Chapter 21: As long as there is love, nothing is a problem, right?
Yale was rushing to finish his manuscript.
Joanna sat on the edge of his bed, staring at him with her sky-blue eyes without blinking.
...
"I already said…" Yale sighed. "Lana is not my girlfriend. She hasn't even passed the employee probation period at Kent Farm yet."
Joanna fell silent.
This was what truly felt wrong to Yale.
Joanna was an extremely territorial person who resented any outsiders entering the Kent Family, as evidenced by the near-tragedy when Clark brought Chloe home at age eight, which scared Chloe and Pete so much that they didn't dare approach Kent Farm within five years.
It was the same now. If it were usually Joanna Kent, upon witnessing an auburn-haired cheerleader sitting on her brother's bed, she should have entered the second stage by now, outputting all sorts of colorful language such as 'Is your brain irradiated by green stones? That woman's hair color makes me want to throw up?' and 'I'm going to burn all your manga manuscripts,' which truly had the flair of their uncle Benjamin.
But today, Joanna didn't hiss as she usually did.
This scared even Yale's Super Brain into starting to spin.
From Lana hurriedly fleeing the scene clutching her folder, to Joanna swaggering in with a tray to occupy his bed.
Could it be that he said something too harsh earlier…
"Yale."
"Hm?"
"Am I really useless?"
Alright, this time it was Yale's turn to fall silent.
Joanna was a strong-willed person, a girl who would never admit to not being good enough in front of any living creature.
But today, she actually said it.
And now he had to temporarily transition from a renowned teenage manga genius in Metropolis to an adolescent psychological counselor.
"Why would you think that?" Yale's expression turned serious.
"You draw manga, and the family's financial situation has improved a lot because of you."
"Clark can help everyone with chores, and everyone likes him."
"And I can't do anything here."
"I don't know how to farm, nor do I know how to cook. I only eat your food, wear the clothes you give me, and live in the room you cleared out for me. When trouble comes looking for us, it's mostly because of me. And you always have to keep an eye on me, otherwise I'll burn something down again."
"Yale…"
"It seems I only bring one more trouble to this family."
"..."
Looking at the blonde girl curled up into a ball in front of him, and listening to her rare outpouring of so many words, Yale inexplicably recalled the rainstorm from eight years ago.
At that time, Joanna was even smaller than she was now, yet she carried his unconscious body on her shoulders.
"Joanna, what on earth are you thinking?"
"I just wanted to say…"
"Don't move for a second," Yale suddenly said.
Joanna froze slightly, subconsciously raising her head.
But under the boy's burning gaze, she silently turned her head toward the window, letting her long blonde hair cover half of her already small face.
Yale looked her over with a straight face.
Joanna was currently wearing an old T-shirt that she had discarded two years ago because it was too small, but the clothing was obviously way too large for the girl. Although the sixteen-year-old maiden had grown slender and tall by now, she always wished she could stuff herself into the corner of the bed where the sunlight couldn't reach.
"Do you know, if we calculate it that way, what the most failed project on Kent Farm is?"
"…?"
Joanna turned her head in surprise.
"It's Clark."
"Clark?" Joanna was stunned.
"That's right. Actually, Clark should have been kicked out of the house when he was eight years old. He eats more food every day than the work he does, and occasionally raids the refrigerator in the middle of the night under the excuse that he's growing."
"His input is severely higher than his output. In a sense, Clark belongs to Kent Farm's most failed long-term project."
"..."
"Clark is not a project," Joanna mumbled.
"Very good," Yale nodded. "It seems your judgment is still normal."
Joanna finally reacted, her brows immediately pressing down.
"I'm not the same as him."
"Indeed, you eat less than him."
"That's not what I meant!"
The blonde hair slid away, revealing the girl's azure eyes.
With pale skin and delicate features, when Joanna was quiet, she looked just like an expensive porcelain doll in a shop window that children weren't allowed to touch, but when she was angry, she looked like…
"Yale!"
Joanna hissed softly at him,
"Do you think you're very humorous?"
"There is an objective answer to this question," Yale said. "Readers of the nationwide monthly-ranking manga unanimously agree that I am a humorous…"
"That's because they haven't met you in person."
"Are you making a personal attack against your brother?"
"Stating facts."
"Just a moment ago someone was doubting their own usefulness, and now they can skillfully attack the pillar of the family," Yale said with gratification. "Recovering well, it seems I also have quite a talent for psychotherapy."
"Who asked you to treat them?"
"Then who was here just now saying…" Yale cleared his throat, lowering his voice to a soft and pitiful tone, "Yale, am I only bringing trouble to this family…"
"You—"
Joanna snapped back around.
"Smack!"
Yale grabbed the girl's swinging right hand.
"Look at you, you're clearly blushing." He shrugged.
That hint of red was hidden beneath her blonde hair. At first it was just a faint line, but in the blink of an eye it burned down along her auricles. Joanna clearly noticed it too, immediately turning her face away and trying to cover it with her hair.
Yale couldn't hold it in and chuckled aloud.
"Stop laughing!"
The girl hissed softly at him once more.
This habit was also left over from childhood.
When she was eight she hissed when unhappy, and at sixteen she still hissed when unhappy.
Yale sensibly let go of her hand.
"Shut up."
"Your wish is my command."
Yale closed his mouth.
Joanna resumed her expressionless look once more, except that her ten fair toes curled up, pressing against the soft carpet and gripping tighter and tighter.
Glancing at the girl's feet, which seemed ready to claw a whole apartment out of the carpet.
"This is home, our home," Yale smiled helplessly.
"Lana delivering my manuscript is labor she willingly put in just to see the next chapter of my manga in advance. To put it bluntly, she's chasing updates to the point of being willing to sell out her spare time."
"Clark moving grain is purely because if he isn't allowed to move it, his whole body feels uncomfortable."
"These are just things everyone happens to be doing."
"..."
Joanna raised her head to look at him again, a look of bewilderment flashing across her face.
Yale couldn't help but chuckle.
"If Dad suddenly couldn't do farm work tomorrow, he'd still be Dad."
"If Mom never made apple pies from now on, she'd still be Mom."
"If Clark couldn't even lift a single bag of grain one day, he would still be my brother, and this fact wouldn't change whether he suffers from cerebellar atrophy or intellectual disabilities."
"Joanna."
Yale said earnestly, "First of all, we are family."
The sun was setting.
Sunspots slid all the way down the hem of her clothes onto the back of the girl's fair hands.
"Then what if I don't do anything?" she asked cautiously. "What if I just want to stay here?"
Yale nodded slightly, feeling some emotion in his heart.
This must be what they call 'our girl has finally grown up,' right?
After all, ever since eight years ago, Joanna had always stood at the crossroads of her life, and today, she finally seemed to dare to break away from the childhood shadow brought by Vought to imagine a life where she didn't have to be a weapon.
"This is your home," Yale answered with exceptional seriousness.
"Sit if you want to sit, sleep if you want to sleep. You don't need to prove to anyone that you're worthy of staying here."
"..."
"Why? But I clearly haven't done anything," the girl said cluelessly.
"Joanna," Yale shook his head. "Families aren't maintained based on utility in the first place."
"As long as you love us, and we love you, that's enough."
Joanna was stunned.
Her eyes opened wide. The dimming and brightening sparks in her eyes abruptly extinguished, leaving only a thin layer of watery light at the moment.
"When you care about us, I suppose no one ever needed to teach you how to do it, right?"
"Sometimes you even secretly wait downstairs because I came back too late."
