Leon saw every movement of the terrorists clearly, but he didn't immediately counterattack. Instead, he stood still, waiting. Soon, grenades, rockets, and other explosive weapons were launched. Leon remained unmoved, ending the first round with a sweeping blast of heat rays. It wasn't until the vehicle-mounted missiles began to ignite that he finally took action and flew up into the air.
"Jarvis, are there any satellites above us right now?" Leon asked.
"Yes, Young Master Leon," Jarvis immediately responded. "There is an American military satellite operating over Afghanistan. As soon as any conflict of medium or small scale occurs, it will begin monitoring."
Leon nodded, awaiting further information.
"Also," Jarvis continued, "seven hundred meters away, there's a local reporter secretly filming the scene."
"A reporter? A war correspondent?" Leon mused, puffing out the golden 'S' on his chest. "Looks like the audience is ready. How can Superman's first battle go unnoticed?"
His eyes scanned the area, quickly spotting the reporter. The terrorist organization's base was nestled between several small hills—easy to defend, but difficult to attack. The reporter, a middle-aged man, lay prone on a hillside in the bushes. He was wrapped up in local ethnic attire, with his black-and-white beard marking him as someone who had seen the worst of Afghanistan's wars. This reporter had lived through the peaceful days of the country before the invasions, and had experienced the most dangerous conflicts, including the displacements brought on by the war. Such people often held a deep hatred for terrorist organizations like the Ten Rings Gang and were unafraid to risk their lives in the pursuit of exposing their atrocities.
"That really is... Superman?" the reporter whispered, seeing the figure flying in the distance. The figure was tall and straight, wearing a bright red cloak. His face was as handsome as Superman in the movies—so memorable, yet impossible to fully recall when trying to picture him. No matter how he looked at it, this was Superman. Could it be that such a person actually existed in this world? Was he here to deal with the terrorists below?
The reporter shook his head in disbelief. "Whether real or fake, if Superman can save this country, then I'll spend the rest of my life supporting DC Comics and Warner Bros!"
At that moment, a light ignited in the terrorist camp, followed by an eruption of fire as six massive vehicle-mounted missiles launched into the air.
"That's a missile! No good!" the reporter shouted, his eyes wide with panic. "Superman, dodge! Dodge!"
But Leon didn't retreat. Instead, he charged toward the missiles, accelerating through the air with one hand holding his phone and the other clenched into a fist. He collided with the missiles like an unstoppable force.
Boom! The first missile detonated, followed by the others exploding in rapid succession. The deafening explosions echoed between the hills, filling the air with smoke, while the fire illuminated the surrounding trees. The wind from the blasts bent the trees one by one. The reporter's headscarf was blown away, revealing his dry, yellowing hair, which was thrown upward by the shockwave. He stared at the smoke-filled sky, his heart racing.
Under the direct bombardment of six missiles, no one could survive, and even leaving a complete corpse would be a luxury. But Leon... he had withstood the missiles as if they were nothing.
Could it be?
A gust of wind swept through the smoke, blowing the mushroom cloud aside and revealing an unscathed figure. Superman! His cloak still fluttered behind him as he floated in midair, unharmed. Not a single trace of the missile's fire had marred his perfect form.
"Allah be praised!! I knew it!" the reporter cried, jumping up with excitement. His face flushed red as he pumped his fist into the air, forgetting his cover. At that moment, it felt like the world had changed. For so long, he had longed for a miracle, and now he was witnessing it with his own eyes.
Meanwhile, the terrorists in the camp were also filled with excitement, but theirs was fear. They were yelling, "Monster! That's a monster!"
Soon after, gunshots rang out as the terrorists began firing on deserters or those unwilling to be used as cannon fodder.
Leon hovered in the air for a moment, his expression curious.
"Oh? They've finally brought out the Jericho missile," he murmured, observing the situation. "Are they planning to die together?"
The Jericho missile had a huge blast radius, capable of engulfing a two-kilometer area in flames. For the terrorists to use it so close to their own position meant they were willing to sacrifice themselves, hoping to take Leon down with them.
"Perfect," Leon grinned. "I've never seen Tony's latest masterpiece in action before. Looks like now I'll get to experience it firsthand."
"Jarvis, don't forget to record it and send it to Tony, with a message asking him how he can sleep," Leon added, smirking.
"Of course, Young Master Leon. I've been recording the entire time."
After a brief wait, the terrorists managed to prepare the Jericho missile. With all three missiles launched, they raced through the air and disintegrated just before reaching their target. Dozens of smaller missiles blocked Leon's every escape route, creating a comprehensive, no-dead-angle bombardment.
"Impressive," Leon commented, watching the missiles. "Tony's work really is top-notch."
But then he glanced aside and looked at the reporter again. He suddenly realized that he needed to leave.
"I have to go for a moment," he muttered before vanishing from sight.
In an instant, Leon appeared next to the reporter, picking him up from the bushes. Without a moment's hesitation, he flew three kilometers away, gently setting the reporter down on another mountain. Then, without wasting any time, Leon flew back to the center of the missile swarm.
"Don't worry, I'm back. Shouldn't be too late, right?" Leon called out to himself as he readied himself for the incoming attack.
The Jericho missiles were fast, and their strategic design was meant to create destruction as quickly as possible. Leon had barely returned to his original position before the concentrated missile barrage was upon him. But Leon didn't want his uniform to be damaged by the missiles.
With that thought, he launched a series of rapid punches. Shadows of his fists appeared in a 360-degree range, as if dozens of hands had sprouted from his body. In an instant, all the missiles detonated simultaneously.
Boom! A more intense explosion than the last one shook the air. The shockwave ripped through the sky, while flames shot upward, engulfing the surrounding trees and mountains. The force of the blast spread for miles.
Three kilometers away, the reporter was hit by the shockwave. The world blurred around him, and he was thrown off his feet, tumbling across the ground. He struggled to his feet, his clothes a mess, and stared in disbelief at the mushroom cloud rising in the distance.
"What kind of missile is that? How can it be so terrifying?" he mumbled, his mind racing.
Then, he remembered Superman.
"He saved me..." the reporter whispered, as he leaned against a tree. He looked again at the mushroom cloud. "He knew I was hiding there. He saved me. He's such a good person. Wait... could he have gone back to deal with the missiles again?"
Before he could finish his thought, the wind blew away the mushroom cloud once more, revealing Superman standing unscathed. The reporter's suspicions were confirmed.
"My God, he's simply a god!" the reporter exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. He gazed at Superman, still unharmed, and felt that there was no limit to his power.