desire as he watched him was very pure—pure appetite. He had lived for countless millennia, but he had never seen a madman like Ian who couldn't be killed and was still thinking about eating him.
"Do you think you can still treat me like you treated my avatar?" Valac roared in fury. Every bit of flesh on Ian's body was disintegrated in an instant. Only white, pure bones remained. He was still moving. Still approaching. And because Valac increased his output, in the next moment, the rebirth effect was triggered. Ian's flesh surged back like a tide, skin, muscle, and bone regenerating at a speed visible to the naked eye. In the blink of an eye, he returned to a complete human form.
"Oh, dear Demon Lord, don't look down on yourself so much. I believe you must be much more delicious than your avatar." Ian spoke as he reminisced. Previously, he had sacrificed the Demon lord avatar to his Godfather, the Death Knight, and the Death Knight had cooked the Demon Lord for him. That was the first time Ian had tasted a Demon Lord. How to describe it? One could only say the taste of a Demon Lord was truly excellent.
"Weak as you are, even if I just stand here, you can't even touch my defense—" The Demon Lord, whose stats were off the charts and conservatively in the five-digit range, issued a mockery at Ian.
The reason it was called a mockery was that it stopped halfway. Because Ian, who loved to be a stat-beast, would turn into a 'mechanics-beast' when he couldn't be a stat-beast.
He pulled out his "steak knife" and even rubbed it twice with his sleeve. As the saying goes, friction creates heat, so it was very scientific that holy flames ignited on the short sword. The sword was entirely silver, and a blazing holy fire burned on the blade.
"This is impossible! How can it be in your hands!" Valac's pupils dilated. He was shocked and furious, instinctively wanting to fly away. The entire demon looked absolutely terrified.
Yes, as a Demon Lord, Valac could naturally recognize the short sword in Ian's hand. The Sword of Death, the Blade of God—this sword, according to legend, could even kill Lucifer! Who would dare to get touched by it? The Demon God said nothing more and turned to fly away.
However, *Click*. Ian pulled out another Colt revolver, the barrel pointing at his flight path. At this moment, Valac knew he was fast, but he didn't dare to gamble.
"God-Killer Colt!" Valac's wings froze. He didn't dare to fly. The reputation of this gun was even more terrifying than the Blade of God—legend said that as long as it locked on, even God would be killed in one shot! Such a thing could almost make his liver and gallbladder burst with fear.
"Where did you find it? Where did you find them?" The Demon Lord truly didn't understand why a human would have so many mass-destruction weapons on him.
"I am very cautious and pious, so I won't tell you who likes little boys and has a crush on me... Listen, if you don't fly, I absolutely won't use the Colt." Ian pointed the gun at Valac. Valac's face was ashen, but he didn't dare to gamble.
A dignified member of the Seventy-Two Pillar Demon Lords was actually forced back to the ground by an empty gun with no bullets. Of course, he was also very crafty. He didn't dare to fly, but he took off running on the ground.
"Don't run! I just want to show you my big treasure!" Ian chased from behind. Seeing that the other party wouldn't listen, his tone even took on a bit of a pleading flavor. "If all else fails, just one arm is fine! With one arm, I can exchange it for something tasty from my Godfather! I'll show you my big treasure! Truly, it's a big treasure! I'm not lying!"
Ian almost used a megaphone. His level of bewitchment or manipulation wasn't high enough, and after hearing this, the Demon God ran even faster. He was flying, and under normal circumstances, Ian naturally couldn't keep up.
However, the four-legged Ian far surpassed the two-legged Ian. He equipped his external Speed Force legs again and ran like the wind. How could a two-winged Demon God outrun a four-legged Ian?
Seeing Ian getting closer and closer, the survival-seeking Valac could only use the most effective method—looping around a pillar. He lived up to being a Demon Lord, seeing at a glance that Ian had some issues with turning.
