Clark outside the screen was also stunned. He scratched his head and said, "These two people, how… I mean, how did they suddenly have superpowers? Or were they just pretending before?"
The last hypothesis he didn't even believe himself. Not to mention these two were almost caught by humans, it's impossible to be forced to this point without revealing themselves; the key is, from their expressions, they are also unaware—there's no outsider on the ship, no need to keep pretending. So they didn't know they had acquired superpowers.
Suddenly, Clark remembered Bruce's words that every Kryptonian has this gift, the difference is only whether they found the key.
He also recalled the difference between these two and other Kryptonians: they came to Earth, got beaten by humans, and encountered that kind of green gemstone powder which would make one weak.
Green gemstone powder is the key???
Could this kind of gemstone powder make them feel weak at first, but then strengthen them? But why didn't I become stronger?
The only explanation Clark could think of was: they just inhaled some, while he was injected with a needle. The efficiency must be stronger, so the weakness period would be longer; maybe after the weakness period ends, he would become stronger.
Clark started to rub his forehead again because things have become too complicated again—if this seemingly weakening gemstone powder could actually strengthen aliens, then how would the subsequent situation develop?
Wait a minute, now, the matter of "Frenes Snake" has spread all over the internet, the promotional effect Lois wanted has completely been achieved. These Kryptonians don't stay offline, they will definitely know this matter too.
However, they found that their fellow Kryptonians became powerful shortly after the discomfort of touching this powder, they definitely won't let this thing go.
And soon, the Metropolitan Museum will exhibit the authentic version of this item—then, the military wants it, other forces want it, aliens won't let it go either, it will absolutely turn into chaos.
Clark "zipped" up and stood immediately. He put down the coffee cup and said, "No, I must go back to Metropolis."
Bruce didn't stop him, watching his figure disappear outside the window. After a while, the coffee machine made a sound, and the fragrance of coffee once again filled the empty Wayne Manor.
A silhouette came around from behind the sofa, put down a coffee cup, and sat on the sofa, undoing his suit buttons. Bruce glanced at him.
"Your choice of beans is quite good."
"Clark chose them."
"I'm surprised he didn't pour cat food into it."
"Almost."
Bruce sat up straight, looked at the man opposite him. He wore a neatly tailored suit, his hair combed immaculately, gray eyes under the glasses looking somewhat obscure.
"You have surgical experience," Bruce said.
"Sort of, not very skillful," the other nodded and said.
"But you're not a doctor."
"I'm not."
"You're very contradictory," Bruce continued to stare at him, "the whole person seems like a complex blend, bearing too many traits that shouldn't belong to you. Who exactly are you?"
"I can't answer that for you. I can only tell you that I have no malicious intent towards you. I'm here indeed for my purpose, but it won't harm you."
"Your existence is dangerous in itself."
"I never deny that point."
"And you package it as a kind of charm." Bruce gently shook his head and said, "There must be many who lost their lives because of this."
"But that has nothing to do with you. You no longer want to be a hero, so even if the world burns, you're not obliged to extinguish the fire. Just like what you're doing now, you could clearly stop me, but you're merely a cold observer."
"I don't need to stop you." Bruce lowered his gaze and said, "This job doesn't suit me, so I choose to hand it over to Clark."
"Do you think he can stop me?"
"You want him to stop you, Shiller."
Shiller suddenly laughed. He stood up, as if freed from a certain emotional state, buttoned his suit again, and said, "I know you probably don't have time to attend Metropolis's exhibition, so I brought you a greeting gift."
He took out a small box and placed it on the table. Bruce didn't open it, but he already guessed what it was. He abruptly raised his head, coldly staring at Shiller.
"Don't be nervous, the inevitable path for Batman. Without me, you would find it yourself."
After speaking, he turned and left. Bruce stared at the box. Outside Wayne Manor's window, the ground had accumulated a thin layer of snow, reflecting sunlight into the pointed Gothic window, casting a faint green glow through the seams onto the box.
Clark flew back to Metropolis, like a headless fly, circling the Metropolitan Museum. He wanted to evacuate ordinary people here, but also knew: if he did it now before anything happened, he would certainly seem like a lunatic; but when things do happen, it will be too late to evacuate.
Suddenly, he remembered Diana seemed to be working here. He immediately took out his cellphone, dialed the number, and said, "It's me, Clark. No, I didn't encounter any danger. I just want to know if you're working at the Metropolitan Museum? There might be a war happening here, I've got to… Okay, I'll get it."
Clark flew to Diana's apartment, carefully avoiding everyone. Once inside, he found Diana's ID badge.
Taking the badge, he headed straight to the Metropolitan Museum. At the front desk, he handed over the badge and said, "Hello, I'm looking for Diana Prince. Is she here?"
"Oh, what is your relation to her?"
"I'm a journalist for the Daily Planet. She agreed to an exclusive interview about the Metropolitan Museum's Ancient Egyptian culture and artifacts, and left this badge for me. But I haven't been able to reach her by phone. Can you help me find her?"
