The shrill alarm sounded. The Black military officer standing in front of the monitoring screen suddenly turned his head. Countless fully armed soldiers rushed in one direction. The Black military officer dashed out of the room and shouted, "Don't go!!!"
He quickly rushed in that direction, almost ahead of everyone. By the time he arrived, the ceiling of the cell had already been broken through. Clark Kent was floating in mid-air, his face extremely grim.
He just took one last look at the Black military officer and said in a deep tone, "Remember my warning to you, those in near-Earth orbit are not friends. Do not approach them, or suffer the consequences."
Having said this, he shot into the sky, disappearing above the military base. The Black military officer was startled for a moment, but soon turned and glared angrily at Shiller.
"What did you say to him??!!"
"I said that I can tell you everything I know. Just, are you sure you want to say it here?"
The Black military officer clenched his fists. His face was gloomy, his breathing rapid, but he calmed down and then said, "See you in half an hour."
Shiller remained expressionless, merely sitting there. Not half an hour had passed when someone came to take him away after just a dozen minutes. As he walked out of the cell and down the long corridor, he heard intense arguing erupting from a room as he was about to reach the end.
"Is this the result of your coordination?! Now that he's gone, who can guarantee he won't go destroy Earth?!"
"He's an alien who grew up on Earth. He has humanity. Forcing him is the worst result for anyone."
"Aliens with humanity? That's the biggest joke I've ever heard! They're a bunch of monsters, not knowing how many planets they've destroyed on their way here. What humanity can use to greet them is only guns and cannons! Understand?!"
"No. You think aliens are inhumane monsters simply because it's easier to treat them as monsters so you don't have to consider those complex social and philosophical issues. Just pull the trigger. And you are a General, with a gun in your hand. Load, fire, destroy the monster, then go collect your military medals—this is what you want."
"You label a group of people as monsters and then exchange their elimination for your own benefit. The other party is an alien, the kind you've marked as enemies among humans, or even the friendly soldiers you think can be sacrificed, no different. You are simply accustomed to such cruelty and utilitarianism."
"But what I want to tell you is that aliens won't be as powerless as the kindred you've harmed and eliminated in the past. Treating them with your high-handed arrogance will only result in death waiting for you. Do you think you are harder than the steel-reinforced concrete and iron plates that forged this military base? Compared to the alien spacecraft he blew up?"
When Shiller arrived at the door, the tall white military officer was just rushing out. He looked angry, but his steps were disordered, his fingertips trembling. Clearly, what sustained his activities was not real courage, but the instinct to flee driven by fear.
Entering the room, the door was closed. Only two people remained in the entire room. The Black military officer turned around with his hands behind his back and said, "I can guarantee that no third person will hear anything we say in this room. Now, Mr. Secret, let's hear what other shocking opinions you have."
Shiller slowly walked to the chair by the table and sat down. He ran his hands through his hair, which had become slightly dry after being wet, pushed it back, took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and exhaled.
"Compared to me, your statement just now was the shocking one. Considering we're in a U.S. Military base right now, it was even more astonishing. Before I say anything, I want to ask—was that view you just expressed your true perspective?"
"You act like a journalist, but sadly, there are no cameras here. What we say won't be recorded by anything, nor can it be passed on. You'd better not play any little tricks."
"Of course. You should be able to see I don't have any electronic equipment on me. Besides, how am I supposed to attack a non-existent officer?"
The Black military officer sighed and said, "You know more than I imagined. I really don't know what kind of freak you are. If you insist on asking, I'll say yes, that was my true perspective. Humanity should thoroughly reflect on themselves before questioning whether aliens are emotionless monsters. Don't act as if they are truly blameless towards their kindred, because we all know they are not."
"An interesting viewpoint."
"It's not interesting; this is a very serious topic. Humans aren't more justified than aliens in oppressing their fellows. Being of the same blood doesn't whitewash evil with Holy Water. If they intend to point their guns at aliens with the same attitude, to prove the violence once used to oppress their kindred exists for a reason, then aliens will also prove to them that under the survival-of-the-fittest of social Darwinism, anyone can become prey one day."
"You want them to understand this, but it's not easy," Shiller said, "They've grown accustomed to being hunters, almost doing nothing but turning their guns around."
"That's why I came here. Although I hope someone can teach them a lesson, that someone cannot be Superman. He's a good kid. People will eventually recognize this, but I don't want them to realize it too late."
"Very noble, Mr. Rongzi."
The Black officer wasn't surprised at all when Shiller called out his name. He merely sighed and changed his form, revealing green skin. He said, "But you've ruined it all. I had already persuaded Clark, and we would join hands against the invading Kryptonians..."
