met free Page 390
Page 390
He was just shouting.
It's roaring.
"Only true heroes can create true peace. A true hero does not bandage wounds, but amputates limbs to give this country a new life!"
"When your power surpasses that of everyone else in the world, then a golden age of equality for all will arrive, second only to the emperor!" Sam Lane clearly saw the true nature of the world very clearly.
He was stating a cruel truth, a truth more profound than the law of universal gravitation.
Therefore.
Every word his grandfather spoke was like a scalpel cutting open America's skin, exposing the festering tissue beneath—and the most terrifying thing was that Ian found himself nodding.
His heart was agreeing with Sam Lane's views, a situation more terrifying than the seduction of the Lord of Hell, simply because Sam Lane was stating a correct point! Those analyses are damnably correct! America truly resembles a terminally ill giant, and Clark Clark is still busy applying band-aids to this giant.
"The 'one person' you mentioned, could it be referring to—" Ian, bewitched by his devilish grandfather, trembled with fear and cautiously probed.
as predicted.
Grandpa didn't hesitate for a second.
“Jonathan has no ambition, Jordan… let’s not talk about Jordan, so, of course, that leaves you.” Sam’s voice was deep and shrewd.
He may have been thinking about and planning this for a long time, so much so that some of Ian's actions caused him to misunderstand. The grandfather suddenly felt that Ian was the best grandson with his own spirit.
"Do you expect your father, who thinks 'world peace equals saving three or five people every day', to do that?" Sam Lane retorted, only to be met with Ian's feigned ignorance once again.
but.
This did not diminish the passionate enthusiasm of the good grandfather who wanted to become the Grand Marshal.
“Remember, Ian.”
The old general concluded, "Americans don't trust the government now, but they'll always believe in two things—free Wi-Fi and a savior who can reimburse their health insurance."
"Your discount supermarket is good, but not enough."
“So you not only need to provide people with affordable daily necessities, but you also need to focus on some key areas to benefit the people,” Sam suggested. “For example, in healthcare, you could consider launching some affordable healthcare service programs, or start a pharmaceutical company to lower drug prices so that more people can afford basic healthcare services.”
"For example, in education, scholarships or bursaries can be established to help talented students who lack financial support to complete their studies. Investments can also be made in vocational skills training to enhance the competitiveness of adult workers and enable them to occupy a favorable position in the future job market."
"In addition, there is something that can be done on the housing issue... Of course, as for the military, as I said before, if the current benefits are doubled, I can send you to the White House, and if they can be increased three to five times, and medical care, pensions, and daily meal allowances are guaranteed."
“Even if they’re not my men, they’ll help you blow up the White House.” Sam Lane seemed eager to try it out; he was like one of the most dangerous instigators in the world.
“When you show hope to those who are desperate, they will lift you up—you will become a true hero.” Ian swallowed hard at these words, which were full of social philosophy.
Ian's vision suddenly blurred, as if he saw himself being crowned—on the left were demons scattering flowers, and on the right was his grandfather leading an army of 100,000 in salute.
In the distance, Clark is sprinting forward, holding a sign that reads "Spanking in the street!"
hiss!
Ian immediately snapped out of his reverie, snapping out of his grandfather's fantasy. His kindness and simplicity shared a common anchor: the boy didn't want to be treated like a villain by his father.
"Hello? Grandpa? The signal's bad!" Ian suddenly held the phone away, shouting with exaggerated acting, "I can't hear you. Let's talk about these adult topics another day."
There must be a place for Grandpa in hell. The moment the phone call ended, the boy still felt a stirring in his heart. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and was quite emotional.
Even someone as audacious as Mr. Ian only wanted to use his influence to get his mother into the White House, but his usually serious and patriotic grandfather wanted to blow up the White House.
"I've become a radical ridiculed by conservatives!" Ian exclaimed, sweating profusely. The two demons beside him, with their keen ears, were momentarily unsure whether they should call him King Ian.