"Sorry, sir, it shows here that Mistress Prince took leave a few days ago."
"What? But I already told the chief editor that she'd be on the front page…"
"Are you a journalist from the Daily Planet?"
"Yes, I usually cover the news section, but you know, with that royal family artifact swap scandal recently, our editor assigned me to focus on this matter…"
"Please hold on." The receptionist made a call. Shortly, a man dressed as a manager came out to shake hands with Clark, and said, "Hello, is this Mr. Kent?"
"Yes, here's my card." Clark handed the card to the manager and said, "I didn't expect Mistress Prince to cancel, which is really troublesome. Our editor worked hard to secure a front-page position…"
"Actually, sir, Mistress Prince had an urgent matter and had to take leave to return to her hometown. However, the Metropolitan Museum still has many excellent staff, especially since we will exhibit the borrowed artifact 'Frenes Snake' from the British Museum the day after tomorrow. This artifact is currently the focus of news, and I think it deserves your paper's front-page position, right?"
"Wow, are you willing to accept my interview before the artifact arrives?! That would be wonderful!"
"Sorry, that's definitely not possible. For the security of the artifact, we cannot disclose any information beforehand. But we can allow you early entry on the opening day and arrange a front-row seat for you."
"If that's all, it might not make the front page, as we need fresh news…" Clark hesitated a bit.
"This is definitely big news." The manager paused then said, "By then, where the exhibit will be, all major newspaper journalists will form a queue, trying their best to capture every detail of the exhibit. You know, some doubt it's genuine. Then the audience will be there recording the grandeur of the viewing event. By the way, security will be there, ensuring those sensational tabloids won't get in…"
Clark silently noted the positions mentioned, contemplating crowd evacuation plans. Those aliens likely won't use the main entrance; if they break in through the window, someone might get cut by the glass.
Clark cleared his throat and said, "That sounds great. You know, as long as it's exclusive and scarce news. But here's the problem, are you planning to block that area?"
Clark pointed at a tall window, the manager hesitated and said, "Of course not, the natural light from over there makes the exhibit appear softer…"
"No, no, no, I think you need to block it. Not for anything else, but given how big this event is, tickets are so hard to get online. If those who couldn't get a ticket squeeze over by the glass and reporters capture the chaos, it probably wouldn't reflect well on the museum's professionalism, right?"
The manager clapped his forehead and said, "Right, I'll have someone block it by tomorrow. Letting them squeeze over there is quite undignified."
Clark glanced at the spiral staircase nearby. Those aliens wear armor, making stairs inconvenient, but the nearby atrium could be jumped into. However, the atrium can't be easily sealed either.
Never mind, jumping from that side still gives some distance to the exhibit location. By then, he'll just guide the crowd toward the main entrance, avoiding casualties.
As for the artifacts, with the "Frenes Snake" being so prominent, the value of other artifacts seemed to decline significantly. As long as people are safe, losing an artifact isn't a big deal; they can always make another one.
With these thoughts in mind, Clark politely bade farewell to the manager. There were preparations to make before the opening day. However, just as he left, Lois called him.
"You're back?" Clark said with some surprise, "Alright, got it, I'll go pick you up now."
Picked up Lois from the airport, driving back during rush hour, passing through the city center with some traffic congestion. Clark couldn't help but share his recent experiences, to which Lois nodded frequently. Clark felt slightly proud: when he sets his mind to it, he can accomplish things.
But upon hearing Clark would enter the exhibition to maintain security as a journalist, Lois shook her head. She said, "You're still too naive, small-town guy. Do you really think what's brought to the venue will be authentic?"
Clark's head was filled with question marks, he said, "But wasn't that thing already fake?"
"But it came from the British Museum, endorsed by various collectors and acknowledged by the royal family, with the most important gemstone on it. It has value, so it's naturally genuine."
"So you're saying, the piece shown that day won't be this one?"
"Of course. As you said, everyone would want it. However, if one waits till the exhibition day to grab it, it only proves they lack connections. The truly powerful would swap it before it even enters the museum."
Clark was stunned and said, "But, but how would they swap it? Shiller couldn't make another one, right?"
Lois shook her head, "The painting isn't important, only the gemstone matters. Just swap the gemstone with a fake one."
"Alright, but even if the gemstone gets swapped, not everyone would know. They'd still go for it, right? So I still need to be there."
"You still don't get it." Lois sighed, "Everyone wants the genuine gemstone, and every faction aims to swap it before it reaches the museum, even aliens. So, they'll all go after the person capable of swapping the gemstone. Just capturing that person ensures obtaining the gemstone."
Clark suddenly realized, "You mean, they'll go after Shiller?! He…"
Before he finished speaking, a violent explosion sounded from the Luther Hotel nearby. With a "boom", the whole building was split in half, slowly collapsing onto the street.