What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

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"Forbearance!"

Ian also knows the Dragon King's secret technique. After a full five seconds of silence, Ian managed to force out an awkward smile that looked worse than crying, squeezing out a few words through gritted teeth.

“Little punk... your focus... is so damn detailed... you really are... a weirdo when it comes to details…” Ian said, giving two thumbs up.

Madison completely missed the helplessness in Ian's words, instead thinking he was genuinely praising her keen observation skills, and became even more smug.

If she had a tail, it would probably be practically sticking up to the sky.

"of course!"

She proudly raised her chin.

"Trying to fool my intelligence? No way! I'll confront him after school! Purely handmade is one price, but factory-made stuff deserves at least half the price back!"

"I'll flip his stall if he's short a single penny!" Madison declared fiercely, already rubbing her hands together, planning her "anti-counterfeiting" operation after school.

That was truly audacious.

as predicted.

Ian's courage had never quite taken hold in front of Madison. He thought he was unparalleled, but little did he know that Madison was truly a coward.

"No... are you carving ten thousand stone tablets to cover the entire America?" It wasn't just the chair that was the problem; Ian realized some other outrageous things.

“One for each person. Isn’t it what you always say, that we either don’t make a move, or when we do, it has to be impressive enough that others will think we can’t afford to carve a stone tablet?”

Madison stared wide-eyed at Ian, as if questioning him: "Why has Your Majesty betrayed your principles?" Just then, a heart-wrenching, violent coughing sound, as if the lungs were about to burst, came from the podium.

"Cough cough cough! Cough cough! Cough cough cough cough—!!"

The physics teacher, an elderly gentleman with gray hair, was already leaning on the podium, his face flushed from coughing. He was getting on in years, and his voice wasn't very good to begin with. He had just tried to use coughing to remind these two lively students to pay attention to classroom discipline, but after coughing more than thirty times, the two students were completely absorbed in their own world.

Even those who were just watching the drama unfold.

And then there's Emily, gritting her teeth.

No one paid any attention to him.

The old man had no choice but to suppress the discomfort in his throat, raise his already somewhat hoarse voice, and earnestly coax the old man into speaking in a pleading tone.

"Mr. Kent! Miss Montgomery! Could you... talk about that new trend, or... fighting counterfeits and protecting rights... perhaps... discuss it after class?"

“It’s…it’s class time now…” His voice was weak and helpless, with a hint of barely perceptible wariness. This teacher, who had already been taught a lesson many times in America, didn’t dare to ask what was going on with the two people’s discussion and the unusual student chair.

He was afraid it was some kind of minority group's spiritual beliefs, and he was afraid that if he asked, the students would complain that he was violating their right to choose, and then all sorts of random organizations would come knocking on his door.

Perhaps it was the teacher's pitiful tone that had an effect, or perhaps Madison had temporarily planned their route after school; in any case, Ian and Madison finally quieted down for the time being.

"No, you've given me this hot potato. What am I supposed to do?" Ian looked at the "Seal of the Holy Decree" student chair in front of him with a heavy expression.

He eventually plopped down on it.

Madison finally gave up struggling with the crooked door, dusted off his hands, and slowly swayed back to his seat, beginning to consider whether to use a hammer or a wrench to "reason" with the old stonemason first.

Seeing that the world was finally quiet, the physics teacher let out a long, relieved sigh and quickly took a sip of warm water to moisten his almost parched throat. He adjusted his glasses, his gaze sweeping over Ian's uniquely styled stone chair, which was clearly not an ordinary object. His lips moved, but in the end, he swallowed all his questions back.

I dare not ask, I dare not ask at all.

These days, there are too many students with outlandish outfits, performance art, and bizarre beliefs. What if this stone chair is some kind of sacred object of a new niche culture, or related to some "stone chair gender identity" or "rock structure equality" movement? If he asks too many questions, all sorts of strange organizations might be blocking the school gate with signs tomorrow.

They are fiercely accusing him of discriminating against stone furniture and oppressing students' right to individual choice.

