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Received! 30000 special popularity points consumed... Initiating the "Superhero Blind Box" draw...

...Extraction in progress...

Ding! Drawing complete!

Congratulations, host! You have obtained a rare item (consumable): a small bottle of Superman Serum (Red Sorghum Edition)!

Item Description: From a red-haired orphan of Krypton. Drinking this will grant you 30 minutes of magic immunity. Note: Spicy taste.

Wu Yanzu: "...Red sorghum? Seriously?"

He felt like he had drawn a "funny" item.

"Magic immunity? It's not entirely useless... In this universe, magic is used in quite a variety of ways."

……

"boom--!!!"

In Harlem, flames were seen shooting into the sky from the fifth floor of an old apartment building.

In the thick smoke, a mother was holding her child, huddled desperately against the window frame.

"Help! Someone please save us!!"

Just a second before she was about to suffocate.

"call--!"

A blue afterimage crashed through the wall, ignoring the flames. Wu Yanzu appeared before her like a god descending to earth.

"Don't be afraid." He flashed his signature smile that could melt the hearts of all America. "I've got you."

He carried the mother and child in each arm, and like a shooting star, he rushed out of the sea of ​​fire and slowly landed next to the police car below.

"Oh God! It's a Homelander!"

"He saved them!"

"I love you!! Homelander!!"

Flashbulbs, cheers, screams. Everything was the same as usual.

Azu gracefully handed the mother and child over to the medical staff, waved to the camera, and struck his most classic "hands on hips" pose, with his Stars and Stripes cape fluttering in the wind behind him.

[Ding! Popularity points gained +55!]

[Ding! Popularity points gained +41!]

[Ding! Popularity points gained +63!]

Ah Zu's smile remained unchanged, but he cursed inwardly.

"Grass--!"

His smile froze for 0.01 seconds.

"...63? Are you kidding me?" he thought to himself. "The last time I rescued that damn cat in Queens, it got more attention than this. These lowlifes..."

He realized a serious problem.

He has almost completely squandered the profits from the "everyday hero game" genre.

New Yorkers have gotten used to it.

They were used to the Homelanders coming when there was a fire, and they were used to the Homelanders coming when there was a bank robbery.

He went from a "miracle" to a... high-level firefighter.

That won't do.

His popularity has reached a plateau; he needs to explore new avenues!

……

Water International Media Headquarters

This glass building in Midtown Manhattan has become a new landmark in New York City in just one month.

It is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Starr Group and the only official brokerage firm for Homelander.

Top floor conference room.

Azu, or rather, Antony Starr, sat in the main seat, legs crossed, wearing a well-tailored haute couture suit. His handsome face lacked the warm, approachable demeanor he displayed in public; instead, it exuded the oppressive aura of someone in a superior position.

"Data, I only look at the data." He tapped his fingers on the table. "In the past week, Homelander's global search index dropped by 5%, and public engagement and social media discussion... dropped by 14%."

"Why? Tell me why! Look me in the eyes! Tell me the fucking why!"

The room full of public relations elites and media executives were all silent with fear.

"Mr. Starr..." the public relations manager, a shrewd blonde woman, began, her voice trembling, "This is normal; the hype surrounding the Battle of New York will eventually die down. Our strategy is..."

"Your strategy is bullshit!"

Ah Zu interrupted her directly, his tone calm, yet chilling.

"What you're doing is 'reporting.' You're telling people, 'I saved someone today.' You're wrong!"

He stood up and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

"Walter exists not to report on heroes, but to define heroes!"

He turned around, his deep blue eyes sweeping over everyone present.

"What I want isn't people's gratitude. What I want is for every single corner of their lives to be filled with me, fucking!"

The conference room was deathly silent.

"A documentary?" a young manager asked tentatively.

"Fuck, a documentary," Azu scoffed. "Documentaries are for losers who can't control the narrative."

He held up one finger.

"And I, what we want to create is a myth."

"We want to make a movie."

"A movie...about me!"

……

Hollywood, Beverly Hills

A week later, at a secluded private club.

—The screenwriter who wrote "Star Trek: Far From Home," which grossed 3 billion worldwide.

—That genius who excels at dark humor and won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay.

—And that guy… who wrote the script for a superhero movie, which was terrible, but the dialogue was incredibly pretentious.

There are also screenwriters who have participated in global box office rankings and whose films are on the list.

These top minds in Hollywood have all gathered here, drawn by the lure of money.

Wu Yanzu, as the producer, investor, and... the only male lead, sat opposite them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ah Zu said, holding a glass of bourbon, "you guys are good at writing bestsellers. And I am the bestseller."

He took a sip of his drink, exuding the aura of a movie star.

"I want my story. But bigger, sexier, more...American."

"I don't want preaching. I want visual spectacle, I want hormones, I want every man who walks out of the theater to want to be me, every woman to want to... you know."

The screenwriters were thrilled; this was what they did best!

"OK, Mr. Homelander...we have a few brilliant ideas for your film."

Screenwriter A begins: "Idea One! Extraterrestrial Visitor! You are an orphan from a dying planet, launched to Earth, and landed in a cornfield in Kansas..."

Azu looked at him expressionlessly.

"...Uh," Screenwriter A felt a chill, "Okay, this...this is a bit cliché. How about idea two! Mythical Awakening!"

Screenwriter B immediately became excited: "That's right! You are actually... Odin's illegitimate son! Thor's biological brother! You only awakened your divine powers during the Battle of New York..."

"Get lost," Ah Zu said succinctly.

"..."

"I've got it! Anthony!" Top screenwriter C slapped his thigh. "Opening scene! Hampton! Yacht! Bikini! You, Anthony Starr, a billionaire playboy, you have everything, but you... are empty. You have a heart of gold!"

"And then, tragedy struck!" the brilliant screenwriter D continued, "A storm! Damn it! An unprecedented storm! You've fallen into the water!"

"You're not dead!" Writer A lowered his voice, his eyes burning with fervor. "You were rescued by a mysterious terrorist organization... They... we call them... Chaos!"