Chapter 7: The Golden Lion of Smallville.
Noon.
Smallville High School.
Clark yawned as he pushed open the door to The Torchoffice.
The office was not large; three walls were covered with clipped articles, and a long table occupied the exact center of the room, piled with outdated copies of the Daily Planetand an old-fashioned computer.
Chloe was sitting in front of the computer, her short blonde hair tucked behind her ears, her fingers dancing across the keyboard.
She was the only person at Smallville High School who ran the school paper like the Washington Post, and by sixteen, she had already displayed investigative talent that gave the town sheriff a headache.
Clark's friend, Pete Ross, was curled up in the old sofa in the corner; as Chloe's self-proclaimed chief assistant, his main responsibility seemed to be wiping out snacks.
"Yo."
Clark leaned against the doorframe, raising a hand in greeting.
"Clark Kent," Chloe said without turning her head. "You were late for second period again this morning. Ms. Sedgwick said that if you use the broken family tractor as an excuse a third time, she's going to drive out to your house herself to verify it."
"It really is broken."
Clark walked in, swiped a lettuce leaf from next to Pete's sandwich, and popped it into his mouth. "Though next time I'll come up with a new one, like cows being abducted by aliens or something."
"Hey!"
"You…"
Turning around somewhat indignantly, Chloe suddenly seemed to think of something, her irritation instantly dissipating. "Have you looked at the Homecoming King candidate voting yet?"
Clark shook his head while chewing the lettuce leaf.
"Then guess who this year's favorite is."
"The captain?" Clark said casually. "He is every year."
Chloe shook her head.
"This year is different. The number one favorite this year is a Kent."
Clark's expression paused.
"Me?"
"Of course not you, it's your younger brother."
Chloe walked over to the campus relationship chart pinned to the wall, which she used to track school gossip.
"Yale Kent. Excellent in character and academics, top three in grade GPA, a substitute for the decathlon in the KansasHigh School Olympic League, though everyone knows he's just too lazy to take the field. An unofficial strategist who helped the Smallville High School football team win the playoff championship, and the absolute number one in community service hours among high school boys across Kansas. When teachers mention him, the word they use is 'perfection', and when classmates mention him, the word they use is—"
"The Golden Lion of Smallville."
The girl chanted like a bard.
Clark was somewhat dumbfounded.
"You're talking about Yale?" he confirmed once more. "My brother Yale?"
"Yale from Kent Farm, your brother Yale."
Chloe spread her hands.
"…"
Clark fell silent.
"He's just a slacker," he said in disbelief. "His daily routine at home is lying in the dilapidated lounge chair by the cornfield soaking up the sun, refusing to budge until my mom calls us for dinner. Every time it's his turn to feed the chickens, he finds a way to pass the work off to me. Last week he spent a full forty minutes convincing my dad to let him do one less row of weeding. His eloquence should be put to use as a lawyer, not some Homecoming King."
Chloe and Pete exchanged glances and shook their heads together.
"Believe whatever you want," Chloe turned back to keep typing on the keyboard. "Anyway, before the voting deadline, whether you want to campaign for him or sabotage him, I have channels for both."
"I have football practice this afternoon," Clark was already retreating toward the door. "You guys keep busy with your conspiracy theories."
"Remember to hold back your strength."
Chloe added without raising her head.
"Got it."
Clark shrugged and pushed open the door to leave.
…
Sunlight slanted down from the high windows into the hallway.
As Clark passed the locker area, his peripheral vision caught a figure at the other end of the hallway.
Long blonde hair, gray hoodie.
"Joanna." He jogged a couple of steps to catch up.
Until the strides of the brother and sister fell into the same rhythm.
"Where's Yale?" Clark turned his head to ask.
"I don't know." The girl didn't even glance at Clark.
"Oh."
Clark didn't press further either.
He was long used to this dynamic; after all, Joanna was like that with everyone—cold and quiet.
The two walked out of the teaching building, the distant artificial lake shimmering with broken silver ripples, and old trees by the lake drooped long branches that almost touched the water's surface,
A group of people had gathered under the tree.
Clark's gaze was drawn by the brightly colored team uniforms.
Several members of the Smallville tennis team and the cheerleaders were on the grassy slope by the lake. At the center of the crowd was Whitney Fordman, half-kneeling on one leg in front of a girl.
The girl was… Lana Lang?
Her auburn long hair cascaded over her shoulders, a butterfly brooch was pinned to the collar of her light pink cardigan, and her skirt fluttered gently when the breeze blew.
Clark had to admit that Lana Lang was a qualified cheerleader; just standing there was enough to attract everyone's gaze.
Because of this, even someone like Whitney, the tennis team captain and school bully, would pull a small box out of his pocket.
Even the time and place he chose were clearly not a coincidence.
Noon, by the lake, surrounded by teammates and cheerleaders, he needed an audience to complete this courtship ritual.
"This is for you, Lana."
Whitney opened the box.
Sunlight fell on a silver chain, with a green stone embedded right in the middle of it.
"I know you lost your previous bracelet, so I found this one."
As his voice fell, a few jeering whistles and the tacit giggles of the cheerleader girls sounded around them.
Lana's lips curved upward, her eyes crinkling, and she looked quite happy.
But Clark could see that her shoulders were somewhat rigid.
She was not happy.
Clark didn't know why he could be so certain of this; perhaps it was because there was a visible chasm between Lana's smile and the smile she wore when she was truly happy.
Last week, when she bent over in the hallway to tease a stray cat that had wandered into the school, she smiled so hard her eyes narrowed into slits, but at this moment her eyes carried a sense of unease.
Clark's footsteps unconsciously drew closer.
But before he could take a few steps forward—
"Hum—"
The big boy suddenly staggered, feeling himself losing his strength.
Is the sun too strong? he thought to himself.
And right in the gap where he hesitated whether to keep approaching or step back, a crisp voice suddenly rang out.
"Gifts are supposed to make people happy, not feel like a hostage exchange."
"Crack—!"
The familiar sound of cracking melon seeds.
And in all of Smallville, there was only one person who liked cracking those kinds of sunflower seeds.
The lakeside went quiet for a split second, followed immediately by the crowd starting to murmur and discuss.
"Yale?!"
"Why is he here?"
"There's a good show to watch. Yale the Lion and Whitney the Bull, who do you think will win? I bet on Whitney; at least he's actually played in matches."
"My ass you're betting, when has Yale ever actually thrown hands himself?"
Whitney's smile froze on his face.
Hearing the commotion, Pete walked out from the direction of the teaching building, caught sight of this scene from afar, and gasped.
"Yale isn't going to fight Whitney, is he? The Homecoming King voting is coming up."
Chloe stopped beside him holding her interview notebook, her gaze sweeping past Yale, who looked more composed than anyone else.
"Does that matter?" she whispered.
"What?"
"Yale doesn't care about any king at all." Chloe shrugged.
Pete opened his mouth, unable to retort.
Whitney obviously sensed this as well.
He was still maintaining the half-kneeling posture, the smile on his face freezing bit by bit.
"What business of yours is this, Kent?"
Yale didn't speak, simply walking forward on his own accord.
The onlookers automatically stepped aside to both sides, and the wall of people that had just been crowding around Whitney cleared a path for Yale just like that.
Joanna stood on the other side of the path, watching Yalewalk toward Lana.
The young girl's lips pressed into a very thin line, her hands shoved into her hoodie pockets, her fists clenching involuntarily.
Meddling in other people's business.
Lana could speak for herself. Whitney hadn't actually hurt her. Why did Yale have to go over there? Why of all people her?! Could it be that Yale…
"Joanna…" Clark said weakly from the side. "I don't feel so well."
Glancing at her feeble cousin, Joanna looked toward Yale.
Right, it must be because of that green stone; the fact that Clark feared green stones was no secret among the three of them.
Yale wasn't doing it for Lana; he was doing it for Clark.
Joanna repeated that sentence over and over in her mind.
As Yale passed by Whitney, he casually picked up the green stone bracelet from the box Whitney had opened, examining it under the sunlight for a moment.