Ian's reputation as a champion of whistleblowing isn't just among the students; even though the physics teacher is old now, he still remembers why he had to memorize who the new principal was.

Therefore.

It's better to avoid trouble; protecting your retirement pension is the most important thing.

The old man forcibly ignored the chair radiating invisible pressure, picked up the chalk, his fingers trembling, and drew his attention back to Lenz's law on the blackboard.

“Uh… let’s continue… When the magnetic flux through a closed loop changes, an induced electromotive force (EMF) is generated in the loop, and the direction of the induced EMF always attempts to oppose the change in the magnetic flux that caused it… This is the core of Lenz’s law: resisting change…”

His voice was still hoarse, but he tried his best to maintain order in the classroom.

Classroom discipline was barely maintained thanks to the physics teacher's hoarse insistence and the temporary silence of the two "troublemakers." However, the whispers below surged like a tide, impossible to quell.

Everyone's gaze, intentionally or unintentionally, drifted toward the exaggerated stone chair beneath Ian's bottom, and onto Madison, who had just dismantled and reassembled the door with his bare hands.

Although the whispers were hushed, they were clear enough.

"Did they buy a castle together? Otherwise, why would they use something that looks so ostentatious?"

"I think so! The Madisons are rich!"

"Tsk tsk, are they going to be this high-profile about living together now?"

These comments pierced Emily's ears like needles. She jerked her head up, her eyes bloodshot, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her voice suppressed yet sharp.

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! How could Ian be the kind of guy who would just live with anyone? He's so... so unique!"

Emily tried to find a positive word, but it sounded more like an insult.

The surrounding classmates no longer looked at her with curiosity, but with pity. Someone muttered quietly, "Emily, forget it... the chair's already here..."

Emily bit her lower lip so hard it almost bled. As if she had made a decision, she suddenly widened her eyes and spoke with an unwavering determination.

"Even if they are having an affair, so what?!"

She took a deep breath, as if declaring a battle cry: "Seven-year itch! I can wait! When Ian gets tired of me, he'll still be mine! I can even... I can even help Ian raise their child! And I absolutely won't let that green tea bitch see the child! I'll make Madison, that green tea bitch, furious!"

These shocking remarks silenced the whispers around them for a moment.

One of the boys couldn't help but whisper a reminder: "Um... Emily, I remember Ian once said that he has no feelings and is infertile..."

Upon hearing this, Emily was not discouraged at all. Instead, she smiled proudly, as if she had already seen through everything. She patted her flat stomach and spoke with an amazing spirit of sacrifice.

"It's alright! Medical problems can be overcome! If Ian needs it, I can transplant my uterus into him! That way he can get pregnant and have children! I can do this for Ian, that violent woman who only knows how to move stones definitely can't!" What an earth-shattering statement!

I can tell.

The girls who are attracted to Ian are indeed quite extraordinary.

The whole class: "!!!"

Everyone was speechless, stunned by this powerful logic and dedication. Their gazes toward Emily shifted from pity to fear.

This is a feeling that can't be described as just being a "simp."

In this bizarre, absurd, and suffocating atmosphere, the physics teacher, relying on his strong professional ethics and obsession with his retirement pension, painstakingly and haltingly completed the lesson on Lenz's Law. As for how much of the students absorbed, he was powerless to care; he could only console himself that he had done his duty.

They're students at public schools.

Even the class with the best grades.

The physics teacher didn't really believe they could amount to anything. Even if a few did, the parents of these students who would eventually join the elite class would undoubtedly be elites themselves.

A noble son from a poor family.

In America's public schools, you might not see more than a few in ten years.

"Ding Ding Ding ~"

The school bell rang out like heavenly music.

The physics teacher practically fled the classroom, clutching his lesson plan. He needed to get back to his office immediately and use his limited physics knowledge to calculate the terrifying magnitude of Madison's maximum output, considering the stone chair she had lifted and easily put down with her bare hands, plus the strength she displayed in dismantling and reassembling the door.

This has seriously challenged his understanding of classical physics!

