The world spun around. After a violent dizzy spell, Clark found himself back at the Kent farm.
He didn't know what was happening, just stood helplessly amid the ruins, looking around blankly. The last words the officer said to him echoed in his mind, he heard them, but he couldn't understand.
"Seek..." he heard a voice again. "Go seek..."
"Seek what?!" he asked.
"Go find..."
Anger once again swallowed reason. Clark let out a roar, and he punched the wall forcefully, shouting, "Tell me!!! What am I supposed to find!!!"
No one answered him. Just like the night the little lamb died, he stood alone in the wheat field, the surroundings so quiet it seemed as if the wind ceased to exist, even his roaring seemed as faint as hearing Earth's heartbeat from the boundless cosmos, insignificant and negligible.
People always hear their inner echoes more clearly in despair. Everything, every choice, they can always hear that voice in the midst of chaos and emotional tidal waves. But, when it comes to death, people always drown in silence, disappear amidst quietude. Death gives humanity its first glimpse of the power of "forever."
Clark ran out, out of the Kent farm, to the road outside. But as he crossed the road, he noticed an invisible wall there. No matter how he pounded and shouted, the wall remained unmoved.
Then he realized that around the farm were these transparent high walls, he simply could not leave. He roared at the sky, continuously questioning, ceaselessly running, all to no avail.
Finally, he stopped, returned to the messy living room, curled up on the sofa, with his arms around his legs, burying his face in them, only those blue eyes exposed, staring blankly in a particular direction.
He began to repeatedly recall that thunderous moment. He wanted to grasp that feeling, but it wasn't easy. Too many things were echoing in his mind, capturing the intuition of that momentary feeling was like fishing for a needle in the ocean.
Clark began to recall that night. Batman sat across from him, behind him were the flickering flames of the fireplace. It was a rare quiet night, the weather wasn't that cold, everything seemed so peaceful.
"You want too much..." Clark heard Batman say, "The responsibilities you choose to bear will drive you insane until a grave mistake is made."
Clark had never thought about the deeper meaning of this sentence. He merely thought that Batman was obstructing him, assumed Batman didn't want him to use his superpowers to help others.
But at this moment, he finally heard a different meaning in the words that kept echoing in his mind.
Clark never considered that the responsibilities he wanted to bear were greater than his abilities because his abilities were indeed too strong. He could easily take responsibility for the safety of people's lives around the world, at least that's what he thought.
The greater the power, the greater the responsibility. But what if his abilities weren't as great as he thought?
Or rather, if what he seeks is infinite responsibility, then no matter how strong the power, it could never match the responsibilities he wishes to shoulder. In this case, what happens?
Like now, he's injured, almost lost his superpowers, but he has an obligatory responsibility, he must rescue his mother. How is he faring now?
It was then that Clark saw the lightning, grasping that feather. A fleeting glimpse, a flash of insight.
Anger.
He was very angry.
He was always angry.
When he found Lex, he should have immediately pressed him for Martha's whereabouts instead of venting on him with brute force.
Clearly, when Diana saved him, he should have cooperated with her, rather than failing to understand her situation and losing his temper.
All this was because of that omnipresent anger. His mind clouded with fury, causing him to make the wrong choice at almost every turn, bringing matters to the current situation.
No no no, Clark thought, earlier than that.
He shouldn't have blown up that alien ship, especially not in such a violent way before the eyes of the world. This was completely provoking the human government.
He shouldn't have taken the wreckage of the ship to provoke those Kryptonians. Clearly, their small ship was sent to avoid alarming anyone, proving they hadn't decided on a forceful invasion of Earth then. His actions only escalated the conflict between the two sides.
What drove him to do this?
It was anger. A kind of anger that had been accumulating since that simulation, like a tsunami, like an avalanche. Every slightest tremor was preparing for the subsequent sky-shattering collapse.
Clark didn't know why he was like this. When Batman's words echoed in his mind, there was a flash of inspiration, but he still couldn't grasp the key point.
But at least he now understood that he had lost his reason long ago. Bringing things to the state they were in today was entirely his own doing.
However, he had no time for self-pity, he had to shake off the anger quickly, regain his composure, or at least figure out what he had done wrong.
Clark straightened up, sat on the sofa, supported his knees with both hands, and murmured, "Alright, Clark, think quickly."
Too many chaotic elements in his mind, Clark had to peel them off one by one. The most important thing now was to find Martha; he needed to find clues about Martha first.
First, Lex Luther. What exactly had he done to offend him?
Even if he is an utterly despicable villain, he must have at least a reason to target him.