"It really is none of my business."
"But I think this stone of yours is pretty ugly, and my tyrannical will makes my hands itch."
Someone nearby couldn't hold it in and let out a snort of laughter.
Whitney whipped his head around, and the laughter immediately lowered, but it didn't disappear—instead turning into a patch of irrepressible snickering.
"He wouldn't actually dare to throw it, right?"
"That's what Whitney just bought…"
"Whoosh—!"
Yale casually raised a hand.
"Thud."
Ripples spread outward.
Clark heard the roaring thunder surging through his blood vessels once more.
"You guy—!"
Whitney suddenly turned around, fury burning up from the depths of his eyes.
"That's Clark Kent's younger brother, Whitney," one of his teammates said nervously.
A new commotion immediately broke out among the crowd.
"Clark's younger brother?"
"The Clark who knocked over all the veteran football players?"
"Wait, how come I remember the football team guys usually hang out real close with Yale too… Oh… right, Yale Kent, Clark Kent…"
"…"
Clark Kent.
A monster who, on his very first day of school, pinned all the veteran players to the ground and thrashed them during tryouts. Because of his appearance, Whitney failed to make the football team and could only join Smallville's desolate tennis team, sitting on the bench for an entire season watching his spot get occupied by a damn farm boy.
And now, the farm boy's younger brother was sizing him up with the gaze of someone looking at a clown.
"Do you believe that right now I—"
"What do you want to do?"
Whitney's vision blurred, and before he could react, his collar was already grabbed, his feet leaving the ground.
"What do you want to do to my younger brother?!"
"Cl… Clark…" He stammered, unable to speak clearly.
The guy holding him up in front of him was half a head taller than him, with shoulders a size wider, and his blue eyes were blazing with fury right now. Whitney swore he wasn't seeing things—there was actual fire burning in this guy's eyes!
The voices that had just been shouting about the bull versus the lion were completely gone.
AI Model: gemini-3.6-flash
The lakeside was so quiet that only the rustling of leaves could be heard.
"Get lost!"
"Bang—!"
The tennis team captain was tossed onto the ground just like that.
"My god..."
"Who was betting on Whitney just now?"
"I bet he could last ten seconds. Technically, I haven't lost yet."
"You clearly said just now you wanted to see the Kent brothers get beaten up!"
A surge of humiliation rushed to his head. Whitney propped himself up, wanting to say something to save face, but as his eyes passed over Clark's shoulder and saw the scene behind him, his blood ran cold.
Yale was still munching on melon seeds on the grassy slope, but beside him stood six or seven of his football teammates.
The big guy leading them was running back Derek Fox, followed by the linebacker twin duo, Mike and Michael.
Whitney turned his face away and slunk off toward the parking lot with his two lackeys.
Clark let out a breath and turned around.
"Hey—Clark!"
Derek waved at him from five or six paces away. "Are you offense or defense for this afternoon's scrimmage? The new coach said you can choose."
"Offense, I guess."
Clark walked over and bumped fists with his teammates as they approached.
But even as he exchanged pleasantries with his teammates, he noticed something.
As Derek passed by Yale, he naturally reached out to bump fists as well.
"Yale, thanks to your notes on that physics assignment last time, Sedgwick gave me a B+! That's the highest grade of my life."
"Don't celebrate too early." Yale finished the last few melon seeds. "Next week's exam covers a different scope."
"Huh?!"
Michael, one of the twins, stood next to Yale.
"Yale, how did you say we should connect the backup generator in the auditorium for Homecoming? That diagram you drew last time was perfect."
"So, did I draw a series circuit or a parallel circuit last time?"
"...Is there a difference?"
Yale sighed, pulled a pen from his pocket, and drew a few lines and arrows on the back of Michael's hand.
"Like this. Got it?"
Staring blankly at this scene, Clark realized that his lazy slacker of a younger brother was naturally at the center of the crowd...
It was also then that he suddenly remembered a completely ordinary matter: Dad, Jonathan, had initially opposed him joining the football team. It was Yale who helped prove that he needed a place where he could learn to control his strength while enjoying a normal youth, which allowed him to join...
"Clark!"
"Hmm?"
Clark snapped back to reality and saw that Yale had walked over next to him at some point.
"You also find these bully dramas annoying, right? Though you could consider changing your pose next time—like holding them upside down by the feet. It has way more visual impact." The young man had a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"...I'm not like you. I don't do flashy stunts."
"Suit yourself."
Yale raised an eyebrow and looked at Lana behind Clark, his intention beyond obvious.
Clark: "..."
He turned around to take a look.
Lana was standing in the same spot as before. The empty box Whitney left behind was still tossed on the ground, and she was looking down at it, seemingly hesitating over something.
"I just thought what that guy did was wrong," Clarklowered his voice.
"Stepping up for justice?"
"That's exactly what it is."
"Right, right, driven purely by a sense of justice, nothing to do with the cheerleader captain." Yale shrugged.
Clark laughed out of sheer annoyance. That was just how his brother was—he loved laying Clark's thoughts bare in the open light, then watching him squirm in embarrassment.
Damn it, he was definitely going to sneakily eat his strawberry sundae tonight!
"..."
Is this guy thinking about something bad?
Hearing Clark's accelerating heart rate, Yale grew a bit vigilant.
"...Where's Joanna?" He changed the subject.
"Over there."
Clark pointed to the path leading to the parking lot.
The girl was walking away with her back to them, her blonde high ponytail swaying gently in the autumn wind, clearly with no intention of stopping to wait for anyone.
"Bye, man." Yale patted Clark on the shoulder. "We're not bringing you along for lunch today."
Clark let out a helpless laugh as he watched Yale walk in the direction of that receding back.
Yale and Joanna—the two people closest to him, and also the two he could least figure out.
Nodding to the group, Clark was about to turn around and head toward the training field.
"Clark!"
Lana stopped him, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear as she looked up slightly at the boy who towered over her.
"Can I talk to you for a moment?"
Clark froze for a moment.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Derek and the twins snickering in the distance, shoving each other as they retreated toward the training field, even giving him a thumbs-up before leaving.
"...Sure."
Lana looked around before bringing Clark behind a large willow tree. She lowered her eyes, appearing somewhat nervous for some reason.
"Your brother... Yale, right?"
"?"
"What does he usually... do at school? I mean in his spare time."
Clark's brows furrowed slightly.
"Lana, just ask whatever you want to ask directly."
Lana bit her lip.
"I used to have a green stone bracelet... left to me by my mother." She spoke a bit faster. "And then I remembered that after school the day before yesterday, when I went to the dance room, I bumped into Yale standing inside, right in front of my locker... He... This might be a coincidence, but..."
"You think Yale stole your bracelet." Clark's voice deepened.
"I didn't say..."
"Every single word you just said added up means exactly that."
Lana raised her head and met Clark's gaze.
The expression on the boy's face was hard to describe, but indifference was undeniably predominant.
"Lana." Clark stepped back with a frown. "If you have evidence, you should show me the evidence, or go straight to Principal Waddington."
"I just wanted you to help me..."
"You have no proof, yet you want me to help you investigate my brother."
The shimmering light on the lake surface reflected in the boy's blue eyes, shattering into countless points of light before slowly fading away.
"Sorry, Lana. I can't help you." At this moment, Clark only felt that certain emotions in his heart were gone. He turned and walked away.
Lana wanted to chase after him to explain, but before she could take a step...
A hand patted her shoulder.
A hand patted her shoulder.
"Yo."
Smallville's ultimate busybody was standing right behind her.
"Crying won't help, and chasing after him won't help either."
"But if what you're saying is true, maybe we can help you."
"There have been a lot of thefts in town lately. I think it might be related to this, Lana." Chloe handed over a pen. "Start from the beginning. When did you lose it, when was the last time you saw it before it went missing, and where have you been?"
Lana froze for a few seconds, but ultimately took the pen and sat down on the bench by the lake to start writing.
...
On the other side.
Yale quickly caught up with Joanna.