"I was not waiting for you," Joanna said expressionlessly, but her toes clearly curled tighter in the carpet.
"Right, you weren't."
Yale sensibly skipped over this minefield. "But what I want to say is, this is love. Whether you admit it to yourself or not, it is love."
"As long as there is love, a person is never redundant. You don't need to prove your usefulness, and you certainly don't need to compare yourself to Lana. Lana has Lana's place, and you have your own place."
"No one can replace you."
"Is that really true?"
"That's right."
Yale nodded slightly.
From his perspective, Joanna was the only sister in this family, a unique family member, just as Clark was the only brother, Jonathan was the only father, and Martha was the only mother.
Everyone was irreplaceable.
Only…
What Yale couldn't understand was that the blonde girl sitting on the edge of his bed…
Joanna's gaze began to change bit by bit.
She just knew it.
There was love between them.
"So, as long as there is love… is that enough?" the girl confirmed in a low voice.
"Of course." Yale breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed Joannahad finally been persuaded back by him from the wrong path.
"No matter what kind of love it is?" Joanna asked another question.
"Alright, alright…"
"Love isn't an exam; do we have to classify it first?" Yaleturned around and continued writing. He decided to let Joanna digest it on her own. "Anyway, stop letting your imagination run wild."
"You love us, and we love you. That's enough."
Although Yale said it so easily, to Joanna, this sentence meant that in the future, whether she treated Yale as a brother, as her only safe harbor, or as a father…
He would accept it all.
After all, love was love, any kind of love was fine.
That was what he said.
"So that's how it is," she whispered softly.
"Of course it is," Yale said offhandedly, then handed his empty glass of orange juice backward behind him.
"Here, take this down to Mom."
Joanna nodded, walked over to the desk, and took the glass. Her gaze involuntarily fell upon a faint lip print along the rim of the cup.
"Yours?" she asked in a low voice.
"Otherwise whose?" Yale asked somewhat strangely.
"Hurry and take it down, most important member of our family. Remember not to crush the glass on the stairs, or it will undermine your newly established family contribution."
Joanna curled her lips, but still stood up holding the glass with both hands.
"…Got it."
Walking out of the room, Joanna gently closed the door behind her.
Looking down at the cup in her hand, she didn't head to the kitchen instead, but turned around and went back to her own room, casually placing the cup on the desk.
Staring unblinkingly at the cup.
Staring at it until she finally couldn't help reaching her hand out. Although she shrank back slightly just as she was about to touch it, it seemed she thought of something right after, her eyes gradually becoming firm as her slender fingers picked up the water glass, unable to resist slowly pressing her lips against the rim.
"Family…"
"And the future, too."
She let go of the cup and took a deep breath.
Squatting down, she pulled open the innermost drawer of the nightstand.
Neatly arranged inside the drawer were several scattered small items…
All of them were fragments that had slipped from Yale Kent's daily life in some inadvertent moment, and happened to be intercepted and preserved by Joanna Kentin a way that others could not perceive.
The cup was gently placed inside by her, right next to a piece of candy.
The girl closed the drawer and sat back down on the edge of the bed.
Her feet hung down, gently brushing against the fuzz on the carpet.
"As long as there is love, that's enough," Joanna repeated in a low voice, "You said this yourself, Yale."
Chapter 22
A bald head popped out of the crowd.
The seven-day period had arrived!
Well... actually, it was fourteen days.
After all, Yale Kent had tested with breathtaking perseverance that as long as he didn't sleep, he could avoid entering the Dream Council.
After all, for one of the Eternals.
Cells could draw energy from cosmic radiation every moment, and sleep was more of a need for him to recover sanity values rather than a physiological requirement.
Of course, his problem right now wasn't sleeping, but rather audaciously ghosting Nightwalker and Silence.
Imagine the expressions of the two people and one cat.
All in all...
If he didn't go today, Moge might really hiss at him when they met in the future.
So Yale Kent, for the first time ever, didn't linger at school for a while.
After completing his daily check-in with Desiree Atkins and raising his strength to the final bit, he hurriedly left work to go home.
"Yo! Joanna!"
Yale greeted the blonde girl on the sofa.
"Yale," Joanna Kent said in a low voice, "you're late today."
"..."
I thought to myself, didn't I come home early?
Yale swallowed those words back into his stomach.
Arguing with Joanna Kent about the concept of time was a meaningless thing, because in the girl's cognitive system, the definition of late didn't depend on the clock, but on how long she had waited.
Yale shrugged and plopped down beside the girl.
Today, Joanna Kent was still wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a ferocious lightning rat printed on the chest, and a pair of denim hot pants on her lower body, revealing two slender legs with her bare feet resting near the edge of the coffee table.
Generally speaking.
Ever since that guidance the other day, Joanna Kent's attitude toward him had started to lean back toward what it was two or three years ago.
A subtle change.
If Joanna Kent had been a hedgehog over the years, now she had turned back into that golden-haired fluff ball from previous years who always liked to cling to Yale.
Yale couldn't help smiling.
"What are you smiling at?" Joanna Kent asked sullenly.
"I'm not smiling."
"You are clearly smiling."
"I'm smiling because the TV commercial is stupid," Yalesaid casually, pointing a finger.
The television happened to be stopped on a shampoo commercial, where an actress was tossing her hair in slow motion.
Joanna Kent was expressionless, obviously not believing it.
Yale didn't explain further either, instead deliberately squeezing closer toward Joanna Kent.
This was their interactive pattern since childhood...
To be exact, it was Yale's unilateral harassment pattern, but this time Joanna Kent didn't dodge, instead squeezing back.
"...?"
Yale was slightly stunned, only to feel a wave of softness coming from his shoulder.
The ripened fruits on the girl's slim branches were pressing against him, and the scorching temperature came through the fabric.
Yale instinctively stepped back.
But Joanna Kent squeezed over again.
This time closer, her entire hemisphere pressed against his arm, her golden hair scattered, with a few strands even resting on his cheek.
"..."
"Can you sit over a bit..."
Unfortunately, Joanna Kent was coldly staring at the screen, without any intention of paying attention to him.
"Fine then," Yale laughed out of exasperation.
He slammed right back!
"Bang."
The two of them collided head-on, yet neither budged an inch, leaving only the suffering sofa creaking.
"This sofa was bought with mom's savings from a few months of household expenses." Yale looked up at the ceiling.
"Then you move aside." Joanna Kent's expression didn't change.
"You move first."
"You first."
"You."
The two of them looked at each other, and another battle on the sofa in front of the entryway was about to...
"Knock, knock, knock."
The door was knocked.
The sofa breathed a sigh of relief.
"You go open it," Yale said.
"I'm not going." Joanna Kent pulled her feet onto the sofa.
"You go."
"Not going."
"Joanna Kent, you can't keep being social phobic like this! Haven't you noticed that you're already sixteen and only have two friends, Elaine Belloc and Mona?!"
"...You go!"
A fair foot kicked fiercely at Yale's thigh.
"Damn it..."
Yale grinned as he crawled up from the sofa, rubbing his thigh while walking towards the door.
"Creak..."
The doorknob dropped,
"Yo, Frankin." The young man wore a spring breeze-like smile.
Seeing an old man with graying hair standing outside the door, holding two letters under his armpit.
Frankin Casey.
The old postman who had worked in Smallville for thirty-two years.
Legend has it that this old man was the only person in the entire town who knew everyone's birthday, and would press the doorbell twice on everyone's birthday.
"Yale," Frankin raised the brim of his hat, "back early today."
