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

Chapter 999 The Joker's Deadly Joke

Saturn Girl's pupils contracted instantly. Her powerful telepathy allowed her to "sense" more clearly than anyone else that when Boubastis lunged at the green light, a faint energy fluctuation inside the ancient furnace was completely "activated"!

That wasn't the willpower energy that a green light usually radiates, but something deeper, closer to the origin of the universe.

A green light suddenly burst forth from inside the lantern.

It was no longer the faint light that was like breathing before, but suddenly became dazzling.

The light, like a tangible tide, instantly engulfed Boubastis, who was leaping into the air, and illuminated the astonished faces of everyone around.

The light lasted only a moment before quickly receding and returning to its original state.

Boubastis fell into the muddy water with a "plop," only inches away from Rorschach's feet.

It no longer bristled or roared; it simply curled up into a ball, its wet body trembling, emitting weak and pitiful whimpers.

The air instantly became deathly still.

The Pharaoh slowly shifted his gaze from the trembling Boubastis and turned it once more to the seemingly ordinary lantern in Rorschach's hand.

His eyes had changed; an unprecedented excitement appeared in them.

"That lamp..."

The Pharaoh suppressed his excitement and took a step forward, while the night rain automatically moved aside around him.

"That's the coordinate system...!"

His gaze seemed to pierce through the lampshade, seeing something deeper: "It has traces left by Dr. Manhattan."

Boubastis's reaction, that resonance stemming from the quantum essence of Dr. Manhattan, says it all.

The goal pursued for many years eventually led to this ancient furnace that belonged to another universe and another hero.

The Saturn Girl astutely grasped the key point in the Pharaoh's words: "Traces? What do you mean?"

The Pharaoh did not answer her directly; his gaze remained fixed on the green light: "The Doctor has been here, touched it, or... it touched the essence of the Doctor's existence."

He slowly raised his hand and pointed to the green light. "And this mark is now our only signpost to find him. As long as we have this lantern, we can find him!"

Luo Xia looked down at the lantern in his hand, its light gradually stabilizing, his expression somewhat puzzled.

Is that old lamp he held for Johnny Thunderbolt the key to finding Dr. Manhattan?!

Just as the group was still in shock, there was a "whoosh".

A blinding golden beam of light shot down from the sky without warning.

It wasn't an attack, but rather like a giant searchlight beam that struck with perfect precision the center of the circle formed by Pharaoh, Rorschach, Saturn Girl, and Johnny.

The light was so intense that it instantly dispelled the surrounding darkness and rain, illuminating the muddy ground and the astonished expressions on everyone's faces in perfect detail.

Immediately following was a piercing shriek as if the air was being torn apart.

Several figures crashed down like meteorites at the edge of the golden pillar of light, splashing up large amounts of muddy water.

The light receded, revealing the true form of the descendant.

Standing on the far left was a muscular man with blond hair, wearing a tight-fitting combat suit in the colors of the American flag.

He hovered half a foot above the ground, his arms casually crossed over his chest, a smile on his face.

She looks sunny and confident, even with a touch of Hollywood star-like approachability.

However, Luo Xia felt that this guy's sunny disposition and smile seemed to be an act.

Just by standing there, Ah Zu exuded an invisible sense of oppression, like a tangible gravitational field.

On the right is a figure shrouded in a deep purple hooded robe.

The shadow of the hood almost completely obscured her face, revealing only her beautifully shaped chin and tightly pursed lips.

The shadows at the edge of the hood seemed to possess a life of their own, flowing slowly like smoke.

She exuded a cold and profound aura that blended perfectly with the rainy night in Gotham.

The girl in the purple hood stood in the mud, but the rainwater slid off her skin just millimeters away.

Standing at the very front center was Peter Padrick.

He was wearing a dark gray stand-up collar trench coat made of an unusual material, the hem of which remained perfectly still in the rainy night.

Standing behind him was Mordred Jr.

Mordred showed no fear on her face, but rather a flush of excitement, her large eyes curiously scrutinizing the person opposite her, especially the wet cat at the Pharaoh's feet.

She was also tightly embracing a golden retriever that was also wearing a red cape and looked somewhat nervous.

After Peter appeared with his three mischievous children, his eyes calmly swept over everyone in the room, finally settling on the Pharaoh and the cat at his feet.

The sudden arrival of Peter and his companions, along with the distinct yet equally powerful auras they exuded, instantly created an overwhelming atmosphere.

The Pharaoh's fanaticism froze instantly, and he stared at Peter in astonishment.

The ink on Rorschach's mask churned wildly as he stared in shock at Peter and the others who had suddenly appeared.