After all, he had long figured out Joanna's route.
Exiting through the side door of the teaching building, passing the parking lot, walking through the ash trees made bare by the autumn wind, and reaching the lawn area near the back gate.
"Hey!"
"I have plans for lunch."
"..."
Yale blinked.
The girl's heartbeat was steady, indicating it likely wasn't a lie.
"What kind of plans could you possibly have for lunch?" His tone was laced with amusement.
"Mona and Elaine said they have a new discovery." The girl turned half her face, her sky-blue eyes looking back through her strands of hair.
As she spoke, they had reached the edge of the lawn at the end of the ash tree line, where two girls were standing not far away.
Mona Doyle, holding her books and speaking softly yet listening earnestly to every word, and Elaine Belloc, who had already planned out the route after school for the three of them, waving while urging her to hurry up.
Joanna nodded and naturally took her place between the two.
Mona leaned in close to her ear.
"...The anonymous note from last time was treated as a prank by the sheriff."
"Luckily, the stolen silverware was recovered," Elainecorrected in a low voice.
"Let's go," Joanna cut off the discussion coldly.
The three figures drifted farther away along the path on the edge of the lawn, eventually vanishing into the oak-shaded avenue leading toward the town center.
It looked like they were heading to Mona's garage.
High school girls' bestie circles were like medieval Freemasonry, with secret signals only they understood, fixed standings, and exclusive boundaries. Yale had experienced this scary social ecosystem in his past life, but watching the three figures shrink into dots, he still couldn't help grinning.
Joanna had made friends of her own, which was great.
They had even set up a detective agency.
Yale knew about this. Even though the three of them operated with extreme low-key style—completely opposite to Chloe's The Torch newspaper—for Yale, who possessed super senses, his intelligence network coverage in this school was second to none.
If he remembered correctly, by dropping anonymous notes into the sheriff's office mailbox, they had helped solve four minor cases over the past six months.
Joanna was doing the right thing.
He wondered if Uncle Ben would be a bit happier if he knew about this.
Yale looked up at the high, vast Kansas sky.
At a certain moment, the clouds formed an outline, and a face covered in stubble suddenly materialized in the sky.
Forever remembered, gone but never forgotten.
Alright, stop getting emotional.
Yale shook his head to disperse the messy thoughts, then turned and walked toward the school's main gate.
"Yo, little lion."
Seeing Yale approaching, the old man in the security room greeted him as well.
"Mr. Smith, you haven't off-shift yet?" Yale asked casually, casting his eyes over.
The old man was sitting on a folding chair, holding a newspaper in his hand.
Smith Wilson.
His white hair was cut into a neat buzz cut, and a black eyepatch covered his left eye, supposedly a souvenir from his days in the military when he was young.
"If I get off work, who's going to protect you kids?"
Mr. Wilson instructed dutifully, "Don't wander off to secluded places after school."
"I heard some unfamiliar faces have been showing up in town lately."
Chapter 8: This Bite Is Going to Be Wild.
The hallway walls were densely covered with notices, club recruitment posters, and colorful countdown slips for Homecoming.
Yale had just walked out of the classroom.
"Yale!"
"Ms. Patterson."
"Dear, do you still have the recommendation letter template you helped Dennis write last week? I need three copies by five o'clock this afternoon." Ms. Patterson from the administration office was holding a stack of forms, "And there's the transfer student credit recognition form. You're more familiar with the credit conversion rules of Kansas than I am. Could you take a look at it for me?"
"Give it to me."
Yale took the forms and glanced over them, frowning involuntarily.
"Ms. Patterson, this set of yours is outdated. Did you forget? The state government just updated the coefficient table this spring."
"Oh, good grief, Yale. Look at this brain of mine."
"You're welcome, dear lady. But I think you still need to learn how to operate a smart computer. As far as I know, you trick enthusiastic students like me into running the computer for you every day."
"That's because you're here, my dear Yale."
"I'll be graduating in two years." Yale said helplessly.
"Then you can just come back and be the principal."
"...?"
Declining Ms. Patterson's kind offer of her three-year-director-five-year-principal plan, Yale turned and left, but as he passed the second-floor corner...
"Yale!"
"That formula you mentioned last time, the one that... The coach said if I fail my midterms again, I'll be suspended. Can you..."
"Wednesday afternoon, go find Clark." Yale replied without turning his head, "He'll teach you."
"Got it!"
Yale shook his head and continued walking.
Then came the ajar broadcasting room, from which intermittent static and the desperate wails of some girl could be heard.
"Broken again?! Go get Yale Kent quickly!"
"..."
What a coincidence? Seriously?
But after all, the equipment was broken; things like this couldn't possibly be on purpose, right? Thinking this, Yalescratched his cheek, subconsciously pushed open the door and walked in, only to see Emily, the person in charge of the broadcasting station, squatting next to the equipment rack with a depressed look.
"No need to get anyone, I happen to be here."
Under Emily's shining gaze, he checked it casually, "Bad contact. Just go to the equipment room, find a new cable, and replace it."
"Yale, how do you know how to do everything?" Emily practically pressed herself against him, her eyes seemingly sparkling with little hearts.
"I don't know how to cook." Yale stood up and clapped his hands.
"Then do you want to come home with me? How about I treat you to seafood?"
"Kansas... has seafood?"
Yale was dumbfounded.
...
"Click—!"
Pete Ross lowered the Polaroid from his eyes and watched the freshly ejected photo slowly develop.
Yale Kent in the picture was standing at the entrance of the broadcasting station, dealing with the flock of girls constantly pressing close to him.
"As expected of Yale." Pete clicked his tongue and handed the photo to Chloe beside him, "If Yale were a rich second-generation heir, he'd definitely be a playboy."
Chloe took the photo.
"Twenty minutes." She clicked her tongue in amazement, "In these twenty minutes, he passed through four places, was called out by twelve women, and handled fifteen matters. Not a single one had anything to do with him; he was just helping everyone."
"So what?" Pete asked.
"So he's the kind of person that if you suspect him even a little bit, the whole school will stand up and speak for him." Chloe tucked the photo into her notebook and turned to look at the quietly standing girl behind her, "Lana, are you sure... do you really think Yale would take your things?"
Lana Lang stood beside the water dispenser, her hands unconsciously twisting her cuffs.
"I didn't say he stole it." She lowered her eyes, "But that day, only Yale went in and out of the dance studio..."
"Maybe Yale took it, maybe Yale knows something..."
"That bracelet is very important to me..."
"But you have no evidence." Chloe said straightforwardly.
"That's why I wanted to observe first..."
"Then what have we observed now? A good guy who gets stopped by everyone in the hallway to help out?" Chloe let out a huff, "Everyone won't believe that Yale's character would lead him to do such a thing. Even though you're the cheerleader captain, I imagine your popularity still isn't higher than the destined king of Smallville High School."
Lana bit her lip and didn't reply.
Silence spread.
Until Clark, who was leaning against the wall, shoved the football he had been holding into Pete's arms and sighed softly.
"Let's end it here." He emphasized his tone.
He had just finished practice when Chloe dragged him to investigate Yale. Although he was very reluctant to participate, to prevent this group of people from crossing any lines while he and his younger brother were unaware, he felt he had a duty to supervise them.
"Clark." Chloe tilted her head to look at him, "We're investigating right now."
"You're helping Lana stalk my younger brother." Clarklooked at her, word by word, "And he didn't do anything."
"Chloe, stop. If you guys continue, I'll tell Principal Wordington that someone is secretly photographing students without permission."
Looking at Clark, who was unusually fierce for once, Chloecurled her lips and put her notebook into her schoolbag.
"Alright, alright." Seeing his traditionally gentle childhood friend speak harshly, Pete scratched his head and tried to mediate, "Chloe is just a bit too interested in Yale, you know, Clark. She's never gotten along with Yale since they were kids."
"..."
"Lana."
Clark looked at Lana. The girl's brownish-red long hair slid down from her shoulders, and her beautiful dark eyes carried apology and reluctance.