After eliminating all impossibilities, Clark found just one reason, and that was the day he made an appearance and blasted the spaceship, perhaps Lex Luther saw it.
He carefully recalled the position at the time; given the geographical location of the Luthor Building, it indeed faced the accident site.
So, just because of this?!
Clark couldn't understand; he didn't blow up a human spaceship. He beat his kind to a pulp, why was Lex Luther in a hurry?!
No, that's not right. Clark continued to think, the mentality of such people can't be judged by common sense. The Luther Group is very wealthy and has many industries. They must be afraid of war, especially a war that would happen right over their heads. Similarly, they are surely afraid of aliens.
Because if aliens invade Metropolis, they would lose the most. Buildings would be toppled, factories would be destroyed, which boss wouldn't be afraid of these?
Alright, it seems like a reasonable explanation, Clark thought. Just because he's afraid of aliens, he has to find their weakness, so he targeted Martha.
In terms of how he investigated Clark's identity information and found Martha, Clark didn't need to think too hard. Although he's just a small-town boy, he knows that these rich people have connections everywhere. If they want to investigate, nothing is beyond their reach.
Alright, so next, how did he abduct Martha?
Clark began pacing the living room, walking and thinking. Shiller from this universe had already told him about the course of events. Luther had bailed out a notorious gang of kidnappers and sent them to Smallville, Kansas State to find a woman named Martha Kent and kidnapped her.
And then? What next?
Clark was a bit at a loss. This was the course of events, so where would these terrorists take Martha?
Clark racked his brain but couldn't think of any clues in it. Who knows where those terrorists might want to take her after kidnapping her?!
Clark kept walking back and forth in the living room, standing up then sitting down, going out the door then coming back, sometimes leaning on the sofa, and sometimes kneeling on the ground, as if somehow this could enlighten his super brain.
No idea how long had passed, it felt like a century, and Clark felt his thoughts had stalled. He lay helplessly faced up in the middle of the living room, staring blankly at the slightly shabby chandelier.
Suddenly, he heard a faint sound. His hearing was especially acute at this moment, because the space was completely silent, any slight sound would be particularly noticeable.
He quickly got up from the floor, turned around, and was stunned.
Jonathan Kent stood in the middle of the living room looking at him.
"Dad!" he shouted.
"Long time no see, Clark, are you doing well?"
"I..." Thousands of words gathered in Clark's chest, but ultimately turned into one sentence: "...Not bad."
"That's good, you're smart, you'll surely do well in the big city."
"I..." Clark didn't know what to say. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, rubbing his hands, turning his head to the side.
Then he couldn't help but look at his father, at that familiar face, and memories of past happy family life began to flash before his eyes.
Every morning, he would wake up with the smell. Just by smelling it, he could tell if Martha cooked oatmeal or made sandwiches today. Clark preferred oatmeal; oats and milk would be cooked to a sticky consistency, topped with a big handful of sugar, and after finishing a bowl, he felt like he could work a whole day.
Wait, oatmeal...
Clark turned his head toward the kitchen, ran over like crazy, picked up the pot that had fallen to the ground, and looked in shock at the oatmeal spilled all over the floor.
There were no footprints left here, but the oatmeal spilled on the ground could never fill this entire pot.
Clark lowered his head and looked at the pot in his hand, then at the oatmeal on the ground, and now he was more certain, the oatmeal spilled couldn't fill even one bowl, let alone the whole pot.
Why? Where's the rest of the oatmeal???
Clark put the pot down and looked at the smashed island platform, the dining table and chairs disassembled into pieces. He rushed out the door again, looking at the messy brake marks on the ground, the scattered hay bales everywhere, like a road swept by a tornado, and the broken utility poles.
Oh my god. Clark breathed rapidly, as if he'd never seen such a scene.
He really hadn't seen such a scene. To be precise, the rational part of his super brain hadn't seen it, only the emotional side had, only anger had seen it.
And when the angry Clark Kent saw these, he would only become angrier. Because seeing this terrifyingly broken scene, Clark would lose his last shred of sanity, and didn't even remain sane enough to stay and search more, but went straight to the Luthor Building for Lex Luther to vent his rage.
But now, the rational Clark Kent stood here, and suddenly realized, everything here was strange.
This is wrong and that is wrong, not a single thing is right.
Clark stood in front of the half-collapsed farmhouse, feeling that the world was so absurd it made him want to laugh, and his own foolishness made him want to laugh even more. As he teared up while trying to laugh, someone patted him on the shoulder from behind.
Clark looked back and saw his father Jonathan Kent standing behind him, saying, "Go look for her."