He Chang'an woke up to find that he had transmigrated into a laboratory belonging to Vought International.
In front of him, a baby immersed in a solution of Compound V was wailing at the top of its lungs.
Number: 001. Note: Test subject, “Homelander.”
Other people transmigrated and got a System, drew a golden finger, or devoured the stars in Swallowed Star.
He transmigrated and, from the start, became a dad.
And not just any dad: he was the father of the most dangerous superhero in this world.
Vought wanted to raise this child into an obedient product?
Come on, let’s see if the shovel in He Chang'an’s hands agrees.
He carried Homelander out of the test chamber and spent twenty years instilling in this child, who was destined to become twisted, a set of “He-style principles of justice.”
Not hypocritical smiles and performative rescues, but this: if you do something wrong, you pay the price, no matter who you are.
When Homelander first faced Vought’s executives, he smiled and slapped the entire conference table into a metal pancake.
“My dad said adults who lie deserve a spanking.”
“But you’re adults, so I’m breaking your spines.”
Vought panicked. The Boys panicked. The whole world panicked.
A deranged Homelander might still be manipulated with family ties or public opinion.
But what could you use to sway a Homelander whose father had taught him to be clear-eyed and honest, with principles harder than steel?
He Chang'an watched the news as his son tossed another corrupt congressman into a fountain and sighed.
“How many times have I told you? Take off your suit before you throw someone. Dry cleaning is expensive.”
Homelander flew back and stood obediently by the door. “Dad, I’m sorry. I’ll take it off first next time.”