"I just wanted to..."
"If you find evidence," Clark said, "you can come to me anytime. But before that, please don't do this kind of thing anymore."
"I..."
Without waiting for Lana's response, the young man turned and left, his back quickly disappearing around the corner of the hallway.
...
"Yo."
Yale was leaning against the wall at the corner, his posture leisure, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth that made Clark's scalp tingle.
"How long have you been standing here?" Clark felt the back of his head go a bit cold.
Had Yale's senses gotten stronger again?
Damn it, just how far ahead of him was he?!
"Long enough." Yale huffed, "And you, Clark. To please your cheerleader captain, you actually sold out your own younger brother?"
"Clark Kent, I despise you."
"I didn't sell you out!" Clark raised his volume reflexively, then realizing there were other people in the hallway, quickly lowered his voice again, "I just followed them to keep an eye on them so they wouldn't pull anything out of line..."
"Lana said she lost a bracelet, a green stone, and then she said the last person to enter and leave the dance studio before it was lost was you..."
"She thinks I took it?" Yale raised an eyebrow.
Clark nodded.
"Is that so?"
Yale straightened his body, tilting his head to look down the end of the hallway, as if pondering something.
"I know." He said.
Clark's brow furrowed.
He was too familiar with this tone.
"Yale."
"Hmm?"
"It wasn't really you who took it, right?"
"Do you think I would steal a cheap bracelet from a cheerleader captain?"
"Then what did that 'I know' of yours just now mean?" Clark stared unblinkingly into his eyes, "You always have this attitude whenever you're hiding something from me since we were kids. When you were five, you finished stealing Mom's blueberry pie and then told me, 'I know where the pie went, it's definitely in your belly, Clark.' When you were eight, you took apart Dad's radio and said, 'I know how to fix it,' only to have three screws left over after fixing it. That year when you were twelve, you took my homework notebook and used it to prop up Joanna's table leg, then said, 'I know where it is'..."
"Every time you say 'I know,' it means you know something I don't, and you absolutely don't plan to tell me."
"..."
Yale's mouth twitched.
"When did your memory become so good?"
"My super memory tells me that my younger brother is a guy who keeps more secrets in his heart than a squirrel hiding walnuts." Clark said seriously.
"Get lost." Yale raised his foot and kicked him on the calf.
Clark sidestepped and grinned.
The flow of people in the hallway gradually thinned out, and someone hurried past them, textbooks in their schoolbag rattling loudly.
Everything was so ordinary, so ordinary that one almost forgot that among the two people standing in this hallway, one could overturn a truck with bare hands, and the other could shoot energy beams from his eyes.
Clark stepped forward, stretched out his arms, and gave Yale a solid hug.
"...?" Yale was dumbfounded.
"You've secretly done a lot of things, like the green stones, like the football team. Although you never tell us, I know you're doing it for our own good." Clark tightened his arms around him, "Thank you, Yale. I love you, little brother."
"Clark, have you been possessed by some alien parasite?"
"No."
"Are you about to die? Final dying words?"
"Could it be that Red King is descending to Earth in three minutes?"
"..."
What on earth was this guy talking about?
"Yale." Clark released his hand and said sincerely, "Sometimes, a sentence just means what it literally says."
...
Evening.
Smallville High School.
In front of the artificial lake.
The weeping willow branches by the lake were occasionally brushed by the evening breeze, creating tiny ripples on the water's surface.
"Derek..."
"Hmm?"
"Do you think we shouldn't have come here... Isn't the school not supposed to be entered at night..."
"Don't worry, babe, the security guard leaves at nine."
Two figures on the bench clung tightly together.
"Babe."
"Hmm..."
"You know, under the moonlight you really look like..."
"Like what?"
"Like..."
"Glug glug..."
A string of bubbles emerged on the surface of the lake.
"...A water monster?" The girl clutched her boyfriend's arm tightly.
"Maybe it's a fish? There should be fish in this lake..." Derekswallowed hard.
A moment later.
The lake surface returned to calm. The two exchanged a glance, Derek breathed a sigh of relief, and one hand reached toward his waistband string.
"Babe, bear with it in a moment, my very b..."
"Glug glug glug glug glug—!!"
This time the bubbles were bigger and more numerous, surging up and rolling from the center of the lake. The water surface began to vibrate, and ripples expanded in circles, continuously slapping against the pebbles on the lake shore.
"Water... water monster...?!' The girl stood up in terror.
"Calm down! Calm down!" Derek stood up, flurriedly tying his pants waistband, "Maybe it's the pipe... the school's drainage system..."
The water surface at the center of the lake swelled upward.
"Roar—!"
A muffled roar came from the bottom of the water.
"Ah—!!!"
The girl screamed, pushed Derek away, and ran.
"Wait for me, babe!! Wait for me!!"
Derek scrambled and scurried after her.
...
The lake surface returned to silence once again.
The bubbles at the bottom of the water stopped.
"Hahahaha..."
A golden head broke through the water from the center of the lake.
"That idiot Derek..." Yale floated on the water with his face tilted upward, almost laughing to tears, "Returning my big..."
He pushed his soaked hair back, swimming toward the shore while laughing. The water surface was parted by his movements, and the moonlight shattered into silver scales on both sides of his body.
"Got it."
Raising the stone up to the moonlight and turning it over, Yale examined the fluorescent light flowing inside it.
Kryptonite.
It was the one he had casually tossed into the lake at noon today.
Over the years, all the Kryptonite fragments that could be found within a thirty-kilometer radius of Smallville had appeared in the palm of his hand through this exact method, late at night when no one would notice.
It's just unclear where Whitney Fordman got this thing from again.
But this issue wasn't important right now; what mattered was that it could not continue to stay within the living radius of his family.
"Creak..."
The Kryptonite turned into a small pinch of fluorescent green dust in Yale's hand. He tilted his head back and raised his palm below the bridge of his nose; the dust rose from his palm, turning into wisps of thin smoke that poured into his lungs through his nasal cavity.
"Hum—!"
Bones trembled, muscles stretched, and golden light danced in his pupils.
Eternals.
Aside from solar radiation, Yale could absorb and convert any form of radiant energy, whether cosmic rays, gamma rays, or these radioactive minerals from Krypton buried deep beneath the ground in Kansas...
Things that were lethal poison to Clark were nothing more than high-proof liquor to him.
This stuff packed a huge punch.
Yale closed his eyes, feeling the process of the Kryptonite radiation being decomposed step-by-step and stored within his physical body.
The energy density within his cells was continuously climbing.
[Hyperion Roleplay Completion: 38% → 38.1%]
Zero point one percent.
Better than nothing.
But every little bit adds up.
For eight years, he didn't just rely on sunbathing, but also these extra hits of material provided by Kryptonite fragments every once in a while. Calculated overall, they contributed less than two percentage points.
The main source was still the sun, always the sun.
But this didn't prevent Kryptonite's absorption experience from being a hundred times better than sunbathing. Sunbathing was like slowly nourishing oneself by drinking plain water, while absorbing Kryptonite was like downing an entire glass of vodka in one gulp.
Featuring a massive punch.
Moonlight bathed his face, Yale's mouth was slightly open in the water, every inch of muscle all over his body tingled with satisfaction, and deep within his pupils, points of light slowly rotated, like two stars igniting in his eyes.
Without a doubt, if his expression at this moment were seen by someone, he would most likely be mistaken for...
"Click—!"
A flash of white light suddenly flickered.
Flash photography?!
Golden pupils lit up, and Yale activated his super vision in the dark. The grass under the moonlight was as bright as day in his field of vision.
But when he clearly saw who had come, he couldn't help but narrow his eyes.
Someone was huddled in the shadow of the bushes, holding up a camera aimed right at him, her auburn hair scattered across her shoulders as she shivered.
"Come here."
Yale was half-submerged in the lake water, his pupils glowing faintly in the darkness.
The girl's knees went soft, and she collapsed onto the turf.
"..."
"It's me."
Looking at the trembling cheerleader, Yale sighed helplessly.