"Yeah, Frankin, occasionally I have to let the sunset see what I look like walking out of the school gate."
"Hahaha..." The old postman smiled and handed over two letters, "Two letters, one from out of town, and one forwarded by the town hall."
Yale took the letters, his gaze sweeping over the covers.
The first letter came from Aegis Risk Assessment Company.
The second letter was an invitation to an information session forwarded by the town hall.
It said that Greenfield Agrochemical Company was inviting all residents of Smallville to attend an information session, located at the temporary exhibition tent outside the town hall auditorium, implying a desire to acquire land in Smallville for crop processing.
The person in charge signed—Bob Rickman.
Yale narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Thanks, Frankin."
"You're welcome, you're welcome." The old postman waved his hand, "By the way, did Mrs. Martha bake pies today?"
"Today is Wednesday, Frankin. Mom only bakes on Friday."
"Oh..."
Disappointment showed in the old man's eyes.
"But I think mom wouldn't mind preparing one for you on Friday," Yale added.
"You really are an angel, my Yale." Frankin's smile returned once more, "Then I'll leave it to you!"
Watching the old postman hum a little unknown tune and ride away on his bicycle, Yale lowered his head to re-examine the two letters in his hand.
"Yale!"
A distant call came, and Jonathan Kent was walking over waving his straw hat.
"Dad."
Yale handed the letters over casually, "Today's mail."
Jonathan Kent was stunned for a moment, but immediately took them.
"Free risk assessment?" He shook his head, "The air in Smallville is already free enough."
He casually tossed the first letter into the trash can by the door.
Then he opened the second one.
This time he read it a bit more carefully.
"Greenfield Agrochemical?" He frowned, then looked up at the unperturbed Yale, "My good eldest son, are you free tonight?"
"Are you going?"
Jonathan Kent nodded.
"Did you finally figure out how to sell the farm and move to Metropolis to enjoy life?" Yale raised an eyebrow.
"You brat..."
Jonathan Kent smiled helplessly.
If this kind of joke were made ten years ago, he probably would have seriously lectured Yale about the meaning of land and family heritage.
But ten years had passed, and he had learned to distinguish what was real offense and what was just endless nonsense coming out of this brat's mouth...
"I'm afraid the townspeople will get scammed." JonathanKent folded the letter and put it into his chest pocket. "I've heard a bit about this Rickman guy. He held a similar information session over in Salisbury a couple of years ago, and later there seemed to be some disputes. Last time he was even fined a pretty large amount because of environmental engineering reasons."
"Let's go help them vet it."
Yale looked at his adoptive father's profile and smiled helplessly.
This man spent his whole life worrying about others.
Worrying about crops, worrying about neighbors, worrying about two adopted sons, worrying about a super-powered niece who ran out of a laboratory.
Now he also had to worry about a group of fellow villagers who might get hoodwinked by an agrochemical company.
"Then let's go." Yale shrugged.
But just as the words fell.
"I'm going too." A cold female voice sounded from behind.
Yale and Jonathan Kent turned around in surprise.
Only to see Joanna Kent holding the doorframe with one hand, the lightning rat baring its teeth on her chest, making the girl's expressionless face look even more serious.
"You too?" Yale raised an eyebrow.
The social phobic girl who stayed at home every night actually wanted to say she was going out to socialize?
"Can't I?" Joanna Kent snorted coldly.
"Of course you can," Jonathan Kent smiled heartily. "You're also a member of the Kent Family."
A moment later.
Clark Kent, who had helped the town residents harvest a few acres of land today and then casually rescued a driver from an SUV that rushed into the river on his way home, walked up to the front door dripping wet while yawning.
He was in a good mood today.
Especially thinking of how that bald handsome guy thanked him, Clark Kent felt he looked totally awesome.
"Yale!"
He shouted loudly as soon as he pushed open the door.
Unfortunately, the living room was empty.
"Joanna!"
Quiet and still.
"...Dad? Mom?"
Only the faucet was dripping in the kitchen.
Fortunately, there was a note left by Martha on the table...
"Clark Kent, our family plans to go to town tonight to attend an information session. Dinner is in the fridge, remember to heat it up before eating, don't wait for us to have dinner together and starve yourselves~"
"——Love, Mom."
Clark Kent:...
The dripping wet solar boy couldn't help shivering, feeling that September in Smallville was a bit cold.
The temporary exhibition tent outside the town hall auditorium was much larger than Yale had imagined.
There was also a folding table in front of the tent with Aegis Risk Assessment Company set up on it, and two young people were handing out flyers to passing residents.
"Sir, hello! Our Aegis Risk Assessment Company provides comprehensive free services for farmers in Smallville..."
"No need." Jonathan Kent walked past without turning his head, bringing Martha along.
Yale followed behind his parents, sweeping a glance without leaving a trace.
——This service is provided by the Risk Assessment Division under Aegis Comprehensive Holdings Group.
Comprehensive Holdings, what a big background.
Yale withdrew his gaze and was led by Joanna Kent into the venue.
So why were they holding hands?
He lowered his head to glance at the fair little hand clutching his hem, then looked up at the girl pulling him while following Jonathan Kent and Martha's footsteps with an icy expression.
What am I, an eight-year-old child? Yale's mouth twitched.
"Hey! Jonathan! Martha!"
Quite a few people had already arrived inside the exhibition tent.
There were about sixty households in the town, and tonight at least forty households were represented.
In Smallville, this could already be considered a ghost-town-emptying level of spectacle. The last time so many people gathered together was on the day three years ago when the Kent Family's giant pumpkin made its debut!
"Jim," Jonathan Kent smiled and shook hands.
"Your son saved my life today! That kid has strength like a tractor!" Jim gestured vividly, "He even helped me harvest an acre of corn!"
"That kid Clark Kent just can't stay idle." Martha smiled, covering her mouth.
"Yale is here too? Good boy!"
Old Mike, who kept bees on the side, patted Yale's shoulder, then shifted his gaze to the blonde girl behind him.
"Oh! Is this... the little girl of the Kent Family? Haven't seen her in a long time, she's grown up so much!"
Yale felt his hem being gripped a bit tighter.
"Joanna is a bit shy around strangers," Yale covered for her. "Old Mike, did you bring honey today? Maybe the agricultural product processing plant is just lacking your honey!"
The topic was successfully diverted, and Old Mikeimmediately began to talk endlessly about how, although natural disasters had been frequent this year, relying on his superb beekeeping skills, he managed to avoid the impact of disasters on honey yield and taste.
Yale couldn't help smiling, and turned to look at JoannaKent.
The girl's gaze swept across the entire exhibition tent, her sky-blue eyes patrolling the crowd.
Yale knew what she was doing...
She was looking for where she could run away if something happened later...
Needless to think, this must have inherited Uncle Ben's talent.
These things were just like her heartbeat, uncontrollable by herself.
"Don't worry," Yale whispered, "I'm here."
Joanna Kent didn't make a sound, but the hand clutching his hem relaxed slightly.
Everyone took their seats.
The lights on the stage also lit up.
A middle-aged man walked onto the stage.
Around forty years old, his chin cleanly shaven, his hair obviously styled with hair gel.
"Good evening, everyone! I am Bob Rickman."
"Standing here seeing you all, I am truly moved," Bob Rickman sighed. "After all, natural disasters have been frequent this year, and there are many things in the fields."
"But..."
"Everyone still came."
"Why is that?"
"Because everyone cares about their land," Bob Rickmananswered himself. "Caring about their crops, caring about the future of their families."