"No, quite the opposite, I've saved it all," Shiller shook his head and said, "You should have understood, it's just that you don't want to believe it. Clark Kent has never really become Clark Kent. He's a God with powerful Kryptonian strength, omnipotent, in control of everything. He's Carl Ai'er, part of that small-town boy Clark Kent is inside his body, from kinship, from love. But that's not enough."
The green-skinned giant's fist slowly tightened, then he lowered his eyelids and said, "Perhaps you're right. But, how will you make him fully become Clark Kent?"
"You know better than anyone, Mr. Ron Ronz. How did you transform from a Martian Manhunter to Earth's John Jones? Have you forgotten?"
Countless images flashed before Ron's eyes: his brother's maniacal laughter, his wife and children's wails, endless flames...
Even his breath trembled a bit as he said, "That's too cruel. You can't do that. You can't..."
Then he suddenly opened his eyes, faced with Clark Kent's icy-cold visage as he flew away. He stared fixedly at Shiller and asked, "What did you do? What did you do to his family and friends??!!"
When Clark flew over Smallville, he couldn't believe what he saw. The house belonging to the Kent family looked like it had been hit by a tornado, half-collapsed, bundled straw scattered on the ground, the pickup overturned, mysterious brake marks on the ground, and even the roadside poles had fallen.
He stood there dumbfounded, a name repeatedly echoed in his mind. Yet he dared not call out that name because reason told him he might not receive any response.
He descended, stumbling into the house. The place where he grew up was in shambles, the dining table overturned, chairs shattered into fragments, the island platform knocked over, pots smashed on the ground, cereal spread everywhere.
Countless pieces of information flooded Clark's mind, making him dizzy, giving him a splitting headache. The anger accumulated in his chest for so long finally erupted. His roar surged into the sky.
A gust of wind swept across all of Smallville. In an instant, the snow within a few kilometers vanished. Everyone awoke from their dreams but only saw a figure rising into the sky.
In Luthor Building, Lex Luther had just hung up the phone, his face ashen. He must be cursed; otherwise, why has everything been going wrong recently?
Just as he thought this, a string in Lex's mind suddenly connected: Frenes Snake, Egyptian legends, Tutankhamun, Pharaoh's Tomb...
He rushed to the desk, opened the computer, and searched for Tutankhamun. Sure enough, the first search result was "Seven archaeologists have died in succession—The most terrifying curse of Pharaoh's Tomb."
When he clicked on it, a golden statue of the Pharaoh appeared. Below the picture was labeled "Egyptian Pharaoh Tutankhamun." This article described how seven archaeologists who opened Tutankhamun's tomb died one after another, suggesting that the "Curse of the Pharaoh" is not rootless water. However, all those who attempted to investigate the curse fell along the way.
"Damn it..." Lex swore. With a last shred of hope, he searched for the origins of the Frenes Snake. Unsurprisingly, this mural was also produced from artifacts in Tutankhamun's tomb.
In the article, he found more details. Archaeologists reported abnormalities in the Snake Tail Gemstone, but this archaeologist and his colleagues died the same year.
Lex slammed the desk hard. No wonder that damned fraud was eager to unload; the gemstone must indeed be problematic.
At this point, he didn't care much and rushed into the lab, retrieving the boxed up gemstone. Of course, he knew the thing was radioactive and didn't dare open it rashly. He just wanted to take a picture and consult real experts about what exactly happened when it was unearthed.
Suddenly, there was a crashing sound, the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window shattered everywhere. A tall figure floated outside, then rushed in. The next second, Lex was lifted by the neck.
He met a pair of extremely cold blue eyes. The face, handsome like an ancient Greek sculpture, was as cold as the glaciers that never melted for a thousand years. Lex genuinely saw murderous intent there. Those deceitful hypnotisms and the psychological barriers constructed for self-protection collapsed instantly.
He's here. He's strong enough. He wants to kill me.
Lex Luther was almost instantly consumed by fear. He realized in countless moments of his life, the wisdom and foresight he used to surpass his peers and most of the world was useless in the face of absolute strength.
He was so fragile, powerless, and amounted to nothing.
His mind went blank, leaving only fear, but beyond fear was an almost overwhelming survival instinct that conquered all negative emotions. He didn't want to die; he absolutely couldn't die here, yet he had no choice, unable to resist.
"Where is Martha?" Clark's voice almost squeezed through his clenched teeth.
Pressed onto the ground, Lex couldn't make a sound. The large hand gripping his neck almost threatened to snap his neck, leaving no space for his vocal cords to vibrate. He couldn't even scream, let alone utter coherent words.
He could only struggle helplessly. His mind boiling with survival instinct almost entwined into a cross, and at that moment, his twitching left pinky suddenly touched something cold. He desperately groped in that direction, then with instinct, grabbed it and threw it at Clark.
The next second, Clark let out a scream, dense smoke billowing from his back. He was almost instantly knocked down. The situation was reversed.