American comics: Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who worry about their fathers!.

Chapter 1060 The Undercurrents of the Farmer's Sorrow
The thick fog over the wetlands seemed to solidify, pressing heavily on the hearts of every listener.

The Dark Multiverse, the Laughing Bat, the Green Filth of All Things...

Peter's words silenced everyone completely.

The grayish-black, sticky grime on the swamp monster suddenly became incredibly glaring to Zatanna and the others.

After absorbing this information, Zatanna asked Peter with some shock, "Creating a universe filled with such extreme pain and madness..."

She looked at Peter with a questioning gaze. "What immense power does this require? Who created such a universe, sir?"

Peter looked away from the unsettling stains on the swamp monster and toward the distant sky shrouded in dense canopies and perpetual mist.

His profile appeared distinct in the dim light.

After a long pause, Peter sighed and said to Zatanna, "Its name is Barbatos."

The moment he uttered that name, Zatanna felt a chill run down her spine.

Luther's brow furrowed deeply, his mind racing as he tried to find relevant information in his knowledge base and all the myths and legends, but to no avail.

Artoria gripped the hilt of her sword tightly; her knightly instincts made her feel disgust and wariness toward the name.

"It is not a 'creator' in the usual sense."

Peter said in a deep and clear voice, “It’s more like a… parasite, an ancient and hungry evil that has been lurking in the shadows of the deepest layers of the structure of reality since the birth of the multiverse.”

After a pause, Peter continued, "Legend has it that in the great clash between the Monitor and the Anti-Monitor that shaped the structure of the multiverse, the resulting torrent of energy not only created the myriad known worlds, but also awakened it from its slumber at the very bottom of nothingness."

Peter's narration captivated the group.

"Barbatos was drawn to the light and the energy of creation, yet it loathed it. What it longed for was not order and life, but a return to the absolute nothingness and silence before the birth of all things. It was the end of everything, the embodiment of darkness, and a termite that gnawed at the foundations of reality."

"Unable to directly enter the bright multiverse, it infiltrates the structural cracks of reality with its own power, like secreting venom, to nurture, nourish, and ultimately harvest those dark cosmic bubbles filled with despair and madness."

"The world I just described, the corrupted Bat of Laughter, is merely one of its sharp, insane fangs. It is a messenger of corruption spreading throughout the bright universe, while its true form... remains lurking in the deepest part of the dark sea, waiting for the moment when the barriers of reality are weakest, waiting to drag the entire multiverse into eternal, silent darkness."

Peter's gaze swept over everyone, finally settling on Luther's face, which was filled with shock.

"Be careful with this guy."

Peter's tone became more serious than ever before. "Its power surpasses any technology or magic we can comprehend. Its wisdom is pure malice, the sediment of billions of universes destroyed. What it covets is not your or my life, but all the rules and light upon which this land beneath our feet depends for its existence."

Having combined the power of the Chaos Gods from the Warhammer world, Peter could sense that Barbatos had become even more powerful.

Compared to the original timeline, Barbatos' power has increased significantly, so Batman in the Dark Multiverse should also be much stronger.

This time it was just a meteorite, yet it almost destroyed the world. Who knows what will happen next time it truly invades?

A heavy silence descended once again.

The dampness of the swamp felt heavy, making it hard to breathe.

The darkness Peter spoke of was like a bottomless abyss; merely knowing its name made one feel as if their soul was being dragged away invisibly.

At this moment, what flickered in Luther's eyes was no longer just ambition, but also a deep sense of apprehension, and even a sense of insignificance in the face of the absolute unknown.

Meanwhile, at Padrick Farm.

The afternoon sun dispelled the lingering gloom, casting warmth back upon the farmland.

Tom is using magic to clean and initially reinforce the barn.

In the center of the courtyard, around the rectangular wooden table that had recently witnessed the Knight King's "holy" meal, the atmosphere became unusually tense.

"Mordred, aren't you going to apologize to us?"

Raven had returned to normal, dressed in her Slytherin school robes, her eyes burning with undisguised rage as she stared intently at the culprit across the table.

Mordred was sitting in a chair without any regard for appearances, holding a half-eaten cold steak that he had "borrowed" from the kitchen, his mouth covered in oil.

Hearing Raven's question, she simply lifted her eyelids lazily, her eyes full of nonchalant provocation.

"What are you apologizing for?"