"I suppose everyone knows my purpose here? I promise..."
"Wait!"
Someone finally stood up in the audience.
Yale recognized him; it was Howard Parker who grew beets at the east end of town.
A hot-tempered sixty-year-old old man.
"Mr. Rickman!" Howard Parker shouted. "You talk a good game, but how do you guarantee that what you're saying is true?"
Bob Rickman cleared his throat.
"Mr. Parker, this is a very good..."
"I'm not finished yet!" Howard interrupted him. "As far as I know, that stunt you pulled in our state last time ended up being fined by the Department of Agriculture! Your fucking company's working capital is almost bottoming out, isn't it? What do you have to guarantee us with?"
There was a stir among the crowd.
Quite a few people started whispering to each other.
Yet Bob Rickman nodded slightly.
"Mr. Parker," the man spread his hands. "You are right, I won't avoid these things."
"But today is different."
"Because standing in front of you today is not just Greenfield Agrochemical."
Bob Rickman turned slightly sideways, gesturing slightly toward the curtain at the back of the exhibition tent.
"Today, I have brought a friend who is more qualified than I am to answer Mr. Parker's questions."
The curtain was yanked open abruptly.
A bald man who looked quite disheveled and drenched all over walked in.
"I fell into the water on the way," Lex Luthor waved to the audience calmly. "Sorry, everyone."
Wait a minute? Bald?
Yale raised an eyebrow.
And in the next instant, as if to confirm his guess, the bald man's voice overpowered the whispering of the crowd.
"You might not be very familiar with my face, but what I'm going to say next is..." He chuckled and began, "I am Lex Luthor."
Chapter 23 It is judgment! It is the scales of heaven! It is divine punishment!
It is the judgment!"
"It is the scales!"
"It is the divine punishment!"
"Lex… Luthor?"
"LexCorp?! That LexCorp?!"
"You… you said you are Luthor? The one on the magazine cover…"
"That's his dad! He's the younger Luthor!"
"God, Jim, pinch me… Ow! You fucking really pinched me!"
Bob Rickman stepped back cheerfully, a smug smile on his face.
"…"
Superman's greatest enemy.
Yale narrowed his eyes, looking toward the bald man on the stage.
The bald man was calmly wiping the water stains off his bald head.
"I know what you are all thinking."
After wiping his forehead, Lex Luthor folded his handkerchief and put it into his pocket.
"A bald man from Metropolis, standing in your town all wet, telling you he's interested in your land."
"It sounds just like the beginning of a joke."
Hearing this, quite a few people in the crowd chuckled.
"But!"
"I assure you all… this is no joke." Lex nodded slightly, "Smallville is a place that has been underestimated for far too long."
"You see, the land beneath your feet possesses the most incredible minerals in all of Kansas."
"And what Mr. Bob and I are going to do is make proper use of this land."
The briefing came to an end with sparse applause.
But it was still much warmer than at the beginning.
"Absurd." Jonathan stood up angrily, "Farmers sell their land permanently to the company, and then the company decides whether to rehire the original farm owners as contract growers—what the fuck does that mean?!"
It was Yale's first time hearing Jonathan swear.
The last time this Kansas model husband revealed his true vocabulary in front of family members was eight years ago when Uncle Ben visited.
"Jonathan…" Martha smiled helplessly, "Stop getting angry, and besides, your heart isn't good."
"Besides, the children are still here."
"I'm fine." Jonathan calmed down.
Yale glanced at Joanna.
Sparks flickered uncertainly in the girl's pupils, evidently feeling anger because of Jonathan's anger.
"Don't you get angry either."
Yale tugged at the hem of the girl's short-sleeved shirt, and let out a sigh of relief only after seeing Joanna return to an expressionless face.
He certainly didn't want to see everyone in this auditorium burned to charcoal.
The Kent family walked toward the exit with the crowd.
"Thank you for coming tonight, Mr. Parker, be careful on your way back."
"Mrs. Jones, I'm sure your beets will have a bountiful harvest this year."
"Old Mike! You must save me two jars of your honey next time."
Rickman stood at the exit of the exhibition tent, shaking hands one by one with every farmer who passed before him, and the people whose hands he shook…
Howard Parker suddenly made a turn, walking straight toward the folding table near the entrance of the exhibition tent that had been ignored by everyone earlier.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Risk Assessment Company.
"Young man!" Old Parker said eagerly, "Can that free assessment of yours help me calculate how much my piece of land is worth?"
Old Mike the beekeeper was the same.
He didn't even walk out of the tent before turning around, pressing his straw hat with one hand and grabbing the assessor's sleeve with the other.
"Can my backyard hill be assessed too? Back in those years, meteorites smashed quite a few craters on it; maybe there are some valuable minerals underneath…"
"I was here first! Parker, get in the fucking line!"
"Mr. Rickman! Mr. Rickman! My land borders the Creek River, great location! Look at mine first!"
"Can we sign the contract directly after the assessment? I can sign tonight!"
Rickman was somewhat flattered.
"Too enthusiastic, everyone, too enthusiastic…"
Seeing this scene, Jonathan Kent stood dumbfounded in the middle of the crowd.
His full chest of anger turned into bewilderment.
"Does everyone not want to farm after all?" Jonathanmuttered.
"Dad," Yale said in a low voice, "Let's go home first."
Jonathan was silent for a moment, looking at the figures scrambling to crowd in front of the folding table…
Some were neighbors whose fences he had helped repair, some were partners who had exchanged seeds with him on the mutual aid board…
"Everyone!" Jonathan suddenly spoke up, "Everyone! Listen to me for a moment!"
The clamor suddenly paused, and the crowd turned back in puzzlement to look at the simple-hearted farmer.
"I know this year is hard," Jonathan sighed, "but this is the land left to us by our ancestors. Once we sign, it will no longer be ours."
"Mr. Rickman said he would rehire you as growers, but what the contract says is that he has the right to decide whether to rehire."
"Today he needs you to plant corn, so he rehires you. What about tomorrow when he doesn't need you?"
"What if the day after tomorrow this land is resold to real estate developers?"
"You won't even have the right to come back and take a look at your own home…"
"Jonathan Kent!"
A short, stout man whom Yale remembered as always greeting people with a cheerful smile now had a blushing red face, "It's easy for you to talk standing up! Your two sons can act as ten strong laborers! Of course you're not in a hurry to sell!"
"Exactly!"
"Doesn't your family still have leftover seeds this year? With seeds, of course you're not panicking!"
"You can't stop us from rushing toward a better future!"
"Did your mutual aid board ever help us? You only helped your neighbors and those who have good relations with you! At least half of the people in our town haven't received your favor! You have no right to stop us!"
"…"
Jonathan choked, and this time the old farmer was completely speechless.
He sighed and put his straw hat back on his head, letting the shadow of the brim cover his eyes, dim and unclear.
And Yale could see the sparks deep in Joanna's pupils flickering uncertainly again, clearly if anyone said one more word, she wouldn't mind turning the entire tent into scorched earth.
"Alright, alright, everyone!"
Rickman's voice came in right at the proper moment.
He parted the crowd and walked over.
"Mr. Kent has his concerns, which is completely understandable. Everyone's feelings for their land are different, and that's precisely why I respect Smallville."
The crowd's anger was smoothed out by his few words.
"Mr. Kent." Rickman stopped in front of Jonathan with a sincere gaze, "Even if the business doesn't work out, I hope we can still be friends."
He extended his right hand, attempting to shake hands with Jonathan.