Why was she everywhere?
Lana pushed herself up slowly with both hands against the ground.
"Sneaking pictures of people late at night is very impolite." Yale rested his arms on the stone edge of the shore, his tone lazy and casual as if the monster radiating golden light and burning pupils a moment ago had never existed. "Captain Lana."
"Yale... what were you just doing..." Lana began cautiously. "You were sucking... eating that stone..."
"I am cleaning up radioactive material residue for the school." Yale kept a straight face, completely serious. "Long-term exposure to this stone poses a potential pollution risk to the water source. The school's environmental protection budget does not include the harmless treatment of radioactive souvenirs, so I volunteered for overtime."
"But..." Lana's expression was full of confusion. "Why did you use that wa–"
"That's a long story."
As Yale spoke, he swam toward the rescue ladder on the shore, except the moment he grabbed the rust-mottled handrail—
"Crack."
The wooden rung snapped in the middle, and Yale's center of gravity lurched backward.
Lana instinctively reached out to grab his wrist.
This was a kind-hearted but foolish decision.
A cheerleader weighing just over fifty kilograms trying to pull up a Hyperion soaking in the water could only have one result...
"Ah—!"
"Plop."
The two of them tumbled into the lake one after another.
The corners of Yale's mouth twitched. He could completely use his feet to step on the water surface and stand motionless, but if he did that...
So he could only choose to sink along with the momentum, grab the girl's soft waist, and lift her entire body high above his head.
"...?! "
Lana's scream got stuck in her throat as she found herself hoisted high by a pair of arms, the moon close at hand, the wind rushing past her ears.
"Let... let me down!"
The girl struggled, kicking her legs wildly in the air.
"Down?"
Looking at the flailing girl above his head, Yale sneered and loosened his grip slightly.
"Glug glug glug—"
Lana plunged into the water, lake water filling her nasal cavity, followed immediately by a force pulling her back up from the bottom of the water, hoisting her high above his head once more.
"Still want to come down?"
A suppressed chuckle came from beneath her. Lana's hair clung to her cheeks, dripping wet, and she shook her head pitifully.
"Then be quiet."
Yale adjusted his angle, his legs moving slowly toward the shore in the water, and with a burst of leverage, he vaulted up into the air, gracefully placing Lana onto the lawn.
However, in her panic, the girl instinctively took a big step backward the moment she steadied herself.
One forward, one backward.
Until Lana bumped into a tree trunk, leaving her nowhere else to retreat.
"You... what are you going to do..." she stammered.
"Rest assured, I have no improper thoughts about a drowned rat. Besides, your clothes are bleeding color, looking like melted strawberry ice cream." Yale sighed, scanning the girl in front of him from top to bottom.
The lake water caused the pink sweater to cling tightly to her body, and her jeans outlined the tense lines of her thighs.
It had to be said that Lana Lang fit every cliché fantasy of a blonde cheerleader in American teen movies, being both broad-minded and generous.
Yale smacked his lips, fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out a pack of tissues, tossing it into her arms.
"..."
Staring blankly at the tissues printed with a bear pattern, Lana was just about to say something when Yale already hooked the camera hanging from her chest, gently pulled, and with a soft click, a memory card appeared in his hand.
"Splash—!"
The small black chip fell into the lake water amidst the moonlight.
"Here's your camera back." He shoved the camera body back into her arms. "Don't take sneaky pictures of me anymore."
"..."
Leaning against the tree trunk and listening to the footsteps gradually fade away across the lawn, Lana's knees softened as she slowly slid down to sit, pulling out a tissue to wipe the water from her face.
Wait...
She looked at her drenched upper body. Just two minutes ago, they had crashed together to the bottom of the lake, and even her underwear had been soaked in the icy water.
So where on earth did Yale pull those dry tissues out from?
A chill inexplicably surged up, and Lana looked toward the blond youth leisurely walking in the direction of the teaching building in the distance.
In the middle of the night like this, what was he going in there to do again?
...
Standing in front of the administration office door, Yalepulled a keychain out of his pocket.
The first key had a small tag for the broadcasting room attached to it. When was that given to him again? It seemed Emily shoved it over last week.
Yale silently pushed it aside.
The next one was a relatively new silver key, with a line of rounded handwriting written on the tag: "Come find me whenever you want to practice dancing—Jenny."
When did he accept the key to the dance studio?
Who was this Jenny?
And what was this? Yale glanced suspiciously at the tag of the third key, then his hands trembled so much he almost threw the keychain away.
Principal's Office.
"..."
Whose idea was it to hang this on his keychain?!
A moment later.
Having gathered a full set of all-area passes for Smallville High School, Yale finally dug out Ms. Patterson's key.
"Click."
Slipping into the administration office, Yale casually pulled the door shut behind him. He skillfully bypassed the filing cabinets in the moonlight and sat down in front of the computer.
The blue light from the screen turning on reflected across his face.
Two weeks ago, on an afternoon when he passed by the entrance of the dance studio, he had captured kryptonite fluctuations. So he pushed the door open and opened the locker, but inside there was only a pair of dance shoes; the kryptonite itself was long gone, leaving only residual radiation floating in the locker, which he regretfully absorbed to the last drop.
As a result, before he could even snap out of that blissful state, Lana Lang was standing at the entrance of the dance studio, holding her cheerleader uniform, staring wide-eyed at the boy who had been getting intoxicated in front of her locker.
The scene at that time was very awkward.
Fortunately, he ran fast.
But Lana clearly didn't intend to let it go just like that. From that day on, she was like a persistent little hound, biting onto his trouser legs and refusing to let go—first looking for Clark, then looking for Chloe, and later staging tonight's sneak photography operation by the lake.
Yale sighed, his fingers tapping on the keyboard.
The computer in the administration office was connected to all the surveillance video storage servers within the school.
He brought up the surveillance footage, dragging the timeline back to that afternoon two weeks ago.
Blank.
A full forty minutes of footage had been deleted cleanly, leaving only a segment of black screen in the middle.
The footage before he entered the dance studio had all been deleted.
Who deleted it?
Yale's fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, switching to the system administrator's operation logs.
Fortunately, the deletion time left a trace.
Two weeks ago, that same afternoon at 17:34.
Operation terminal: Principal's Office, administrator account.
That old bastard Worthington?
Yale frowned, continuing to flip downward.
Then his pupils shrank slightly.
The same day, the same terminal, at 17:41...
Someone accessed the student records database.
They opened Joanna Kent's medical examination file.
"Some new faces have come to town lately."
The old security guard's words rang in his ears.
Yale leaned back against the chair.
These past few days, he had indeed intermittently felt some incongruity...
There were a few unfamiliar faces in the supermarket, and men in black occasionally flashed past on the way home from school...
Could it be that they just conveniently took away the kryptonite bracelet in Lana's locker while searching? Was the real target not any bracelet from the very beginning?
Someone had set their sights on Joanna.
Yale slowly closed his eyes, his ears twitching slightly.
"Tap, tap, tap."
Footsteps came from the corridor, their rhythm light and hesitant. He turned his head to look in the direction of the door, a layer of helplessness floating across his face.
The door was pushed open gently.
The girl poked half her head in. She had probably followed him all the way, and right now her face was full of fear and persistence.
"...Is haunting people like an unshakeable ghost an elective course that counts toward GPA?" Yale was speechless. "Didn't I say that the thing in the dance studio that day was a misunderstanding."
Lana bit her lip as she walked in, twisting her hands in front of her, looking at him pitifully.
"Can you give it back to me, Yale..." she said in a low voice. "That bracelet is really important to me. Even if the stone was eaten by you... eaten by you, can you please just give me the chain back?"
Yale was speechless.
There was only residual radiation in your locker, not even a chain, and the whole bracelet had long since vanished into thin air. Where was he supposed to conjure one up to return to her?!
Clearly, Mr. Creator had given this stupid girl the most ravishing curves, but forgot to equip her brain with any common sense.
"Lana..."