"Get lost! I won't give you my hands! You filthy thing!" Another certification +1. Valac's voice was very loud, shaking this entire area of Hell. Ian was a man who knew how to be satisfied and respected the wishes of others, so when Valac circled Lucifer's throne to play with him, refusing to submit, Ian very considerately lowered his demands.
"If arms are a no-go... then a Dong is fine too! My foster father will definitely love to eat Dong. No man doesn't like to eat the Dongs of other races. It's a great supplement!" Ian naturally had no need for such things. He just wanted to use flawless reasoning to trick the Demon Lord into stopping. "You're a Demon Lord, you can definitely grow another one yourself."
Ian tried to persuade him kindly, but Valac fled while turning back to roar at him hysterically, "I don't have that thing!" His voice finally took on a hint of madness.
"Then let me squeeze some demon milk! My second brother will definitely love to drink it!" Ian refused to give up and began his persuasion again. Valac, one of the Seventy-Two Pillar Demon Gods, finally experienced what true despair felt like.
His attacks couldn't kill the opponent, while the opponent's sword and gun meant certain death for him. The feeling that the opponent could make mistakes countless times while he couldn't make a single one was truly unpleasant.
"Satan! Great One! Save me!!!" Valac finally broke down and roared at the sky.
"Satan? Great One?" Ian was as if facing a great enemy and immediately stopped his pace, warily looking around. He naturally knew there were several generations of Satans in Hell, with the first Satan being the one who called himself infinitely great. That was also God's first creation, a life God created to chat with himself. Powerful, a Grand Emperor-level figure in Hell.
"Are you talking about the First of the Fallen? The first Satan?" Ian had heard of him. Supposedly, during the time God and his wife were at odds, the First of the Fallen had fallen into Hell a step before Lucifer. Regarding this history, it was recorded in unofficial histories that at the time, the First of the Fallen had seemingly seen God hiding in the "garage" playing League of Legends, so the First of the Fallen was cast into Hell.
Even the bold Ian had times of cowardice, but fortunately, the air was dead silent. The First of the Fallen gave no response. Valac still could only play 'Demon Lord Circling the Pillar' with Ian under Lucifer's throne.
"Looks like you're not that close with the First of the Fallen either!" Ian continued the chase, and Valac continued to flee. In the game of tag, even with wings, Valac was somewhat doomed. Ian gradually adapted to the turning issue.
*Swish—!* The holy sword swept past. One of Valac's wings was severed at the root. The Demon God let out a piteous cry and knelt on the ground. In the next moment, Ian pounced like a hungry tiger, sitting directly on him, much like that rainy night many days ago when he had sprawled on the avatar's body. History repeated itself.
Just as Ian was prepared to start cutting and play the butcher, before Valac's scream could leave his mouth—*Boom!!!* An immense, boundless dark power suddenly descended. It directly suppressed Ian on the spot!
"Oh, no, Ian-God! It's Trigon!!!" The demon head Bar shrieked in terror from behind Ian's butt.
"I haven't offended Trigon, why is Trigon coming to offend me? Let me do my thing! Otherwise, I'll wish for your next birth to be three hundred and sixty billion rebellious daughters in one go!" Seeing the Demon Lord he was about to eat being rescued, Ian cursed loudly.
However, an endless power attempted to suppress Ian so he couldn't get up from the ground. At this moment, Ian also felt a bit of regret. Before entering Hell, he shouldn't have called himself the Great Sage of Motorcycling. Indeed, there are laws in the dark; any Great Sage will surely encounter his own Five-Finger Mountain.
[Berserker XP +13]
[Berserker XP +19]
[Berserker Rank Up!]
[Strength: 406 — 409]
[Constitution: 422 — 429]
[Intelligence: 40.8 — 40.9]
[Spirit: 156 — 157]
This bit of increase in stats was useless. Trigon's power suppression was incredibly fierce. Not only that, Trigon didn't descend, but his will carried a certain rule that enveloped Ian. Against the unkillable, indestructible Ian, Trigon clearly planned to take an unconventional path. He knew Ian was immortal, so he decided to grind away Ian's will.