"Mr. Rickman!" But a blonde young man naturally thrust himself between the two of them, "I've heard so much about you! You must be the famous capitalist of Kansas, right?"
Rickman was stunned for a split second.
Whose punk kid is this?
He narrowed his eyes slightly, and his psychic tendrils instantly spread along his palm and into the other person's brain.
Desire.
His ability was very simple—touching a person's desires and magnifying the thought they wanted most a thousand times!
Blowing the pre-existing desire from a small flame into a blazing fire.
And every farmer who shook hands with him at the exit had their own chord, he just needed to pluck it…
"…?"
Nothing at all.
How could this be possible?!
Ever since he was struck by a meteorite in Smallville back then, his ability had been invincible!
Even Lex Luthor, even the future head of LexCorp, the heir to the Luthor Empire, was merely touched by him at a banquet in Metropolis and thus lured to Smallville!
Rickman suddenly increased his strength!
But the next instant, before he could even react, his head split with pain! The memories of his life flashed past like a revolving lantern, and in a daze he even saw a giant door!
Carved with pillars upon it! Inscribed with inscriptions in gold and silver threads…
"Hum——!"
The gates of heaven swung wide open!
Boundless golden light came from behind the door, and endless steps meandered toward the firmament!
A pair of golden pupils even ignited from the end of the halo!
"Roar…"
It let out a low roar, molten gold flowing.
It shook its mane, and divine lightning descended from the sky!
It is the judgment! It is the scales! It is the divine punishment!
"Lord…"
Rickman muttered in a trance as he was about to fall to his knees, prostrating himself to confess his sins of this lifetime to the deity, he…
"Mr. Rickman?"
A voice yanked him back into the exhibition tent.
Rickman's pupils shrank, discovering that standing in front of him was still that blonde punk.
And he…
Had inexplicably knelt down.
Chapter 24: Everything is for the glory of the Kent Family!
"Mr. Rickman? What's wrong with you?"
Yale seemed a little troubled.
Rickman jerked his hand back abruptly.
What had he just seen?
What was he seeing right now?!
Standing in front of him was just a blonde sixteen-year-old boy.
A boy who was smiling at him.
Those eyes that had reflected the golden stairs and the beasts of judgment like divine punishment in his mental world just moments ago were now as clear as a clear sky, devoid of a single trace of tyranny.
"...!"
Rickman was a bit dazed; he had clearly just knelt down.
"Are you okay? Your complexion doesn't look too good." Yale took half a step back and looked at him with a smile.
"Maybe... my hypoglycemia acted up." Rickman forced a strained smile. "I ran to too many places today and didn't have time for dinner, and I also had a nightmare last night, so my mental state isn't very good."
"You really need to take care of your health, Rickman." Yaleshrugged. "After all, a person has to worry about hundreds of acres of land, hundreds of work contracts, and dozens of farmers who aren't very willing to sell their land all at the same time..."
"It really is easy to have nightmares."
"...Haha." Rickman let out two dry laughs.
"Young people sure know how to talk."
"See you next time, Mr. Rickman." Yale waved and turned to leave.
"Yale."
Jonathan watched the scene unfolding before him in a daze.
Rickman reached out, Yale stepped forward, and the arrogant Rickman suddenly knelt before his son, muttering about kowtowing, and then Yale helped him up...
Every single step of the way left him completely baffled...
"Just now, how did..."
Yale didn't give his old man a chance to speak, naturally walking around to Jonathan's right side and throwing an arm over his shoulder.
"Dad, let's go." Yale said with a straight face. "Any later, and Clark will end up eating our share of the beef stew."
"That's what you call the greater the ability, the greater the appetite."
Jonathan frowned and his lips moved twice.
But in the end, he was guided towards the direction of the parking lot by his son's arm around his shoulder, while the scrambling voices in the exhibition tent behind them gradually faded away...
Martha followed, linking her arm through Jonathan's other one. She didn't ask anything, just gently patted the back of her husband's hand.
Joanna walked at the very back, her eyes staring unblinkingly at the arm Yale had draped over Jonathan's shoulder.
Inside the exhibition tent.
The commotion had mostly receded, the queue in front of the folding table began to thin out, and Rickman was still standing on the steps with a daze in his eyes. His right hand, which had just touched Yale Kent, was also trembling slightly as it hung by his side.
"Mr. Rickman?"
Lex Luthor's voice sounded from behind him.
"Mr. Luthor."
Rickman turned around, a smile welling up on his face once more. "Thank you for your support tonight; the effect was fantastic."
He extended his right hand once more.
Lex chuckled and was about to step forward to shake it, but...
His mind also went hazy for a split second.
"..."
"Mr. Luthor?"
"Apologies." Lex hung his smile back on his face and gave a helpless laugh. "I'm completely drenched right now, not quite suitable for shaking hands, Mr. Rickman. I'll have someone send you a cooperation form later."
"..."
"Of course, of course." Rickman withdrew his hand naturally. "You take care of your matters first, and we can discuss things in detail another day."
Lex nodded, but his gaze was involuntarily drawn towards the exit of the exhibition tent.
A family was walking under the distant streetlights.
Walking at the very front were a middle-aged couple, closely followed by a blonde brother and sister.
What a happy family.
"Mr. Rickman." Lex retracted his gaze.
"Hm?"
"Who was that family just now?"
Rickman glanced in the direction of his line of sight, but then immediately lowered his gaze, not daring to look in that direction ever again.
"The Kent Family." His smile turned a bit stiff. "Local farmers who have put down roots here for several generations. The couple has very high prestige in the town, and their children are also... are also... a talented pair."
"The Kent Family?"
"Right."
Lex nodded slightly, recalling what had happened about three hours ago when a pair of strong hands had hauled him ashore from the river.
That boy had also said his last name was Kent.
"What a truly happy family." The bald man muttered thoughtfully.
...
Parking lot.
The night was slightly cool.
The man who had been fiercely united and making vows with Jonathan before the briefing began was now quietly making a phone call.
"...When does the down payment arrive? He said next week? Alright, I'll go register next Monday... No no no, don't tell Jonathan, you know how he is..."
"...Take the land certificate out of the bank safety deposit box."
"Go early tomorrow morning."
"..."
Yale didn't turn back to look at Jonathan's expression...
But he knew what his old man was thinking at this moment...
Jonathan Kent didn't need Super Hearing to see what had happened; he only needed to see the way the townspeople avoided his gaze...
"Jonathan..." Martha said softly, "Let's go home first."
"I know." Jonathan gently patted the back of his wife's hand resting on his forearm. "I'm fine, honey."
"..."
Yale frowned and was about to say something when someone tugged at his sleeve.
He turned his head to look.
Joanna's expression was as indifferent as ever.
"What's wrong?" Yale asked.
The girl pulled a document out of her pocket and handed it to him.
"..."
"Your little hands aren't very clean, Ms. Joanna." Yalecouldn't help teasing.
"Found it." Joanna said coldly, her eyes staring straight ahead, as if looking at the boy one more time would pollute her golden heart.
Yale couldn't help laughing, lowering his head to examine the document in his hands.
Internal Client Rating Manual.
It detailed the land area, irrigation conditions, debt status of every single farm in Smallville, and even noted the psychological state of each head of household.
Greenfield Agrochemical?
Yale closed the document.
But what concerned him more was Lex Luthor.
Was Luthor also catalyzed over by Rickman's ability?
The bald man could be hypnotized, but it was also unlikely for the bald man to be hypnotized...
