I am the younger brother of Superman, but I got the template of Thanos

Under bright sunlight.

By the quiet lake near the forest, there was only a mess left after last night's party.

Bang!

A hand suddenly broke through the thick ice, like a zombie hand emerging from the ground in a terrifying legend and stretching out from the lake.

The skin was icy blue like a corpse frozen to death by ice and snow.

A figure climbed out of the lake and staggered to the river bank.

His body was wet and he was shivering. It was very normal for someone to climb out after falling into a freezing lake, except that he had been lying in the lake all night.

Shi En, with ice shards on his eyebrows, sat on the ground shivering and lit a bonfire with an abandoned lighter.

He stretched out his frozen hands and warmed himself by the fire.

But the flames containing astonishing heat were absorbed by the air, and the newly lit firewood turned into a pile of ice.

The heavy coldness on his body was dispelled, and the icy blue color of his skin faded.

As if he had become a living person again, Shi En couldn't believe it as he looked at his hands, his consciousness slightly frozen, and his mind began to spin, as if something incredible had happened to him.

He clenched his fists, feeling that he had never been in better condition and was frighteningly strong.

After regaining his health, he was ready to go home, but as soon as he walked out of the woods, the extreme cold hit him again.

With ice shards forming on his eyebrows, Shi En trembled and waved to the passing car for help.

laugh.

"Child, what's wrong with you?"

The car stopped, and an uncle got out. Just as he supported him with concern, his body froze.

The next moment, the heat from his body was sucked away like a tide, and his whole body turned into an ice sculpture, which smashed straight onto the hard road and shattered into bloody ice shards.

Shi En's cold condition improved, and at the same time his whole body became stronger. He stretched out his hand and easily lifted the car like a plastic toy.

He instantly realized something and looked in a certain direction of the town, like a greedy gold digger who had just picked up a piece of sand gold and looked up to see a gold mountain. His eyes were filled with unprecedented excitement and heat, and he couldn't help but swallow his saliva.

There is a thermal power station!

…

Beep peel.

The heavy curtains made of wool were drawn, blocking out the sunlight.

The fire burned quietly in the fireplace.

Luther took a sip of whiskey, his throat felt like it was on fire, but there was no wave on his face.

He browsed old news on his computer as usual, as well as forum posts from town residents.

There were stacks of dollars on the table nearby.

Click

The door of the house was opened by the servant.

A middle-aged man wearing a windbreaker walked in, his eyes shone with shrewdness from time to time, and his hair was slightly bald, giving people a shrewd and capable look.

There was a kraft paper file bag in his hand, and he seemed to be patting his thigh leisurely.

"Mr. Luther, are you ready for the money I want?"

"Roger Nicholson, if I remember correctly."

Luther stood up slowly, poured a glass of transparent brown wine into the wine glass, picked up the glass and handed it to him, smiling.

"A reporter from the Metropolitan Enquirer? You said you had something you wanted to show me."

"This photo caused our sales to skyrocket."

Nickerson took out a newspaper from his portfolio.

The eye-catching printed photo in the center of the newspaper shows the scene in front of the bank of Lex Luthor holding a pistol and just grabbing money and rushing out of the door.

"It's in the past."

Luther chuckled: "I don't think Mr. Nixon, as a reporter, would not know the latest developments in the bank robbery."

“Journalism is what it is, it gets outdated very easily.

It’s difficult to keep your articles in the headlines. "

Nick shook his head.

"Mr. Luther, have you ever dug potatoes?"

Before Luther could answer, he stared into Luther's eyes, as if he was firmly in control of the situation, and said with a proud smile.

"I imagine that a young man like you, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, probably doesn't know that when you dig potatoes, you can easily bring out a bunch of them."

Nickerson raised the document bag in his hand and handed it over, as if sighing.

"It's so thick, it's almost as big as a wad of bills. It's all about your criminal record when you were a minor. It's really surprising."

"It seems that the reporter didn't lie to me on the phone. He really knew something about my wild youth."

After taking the file and flipping through it, Luther's voice was low and a smile appeared on his face.

"Thank you very much Mr. Nickerson."

"Thank you?" Nickerson wondered, thanking him for what, to blackmail him?

"These are all destroyed electronic records and sealed files. How did the reporter find them?"

He walked back to the desk, sat down slowly, and turned to ask.

"It is conceivable that your father must have spent a lot of money to cover up these files.

I'm not as rich as your father, but luckily it doesn't cost much to buy off the custodian of a record room with dusty shelves. "

Nickerson sneered and thanked the caretaker who was too bored and liked to browse the files for giving him a windfall.

“Think about what effect these things would have if they were published.

It has just been discovered that the heir to the Luther Group who was wrongly accused was actually full of misdeeds when he was young, and robbing a bank was nothing at all. "

"Based on my experience as a journalist, people just like plot twists and turns."

He put down the wine glass, shrugged, secretly glanced at the one hundred thousand dollars on the table that was brand new and smelled of ink, and started talking.

"This will definitely have some impact on Luther Group's stock price!"

"Mr. Nickerson, this money is yours."

Luther smiled slowly and took out a black cloth bag from under the table.

"Mr. Luther, are you still responsible for providing the bags?"

Nickerson was a little surprised and put the wad of money on the table into his bag.

"You must be feeling great right now."

Luther was not worried as he watched him put away the money he had extorted from him.

"It feels good to beat the famous Luther father and son."

After loading the money, he said something that sounded like an adult lecturing a child, turned around with a smile, and was about to touch the door handle.

"The only copy I gave you is a copy. Live a more honest life from now on, Lex Luthor."

"If you walk out of this door now, I guarantee you will evaporate from this world immediately."

Luther put down his glass, smiled and said something creepy.

"What are you going to do, kill me for this little money?"

Nickerson turned around and asked in disdain.

"Come to blackmail a billionaire heir. Do you think I will be unprepared?"

If he doesn't go back on time, the mailbox will automatically report to major newspapers. And is $100,000 worth Luther's murder?

He was not greedy and only asked for a small amount appropriately.

"No, you will live well.

But there is no longer any evidence of your existence in the world. "He shook his head.

"what are you saying?"

"Driver's licenses, passports, bank accounts and even tax records, all clean."

Continuing to browse the news on the computer, Luther spoke casually, as if he was talking about a trivial matter.

"One phone call and there is no more evidence that you lived."

"Mr. Luther, you want to scare me?"

"Call the bank and see if your account is still there."

Seeing a person who doubted the common sense of the world that the sun would rise every day, Luther raised his eyes and looked at him.

"If you still have your phone number."

He took out his cell phone and tried to make a call, but Nickerson couldn't make a call despite several attempts.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, his face became flustered, and his voice sounded nervous.

"how did you do that?"