Darkness. Pure darkness. This wasn't a dark environment in the usual sense, but the concept of "Nothingness"—Trigon's will dragged Ian into the most primitive realm of void. Here, there was no time, no space, only the purest struggle for existence. Clearly, Trigon wanted to suppress Ian's will here using his own status and the concepts he possessed.
It was a battlefield of concepts and existence. Trigon, one of the most terrifying beings in Hell, a cosmic-level demon, had "Destruction" as his authority and "Dominion" as his essence. His power wasn't just physical crushing, but conceptual suppression. He could use "Absolute Dominion" to tear apart the thoughts of any life.
"You are but dust." Trigon's consciousness surged like a tsunami. He was attaching a definition to Ian. "You are but a grain of sand in the rift of time." There was a certain power trying to twist Ian's will into sand, but Ian's will was truly too firm.
"You were beaten and sent howling by your own daughter once. However, your daughter can't beat me, so rounding it off, that basically means you can't beat me." Ian continued to curse at Trigon.
Trigon went silent. Not silent from anger, but directly shocked into silence by Ian's logic. He had intended to crush Ian with a stream of consciousness, letting Ian collapse in despair and become a slave to his will.
He had prepared countless conceptual weapons to drag Ian into an abyss where existence itself was pain. However, Ian gave him no chance. Ian was defining himself.
Even if he didn't possess this power of conceptual cognition, his logic was simple, crude, absurd, yet indestructible, causing the definitions Trigon tried to attach to Ian to be disintegrated into actual dust. Left with no choice, Trigon could only change his strategy on this conceptual battlefield.
"I am the Lord of Chaos, all order shall eventually return to chaos, including you." Trigon's voice turned into the combined chant of billions of demons, every syllable reconstructing reality. He seemed to truly turn into thousands of chaos to envelop Ian.
"You and your daughter have a blood relationship, and your daughter loves me. Rounding it off, you love me too." Ian's words were world-shaking. All the chaos about to envelop Ian seemed to become reluctant to harm him.
"??????" Trigon was dumbfounded. No matter how Trigon tried to crush Ian with consciousness, Ian's thoughts were constant, so he remained unmoved, and couldn't be crushed by the concepts Trigon articulated.
"How can someone truly, firmly believe in such an equation??" Trigon's voice carried disbelief. He couldn't use "reason" to refute Ian, because Ian wasn't fighting in the dimension of "reason." This was the most absurd part. Because in this conceptual collision, one side needs to truly believe they can do it to materialize their will into that conceptual form. Not just lip service. You have to believe your own bullshit.
"I symbolize the dark side in the hearts of all living beings! Now! Reveal your darkness!" Trigon changed his strategy once again, attempting to influence Ian. However, it had little effect.
"I am the next spokesperson of the Justice League. The pee I spray is full of justice. There is no dark side in my heart!" Ian's will was firmer than the previous two times. He was truly flawless.
Suddenly, the entire dark space shook violently. At this moment, Trigon realized this mortal wasn't talking nonsense—he was using the most absurd method to dismantle his authority.
"I am... am invincible! Invincible!" Trigon's Dao heart almost wavered, and he hurriedly emphasized it again to stabilize his status on this battlefield.
"You've been defeated by your daughter. Past, present, future—more than once. I love telling the truth." Ian suddenly spoke solemnly. His sentence pierced the darkness like a holy sword.
"Damn it! What are you defining?" Trigon panicked. He realized Ian's words didn't just exist in this battlefield but seemed to be extending into reality. Thus, he hurriedly tried to use more grand concepts to suppress him.
[Displaying that the universe is just virtual data, and Ian is just a string of data code.]
[Materializing the history of the fall of all civilizations, trying to label Ian with 'corruption.']
[Showing the death of Ian's parents, that Ian will inevitably head toward the abyss.]
Trigon was truly keeping up with the trends, showing off many tricks. But this kind of thing could only affect those fake heroes. A true hero is never disturbed in heart by any external things. No matter what move Trigon made, Ian just kept repeating one sentence—"Your daughter > you, I > your daughter, therefore I > you."