"I will keep your secret for you, I can swear on the Bible or anything else..." The girl stepped forward, her aqua-blue eyes exceptionally earnest. "As long as you give it back to me, I'll do anything..."
Before her words finished—
Yale narrowed his eyes slightly. His finger pressed the power button, while his other hand reached out to grab Lana's wrist, dragging her whole body in from the doorway. His toe hooked the door panel and gently pulled it shut without making the slightest sound.
Lana opened her mouth to say something, but Yale directly covered her mouth with his hand, dragging her entire person and stuffing her into the iron locker in the corner of the administration office.
The space was cramped.
The girl's damp, warm chest collided against Yale's chest.
"Mmm-mm—!" Lana struggled, trying to push him away.
"Quiet."
Pressing against the girl's auricle, Yale's words carried the lingering coolness of lake water.
Lana froze. She heard the sound too.
Two people, one behind the other, were walking this way.
"Click—"
The door opened.
Through the gap, Lana could see that the person walking in front was a woman, and following behind was a young man.
...
School Newspaper Office.
Pete Ross clipped the last photo out of the developing solution and hung it on the photo-drying string.
"Seriously, Chloe." He looked at the rows of dripping black-and-white photos on the string, a hint of emotion in his tone. "What do you think Yale is even made of?"
"What do you mean?"
Chloe was using a magnifying glass to check today's negatives.
"Look..." Pete tapped a few of the photos with a wet finger. "This one is him tutoring Derek in physics, this one is him repairing equipment for the broadcasting station, this one is him drawing generator wiring diagrams for Michael, and this one is him checking transfer student forms with Ms. Patterson..."
"And then?"
"He also casually trampled Whitney Fordman's face under his feet and ground it back and forth this noon, and after school this afternoon he was seen helping the first-grade kids in the town's elementary school move books..."
Pete spread both hands.
"I also want to become someone like Yale," he said seriously. "Just that kind of... you know, wherever he goes, good things naturally happen."
"Damn it, this guy is practically blessed by God. Where on earth did this contemporary savior come from!"
"..."
Chloe raised her head from behind the magnifying glass and glanced at Pete.
"Pete."
"Hmm?"
"You haven't even handed in your own homework, and here you are daydreaming about becoming Yale?"
"..."
Pete's shoulders slumped.
"Your words hurt so much."
Chloe ignored him and lowered her head again to study the negatives.
Bored out of his mind, Pete took a few dried photos down from the string and spread them out on the darkroom workbench.
There were distant views of the lakeside at noon today, candid shots in the corridor, and a few casual snaps at the entrance of the archives room.
He picked one photo each of Yale, Clark, and Joannaappearing separately, put them together, and tilted his head to scrutinize them for a moment.
Uh...
How should he put it? Since he, Pete, and Clark were friends, and Clark and Yale were brothers, rounding it up, he was also part of the Kent Family!
Pete smiled and was about to put the photos away when his movement paused, his peripheral vision seemingly catching sight of something.
"Ch... Chloe?"
"Spit it out if you have something to say."
"Come over here and look at this."
Chloe put down the negative in her hand, walked over, and followed Pete's finger to look at the photo.
The focus of the photo was Yale, standing under a willow tree cracking melon seeds, surrounded by a few people from the football team. But on the right edge of the frame, behind the bench on the lakeshore, there was a figure.
The white-haired, one-eyed security guard was bending over to collect the warning signs by the lake.
Pete picked up another photo.
Yale was standing at the entrance of the broadcasting room talking to Emily, while in the distant background of the frame, at the door of the equipment room at the end of the corridor, someone was standing on a ladder changing the lightbulb on the ceiling.
Pete quickly flipped out the third one. At the entrance of the archives room, the main subject of the frame was Ms. Patterson going to fetch documents, but in the shadow of the corridor corner in the background, a cleaning cart was being slowly pushed past.
That old man in the security room.
Smith Wilson.
Any time, any place, he seemed to be there.
In the background of every single photo, this white-haired, one-eyed old man quietly appeared there, doing some kind of insignificant work.
Chloe raised her head abruptly.
"Pete, quickly find all the photos of Yale taken this year." Her voice was fast and light. "All of them."
Chapter 9 Clark: I Knew We Were Family!
"Has the surveillance been handled?"
The woman rested her cheek on her hand, looking somewhat casual.
"Hand... Handled." The young boy's voice was trembling, "The forty-minute recording of the dance studio corridor has been completely cleared..."
"..."
"What about the logs?" Seeming to have discovered something, the woman's tone suddenly turned cold, "Why didn't you delete the logs?"
"I used the principal's account..."
"Bang—!"
Lana shuddered, only to see the dark figure kicked and crashing into the iron cabinet.
"Idiot."
The boy curled up on the ground, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Teacher Atkins... Next time..."
"Shut up."
The woman couldn't be bothered to look at him, her high heels stepping over the back of his hand as she walked toward the computer desk, the blue light of the screen reflecting on her face.
Through the gap, Lana saw that face clearly.
Brown beach waves hung beside her ears, her features mature and charming, and the neckline of her lab coat was slightly open, revealing a hint of cleavage.
Lana recognized this face.
At last Wednesday's all-school morning assembly, Principal Waddington introduced this substitute teacher who was temporarily transferred because the original biology teacher was on maternity leave. At that time, the woman standing on the podium wore a short skirt and a shirt, captivating all the men present.
Desiree Atkins.
What shocked Lana, however, was a silver chain inlaid with a faint green stone on her left hand.
Her mother's bracelet.
Seeing that the surveillance logs on the computer screen were completely cleared, Desiree crossed her legs and looked down at the young man rubbing the back of his hand on the ground.
"Get up."
The boy immediately crawled up from the ground.
"And the requisition records for the equipment room." Desiree said lazily, "Go to the equipment room now and tear off that requisition record, then replace it with a blank form and stick it back."
"Yes..."
"Wait."
Desiree stood up, the bracelet sliding from her palm into the air in front of the boy, the green gemstone swaying gently between them.
Lana's pupils constricted, because corresponding to it was the boy's pupils dilating.
"Look at me." Desiree spoke faintly.
"Go and clean up the records, then go back to the dorm to sleep. Tomorrow you won't remember anything that happened tonight."
"Yes... Teacher Atkins..."
The boy turned around in a daze and walked toward the door, pushing it open and disappearing into the darkness of the corridor.
Lana's eyes widened.
Everything that happened today had surpassed her cognition.
What had she just seen? Hypnosis? Drugs? Or some kind of supernatural power she couldn't understand at all? But anyway, her bracelet was being held in the palm of this woman's hand as some kind of tool?!
Desiree put the bracelet back on her left wrist, confirmed once more on the computer screen that all traces had been cleared, and then turned off the monitor and walked toward the door.
The door of the administrative office closed gently behind her.
The footsteps faded away.
Yale finally loosened his hand that was covering Lana's mouth.
"Mph—!"
Lana gasped heavily, her eye sockets filled with tears, and she raised her head to look at Yale.
"Quiet." Yale said in a low voice, "She hasn't gone far."
But the moment those words fell, a clear voice came from the other end of the corridor, penetrating the thin wooden door of the administrative office.
"Yale—!"
It was Clark.
Yale's expression froze.
"Yale?!"
Footsteps quickly approached from the far end of the corridor, mixed with Clark's anxiety.
This guy always turned into a large dog searching everywhere whenever Yale disappeared beyond the expected time.
"Hey! What are you screaming about here in the middle of the night?"
"Ah... Good evening, you... are you Teacher Atkins?"
"What are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for my younger brother. He didn't go to the training ground or home today, and his phone won't go through... Have you seen him?"
"Yale? I just came out of the administrative office, nobody's inside. Maybe he went to the library?"
"The library is closed, right..." Clark was somewhat confused.
"Then maybe he went to town? Young people, you know." Desiree chuckled lightly, "Speaking of which, that Yale is your younger brother? And you are?"
"I am Clark Kent."
"I see. Well, there is something I want to ask you, Clark."
"What?"
"Who does your younger brother usually hang out with at school? I mean in his spare time."