Yale folded the document and shoved it into his pocket, turning his head to look at the expressionless face of the girl beside him.
"The things you pick up are getting more and more expensive." He twitched one corner of his mouth up. "Next time, are you planning to pick up a company for me?"
"If you don't want it, give it back to me." Joanna's expression didn't change as she reached out to snatch it back.
But before her fingers could even reach Yale's cuff, Yalehad already taken a step ahead, raising his hand to press down on top of her head.
Joanna's body stiffened.
"Who said I didn't want it?" Yale said solemnly. "Detective Joanna has made outstanding contributions to the Kent Family's intelligence enterprise today, and is worthy of an award. As a reward back home..."
"Childish."
Joanna slapped his hand away with a hint of annoyance in her voice, grumpily hiding her side profile beneath her blonde hair, leaving only a small piece of her blushing earlobe exposed under the streetlight.
"You really don't want a reward?" Yale held back a smile, tilting his head to look for the girl's eyes.
However, Joanna abruptly continued walking forward, giving him zero chance, and her pair of canvas shoes had somehow been taken off; at that moment, they were dangling from her right hand and swinging back and forth, making Yale feel a bit heartbroken—how could such prime ingredients step on the gro—cough cough... this was just too hard on her body!
Fortunately, for a girl equivalent to half a Superman, her bare feet stepping on the gravel road was no different from stepping on cotton; not a single pebble could cause her any discomfort.
Come to think of it? Why on earth did Joanna hate wearing shoes so much?
Yale rubbed his chin, just about to open his mouth to ask.
But the girl had already stopped and turned her head to look at him, the night wind blowing up her blonde hair as it tried to cover those slightly reddened ear tips.
"Reward..."
"Hm?"
"What is the reward?" she asked sullenly.
"Homecoming is coming up soon." Yale kept pace lightheartedly. "How about buying you an evening gown? Let's go to Metropolis together; I think Clark also needs a top-notch suit."
"What kind of reward is that." Joanna lowered her brow tips in dissatisfaction, looking somewhat coldly furious.
The precursor to hissing appeared.
"For the reputation of the Kent Family." Yale grinned. "Homecoming is a town-wide event, and you represent the facade of the Kent Family. You can't let Lana outshine you, can you?"
That vixen again...
"...Who would go compare themselves to a woman whose hair color is like rust?"
"Then you don't like evening gowns?"
"If it's for family honor..."
"Of course it's for our Kent Family, everything is for the glory of the Kent Family!" Yale held back his laughter. "Or do you want to attend the dance wearing this T-shirt printed with a lightning mouse?"
"I can go buy it by myself." Joanna added.
"Then we'll leave separately when the time comes." Yalesmoothly complied. "We'll go our separate ways, and finally bump into each other by chance in a Metropolisdepartment store. Then you pretend you don't know me, and I'll pretend to be a helpful citizen just passing by, helping you critique your match."
"Shut up." The girl hissed lowly.
Her childhood habit was just impossible to break.
Yale couldn't help laughing, raising his hand once more to reach for her golden head.
Joanna turned her head away with a face full of disgust, trying to dodge.
But in the end, she still failed to dodge Yale's big hand, and could only turn away her angel-like exquisite face, knitting her brow into an arc, expressionless as Yale pressed down on her head and kept walking forward, her bare toes silently pressing one shallow print after another onto the road surface.
If someone were to look from behind...
This picture looked very much like an irresponsible owner walking a...
"Yale! Joanna! Get in the car!"
Jonathan opened the driver's side door, the old farmer still managing to force a hearty smile before the kids.
Yale withdrew his hand from the top of the girl's head.
"Dad, I still have some things to take care of." He raised his voice towards the pickup truck. "I need to go find Lana to check this month's manga layout. Her house isn't far from here, I'll just walk back."
Joanna's motion of getting ready to get in the car abruptly paused mid-air. She suddenly whipped her head around, deep within her azure eyes, sparks flickered on and off.
But before Yale could make eye contact with her, she turned her head back again.
"It's already past ten." Martha glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
"Ten o'clock equals ten in the morning for manga artists." Yale grinned. "You guys go back first, I'll be quick."
"Then be careful." Jonathan didn't think much of it, sticking his head out from the driver's seat and adding earnestly, "Watch out for cars walking the night road."
"Don't be too late." Joanna added.
"You make sure not to wait up too late for me either." Yalepatted the girl's shoulder. "Get in the car, go to sleep early tonight."
Watching the pickup kick up dust and speed away, Yaleturned and walked into the night road opposite to the Kent Farm.
But as he walked and walked, his steps gradually slowed down.
The light of the street lamp fell on his palm, and he recalled the moment just now when he rubbed Joanna's head.
He hadn't used any superpowers just then...
And Joanna's reaction speed was several times the speed of sound...
Theoretically speaking...
Her dynamic vision could capture a bullet leaving the chamber.
How could she possibly fail to dodge it.
"What a clumsy act..."
She clearly thrust her head over herself to beg to be petted.
Yale couldn't help laughing as he faced the cold wind, striding deep into the boundless night of Smallville.
Chapter 25: The Masked Hero Sleeps Soundly!
Kansas.
A country radio station played inside the Cadillac driving along the highway, sounding cozy and leisurely, but the hands on the steering wheel were trembling slightly.
Rickman swallowed hard and subconsciously looked at the rearview mirror again.
It was completely empty.
Only occasionally did a long-distance freight truck roar past from the opposite direction.
But Rickman's heart still wouldn't stop pounding.
That damn door…
Ever since he touched the blonde teenager's palm in the exhibition booth…
Every time he blinked now, he could see the afterimage of the door…
Carved flying pillars… winding stairs… and at the end of the stairs…
A silver-white behemoth with a mane flowing with molten gold.
"Impossible…" Rickman muttered, "He's just a high school student… just a damn blonde brat!"
Taking a deep breath, Rickman forced himself to focus on the road ahead, turning up the radio volume by two notches, trying to drown out the roar of the lion in his mind with the singing.
Right… just like that…
Rickman gently hummed along to the rhythm.
The faint smell of country soil, the scent of grass, and an extraordinary moon.
Rickman subconsciously glanced at it…
Very big… very round… just like being in…
101 Reading, 101 Reading website solves book shortage, ultra-practical, fully hand-typed, error-free station.
Shoulder-to-shoulder with the moon in the sky?!
Rickman's pupils shrank.
The pointer on the dashboard began to jump, the radio singing became intermittent, and even outside the car window…
There were large clumps of cotton-like cumulus clouds…
Sweeping past both sides of the Cadillac, occasional lightning silently jumping deep within the clouds, illuminating for a fleeting second before sinking back into the gaps of the clouds.
He was flying above a sea of clouds.
To be precise…
It was his Cadillac flying high in the sky, flying beneath the moon, right below the clouds…
"Crack!"
Accompanied by a harsh roar, Rickman blankly lowered his head, only to see a pair of hands tearing his Cadillac apart from the center of the chassis!
"Crack—! Crack—"
The cracks spread, and molten gold light burst from within!
"It's you…" the middle-aged man muttered, the golden stairs and the lion's golden pupils from his memory flashing across his eyes again!
"Boom—"
The car body was torn in half.
The left half plummeted into the cumulus clouds, and the right half plummeted into the sea of thunder.
And he was suspended high in the air, his neck coldly gripped by a hand, behind him was the silver moon cut by the sea of clouds, and before him were the dotted town lights on the Kansas plains.
In the moonlight, the face beneath the blonde hair appeared far too young.