This repeatedly reinforced definition began to twist the battlefield. The darkness began to collapse, not struck down by power, but because Trigon was driven into a corner by this flawless logical loop.
"This is incorrect!" Trigon finally understood what Lucifer felt when facing Morpheus back then—when the opponent uses absolute belief to support a certain concept, even the Lord of Hell cannot shake it.
"Then I am the pink Apache attack helicopter you can't beat. That is definitely correct." Ian used his true understanding of "correctness" to crush Trigon's final line of defense.
"Damn it! What are you believing in your head!" Trigon's roar shattered several small Hell dimensions, but his great power couldn't truly reach Lucifer's throne. After all, a small vassal would rarely have the guts to enter a King's territory without permission. Of course, he wasn't afraid to use some small tricks.
"Enough!!!" A demon palm that obscured the sun slapped down. Not to kill Ian, but to slap this annoying ghost thing into the deep layers of Hell. Ian felt his body falling rapidly. The Hellcat tried to save its master but couldn't keep up. He was falling. Falling. Constantly falling.
Such a situation did not shake Ian's heart. He still held tightly onto the "spoils" he had won—Valac eventually didn't escape the Evil God's evil palm. Ian was very good at being an octopus and clinging to others.
"Let go of me! You lunatic!" Valac's scream echoed through deep Hell. He probably never dreamed in his life that he would have such a day, and even Trigon couldn't save him. That powerful King of Hell actually retreated in a sorry state. Even if it wasn't a collision of power but a clash of wills, it was enough for Valac to feel the level of absurdity in this world.
Humans. Why do they have that kind of will?
"No! Stop! I didn't want to hit you, I swear, believe me—" Valac's screams echoed in the deep layers of Hell, like a cat having its tail stepped on. This once-mighty Seventy-Two Pillar Demon Lords was now being ridden by Ian, the cold light of the holy sword carving beautiful arcs in the darkness.
Ian was using the holy sword to butcher his body. People who have driven luxury cars understand the concept of 'part-to-whole ratio,' so Ian planned to sacrifice Valac to the Death Knight in batches. He first sacrificed Valac's hands, which had tried to be disrespectful to his super brain.
The Death Knight's response was fast. Ian's pendant lit up, and the pair of demon god hands disappeared instantly. A moment later, a pitch-black crystal dropped from the void. It floated in front of Ian, who couldn't wait to eat.
Meanwhile, in a certain forgotten sealed land. The Death Knight sat on a worn but tidy seat. He slowly took a bite of a hamburger, incredibly elegant. The television in front of him flickered with what was currently happening in Hell.
"Invading Hell so soon." He spoke to the air, his voice as raspy as rusty gears, yet still carrying the gentleness and refinement of an ancient noble. The lightbulb suddenly flickered. A woman dressed in Gothic style appeared in this sealed land. Just a projection, yet it looked incredibly real.
"You're about to be freed." Miss Death looked at the Death Knight not far away.
"This is a miracle, isn't it? Just like the power that little fellow we are nurturing will eventually represent." The Death Knight chuckled, his tone neither excited nor happy. Just a very calm voice. He slowly wiped the corner of his mouth, stood up, and pieced together Valac's sacrificed hands onto a doll—the Death Knight was creating a substitute for himself. Thus, it would stay in this cage in his place.
"Perhaps." Miss Death spoke noncommittally, only turning her gaze to the television screen—the picture there was very clear, showing Ian devouring the black crystal like a hungry wolf. He was emitting an ominous black light all over.
[Strength: 409 — 622]
[Constitution: 429 — 864]
[Intelligence: 40.9 — 60.7]
[Spirit: 157 — 333]
It was the same recipe, but with a different flavor. The black crystal from the avatar and the main body were slightly different, much like the difference between Master Kong and Master Kwong.