The Saturn Girl leaned forward slightly, the telepathic barrier instantly opened, and her eyes were filled with vigilance and a hint of barely perceptible surprise.

Her telepathic abilities were completely unable to sense any of Peter and Raven's emotions, as if the two were naturally immune to telepathy.

As for Mordred and Homelander, the remaining figures exuded a chilling aura. These were Homelander and the Rebel Knights?!

The girl from the future was completely stunned.

That one.
She looked at Peter with a shocked expression.

Is this Peter Patrick?
On the other side, the old man Johnny was completely dumbfounded, his mouth agape in bewilderment.

The abandoned port area was left with only deathly silence and the suffocatingly powerful presence of those four figures.

Peter's gaze swept calmly over the green light in Rorschach's hand, then returned to the Pharaoh's face.

He spoke, his voice not loud, but clearly piercing through the rain.

"It seems we've caught the start of a good show, Mr. Vitius."

His gaze shifted slightly downwards, landing on the still trembling Bubastis. "Can you explain to me what happened to your Siamese cat?"

at the same time.

Peter has found Rorschach, while Bruce, who is searching for the Pharaoh, has run into big trouble.

After being thrown off the spaceship by the Pharaoh, Bruce landed in a crowd and was beaten up.

Rain lashed against the faces of the mime and marionettes on the edge of the roof of the Gotham Police Department building.

The noise from the street below reached their ears.

Their gazes pierced through the rain, fixed firmly on the center of the storm below, on the black figure being torn apart by countless angry arms.

The cloak became a noose, and the intricate armor groaned under the rain of clubs and fists.

A mud-covered boot slammed into the bat mask with a sickeningly sharp sound.

The helmet shattered, revealing Bruce Wayne's bleeding jaw.

He tried to curl up, but was brutally pulled apart by more hands, exposed to even more intense beatings.

The two were watching Batman get beaten up when they suddenly heard a voice from behind them.

"What a... delightful symphony of chaos, isn't it?"

A voice suddenly exploded behind them without warning.

The two men tensed instantly, like startled venomous snakes.

Erica turned around abruptly, and Marcos immediately gripped his gun.

The clown stood behind the two, wearing an expensive purple suit, his green hair clinging to his unusually broad forehead.

The face, smeared with cheap paint, stretched into a wide grin that reached all the way to the ears, revealing gleaming white teeth.

The clown completely ignored the pantomime couple's wary posture, leaning forward as if about to peek over the edge of the roof, and taking a deep, blissful breath of the air rising from below.

"what--"

He let out a long, satisfied sigh, as if savoring a fine wine, “Despair! Fear! And… pure, undisguised hatred!”

He abruptly turned his head, his gaze falling on the pantomime and marionettes.

"What a pity! Not only did you two fail to assassinate Peter Patrick, but he also made you look like this. It seems this guy who likes to adopt children is not easy to deal with!"

He spread his hands exaggeratedly, making an extremely aggrieved expression on his face covered in greasepaint, "And this guy even left scars on you, and he's warning me. He's intimidating me, someone who meant no harm."

Erica's pupils contracted as she listened to the clown's words.

The Joker's information network was more terrifying than she had imagined.

He even knew that the injuries on the two men were inflicted by Peter Patrick.

Marcos silently moved half a step to the side, blocking his wife's path.

The Joker ignored their wariness, chuckling to himself as his shoulders twitched nervously: "Trouble! You've gotten me into some minor trouble! But that doesn't matter now, Patrick. I enjoy playing games with him, but I still prefer Batman."

Just then, the chaotic situation below suddenly changed.

Several thugs dressed in exaggerated, gaudy clothes slipped into the raging crowd as nimbly as eels.

They were utterly incapable of fighting back, and were shoved and pushed around by the angry citizens, even taking several punches to the face.

But their goal was exceptionally clear.

The two men forcefully shoved their way through a gap, while the other three quickly pounced on Batman, grabbing his battered limbs and pinning him down.

A tall, thin man with crooked star patterns painted on his face seized the opportunity to plunge a syringe into Batman's bare neck.

The powerful sedative took effect instantly.

Batman's futile struggles visibly weakened, and the sharpness in his eyes was replaced by the cloudiness brought on by drugs.

"Fetch it out!"

Starry Face let out a hoarse roar.

Several thugs unleashed astonishing strength, forcefully pulling the defenseless Batman out of countless torn arms and legs.

Several men carried him like a heavy sack of spoils, scrambling and stumbling through the angry curses and flying debris of the crowd, towards a dark, narrow alleyway on the side of the police station building.

(End of this chapter)