chsdbacks Page 311
Page 311
“We don’t actually need to move to a new house.” Louise forced a polite smile, but her gaze unconsciously drifted to the headboard behind her, which Jonathan had carved beyond recognition.
In this regard.
Phil seemed to have expected this, and he wasn't disappointed at all. He simply handed the album to Louise, saying, "Mr. Ian Kent told me that I still need to help him convince his incredibly stubborn parents who like to reminisce about the past."
He glanced at the dilapidated wooden house with some emotion, thinking that Ian's description was quite accurate; such a wealthy family actually lived in a wooden house that seemed like a gift from nature.
It's really unexpected.
of course.
Phil felt he could understand.
Many wealthy people, once their material needs are met, enjoy engaging in these "pretending to be weak while actually being strong" tactics.
"How do you plan to convince me?" Louise flipped to the first page of the leather photo album, and a modern mansion covering nearly a thousand square meters came into view.
It features floor-to-ceiling windows, a smart home system, a heated swimming pool with massage function, and a large wine cellar.
“It’s really beautiful,” Louise said apologetically, her fingers gently tracing the spacious, bright kitchen in the photo. “But it doesn’t look like a place we could live in.”
This was clearly an attempt to politely decline Phil's offer.
“This house is currently on sale at a 30% discount, and I’ve contacted the owner, a very kind and wealthy man. He said he would help Mr. Ian Kent, who is interested in buying it, and work with me to persuade you.” Phil lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret he couldn’t tell anyone else.
Just as Louise was about to ask more questions, Clark arrived after hearing the commotion.
"Oh? How does this wealthy tycoon you're talking about plan to persuade us?" His super hearing had already caught up with the conversation, and his Kryptonian intuition told him that there was a conspiracy at play.
“To be honest, I’m not clear on the specifics either.” Phil glanced at his watch, somewhat puzzled. “Logically, the ‘lobbying expert’ assigned by the homeowner should have come with me.”
most of the time.
Things can't withstand constant nagging. Just then, a black minivan slowly pulled up to the side of the road. The door opened, and three people with distinctly different demeanors stepped out.
The first person was wearing a polo shirt with "Community Improvement Program" printed on it.
Holding a resident satisfaction survey form in his hand.
The second person, carrying a briefcase with the logo of a child protection agency, had a serious expression. Clark could already hear what the person was thinking; this was a staff member investigating a child abuse case.
"..."
Clark was stunned. He also deduced that the other party had accepted a $100,000 bribe from an unknown wealthy man and was determined to portray him and Louise as inferior parents.
“This area is slated to become a stinking garbage dump, and now this family is the only one left to be relocated.” The third man had a “City Planning Bureau” work badge tucked into his suit pocket.
They walked toward where Louise, Clark, and Phil were standing—this was undoubtedly a powerful lobbying team, and even the most powerful members of the Justice League were starting to tremble.
It's not just Clark.
Louise, who was dumbfounded, seemed to realize what kind of person the wealthy and kind tycoon was.
"Damn Bruce! What is he trying to do?" Louise looked at her husband indignantly, while Clark's gaze was already fixed on Gotham.
Of course, he couldn't find any trace of Gotham's Deceptive Master.
but.
That glimpse.
But it also allowed him to see Ian's booming "career".
I saw.
It was in front of a dilapidated church.
The night was deep, and the wind whispered through the ruins of Gotham, as if still recounting the cathedral's former glory. Now, only ruins remained, the dome collapsed, and stained glass windows shattered.
however.
The place was bustling with activity. Ian Kent was standing on a pile of bricks, with a huge banner hanging behind him: "Heaven's Office on Earth - Angel Re-employment Registration Office".
"The Gotham Angels Re-employment Center has officially opened. Its first CEO, Ian Kent, said that it will create 500 jobs in heaven. First come, first served. Those who come later may lose their chance to go home."
"If you arrive too late, there is no way to heaven!!"
"Black angels and white angels, they are all good angels!!"
"No 998, no 668!!"
"As long as you are willing to atone for your sins, heaven is not a dream!!"
"Boss Ian is kind-hearted; he can't bear to see angels fall to earth!!"
"Work hard today, enjoy paradise tomorrow!!"
"Believe in Ian, and you will have eternal life!!"
"Trust Ian, and you'll return to heaven!!"
"Three days left! Three days left!!"
"If you miss today, you'll have to wait another thousand years!!"
……
This is certainly not Ian himself promoting it.
He also had a large loudspeaker with a black box embedded in it, which continuously broadcast a specific frequency of sound to the whole city—Madison shouting at the top of his lungs.
As CEO, Ian certainly wouldn't shout himself, but luckily the young woman was with him and could do it for him, her intonation perfectly capturing the feeling of a leather factory in Jiangnan.
It's obvious that Ian taught them well.
"Line up! Don't push!"
Ian waved a baton he'd picked up from who-knows-where and shouted at the group of black-winged angels in front of him, "Those who have registered, go to the left to collect your angel badges."