"Burp~" Ian let out a satisfied burp and wiped the corner of his mouth. He felt his power surging, with unprecedented energy flowing through his muscle fibers. It felt like countless electrical currents were rushing through his blood vessels, every nerve ending was screaming, and every muscle fiber was being reshaped.
Unprecedented power galloped within his body—it wasn't a simple strengthening, but a complete metamorphosis. Odin's divine power could better nourish his powerful body now. Ian's bones hummed lowly within him, like a sleeping divine weapon being awakened, becoming as hard as Adamantium.
He only needed to perform some enchantments on his skeletal structure, and perhaps the DC Universe would have a supreme expert who refined his own bones into a Pole Dao Imperial Weapon. Ian could clearly sense that his flesh was no longer fragile but possessed skin truly thicker than steel.
The increase in intelligence was also outstanding. His neural reaction speed reached the limit. He could see a piece of black ash falling in the air ten thousand meters away, and sense the airflow changes caused by a butterfly flapping its wings hundreds of kilometers away.
The most miraculous was the change in his brain; the already extremely active neural synapses were now flashing like Christmas trees, with tens of thousands of new circuits being generated every second.
Ian knew that his updated intelligence would allow him to better utilize his super wisdom, which was already at the universe's ceiling and couldn't rise any further.
"I've suddenly changed my mind." He looked down at the still-bleeding Valac, his eyes shining, his tone carrying anticipation. "You can definitely grow another pair of hands, right? The kind that's endless?"
The innocence and joy of youth are just that simple. They are always easily satisfied.
Valac looked at his bare wrists, then at Ian's expectant gaze, and nodded frantically. "Of course! I'm a Demon God! Never mind hands, even wings can grow back!" Actually, he knew in his heart that the part of his body taken by the mysterious entity was permanently lost. But now, saving his life was the priority. Who cared about that much? Even Demon Gods wanted to live!
"Good, good, good! Excellent! I truly am the descendant of a rancher!" Ian was overjoyed, feeling the Kent family traits in him had inadvertently been revealed again.
His grandfather raised chickens and cows. Superman raised criminals and superheroes. He, Ian, ranch-raised Demon Lords. How could this not be called the effort of three generations?
"I'll find a good place for you!" Ian dragged Valac by the tail like a sack and opened his extra dimension. Inside was a chaotic starry sky with various strange islands floating around. "This will be your new home from now on!" Ian kindly threw Valac onto an island for ranching. "Remember to grow hands on schedule! Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday without rest, and on Sunday we'll have a 'Hand-Multi cut' event!" The descendant of a rancher was just that good at production planning.
"..." Valac collapsed on the island, tearless. He was a dignified Seventy-Two Pillar Demon lord, and now he had become livestock for sustainable harvesting? He felt deep hatred in his heart but could only endure the humiliation.
"Let me see where that guy Trigon, who will have eighty thousand rebellious assholes as sons, has sent me." After settling his ranch animal, Ian finally had the leisure to observe the surroundings.
This layer of Hell was even weirder than he imagined—countless translucent crystals stood like tombstones on the scorched earth, with each crystal imprisoning a distorted soul.
The negative emotions they released gathered into dark purple rivers, flowing continuously toward a city shrouded in mist in the distance. This was clearly a corner deep within Hell, not belonging to any particular King of Hell. It looked very special, having a sense of "Psychic Innovation" punk.
"I've played *God of War* and *Devil May Cry*. I know how to climb out of deep Hell." Ian stood on a gloomy, terrifying wasteland. Just as he was wondering whether to directly carve out a path to the human world—*Swish!* An elegant figure emerged from the shadows. It was a Duke of Hell, wearing a dark red robe, his face handsome yet pale, with a perfect smile on his lips.
"Welcome." His hospitality was very strange.
"Are you the master of this layer of Hell?" Ian moved his wrists while secretly sharpening his blades in his manifested pants pockets. He thought it would be a battle. However, the Duke of Hell bowed slightly, his posture more respectful than a demon's, looking more like a noble butler. His movements were as standard as if he were welcoming a long-awaited guest.