She asked vaguely, chewing loudly on purpose, "For locking you in the lowest level of the Blood Fortress dungeon and having two particularly 'enthusiastic' giant vampire bats play hide-and-seek with you for three days?"

She grinned, revealing her sharp little fangs, her smile both mischievous and smug. "Come on, Raven, aren't you a wizard from Hogwarts? Just turn into a mosquito and fly out, right? Oh, by the way~"

She slapped her forehead dramatically. "I forgot, I had a mage specifically reinforce that cellar with dark runes to interfere with magical transformations~ I'm so sorry~"

Mordred's insincere "apology" and deliberate mockery only added fuel to the fire.

A faint shadow energy instantly enveloped Raven, and the surrounding air temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

Her hands, which were on the table, clenched tightly, her nails almost digging into the wooden surface.

"You little bitch!"

Raven's voice was forced out through clenched teeth, filled with barely suppressed anger, "Do you think this is a game of make-believe?!"

Although she knew it was wrong, Raven couldn't help but swear at her sister.

The humiliation of being tricked by her youngest sister and locked up like a fool has driven her to a frenzy.

Why is this little bitch so mean?

Look at Ceresa, that's my good sister.

Mordred, that tomboy, is definitely not his biological sister!
Raven subconsciously ignored the fact that she was also adopted by Peter.

"Oh my god, that's scary!"

Mordred patted his chest dramatically, making a scared expression.

"Father has already punished me, so why do you sisters want to punish me as well?"

She deliberately emphasized the words "father king".

"Riven."

Clark's voice came from the side.

He had changed into clean casual clothes, his face was still a little pale, but his eyes had regained their usual gentleness.

Clark tried to smooth things over: "Raven, Mordred is still young and has just recovered. Don't take it to heart..."

"Small?!"

Raven abruptly interrupted Clark, her anger completely ignited. "When she became the vampire queen and was going to give the world to Daddy, she wasn't 'small' at all! Now she knows how to play innocent?!"

She jumped to her feet, drew her wand, and exclaimed, "If I don't give you a good spanking today, I'm not Raven Patrick!"

"Come on, come on!"

Mordred also jumped off the chair and casually threw down the leftover steak bone.

She loves fighting and never misses any opportunity to get into a fight.

Although she wanted to apologize, she wouldn't apologize because of Raven's tone!

"Raven, if you're so capable, don't use magic, let's use physical skills."

She struck an awkward fighting stance, her little face full of eager anticipation.

"You're the one who crows?"

Raven's voice suddenly rose, and she raised her wand to cast a spell on Mordred. "Hey, you two, that's enough."

Just as chaos and tensions were about to erupt, a voice with a uniquely languid tone slowly cut in.

Raven and Mordred looked in the direction the sound came from, and there was a figure leaning against the thick branches of the World Tree.

Loki looked somewhat haggard; his once magnificent Asgardian attire was now wrinkled, and his golden horned helmet was gone.

He was toying with a bright red apple he'd grabbed from the kitchen, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Two beautiful ladies."

Loki took a bite of his apple and said to the two of them, "Aren't you afraid of Father's anger if you start fighting over such a trivial matter in this courtyard that has just begun to recover?"

Both Raven and Mordred paused in their movements.

Loki walked between the two and looked at Raven. "Raven, being locked in the cellar is certainly unpleasant, but think about it, compared to some unlucky guys who are hung on the castle gate as wind chimes and spat on by low-level vampires (like himself), your treatment is actually not bad, is it?"

He shrugged and said to Raven.

Previously, Loki was captured by Mordred while covering Raven's retreat and hung on the gate of the Tower of Venn, where it swayed like a wind chime for several days.

Loki, who is known for holding grudges, decides to find an opportunity to teach Mordred a lesson.

However, before that, he decided to pretend that he didn't resent Mordred at all, so as to lower her guard.

After dealing with Mordred, I can clear my name in front of my father.

Loki coughed, then turned to the sulking Mordred, bent down, and looked at her with a hint of mockery in his eyes.

“And you, our ‘great’ former vampire queen, now that you’ve reverted to being a troublemaker who needs to be confined for half a year, if you don’t tone down your royal dignity a little, I think Father will probably increase your punishment.”

Mordred pursed her lips, seemingly wanting to refute, but then she saw Loki's somewhat serious gaze.