But those eyes…
The pupils were melted gold, with contempt roiling deep within them.
"It's you…"
Rickman muttered, tears and cold sweat sliding down his face…
The corners of his mouth twitched, truly unable to find a suitable expression between crying and laughing to respond to the scene before him…
A sixteen-year-old high school student was choking him by the neck with one hand, hovering at the edge of the stratosphere, with a bottomless abyss and cotton-like sea of clouds beneath his feet.
"It really is… you…" Rickman laughed and cried, "I knew it… I knew it was you…"
"God…"
…
Desiree Atkins sat by her bedroom window.
At this moment, her left hand was casually toying with the tips of her hair, while her right hand gently reached toward the hem of her slip nightgown.
The moonlight outside the window was truly beautiful.
Yet she was thinking of someone.
To be honest, this pissed her off.
She was Desiree, and Desiree never tossed and turned late at night because of a man…
Usually, it was men who tossed and turned because of her.
This was a privilege bestowed upon her by her ability.
But that boy broke that privilege.
Yale Kent.
She could feel that there was an unprecedented gravitational pull on the boy, attracting her in a way she couldn't control or shut off, leaving her utterly captivated.
"Damn it…"
Desiree suddenly snapped back to reality, only to find herself already drenched in cold sweat unconsciously.
She sighed and pulled back her slightly trembling right hand.
Looking somewhat emptily at the silver thread between her fingers.
It would be great if he came to find her…
Well… completely impossible…
That guy used her as a tool with a righteous air, punching in every day and leaving right after, too lazy to even say an extra word, how could he possibly come in the middle of the night…
"Swish…"
Leaves rustled.
Desiree looked out the window in disbelief.
In the night, a scarlet gold lit up.
Him?
Could it be today?
Desiree swallowed hard.
Her slippery legs rubbed gently together, the skin on the inside of her knees pressing and separating, making a sticky sound.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
Desiree hurriedly pulled open the window.
"Yale…"
She muttered, hooking the strap of her nightgown, leaning forward and reaching out to hug the boy, "Am I dreaming…"
"Splat…"
A hand pressed against her face, pushing her back involuntarily.
"You're not dreaming, move in a bit."
The young man vaulted through the window, his tone carrying disdain.
…
Desiree fell silent.
She had just prepared a full set of midnight scripts, and her lines were all brewed up…
But who could tell her…
Why did the male lead smear her face with his palm right off the bat and tell her to move in a bit?
Desiree rolled her eyes, sighing as she retreated to the edge of the bed.
Then she looked in astonishment at what Yale was holding in his right hand…
"Thud."
With a flick of the young man's hand, a middle-aged man appeared on the floor.
"This is… Bob Rickman?" Desiree couldn't help covering her mouth.
"You know him?" Yale asked in surprise.
"Kansas's famous capitalist…" Desiree nodded, "Bob Rickman, the boss of Greenfield Agrochemical. He conducted a land acquisition in Salisbury, and a dispute broke out later…"
"Could it be…"
Desiree raised her head to look at Yale, her eyes flickering with both surprise and excitement in the moonlight.
"Yale, if you need to, I know a place with quite a few crocodiles… Of course, bacteria might not be out of the question either? But if we're pursuing efficiency, I still think crocodiles are faster."
"Sigh… If I had known, I would have studied chemistry, otherwise I wouldn't have had to—"
…
"What on earth is your thought process constructed of?" Yale asked sincerely.
"…Pheromones?"
…
"Stop thinking about random nonsense, Ms. Atkins." Yaleshifted his gaze away from the woman, looking down at the unconscious Rickman on the floor, "I just need you to hypnotize him, using your pheromones."
"Just hypnosis?"
Desiree sighed regretfully, but then her expression turned somewhat hesitant.
"What is it?" Yale frowned.
"Today…" Desiree's eyes drifted uncertainly, "I was drained dry by you… Have you forgotten?"
"There's a limit to daily pheromone secretion. When you punch in every afternoon, you basically suck away my entire quota for the day." She sighed, "Right now, to hypnotize an adult male's consciousness… my pheromone concentration is still short by at least three to four units."
Yale pondered for a moment.
Well… this was indeed a problem he hadn't considered.
Although Desiree's pheromones were ineffective against him, as a biochemical product, their daily output was limited by gland secretion. The more he extracted from her every day, the less was left for her own use.
"Then I'll come back tomorrow…"
But before he could finish speaking, the hem of his clothes was tugged.
Desiree pinched the hem of his shirt.
"Actually, there's another way to boost the amount." She said in a low voice.
"What?" Yale was stunned.
Desiree swallowed hard, her thighs beginning to rub together unconsciously.
"You'll know if you come to make up a lesson with your teacher. Yale, you definitely haven't been studying your biology knowledge properly lately." She spoke with righteous dignity.
Then she released the boy's hem, signaling Yale to walk towards the room next to the bedroom that she had converted into a simple laboratory.
Looking at the woman's back, Yale was also somewhat surprised.
Pheromone secretion could actually be artificially catalyzed?
There was indeed some kind of external stimulus in biology that could activate the gland's emergency secretion mechanism…
But what should it rely on?
Exercise? Temperature changes? A surge of adrenaline?
But regardless, if he could truly master this method, perhaps he could further accelerate his template progress a step faster.
…
A moment later.
"Thud."
Yale walked back into the bedroom somewhat awkwardly.
Desiree came out behind him, her cheeks flushed with a red glow, her lips slightly parted.
"Darling, you were way too light-handed…" She limped over to the vanity holding her buttocks, "Next time, you can be a bit heavier."
"I don't think there will be a next time." Yale kept a straight face.
"Is that so?"
Desiree could hardly hide her disappointment, but seeming to think of something else, she quickly reached out and patted it, stirring up a wave.
"Mmm…" She looked intoxicated.
…
Yale's eyelid twitched, peeling his gaze away from the woman's increasingly dangerous face, and turning it toward the unconscious Rickman on the floor.
"Bang!"
He went over and gave him a kick.
"Cough—"
Rickman snapped up from unconsciousness, but before he could recover his senses—
Fragrance filled the air, and pheromones poured out in full force.
Rickman's pupils began to slowly dilate…
"Done." Desiree nodded at Yale, "He can hear every word you say and answer every question you have, but he won't remember any details after waking up."
Yale narrowed his eyes.
"Rickman, what did you come to Smallville for?" he asked.
"To make money, isn't that obvious nonsense?"
…
Desiree couldn't help covering her mouth and laughing out loud.
Yale's mouth twitched, and he turned back to shoot a fierce glare.
Desiree responded with a charming smile, even tilting her head to let the moonlight fall into the full cleavage of her chest.
The boy felt his eye sockets grow a little warm.
"What is your ability?" He withdrew his gaze and cleared his throat.
"I can stimulate the desires in people's hearts."
"Anyone... As long as I touch them, what they desire most in their hearts becomes the only thing that matters... And then they will do anything to get it."
"What is your relationship with Lex Luthor?"
"Nothing much... I touched him at a banquet, and he already had a desire to prove himself in his heart... I just amplified that thought, making him feel that coming with me to Smallville to invest would surely make a huge profit."
"So Luthor was manipulated here by you."
"I don't like the word manipulated... I prefer to say... going with the flow. He originally wanted to prove that he was better than his old man, and I just helped him find a direction."
Yale nodded thoughtfully.
Then he pulled a document out of his pocket.
"What is your relationship with Shield?"