"..."
Dr. Hannibal remained silent. As a ghost, he had, of course, overheard Ian and Sam Lane's phone call, so he realized he had seriously underestimated the mental state of Ian's family.
The grandson is obsessed with New Heaven and New Justice League, while the grandfather longs for New America. Is it possible that everyone in this family, from the oldest to the youngest, has some kind of serious illness?
"I need to tell my mom!"
Ian pondered for a long time.
He ultimately proved his traditional talent as a top student.
at the same time.
In an office at a secret military base, General Sam Lane sat upright, staring at a portrait of Washington on the wall, a smile unconsciously creeping onto his lips.
"I've finally got my chance!"
The old general murmured to himself.
"So this is what they mean by the special bond between grandparents and grandchildren, isn't it?"
He remembered Ian sitting on his lap as a child, smashing all his trophies with marbles—now that he thought about it, that kid probably had the temperament of a disruptor from birth!
And now, this talent could finally be put to good use. Sam Lane, feeling pleased that he had seen through Ian's intentions, sipped his unsweetened black tea. Yes, he felt he had completely grasped Ian's ambitions—that so-called tech company was more than just wealth and power.
Rather, it's about reshaping the blueprint for the world.
He, Sam Lane, will become the key driving force behind this blueprint. He is no longer the old general bound by the system, but a prophet who will witness and participate in a great transformation.
"Things are getting better!" After realizing this, Sam Lane gave up bourbon. He no longer wanted to drink, after all, he wanted to keep his health up so he could witness Ian bring glory to his ancestors.
“I almost forgot, Louise asked me to do something.” Sam put down his teacup, then suddenly slapped his forehead as if remembering something, put on his uniform, and walked out of the office. In the corridor, whether high-ranking officers or ordinary soldiers, everyone who saw him immediately stood at attention and saluted, their faces full of respect.
"Hello, sir!"
"General Ryan!"
Sam smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.
With firm steps, he walked toward the most core restricted area of this military region—the top-secret building. The officers passing by all felt that General Sam's steps were lighter than usual today.
Old Sam went through three security checks.
Finally, we stopped in front of a gray building without any signs.
"Retinal scan successful, General Sam Lane, clearance level: Alpha."
The mechanical female voice announced coldly.
Sam Lane used facial recognition to pass through three heavy blast doors and enter a brightly lit, futuristic underground laboratory, where the air was filled with the smell of ozone and unknown chemicals.
"General Ryan?"
The lab director, a middle-aged scientist with gold-rimmed glasses and an arrogant expression, looked up from in front of a pile of data screens. "What brings you here? A critical experiment is underway here. General, unauthorized visits are against the rules, and I think you should also abide by the rules you set."
Although the man spoke respectfully, he secretly looked down on high-ranking officials like Sam Lane, believing that these officials couldn't even understand the knowledge he had learned in his teens.
Scholars and writers seem to share similar personality traits.
"Give me that cat that my men captured with the kryptonite weapon." Sam Lane didn't care about the researchers' disdain for him.
He spoke in a serious tone and made his request.
"Orange cat?"
The supervisor frowned, then realized what was happening and looked troubled. “General, that’s not just a cat. It’s currently the only Earth creature that can reliably withstand Kryptonite radiation, and it’s an excellent specimen for studying the weaknesses of Kryptonian life! Like ‘that dog,’ its value is immeasurable! The research plan has already been submitted, and you can’t take it away.”
This manager's acting skills are quite impressive. Although he doesn't seem like he's offended Sam Lane, his tone leaves no room for negotiation.
“Listen, Major, someone I can’t afford to mess with is pressuring me, so if you don’t want me to pressure you, give me that damn cat.”
Sam's voice suddenly lowered, carrying an undeniable authority. He took a step forward, his imposing presence pressing down like a mountain, his eyes sharp as knives.
"Ok?"