Yale in the administrative office furrowed his brow.
"Yale? He hangs out with everyone." Clark's reply was always open and completely unguarded, "He's the kind of... you know, the type who can chat with anyone."
"What about that blonde younger sister in your family? Joanna, right? What is her relationship with Yale?"
The corridor was quiet for a moment.
"...Why ask this?" A hint of lingering vigilance added to Clark's tone.
"Nothing, just curious." Desiree's laughter was soft, "I noticed she doesn't usually hang out much with other students, and I thought I'd pay more attention to her in class later... After all, as a teacher, understanding students' social situations is one of my duties."
Lana looked at Yale, only to find the boy seemingly silently spitting out two dirty words.
Bitch?
"Joanna is doing fine." Clark said concisely, "She's just relatively quiet."
"Is that so? What about you, Clark? The football training must be very stressful, right? Do you... have any troubles you'd like to talk to a teacher about?" Desiree took half a step forward.
A fragrance drifted from her slightly open neckline.
"I...?" Clark's voice suddenly paused.
Yale frowned slightly.
His Super Hearing could capture changes in Clark's body.
Blood flow accelerated, body temperature rose.
"Clark? You don't look too well..."
"Sorry, Teacher Atkins, my eyes are a bit itchy, I'll be going first."
The footsteps suddenly accelerated, and Yale also put down the hand that was gripping the door handle, letting out a sigh of relief.
The corridor returned to silence.
Desiree's brows furrowed slightly, subconsciously touching the green stone bracelet on her left wrist.
Enhanced by this green stone, her pheromones now allowed her words to determine anyone's life or death after any normal man spent more than a minute with her.
But Clark Kent...
He said his eyes were itchy?
"Interesting."
Desiree muttered to herself softly, stepped away from the corridor, and took the opportunity to glance back at the closed door of the administrative office before leaving.
...
When Clark ran out of the side door of the teaching building, he used almost all his strength to restrain himself from using super speed. He staggered across the parking lot and plunged into the shade of the willow trees by the artificial lake.
With both hands supporting his knees, he breathed heavily, his vision spinning with red light spots.
Teacher Atkins...
"Hum—!"
His eyeballs trembled, and Clark couldn't help opening his eyes.
"Siss—!"
A large amount of white steam surged up from the surface of the lake.
"Gurgle gurgle gurgle—!!!"
Clark was stunned.
What is this...
He just... used his eyes...
"Water monster!!!"
"The water monster is out again! Derek! It's here again!"
"Don't be afraid, baby! We'll face it together this time! Even if we die, we die together!!!"
"Derek!! Don't, don't at a time like this... Mph!"
"Oh—!!!"
A blush-inducing sound came from the bushes on the opposite bank, mixed with the sound of splashing water and incomprehensible long and short sighs from two young people.
Ripples spread out in circles.
And in the center of the light and shadow...
Clark saw his own reflection.
A sixteen-year-old boy stood under the willow tree, his dark hair blown messy by the night wind, and the orange-red halo in his blue eyes was fading bit by bit.
Heat Vision.
He was just like Yale, just like Joanna.
The three of them...
Were the same.
Clark slowly squatted down, cupped lake water in his hands to splash on his face, and looked up at the starry sky.
He never knew why he could run so fast, why he was so strong, why he was fine after being hit by a truck, and he never knew why his dad Jonathan always looked at him with a heavy gaze.
Now he knew.
Yale also had Heat Vision. Joanna did too. Strong enough to overturn a barn, fast enough to catch up with a car.
All three of them were the same.
Then there was only one explanation.
They were biological siblings.
Maybe they were children of the same parents, or maybe for some reason he didn't understand yet, they were sent to different places separately, and finally gathered together again at Kent Farm.
This thought took root in his mind.
The corners of Clark's mouth curled up uncontrollably.
"So... we really are family..."
He raised his hand to rub his eyes, which were still faintly hot.
The shouting across the lake finally quieted down, replaced by some panting and Derek's feeble voice, "Baby... I can't do it anymore."
"What?! You useless..."
Clark's face turned red, and he decided to leave this crime-filled lakeside, go home to drink a big glass of ice milk, and tuck himself into bed.
Tomorrow!
Tomorrow he would find Yale to have a good talk!
About Heat Vision, about the secret of the three of them, about all the questions he had accumulated since childhood.
Clark stood up, stepping forward and running in the direction of home.
The wind brushed past his ears, faster and faster, faster and faster.
Under the moonlight, his airflow pressed the wheat fields into silvery waves, which then sprang back up behind him.
Unstoppable laughter welled up in his chest.
We are the same, Yale.
They were family.
...
Administrative office.
After hearing Clark's footsteps completely disappear into the night, Yale pushed open the door of the administrative office from the inside.
He turned around and helped the weak-legged Lana out. The girl leaned against the edge of the corridor railing, her face pale under the moonlight, and her whole body still carrying the dampness of having fallen into the water.
"Are you okay?" Yale asked.
Lana shook her head, then nodded, and finally buried her face in her hands.
"My mother's bracelet..." She said with a crying tone, "She took my mother's bracelet..."
"I of course knew someone took the stuff in your locker." Yale said casually.
"Then why didn't you tell—"
"Tell you what?" Yale was speechless, "I didn't even know who it was? No matter how I explained it, wouldn't it be the same as saying nothing at all?"
"..."
Lana was stunned for a moment.
"I'm sorry." She wiped away the tears from the corner of her eyes, "It was too presumptuous of me, Yale."
"Anyway, you have evidence now." Yale shrugged, "You saw with your own eyes who took it. I'm also an eyewitness."
"But..." Lana seemed to have thought of something.
"She, she can control people... That boy... I know him, he's the student council president, and he actually—"
"So you can't confront her directly." Yale said earnestly, "Lana Lang, before the truth comes to light."
"Everything that happened tonight is a secret, understand?"
"..."
"A secret?"
"...Just like before, right?" Lana blurted out suddenly.
What is this stupid woman talking about? What the hell kind of "before" do we have...
"Go home." Yale brushed past her shoulder with a blank expression, "Drink a cup of milk and then sleep."
"Yale."
"What is it again, Captain Lana? Now that the bracelet matter has come to light, you don't want to frame me for messing up your dance shoes, do you?"
"I did not!"
Lana was choked by these words, a blush rising on her pale face.
"I wanted to say..."
Twiddling the hem of her clothes, she instinctively spoke in a low voice, "Thank you. Every time at a critical moment you helped me, just like when we were little—"
No response.
Lana raised her head.
But she saw the corridor was empty, and the blonde boy had long since vanished.
Chapter 10: The Thunder Tree, the Might of a Myriad Armies!
The main entrance of Smallville High School.
Yale flicked his backpack strap over his shoulder and jerked his chin toward the security office.
"Mr. Wilson, open the door."
"Hurry home and take a look." The one-eyed old man spoke without lifting his head.
Yale paused in his steps.
"What's wrong?"
"Your brother has gone mad. He ran out of this door fifteen minutes ago without even taking his backpack, yelling and jumping all the way like a monkey."
The corner of Yale's mouth twitched.
"...Fine."
"Get home early."
"Bye-bye."
Yale raised his hand in a wave, stepping across the shadow of the iron fence into the night.
He really did need to get home early.
But before that.
Yale turned into a path.
"Come out."
The plane tree leaves rustled in the wind.
The sound of high heels echoed, and a woman strolled out from the shadows of the path, her lab coat open, brown waves hanging by her ears, a silver chain dangling from her left wrist, and green kryptonite glowing faintly.
She stepped forward until only an arm's length remained between the two of them.
Within this range, all male teachers at Smallville High School would start thinking with their lower bodies, including the principal who had slammed the table during the faculty meeting to scold her for inappropriate attire.
"Don't you always like cleaning up trouble for pretty girls?" Desiree giggled, covering her mouth, "Yale Kent."
"Cleaning up after pretty girls isn't trouble," Yale turned around, "cleaning up the messes they cause is."