"You must be Mr. Ian Kent, right?" The Duke of Hell's voice was low and magnetic, carrying a hint of respect for an unknown existence. "My master wishes to see you." He issued an invitation.
"Okay, okay." Ian didn't expect a buy-one-get-one-free situation. At the same time, he secretly began to guess which Hell Lord could make a Duke of Hell so loyal. Hell was strictly hierarchical, where power was king. A Grand Duke could scare a demon head so much it wouldn't dare to speak—Ian reached behind his butt. Well, it wasn't that the demon head was too cowardly. It seemed to have gotten separated from Ian during the fall earlier.
The Hellcat as well.
"It's fine. Great Detective Conan once said, as long as we eat all the demons, the remaining two must be my Hellcat and my loyal trash can." Ian was staying out overnight and didn't expect to return to the human world in just a day or two. He followed the Duke of Hell, wanting to see what trick the ruler of this layer was playing to give him a reason to act.
The Duke of Hell led the way. Ian followed swaggeringly.
"It really feels like a castle in a fairy tale. A Hell fairy tale." The Duke of Hell led Ian across a long bridge paved with obsidian, beneath which flowed a churning river of sulfur. Fragmented soul shards floated in the river.
And in the middle of the moat was a massive city, a city that felt out of place in Hell. There was no common blood and fire of Hell here, but a scene of prosperity.
Ian originally thought he would see mountains of corpses and seas of blood, but the scene before him made him doubt if he had walked onto the wrong set.
The streets were wide and clean, with buildings on both sides that were a blend of Gothic and modern technology.
Demons, humans, and Hell creatures lived in harmony, and there were even a few small demons buying ice cream at a roadside stall.
"Hell... is so livable now?" Rare confusion appeared in Ian's eyes.
By the road, a familiar figure was selling a shiny electronic device. "iPhone 22, Hell-customized version. Driven by psychic energy squeezed out of villains' bodies. Never turns off! Charge once, and the battery life can last ten years!" The man wearing a black turtleneck shouted while expertly demonstrating the product.
"Steve Jobs?!" Ian's eyes widened.
"Yes, Hell has absorbed many outstanding entrepreneurs." The Duke of Hell nodded. His words actually made sense. "After all, capital never stays silent in any world." This coincided with Ian's philosophy.
Ian even felt a hint of sympathy. After all, a soulmate is hard to find. They continued walking. Demons and human souls walked side by side, some even discussing business.
"The purity of sin in this batch of souls is very high, suitable for making new energy batteries."
"The price can be discussed, but I want exclusive agency rights."
"Deal."
...
Ian felt that many of his ideas had been cruelly plagiarized by these detestable guys before he could even think of them. The city was filled with New Cyberpunk elements everywhere.
Huge holographic projections flickered in the sky, playing advertisements for Hell enterprises. Along the streets were neon lights driven by soul energy. There were even Hell-version "self-driving carriages" pulled by Cerberus-like hounds, faster than a Tesla—the Tesla referred to here was the real Nikola Tesla.
Steve Jobs sold iPhone 22s, while Nikola Tesla was chasing lightning in Hell like a DC version of Kua Fu who chases the sun. This place didn't look like Hell should.
Holding his confusion, Ian was led by the Duke of Hell to a high tower. It wasn't an ordinary building but a giant tower merging Gothic and future technology, built entirely from obsidian and soul metal, with a huge city projection floating at the top.
It showed the situation of every location at all times. The elevator went straight to the top floor. When the door opened, Ian saw a man standing before a floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the entire city.
He wore a sophisticated black suit, his silver hair combed meticulously. His back was steady and dignified, yet he didn't emit a particularly strong demonic aura.
"Master, the person is here." The Duke of Hell said respectfully.
The man slowly turned around, revealing a familiar face Ian often saw in the '3D zones.' As Ian's eyes, nostrils, mouth, and even ear holes widened—
"Hello, Ian Kent. Welcome to—New Gotham."
The King of Hell, Thomas Wayne, spoke with a light smile.
***
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