The supervisor was taken aback by the sudden sense of oppression and involuntarily took a half step back. His mind raced—could the people Sam Lane was so wary of, even calling them "untouchable," be those truly powerful families hidden in America's shadow? Those who even the president had to treat with deference?
Thinking of this, the supervisor's Adam's apple bobbed.
Cold sweat broke out on his brow. He quickly waved his hand and ordered his men, "Quick! Bring that Kryptonian orange cat from the cage in Sector B7 to General Ryan! Hurry!"
Soon, an ordinary orange cat with dull fur was brought over in a specially made radiation cage. Through the kryptonite glass, a comatose orange cat could be seen curled up inside, its belly rising and falling weakly with its breathing. Without a word, Sam took the cage containing the comatose orange cat and turned to leave.
“Let me give you a heads-up, Major,” Sam stopped at the doorway. “You’re the one who truly enjoys breaking the rules. Although I haven’t caught you red-handed, I still advise you to stop conducting those illegal biological experiments.”
He turned and gave the lab director a deep look.
“This area is not under your jurisdiction, General Ryan. You’re just a general, aren’t you?” The supervising doctor smiled at Sam Ryan without any hesitation. He had powerful backers, so he was naturally unafraid of the other party’s warning, and even secretly warned Ian’s grandfather in return.
"Yes, I am just a general, no match for the politicians behind you who want to gain power. Believe me, I know this better than you think."
Sam slowly turned around.
His eyes were as cold as the Siberian permafrost.
The moment the door closed, the supervisor, who had felt a chill run down his spine from being stared at, finally withdrew his gaze. He quickly adjusted his breathing and strode towards the restricted area deep within the laboratory.
After passing through three airtight doors, the laboratory director stopped in front of a huge glass chamber. Inside, a soft light floated, as if it were a living light slowly "breathing".
"Once I figure out the secret I dug out of the missionary's body," the supervisor said, pressing his face against the cold glass, his eyes burning with fanatical ambition.
“No one can look at me like that anymore… They will worship me and treat me as their only god. If I ask them to do that, they will become that!” The supervisor’s breathing was exceptionally clear in the silent laboratory. He stared at the ball of light in the glass dome, his fingertips trembling slightly with excitement.
His glasses reflected an eerie light, and his shadow was cast on the specimen cabinet next to him—where many of the items this particular military institution had "harvested" from the outside were displayed.
Inside a bulletproof glass case, an alien embryo covered in slime is slowly wriggling; in a sealed sandbox, the mummy of an ancient Egyptian high priest, wrapped in ancient bandages, lies quietly.
However, his fingers seemed to twitch slightly.
No one noticed.
Perhaps it was the mummy's influence that caused the fluctuations in some kind of power that the laboratory equipment had not recorded. Suddenly, a piercing metallic twisting sound came from behind the supervisor. The triple-protected sealed iron box shattered as if crushed by an invisible giant hand, and the special steel broke into pieces like fragile tin foil.
Before the alarm could even sound, it was extinguished in the air by some ancient force.
The dust slowly settled.
The things that were sealed within were revealed.
"what happened?"
Knowing that this place contained "mysterious things," the supervisor was like a frightened bird, his face pale with fright. He subconsciously turned around, and the fear that arose after he realized what was happening made his pupils dilate suddenly.
no way.
Because the supervisor knew his laboratory very well, the statue reflected in his pupils made him freeze instantly, not daring to even blink.
In the center of the shattered container, a stone statue stands silently. It has an elegant female silhouette, long hair flowing down, hands covering its face, as if it is sobbing silently. Every detail of the carving is so perfect that it is chilling—the lines are not something a human could have carved, but rather a frozen moment of some kind of life being petrified in an instant.
And now, it is facing him, staring back at him.
When you look at it, it's just a stone, but once you look away, it might not be.
The image of the statue flashed through the trembling supervisor's mind. His eyes began to sting from not daring to blink, and cold sweat streamed down his spine.