Worried that Loki would complain to her father, she snorted and turned her head away.

Raven's energy slowly dissipated. She glared at Mordred, then at Loki who was watching the spectacle, and finally took a deep breath, suppressing her anger. She sat back down in her chair, crossed her arms, and sulked.

She had to admit that Loki was right; now was definitely not the time for infighting.

And he lost to Mordred in the previous vampire battle.

If we start fighting amongst ourselves now, my father will definitely have a problem with me.

After all, as her father's eldest daughter, it was indeed unacceptable for her to lose to Mordred.

An impending "civil war" was temporarily averted thanks to Loki's intervention.

But the intermittent electrical currents in the air continued to crackle.

Not far from this turbulent courtyard, in a quiet room on the second floor.

Ma Zheng sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

Sunlight streamed through the clean glass window, illuminating his sharply defined face.

He has just undergone a spiritual baptism.

From being ambushed by vampires, to recuperating in Kandor and interacting with multiple superheroes, to being awakened by an antidote and witnessing global disasters and reconstruction.

The immense emotional shock and the brush with death seemed to break some kind of invisible shackle that had always existed within him.

He could feel that after his injury healed, the power flowing in his veins, like a thawing river, became even more turbulent and powerful.

His senses became sharper than ever before; he could even "hear" Mordred and Raven's rapid heartbeats as they argued in the courtyard downstairs.

He could hear the sounds of Uncle Jonathan repairing the farm fence at Kent Farm in the distance, and he could see tiny energy particles floating in the air that were previously imperceptible.

It was as if some innate, long-suppressed potential had begun to grow under extreme pressure and purification.

He slowly opened his eyes, raised his hands, and looked at them carefully.

Her palms were fair and her fingers were well-defined.

In his own perception, the power contained in those hands had become even stronger.

Where does this power come from?
The bloodline of the Vitrum aliens?
Or... something else?
There was no joy in Mark's eyes, only deep confusion and a hint of imperceptible solemnity.

He clenched his fist, feeling the unfamiliar yet powerful energy that seemed to overflow, and fell into deep thought.

I've experienced something similar before.

That was in the world of Invincible Young Hero.

The enemy is not a vampire, nor any known superhuman or alien invader.

That thing was more like a mistake, a living disaster that leaked from some crazy lab or worse.

It has no fixed shape; it is more like a huge aggregate that is constantly wriggling and growing, consisting of dark red sarcomas, pale bony exoskeletons, and countless frantically twitching tentacles.

The monster seemed to feed on radiation and biomass; wherever it went, the earth withered, metal rotted, and even the air became thick and deadly.

Mark arrived at the scene immediately.

The battle spiraled out of control from the very beginning.

His fist, powerful enough to pierce the armor of a warship, struck the ever-growing tumor, but it was as if he were sinking into a pool of viscous, highly corrosive asphalt.

The power is dispersed and absorbed, and even rebounded.

He moved at high speed, trying to find a weakness, but the monster could instantly unleash hundreds of tentacles covered with bony spikes or sucker-like mouths, moving so fast they tore through the air.

He couldn't dodge in time, and the rapidly spinning tentacles lashed out at his side.

Even with his seemingly indestructible physique, he instantly felt a piercing pain.

His armor was torn, his skin was ripped open with deep wounds that exposed bone, and even more terrifying, a cold, highly numbing toxin was being injected wildly into the wounds.

Mark's movements froze and slowed instantly, and his vision began to blur and spin.

Then, more tentacles, like a swarm of piranhas attracted by the smell of blood, instantly coiled around him.

The incredibly tough and powerful tentacles tightly bound his limbs and torso.

The immense contraction force caused his bones to groan under the strain, sharp bone spurs tried to pierce his skin, and suction nozzles clung to his wounds, frantically draining his blood and strength.

If my father hadn't shown up, I might have really died.

After recovering from his injuries, Mark felt that he had become even stronger.

Should I go and provoke my brothers and sisters one by one, get beaten up by them, and then become stronger?

Mark suddenly had a "good" idea to make himself stronger.

After all, he was in a AFK state due to his injury during the previous "vampire" incident, which made him very frustrated.

Now that I have the chance to become stronger, I won't "go AFK" next time.

I need to be the main force!

He wanted to be the savior of the world and make his father look at him with new respect.

Mark clenched his fist.

(End of this chapter)