"I touched their regional manager at an industry forum last month. What he wanted in his heart was a promotion and a salary raise, and I lured him into feeling that this project in Smallville was viable and could make a lot of money."
"Also for making money?"
"Of course to make money." Rickman chuckled matter-of-factly, "Acquiring land at low prices, mineral development, commissions from farmers..."
"Conservatively estimated, the net profit can be over ten million dollars."
"However, this fool's conscience seemed to bother him, and he also planned to set up some kind of agricultural support foundation... to help disaster-stricken farmers..."
Yale pondered for a moment.
"Do you have any connections with the state department of agriculture?" Yale continued to ask.
"Duh." Rickman sneered, "Otherwise how could I have come to Smallville? I am... with Director Powell of the Department of Agriculture..."
His voice suddenly halted.
Apparently...
Even under a hypnotic state...
The human body still instinctively executed a set of self-protection procedures.
The sensitivity of certain information would cause even a brain completely covered by pheromones to hesitate briefly.
The human body is truly miraculous.
Yale clicked his tongue.
"How long can the commands you give last?" He turned to Desiree.
"For a normal person, about a month." Desiree put away her smile and gently tapped her lower lip, "However..."
"If you just said he is also a powered individual... his mental resistance will be much higher than an ordinary person's, and the decay rate of the pheromones will also be faster."
"How long specifically?"
"Three to seven days."
Yale nodded.
"Make him leave Smallville, make him feel that the project in this town no longer has any profit margin, make him cancel the agreements with Shield, Luthor, and all partners, and then donate all the assets under his name."
Desiree nodded, looked at Rickman, and issued the command.
The fragrance surged forth once more.
Rickman's body relaxed completely.
...
On the path.
"Sir." The driver in the driver's seat of the Rolls-Royce glanced at the rearview mirror, "The visit to Kent Farm is over, where are we going next—"
"Go back to the estate my good father built for me first—"
"Wait."
Lex's gaze flashed, and he immediately signaled the driver to stop.
"Mr. Rickman?" He rolled down the car window and exclaimed in surprise, "So late... What are you doing here?"
The man on the path, walking like a walking corpse, stopped, turned his head to look at the bald man inside the car window. The moonlight shone on his pale face, making his slightly unfocused eyes look somewhat terrifying.
"Mr. Luthor." He said lowly, "Regarding the cooperation, after much hesitation, let's cancel it."
"Cancelled?"
Lex was startled inwardly.
Could this fool have already discovered the loophole he laid out in the contract?
"Mr. Rickman, are you joking? Tonight's briefing session had a very good effect; at least twenty farmers expressed preliminary intentions to sell..."
"There is no profit left." Rickman shook his head, "The risk-reward ratio of this project is not worth continuing to invest in. Tomorrow I will contact Shield and the provincial Department of Agriculture to withdraw all agreements and evaluation applications."
"..."
Lex fell silent.
Something is wrong.
Very wrong.
"Understood." The bald man's smile became warm again, "In the business world, plans can't keep up with changes."
"Then let's chat another day, Mr. Rickman."
"Farewell."
Rickman nodded and turned to continue walking in the direction of the motel.
The car window rose.
Lex looked at the man's receding back shrinking in the rearview mirror.
Smallville really does have something weird about it.
Ever since that meteor shower twelve years ago smashed him bald...
And burned away all his childhood memories...
He knew that this small town on the Kansas plains was by no means just corn and cow dung as it appeared on the surface.
But Lex Luthor also knew better than anyone else...
Releasing curiosity too early would only expose one's weaknesses.
If it weren't for Rickman using some unknown means at a banquet in Metropolis to make him feel the impulse to go take a look at Smallville...
He might never have set foot on this land that left him with childhood trauma in his entire life.
But he had already come...
He had already seen it, he had already obtained it...
The bald man pulled a small lead box out of his pocket.
This box was a souvenir he had his housekeeper bring back from Smallville after the meteor shower back then.
"Snap!"
The box lid opened.
A green stone lay quietly in the lead box.
Lex Luthor closed his eyes thoughtfully.
Endurance...
In Smallville...
He needed to release his curiosity at the right time.
...
In the early hours of the morning.
Yale Kent landed at the front door and quietly pushed it open.
The lights in the living room were off, with only a faint streak of warm light seeping out from the direction of the kitchen.
It was probably the nightlight above the stove.
The considerate Mama Martha would specially leave a light on for family members who got up to drink water in the middle of the night.
As well as for certain guys who didn't sleep in the middle of the night...
Yale sighed helplessly.
Super Vision naturally captured Joanna curled up in the corner of the sofa in the darkness.
Turning her head, the girl's sky-blue eyes stared intently at him.
Her blonde hair was scattered, her slender legs were hugged to her chest, and her ten fair toes were subconsciously digging into the sofa cushion because he opened the door.
"Didn't I tell you to sleep early?" Yale spoke in a low voice.
Joanna, however, frowned, her eyes sweeping over his whole body, her nostrils twitching slightly.
Yale's body stiffened all over.
Fortunately, the girl didn't say anything strange, just stood up and walked toward the stairs.
Yale couldn't help feeling a bit relieved.
Fortunately, when he came back, he passed through a cumulonimbus cloud.
Otherwise, Joanna's super senses would definitely have captured the pheromones secreted by Desiree. Otherwise, given Joanna's territorial awareness, she would never let any strange scent stay in this home for long.
"Where is everyone?" The boy lowered his voice and caught up to the golden figure on the stairs.
Joanna stopped at the corner, the moonlight making her profile look peerlessly cold.
"Clark had a fight with Uncle Jonathan tonight." Her voice sounded muffled, "In the end, Auntie scolded them and made them both go rest, after all, Uncle's heart isn't very good."
"A fight?" Yale rubbed his temples helplessly, "Then I'll talk to him tomorrow."
"But now... you need to go to sleep." The boy said seriously.
But Joanna didn't move, just silently watching him with those sky-blue eyes.
"..."
"Good night," she said.
"Click—"
The room door closed.
Yale also breathed a sigh of relief, casually pushing open his bedroom door.
He walked to the window, pulled back the curtains, and collapsed headfirst onto the bed.
Tonight really couldn't be put off anymore!
If he didn't attend again today, the fluffy kitty might really launch a cat impeachment against him in the dream realm!
The council president position he conned his way into would probably be in jeopardy.
"Zzzz~"
In just a split second, Yale fell into a dream.
The sound of breathing gradually grew long and steady.
"Creak—!"
But the quiet turning sound of door hinges rang out, and a fluffy golden head poked out from the crack of the door.
"Yale?"
A soft call.
The girl, changed into a white lace nightgown, softly stepped across the door frame, her ruddy, exquisite toes curling slightly, revealing the owner's hesitation.
"Creak..."
The wooden door closed.
In the end, the girl hesitated and pulled her legs back behind the threshold.
The footsteps gradually faded...
"Creak..."
The wooden door opened once again.
A small patch of white night fog silently stopped in front of Yale's bed.
The girl crouched down, resting her chin on the edge of the bed, close enough to feel the boy's breaths puffing over the bridge of her nose in waves.
She half-closed her eyes, comfortably dozing off.
"Yale..."
Joanna's lips moved again, but no sound came out.
Only the airflow traveled back and forth between her lips and teeth.
After a long while...
The girl quietly looked at the figure plunged into dreams on the bed, as if she had finally made up her mind.
The night wind was loose and scattered, the moonlight hazy and dim.
The sleeping shadow was dragged off the bed, overlapping with the shadow of the waking person.