[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman":3,"chapter-marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-229":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1721529,2198,"Chapter 229 - 229 — Everyday Patients, Part III","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-229",229,"\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For 20 advanced chapters, visit my Patreon:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Patreon - Twilight_scribe1\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Strictly speaking, the black clinic didn't have a back door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What most of the injured visitors mistook for one was actually a small storeroom — no windows, just bare shelves and a single cot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry, the so-called Tinkerer, had originally planned it as one of several escape routes — a rabbit hole for emergencies — though he hadn't yet needed to use it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the other side of its wall ran a narrow internal passage connecting parts of the old apartment building. Few tenants lived there, so the corridor stayed quiet and empty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the spot where the Tinkerer used his Kryptonian speed and molecular-phase trick — phasing straight through the wall — to make it look as if he were stepping out from inside the clinic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So when he opened the \"door\" this time and saw who was ringing the bell at the fake storefront, his expression instantly soured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You're not hurt,\" he said flatly. \"Get lost.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was already pushing the door shut when the visitor barked,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Wait!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guy was wearing a cheap suit — half-tucked shirt, jacket hanging open, and tattoos peeking from his neck and wrists. Everything about him screamed \"thug pretending to be respectable.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He grabbed the Tinkerer's hand to stop the door. \"Our boss wants to see you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry arched a brow. \"You know this place is under Big Ol' O's protection, right?\" — referring to his landlord, a local black boss with some muscle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The white punk gave a nasty grin. \"Big Ol' O wouldn't dare cross our boss. You think dropping his name means anything?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry gave his hand an experimental tug — the guy's grip was solid. He sighed, expression dripping with annoyance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"So what, you won't even let me grab my tools first? Planning to have me patch someone up with a kitchen knife and a sewing needle? Or maybe you're not actually looking for a doctor?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thug snickered but still threw in a warning. \"Doc, don't try to run. You can't run from us. Got it?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That line made Henry curious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Did this guy even know he was talking to a Continental Hotel service provider? Or maybe the Continental didn't give a damn if one of their subcontractors vanished?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking it through, he had to admit that made sense. His relationship with the Continental wasn't one of loyalty — more like an outsourced contractor. A freelancer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If someone strong enough picked a fight over him, the Hotel wasn't going to start a war for some guy who wasn't even a \"made man.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That thought made Henry even more curious about who this \"boss\" really was. Was he some clueless street punk with delusions of grandeur, or a real player?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Either way, he wanted to see.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He grabbed his old flea-market doctor's case — full of basic tools and medicine — and followed the thug out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before leaving, he made sure to take down the call bell, leaving a note that read:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>> \"Out on a house call.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That way, anyone who came knocking wouldn't wait forever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once everything was set, he followed the thug to the street corner — where a Rolls-Royce awaited.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not the top model, though — a low-end configuration of the luxury brand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That alone said a lot: the owner was clearly rich, but not powerful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, a Rolls was a Rolls. The moment Henry sat down, he could tell the difference.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn't about luxury branding or the hand-painted coach line on the body. It was the seat — the angle, the leather, the subtle firmness of the cushion — everything screamed real craftsmanship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no strange lingering odor either. Once the door shut, the cabin became its own world — the air outside sealed away with all its smog and stench.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>European luxury cars like this had stiff suspension — a far cry from the soft, bouncy ride of American models.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Driving his own Cadillac felt like sitting on a half-deflated waterbed; hit a rough patch of road and you started questioning the meaning of life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this Rolls didn't take him to a Beverly Hills mansion or anything like that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instead, it rolled deep into an industrial district — past warehouses, around corners — and finally stopped at what looked like an abandoned factory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sight was jarring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was like seeing a man with slicked-back hair and a perfect suit — but wearing floral shorts, hairy legs out, and beach sandals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You'd want to mock him, but wouldn't know where to start.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside, the factory was mostly grimy and empty. Except for one section — lavishly decorated like a designer showroom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were art-grade standing lamps, Rococo-style armchairs, and a single antique coffee table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oil paintings stood lined up on easels instead of walls, and an ornate Persian carpet defined the space.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even a grand piano stood in the corner — and a woman in an evening gown sat before it, playing soft, elegant music that filled the air like perfume.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was all utterly out of place, like a pocket of luxury carved out of filth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There, finally, Henry met the man who had summoned him:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>a fat old white man in a bright red silk robe, lounging with two stunning women — one dark-haired, one blonde — draped over his arms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With that huge body and smug demeanor, if this were New York, Henry might've mistaken him for Kingpin from the Marvel universe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this guy lacked taste. He mashed elegance and vulgarity together like some Frankenstein of aesthetics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under Henry's X-ray vision, all that bulk wasn't muscle — just fat. So definitely not the crime lord who could punch out Spider-Man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Tinkerer, right?\" the fat man asked, lighting a cigar with a girl's help.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry, without waiting to be offered one, snipped a cigar of his own and lit it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man watched patiently as Henry took a long draw and exhaled a thick cloud before speaking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry smiled faintly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What if I said I wasn't the Tinkerer? Would you punish your boys for bringing the wrong man?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now that was a self-verifying trap of a question — one designed to confuse the small-minded and self-important.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the fat man wasn't stupid. He could think outside the box. Unfortunately, Henry's insolent tone still irked him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If you're not,\" the man said coolly, \"I'll have my boys beat you until you admit you are — or until you tell me where the real one is.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry gave a shrug.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Alright then. Let's save time. I am the Tinkerer. So — what do you want from me?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>🎉 Power Stone Goal Announcement! 🎉\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I'll release one bonus chapter for every 500 Power Stones we hit!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Let me know what should I do\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Your support means everything—let's crush these goals together! Keep voting, and let the stones pile up! 🚀\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\u003C\u002Fp>",1156,"2026-06-06T15:31:22.542Z",1,"novelbin.me","210f73b48bbd97b4c88f34774b990ee75e3164b749359e75fbffd1fbb042b128","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-230","marvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-chapter-228",556,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmarvel-a-lazy-ass-superman-cover.jpg"]