Just after the physics teacher left, and everyone was about to relax a bit after class, Mrs. Allie, around forty years old, walked in carrying a file folder. She was the class advisor temporarily managing the class affairs for Miss Misha, who was absent due to Hannibal's death. Mrs. Allie wore a formulaic smile.

"Class, please be quiet. Ms. Misha has something come up, so I'll be filling in for her today. First, let's go over the results of our last midterm test."

She began reading out names according to student ID numbers and distributing report cards. Most students received their scores; some were happy, some were sad.

As always, Ian received a report card with precise score control, only slightly better than the second-best in the grade. He glanced at it casually and stuffed it into his drawer.

It was as if it were just a piece of waste paper. However, when Ms. Allie finished reading the last name and was about to begin the next item, Madison frowned and raised his hand.

"Ms. Ellie, where is my report card?"

She frowned and stood up.

Ms. Ellie paused for a moment, flipped through the remaining documents, checked the list again, and said in confusion, "Ms. Montgomery? The list shows that you received them all? I don't have any here."

"Impossible!" Madison seemed a little unhappy, even a little aggrieved. "I didn't miss this exam! And I feel like I did much better than before!"

“I’m sure I can improve a lot! Did you lose my report card?” She stared at Ms. Ellie, her eyes filled with distrust of the unfamiliar counselor.

Ms. Ellie adjusted her glasses and said with certainty, "No, Miss Montgomery, I don't have a habit of losing things. All my report cards are here."

"Are you sure you took the last exam? Could you have misremembered?" She didn't quite trust Madison, a girl whose appearance alone suggested she was a poor student.

Her years of teaching experience had taught her that girls like this generally wouldn't take exams.

“Of course I’m sure!” Madison’s voice rose, tinged with increasing dissatisfaction. “That was the only exam I didn’t miss this year! I remember it very clearly!”

Ms. Ellie was somewhat puzzled by her certainty. She picked up the file folder containing the report card and carefully searched it inside and out several times, even turning the folder upside down and shaking it.

“Strange…there really isn’t one…” she muttered to herself, then said to Madison, “Wait a minute, I’ll call Ms. Misha and ask if she missed it.”

With that, Ms. Ellie took her phone and walked out of the classroom. A few minutes later, she returned with a strange expression—a mixture of helplessness, amusement, and a hint of absurdity.

"Well, Ms. Ellie, have you found my report card yet?" Madison looked at Ms. Ellie eagerly, hoping to use this report card to make her proud when she got home.

Ms. Allie looked at Madison, sighed, and said in a very complicated tone.

“I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery. I just asked Ms. Misha, and she immediately contacted all the examiners for all the subjects…” She paused, as if organizing her thoughts, “and the result is… none of the examiners graded your paper, so you don’t have a report card.”

"Why?!" Madison stood up abruptly, her voice filled with dissatisfaction and incomprehension. "Why weren't they correcting mine? This is discrimination!"

The young delinquent was furious.

Ms. Ellie rubbed her temples, her expression becoming even more helpless: "Because... all the teachers said that none of the test papers they received had your real name 'Madison Montgomery' written on them."

"So everyone thought you didn't take the exam again." She took out her phone, looked at the message sent by Teacher Misha, and read out the name that made the whole class instantly dumbfounded.

"The teachers only received one exam paper signed 'Dark Night Blood Clan · Silent Phoenix · Tragic Tears of the Prince of Love'." After reading the name, Ms. Ellie felt a little embarrassed. She looked at Madison and said, "So... the teachers unanimously believe that this is a prank by some student, or an irrelevant exam paper that slipped in from somewhere."

That makes sense.

Upon hearing the name, the entire class was stunned. A deathly silence fell over the classroom. Everyone stared at Madison with the look of utter disbelief.

Madison, however, did not see any problem at all.

Instead, she confidently put her hands on her hips and said, "Yes! That's my exam paper! After all, I'm going to be a big star in the future, so I value my privacy and used my Twitter nickname!"

Isn't this another kind of profound truth?