The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

Chapter 252: Chapter 212: The Great Superhero Career Crisis

For once, Soron was taking great care with his appearance.

His bulging muscles strained against his formal suit, and a small top hat sat perched on his gleaming head.

The suit came from the best tailor in the city. The effort of fitting it to the massive Soron without restricting his movement had caused the old tailor to lose handfuls of his precious hair.

He spritzed on some cologne for good measure. In truth, he couldn’t tell the difference between the various scents, good or bad. Fortunately, he was rich.

He just had the clerk at the perfumery recommend a batch that suited him and then bought the most expensive one.

It never failed.

Ever since his promotion to the Legendary rank, he had stopped caring so much about what others thought and completely let himself go.

He shaved his head and started hitting the gym hard.

He even sparked a niche but fervent bodybuilding craze, with a contingent of people devoted to the idea that "bigger is better."

Although most people found such excessively large muscles a bit strange, the enthusiasts themselves were very pleased with their hobby. They didn’t care about popular opinion—a very healthy mindset.

Of course, this niche circle had produced its share of surreal characters, like the one who injected Slime mucus directly into his biceps as a filler.

After briefly holding the title of "Twin Tower City’s Thickest Biceps" for a few days, that "Handsome Guy" successfully sent himself to the graveyard.

Upon learning of this incident, Soron, the leader of the Feilin bodybuilding enthusiasts, established a rule: build your brain before you build your body.

And now, meticulously dressed, Soron was on his way to a gathering of like-minded individuals.

The Twin Tower City Bodybuilding Enthusiasts and Superhero Convention.

Obviously, High Tower Hero wasn’t the only superhero in Twin Tower City.

The Batman comics had truly inspired quite a few hardcore cosplayers who were obsessed with masked vigilantism.

Most of them were bodybuilding enthusiasts.

Right now, this group of heroes and champions was gathered inside a high-end tavern on Iris Street.

In a place where productivity hadn’t advanced all that much, the people with the spare time and energy for bodybuilding and cosplay were almost all from wealthy families.

They had booked the entire tavern for the day.

Soron pushed the door open and entered.

Seeing their senior, the people inside raised their glasses. "To the High Tower Hero."

"We salute you."

"You’ll always be our role model."

"Not at all, not at all," Soron said, waving his hand. "I’m just doing what I can."

He feigned modesty, the wrinkles squeezed out by the smile on his old face deep enough to get lost in.

Ever since participating in the High Level Magic Language program and learning the three hundred basic Chinese characters, he had developed a deep interest in this magical, block-like language and had taken it upon himself to learn more from Zog.

He had also translated many Chinese idioms into the common tongue and always tried to sprinkle a couple into his daily speech to sound more cultured.

Zog gave these literal translations a high evaluation.

"Cringey as hell," is what he’d said.

Soron made a circuit of the room, exchanging pleasantries with his friends.

Their method of exchanging pleasantries was quite unique.

"Whoa, you’ve gotten bigger?"

"You too, you’ve gotten bigger too."

"Your legs are looking good lately, so thick!"

"Can’t compare to you, sir! Look at those lats, your suit can barely contain them! Hey, don’t flex, don’t flex, put ’em away! They’re too wide, you’re blocking out the sun, it’s getting dark..."

How do you get on a bodybuilder’s good side? The answer is simple: just tell them they’re big.

Of course, calling them skinny wouldn’t make them angry, just send them into a deep spiral of self-doubt.

Fragile hearts beneath massive physiques.

After completing his round of greetings, Soron sat down in his designated seat.

"Huh? Why don’t I see Flashman?" he asked the person next to him.

Similar to Doudou and his little friends, they weren’t supposed to use real names at their gatherings, only their ’street’ names.

Not counting Doudou, the average age difference between the two circles was several decades, but their level of maturity was exactly the same.

"He got injured. He’s been resting at home, and he can’t drink while he’s recovering, so he didn’t come."

"How did he get injured? Flashman’s speed is one of the best among us. Even if he couldn’t win a fight, he should’ve been able to run."

A big reason this masked hero business was so popular in Twin Tower City was the low risk factor.

All the city’s notable villains and large-scale gangs had been wiped out by Zog’s subordinates.

Those who reformed, reformed. Those who went to work in factories, went to work in factories. Those unwilling to cooperate had already vanished from the world.

It was a classic specialty of the Zog Group: making people disappear.

The gangs hanging around the city were no match for Zog’s ruthless enforcers, who had fought their way across the entire Continent.

All that remained were small-time thugs who stole a little something one day and snatched a bit of cash the next. There were no large-scale organizations at all.

However, the appearance of Soron and his followers further squeezed the survival space of these petty criminals.

The situation had devolved into having too many "superheroes" and not enough villains to go around.

This "Hero" and that "Man" spent most of their time helping find lost children or looking after elderly people who lived alone.

There was really no risk involved.

"Oh, Flashman wasn’t injured in battle. One night, he was heading out on patrol. As he was closing his front door, he didn’t notice his cape got caught. He rushed forward, yanked himself to the ground, and got hurt," the man explained to Soron.

"That, uh," Soron searched his limited repository of idioms but found none suitable for the situation. "How truly unfortunate. At least... at least it proves the cape is good quality, right?"

"That’s true."

"What about Flame Monster? How come he didn’t come either? Don’t tell me he got injured too?"