"Who made me such a warm-hearted good youth? The traditional virtues of Kansas: doing what is righteous, helping others, respecting the elderly and loving the young, and helping old ladies cross the street as a one-stop service."
"You sure have a way with words, my dear Yale."
"Yet you were actually hiding in the iron cabinet of the administrative office," Desiree smiled without any warmth, "with that wet cheerleader. What? Were you just falling in love with her?"
Yale's eyebrows raised slightly.
"Teacher Atkins's ears are truly sharp."
"I'm not blind either." She took another half-step forward, and a sweet, cloying scent drifted into Yale's nose, "And I saw it at the school gate."
The sweetness intensified.
Yale could feel it, but that didn't stop him from exploring the scope of the biology teacher's extracurricular tutoring.
He was testing; he was letting the chemicals trying to take over his nervous system enter his body.
And the result actually piqued his interest.
These aphrodisiac substances, which were enough to turn ordinary people into puppets, he could actually metabolize and absorb.
"So?" Yale took half a step forward, his expression open and calm, "Did Teacher Atkins follow a student out in the middle of the night just to make sure her student wasn't doing anything inappropriate to the cheerleader in the iron cabinet?"
"Enough, Yale."
Desiree narrowed her eyes slightly, raising her left hand to Yale's eyes, letting the eerie green glow of the stone flicker between them.
"Tell Teacher, who are you working for? Or... are you also someone who likes to 'collect' things?"
Collect things?
Yale was stunned.
The pheromones finally reached a critical point.
Desiree opened her red lips with satisfaction.
"From now on, you will..."
"Teacher Atkins."
"Hmm?" Desiree was startled.
"I have a question for you."
"What is it?" she said instinctively.
"This ability of yours," Yale asked with curiosity, "what is the effective range? How long does it last? Does it require repeated contact to deepen, or can it be done all at once? Will the target's strength of will affect the effect?"
Desiree's pupils trembled, as if she had just reacted.
Why? Why wasn't it working?
She lifted her head in a daze, only to see the boy's eyes seeming to burn—no... they were truly burning! His eyes blazed, entirely crimson gold!
"You are... You are...?!"
"Hum!"
The wind whistled in her ears, and a hand gripped her throat.
The town lights flowed into a golden river at the edge of her vision, and the church spire flashed past beneath her feet.
"Bang—!"
Desiree was dropped onto the ground, sprawling in the puddles on the supermarket rooftop, supporting herself with her hands and coughing incessantly.
Yale stepped back half a step.
"Who sent you?"
"Wh... What..." The woman clutched her neck, her face full of panic, "What are you talking about... I don't..."
"Hiss—!"
A golden beam of light grazed her earlobe and struck the concrete floor behind her, carving a charred gully into the ground whose edges still glowed with a dark red residual heat. A wave of heat washed against the side of her face, and a few strands of hair snapped in the high temperature, falling onto her proud, long legs.
"Tell me, who sent you?"
"Boom—!"
A muffled thunderclap rang out in the sky.
The dull vibration rolled from one end of the firmament to the other.
"Did you pull Joanna Kent's medical examination files?"
The rain began to fall.
Water streamed down from the man's blonde hair, his crimson-gold pupils burning fiercely behind the curtain of rain.
At that instant, Desiree saw clearly.
The face that had always been gentle and refined was indistinct in the inhuman light and shadow. Rainwater splashed onto his shoulders, yet he remained completely oblivious, while she shivered on the cold concrete floor!
The girls of Smallville High School always liked to call Yale Kent the Golden Lion.
Desiree suddenly understood this nickname.
As it is written in the Book of Isaiah.
He shall roar like a lion; when he roars, who will not tremble?
"Teacher Atkins, do you believe in gravity?"
With a flash of his figure, fiercely grabbing the woman's neck, Yale hoisted her off the ground, with a bottomless abyss right beneath his feet.
"Last time..."
"Who on earth asked you to investigate Joanna?"
With her legs dangling in mid-air, Desiree clawed at Yale's wrist, her knees striking against his ribs, but every blow felt like it landed on steel. This inhuman torture did not stop until the woman's eyes rolled back and her tongue lolled out.
"Thud—!"
Thrown back into the puddles, Desiree propped herself up with her elbows and backed away until her back hit the iron wall of the ventilation duct.
"I didn't... I don't... I really don't know what you're talking about..."
"No one sent me..." she said tremblingly, "I just heard that some young master was coming to Smallville to open a branch office, and I thought... I just wanted to lay out plans in advance to find a wealthy long-term meal ticket... Then I saw Lana... The bracelet on her wrist had an attraction to me..."
"Then what about Joanna? Why were you asking about Joanna?"
"Because... Because..."
Desiree bit her lip.
"Because she's too pretty."
Coming from the mouth of a woman who used her beauty as a weapon, these words were clearly somewhat incredible.
"A sixteen-year-old high school girl—if that young master comes, and if he's interested in that type, then she's my biggest competitor. I just wanted to find out her background in advance, that's all..."
"You haven't read her file?"
"Why would I read her file?" Desiree was stunned.
Yale narrowed his eyes slightly.
This woman's eyes, heartbeat, breathing...
"Hum—"
Yale's eyes lit up with sparks once more!
Pure intimidation.
But Desiree's body didn't think so; amidst her spasms, a warmth spread out from the inside of her thighs.
Yale wrinkled his nose.
If a person could maintain consistency in a lie while on the verge of asphyxiation and crushed to the point of incontinence by supernatural forces, she was either an operative who had undergone professional anti-interrogation training, or she really didn't fucking know anything at all.
And the woman sprawled before him in the puddles, her dress soaked, her makeup completely ruined, unable to even control her bladder sphincter, was clearly not the former.
Yale closed his eyes.
Then the question was...
Who pulled the files?
He lowered his head to look at Desiree curled up on the ground.
All that hard work for nothing.
"Give it to me." Yale said expressionlessly.
Desiree lowered her eyelids, looking at how her soaked skirt clung to her thighs, and then looking at Yale's condescending posture.
"...You want it?"
She unbuttoned her lab coat.
As a biology teacher, Desiree Atkins had a systematic understanding of the behavioral patterns of male animals; certain beasts, after completing territorial declarations and violent suppression, would feel towards the conquered females...
"What on earth are you thinking?"
Yale was speechless. He strode forward, grasped the woman's wrist, and roughly slid the bracelet off.
The woman was stunned.
So what he meant was the bracelet...
Desiree felt a wave of shame even more intense than incontinence rush straight from the soles of her feet to her crown.
The eerie green glow lit up in his palm, emitting radiation lethal enough to Clark and ordinary people, but to Yale, it was more like a hard candy with a decent taste.
"This thing," Yale held the stone up in front of Desiree, "to what extent can it amplify your pheromones?"
"From needing repeated contact down to... two or three glances are enough..."
"And the strength of the command?"
"When not wearing it... it can only make people develop goodwill and lower their guard, requiring long-term contact to make someone completely obedient..." She swallowed a mouthful of saliva, "After wearing it... about a few words are enough. Any male, no matter how strong his will, will within one minute become..."
She didn't manage to finish.
After all, a living counterexample was standing right before her eyes.
Yale nodded thoughtfully and tossed the kryptonite back.
The small green stone cut through the rain curtain and fell into Desiree's hastily opened palm.
"You..."
With the kryptonite recovered after being lost, Desireeraised her head in disbelief.
Her field of vision was empty.
The puddles reflected the gloomy dark clouds.
The boy's figure seemed as though it had never existed at all.
Desiree Atkins knelt alone on the rooftop of the Smallvillesupermarket.
In her life, she had used pheromones to manipulate countless diverse men, yet no one had ever touched her body, let alone treated her so roughly...
Everyone obeyed her every word.
But an existence like Yale, who seemed to stand at the top of the food chain, looking down condescendingly at all ants...
To her, it was a hundred times—even a thousand times—more stimulating than the sensations brought by pheromones!
"Mm..."
Her body trembling slightly, the woman unconsciously clamped her legs together, letting out a soft moan.