Chapter 131: The Laughing Superman

The Circus Grand Hotel is a rather famous unconventional hotel in Xinyang. The hotel’s aesthetic is modeled after a massive circus; the front desk staff consists of trained monkeys and parrots, while all male servers are dressed as clowns, and all female servers are costumed as fortune-tellers.

The hotel welcomes diners to bring their pets, and dedicated animal trainers are on hand to look after them, ensuring they do not disturb the guests during their meals.

Most importantly, dining in the main hall is preferable to a private room, as the hall features two forms of entertainment: magical service and aerial service.

Magical service involves a magician holding a napkin in front of you; with a swift pull, the meal suddenly appears on the table.

Aerial service involves the waitstaff descending from the heights of the ceiling to deliver the food directly to the table before being immediately retracted upward.

Many come to this establishment specifically for these performances.

Today, in a private room at the Circus Grand Hotel, a man who had lost both his hands was waiting anxiously. His wounds had not yet been treated, and blood was still dripping from the makeshift bandages wrapped tightly around his arms. Ignoring this, he struggled to keep himself seated steadily.

"You finally decided to come back." A voice rang out from behind the man.

The man jumped from his chair. Behind him, a clown had appeared out of nowhere. The clown had green hair, his face painted with thick greasepaint, and dark gray lips drawn all the way to his ears, revealing snow-white teeth.

"Didn't you say you would never step foot in my hotel again? Why are you here today? Did you cause trouble again? Your arms were severed with quite an artistic flair. Would you like to be a handless clown in my establishment?"

Seeing the clown, the man ignored the mockery and knelt immediately. "Dad, please save me! Someone is trying to kill me!"

"Oh-ho-ho, that makes me so happy! If you die, I’ll perform a Latin dance at your graveside. I’m quite good at it," the clown said, winking at the man.

"Dad, they aren't after me—they’re after you! I just hit someone on the street. Before the police even got involved, a superhero showed up. Don't you see? Hitting that person was just an excuse; they wanted to leave a mark on me. Look at this—my hands are a warning to you! Their target is you!"

"If you hadn't mentioned it, how would they even know about me? I imagine that person didn't talk to you at the end. Looking at these stumps, I can imagine the scene. He must have wanted to kill you, then thought better of it—'I am a man of justice, I shall only sever his hands.' Did he leave any words? Telling you to find me? Surely not. He probably told you never to drive again since you can't anymore. That’s a good thing! You still have your legs; come here and ride a unicycle for me." The clown giggled.

"But they found me and cut off my hands! I can prove it—they used extraordinary abilities! That person could release sharks from his fingertips. After they bit my hands off, I saw with my own eyes how he chewed up and swallowed the flesh from my arms!" the man yelled, his voice straining. Had he still possessed his hands, he surely would have gestured wildly to emphasize his point.

"So what?" The clown remained indifferent. "I am just a happy clown running a unique shop. My business is good, and no one has come to disrupt my life."

Seeing that the clown would not help him, the man grew angry and stood up. "Do you think I don't know what you’re doing? If you won't help me, I’ll go to the Holy Blood Council. I’ll go to those superheroes and tell them that beneath the Circus Grand Hotel lies the wreckage of an alien spacecraft. You’ve been researching the technology inside. You’re a madman!"

"Fine, fine. I didn't realize that in the few years we’ve been apart, you’d learned so much. So, how do you want me to help you?" Hearing the threat, the clown shifted his tone.

"I know what you're researching. Help me fix my hands and kill that guy! I only hit a person—why should I suffer like this? Help me, Dad! Didn't you say before that you wanted me to help you? As long as you kill him, I’ll come and work for you."

"Very well. I am so happy that you’re willing to help me. I’ll take care of this. After all, you’re my son—if I don't help you, who will...?"

As he spoke, the clown stepped closer. When the man wasn't looking, he reached out, grabbed the man's head, and with a smile, snapped his neck.

Watching the corpse on the floor, the clown pulled a handkerchief from somewhere and began to wipe his hands gently.

Just then, the door to the private room opened, and two clowns entered. They were dressed similarly, but one had 'SR' written on his left cheek, while the other had 'R'.

Once they were inside, the first clown said, "Dispose of this. And arrange a new son for me. This time, no more of these useless financial experts—they have no morals at all. How could he hit someone and not expect the victim's family to come looking for him? And then he had the nerve to come to me for help. Don’t you think he was just awful? I absolutely cannot have a son with such stains. He must be righteous and full of integrity, so that I can step out into the world properly, right? How about this: find a tabloid reporter who is willing to break big stories—someone with a sense of justice. Yes, that’s it. Have your people find me a son who fits that standard."

The two clowns nodded without a word, bent down, each grabbed one of the man’s legs, and dragged the body out. As the corpse was pulled along, the bandages on the arms—barely applied—came loose, leaving two terrifying streaks of dark red blood across the floor.

The clown was left alone in the room, deep in thought. It was strange; although he was lost in contemplation, the expression on his face shifted constantly, as if he were laughing hysterically one moment and weeping the next.

After a long time, the clown stood up. "Is the Holy Blood Council really finished? How can any stray cat or dog jump out and slap our faces in Xinyang? Wayne’s control is failing! It seems I need to pay Wayne a visit. If he can't control Xinyang, then it’s time for me to take the stage."

As he spoke, the clown pulled his shirt open, revealing a black, scale-patterned bodysuit underneath. On the chest, a diamond-shaped emblem was drawn in silver material, with a large 'S' emblazoned upon it.