“I’ve already sent people to find a factory, and soon everyone will be able to begin their atonement.” Ian, dressed in a white mimicry robe, was acting as a great philanthropist, doing his utmost to help the homeless angels.
Don't ask why you're homeless.
Anyway, the angels would be homeless even if they returned to Heaven—Lord Ian couldn't bear to see these displaced angels sleeping on the streets, so he chose to stand up and help the group of powerless angels.
"Uh, what's an employee badge?" The black angels looked at each other, bewildered. They were originally corrupted and fallen battle angels, but now they were lining up like college students seeking employment.
“I know, I know, it’s what those laborers in the sugarcane plantations of America dreamed of.” Madison had indeed been to school, but she remembered this history thanks to her slave-owning ancestors.
Perhaps it was because her ancestors had once been glorious, so Madison seemed to be doing a great job now. She was in charge of the white angels, registering their height, weight, measurements, and special skills.
"Ok?"
Some of the angels familiar with history frowned, but after turning to look at Ian again, they didn't think too much about it; after all, they still had the eyes of angels.
One can see the radiant glory of an archangel on Ian.
"Your Excellency, may I ask why we are required to perform labor?" One of the tall black angels hesitated before stepping forward. The angels in their line were not required to register their height, weight, or body measurements.
“You can interpret this as God’s test for you.” Ian spoke earnestly, his compassionate demeanor striking the angels, and the radiance emanating from him was dazzling.
"I see."
The angels connected their fall from heaven with this, realizing that God was indeed dissatisfied with some aspects of them, so He sent an archangel to guide them to change.
"I understand!"
The black angel knelt on one knee in reverence.
"This is a test given to us by the Lord! I am willing to accept all suffering!"
He loudly proclaimed his stance to the other angels. The other dark angels followed suit, kneeling and praying as if Ian were not mortal, but a glorious incarnation descended from heaven.
"Yes, yes, yes, it's a test. You, the most devout one, will get an extra meal every night from now on."
Ian took out his magic book and had all the angels sign "Ian's Labor Contract" in turn—this was a newly created "document" magic derived from [Ian's Magic Book].
The black angels stepped forward one by one, pressing their fingertips onto the pages. Instantly, their names turned into ink, merging into the spine of the book. The magic book closed a page with satisfaction.
Continue chewing its "food".
Yes, the book is crunching and gnawing at a pitch-black notebook, the pages fluttering like butterflies, as if being greedily devoured by an invisible mouth.
"What is this book eating?" an angel couldn't help but ask.
“Never mind it,” Ian waved his hand. “The child is just starving.”
The angels nodded, asking no more questions, and instead threw themselves into the registration process with even greater enthusiasm. Meanwhile, not far away on the other side, a girl in a white suit and glasses without lenses was holding a microphone, asking a group of handsome angels questions, constantly tallying the abilities they possessed.
"Special skills?" she asked without looking up.
"I can bless a thousand souls at the same time," a female angel said proudly.
Madison rolled her eyes: "Can you dance?"
"what?"
The beautiful female angel was very confused.
"Ugh, you're really useless." Madison sighed. "Oh well, as long as you're good-looking, that's enough. Go to livestream room number 3. Today I'll teach you how to call your family members 'muah' first."
The angels were puzzled.
But thinking that this was a test for returning to Heaven, they all obediently followed the arrangements—perhaps Batman's previous speculation was correct, that the angels would either end up in illegal factories or be abducted to brothels. The only thing he hadn't anticipated was that the new-age brothels, illegal factories, and even mental hospitals were all opened together by a rising star from the same capitalist family.
Yes, that's right. Ian is going to arrange for these handsome male and female angels to do live streams, make money, and sell products. The only conscience of the evil god is that he doesn't need the angels to sleep with the top spender.
As for the Black Angel.
Their live streams are definitely not going to be very effective, because they can't save on electricity costs at night.
So of course, they all have to be sent to the factory to shine and generate heat.
“Family! I know you want to go back to heaven! But God may have heard MacArthur say—the sun always shines after the storm! There is no such thing as a free homecoming.”
Just at this time.
Ian also floated into the air, with seventy-two pure wings mimicking the [Myriad Manifestations] behind him, and the glory emanating from his body concealed the false reality.
"You were once the guardians of Heaven, the purest light before God's throne." Ian's voice was not loud, but it rose and fell, its impassioned tone piercing the hearts of every angel. "But now, you have fallen to this mortal world, your wings stained with dust, your faith wavering, and you have even begun to doubt—whether Heaven is still willing to accept you?"
He paused, glancing around. Every gaze met his, as if he weren't speaking, but looking directly into their pure souls.
"I tell you, the answer is: Yes! As long as you work hard, you can go back to Heaven!" These words resounded like thunder, shaking the hearts of all the angels.
It swept away their confusion and fear.
“You may be banished, judged, or tested… but that doesn’t mean your fate is over!” Ian’s voice rose higher and higher. “Heaven has never truly closed its doors; it is simply waiting, waiting for you to prove yourselves again—through your actions, your perseverance, and your tireless efforts to earn the recognition behind those doors!”