Chapter 2729 - Ch: 26-30

Chapter 26 Ho ho, to think there is even a demigod template.

A red moon hung high in the sky.

It felt a bit heavier than when Yale first came.

The hourglass was still suspended beneath the dome.

However, this time Yale purposely avoided looking at those projections; the lesson from last time, when he almost had the Anti-Life Equation embedded into his cognition, was still fresh in his mind.

"Moge?" Yale called out tentatively.

It was empty.

"..."

Damn it, if that furry impeachment committee Moge really stripped him of his title as council president because of truancy, he would definitely replace all of its dried small fish with green vegetables in the future.

Yale calculated in his mind while scanning the surroundings of the hall with his peripheral vision.

"Meow..."

Yale raised an eyebrow.

But the moment he turned his head to look for the source of the sound...

An ice-blue speck of light flashed rapidly.

"Clang——!"

The right hand drawn from his pocket steadily caught the punch from behind!

"Why didn't you come last time?"

A grumpy female voice came over.

"Sorry." Yale sighed, "That day I forgot to sleep."

"..."

"What did you say?!" Silence laughed out of extreme anger.

"Forgot to sleep." Yale explained patiently, "You know, teenage boys occasionally suffer from insomnia."

"Bastard..."

The woman roared and raised her fist again, but unfortunately, before she could throw the punch, Yalecasually flung her away.

"... You..."

A gritting-teeth voice came from afar, and Yale was very sure that the other party was greeting him in her heart using at least seven languages.

But he couldn't be bothered to deal with her, and simply cast his gaze to the other side.

"Traveler!"

A dark brown furball was clinging to the hem of his trousers.

"You're finally here!"

"Last week without you... They really can't achieve anything and only ruin things..." Moge was on the verge of tears.

"..."

Yale raised an eyebrow.

With that man there... they would still fail?

He looked toward the depths of the hall.

The guy calling himself Nightwalker still maintained his usual posture, leaning against a white pillar with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Traveler." His gray-blue eyes stared at Yale without blinking, "Welcome back."

"Thanks, although the tone you used to say that makes me feel like an intern who is two weeks late." Yale shrugged, considering it a greeting, and then strode toward the other party, "Tell me about the situation last time."

"..."

Nightwalker pondered for a moment.

"During the last gathering, less than twenty minutes after the red moon rose, cracks appeared on the white wall."

The way he spoke was the same as in Yale's memory.

Always unhurried.

Of course, actually, the current voice was still too crisp; if it were a bit hoarser, like someone with throat cancer, it would be even more similar.

"The crack expanded into a passage, and Silence and I were pulled into a space similar to an abandoned factory. There was a nightmare inside, in the form of—"

"A Sandman?"

"He was extremely tricky. Until the red moon sank at the end, we still couldn't resolve this nightmare."

"So the two of you couldn't do anything?" Yalesummarized.

"Correct." Nightwalker admitted it generously.

This calmness actually made Yale look at him with slightly heightened respect.

For a guy who Yale was very sure was full of a desire for control and unwillingness to admit defeat to his core, he would actually admit his failure?

"Is there anything after that?"

"Of course, the aftermath is the key."

Nightwalker's gaze sank slightly.

"An unknown incident occurred at an abandoned glass factory in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio."

"Seven vagrants in the factory collectively disappeared on the same night."

Yale's pupils shrank slightly.

Did those seven vagrants dream of the Sandman? Or did the Sandman nightmare descend into reality through those seven vagrants?

"The incident was eventually sealed off by the DEO." Nightwalker added.

DEO...

Department of Extranormal Operations.

In other words...

"It came true." Yale said.

"..."

The hall quieted down.

The hourglass rustled on the dome, golden grains of sand climbing upwards on their own, completely indifferent to the conversation below.

"Nightmares coming true, that concept itself doesn't surprise me." Yale looked toward Nightwalker, "What surprises me is you. Nightwalker, how did you get the DEO data?"

"You know who I am." He said seriously.

"Who are you?"

"I am Nightwalker."

"..."

Yale almost laughed out loud.

"In other words, you got the DEO's data." Yale stared at Nightwalker, cutting in from another angle, "Then I guess you've also looked at their registration database?"

"Is there a problem?"

"Do you know how many meta-humans there are globally right now?" Yale asked.

Nightwalker breathed a sigh of relief.

It seemed he hadn't expected Yale's question to be so simple.

"On a global scale, the number of registered meta-human individuals in the DEO fluctuates around ten million."

Yale nodded slightly, thoughtful.

"Traveler." Nightwalker suddenly spoke again, "Interested in meeting in reality?"

Yale raised his eyebrows.

A teenage billionaire actively inviting an alien with an unknown background but suspiciously massive amounts of information to meet?

"Not interested." Yale waved his hand without hesitation.

"Why?"

"Ghost knows how you'll deal with me." Yale smiled sincerely, "What if you've prepared a contingency plan targeting me?"

"..."

A flash of confusion crossed Nightwalker's gray-blue eyes.

Wait...

A thought suddenly flashed through Yale's mind.

It is now 2007.

Bruce Wayne, if according to the timeline he knew...

Shouldn't he right now...?

"Speaking of which." Yale's tone suddenly became casual, "Do you still live in your city?"

"Otherwise?"

"Don't go to other places for a walk? To see? Or learn something?" The blond youth casually patted Nightwalker's shoulder, "I suggest you change places to live, otherwise if you stay in that city for too long in the future, you'll really become a psychiatric patient."

Nightwalker's shoulders stiffened under Yale's palm.

Gotham drives people crazy...

How does this guy know?

Is he from Gotham?!

Nightwalker was silent for a moment.

"... Really not considering meeting in reality?" He said in a low voice.

"I think my prophetic dream." Before Yale could speak, Nightwalker suddenly spoke on his own, "You might be interested."

Yale raised an eyebrow.

A prophetic dream.

Nightwalker's prophetic dream?

Batman...

Or rather, the prophetic dream of the future Batman?

If Nightwalker was also bestowed a prophetic dream by the hourglass during his absence from that gathering, what would the content be?

Also Darkseid?

Or something else enough for this calm teenage billionaire to actively use as a bargaining chip to invite him to meet?

Yale's gaze drifted nonchalantly to a corner of the hall.

Silence was leaning against a pillar in a daze, obviously not intending to have any conversation with them before the moon went down to prevent angering herself, but as for the cat...

It was obviously eavesdropping on their conversation all along.

Yale cast a covert inquiry at Moge.

——Is his prophetic dream Darkseid?

Moge's round golden eyes blinked, and then it shook its head.

No.

Yale breathed a sigh of relief in his heart.

It seemed that gray demon stepping on a black hole walking from the depths of the universe hadn't appeared in both people's prophetic dreams.

After all, the more people who had the same dream, the easier it was for it to turn into a nightmare.

Then he wouldn't be fighting Darkseid five years later; maybe Darkseid would descend upon Earth tomorrow or the day after.

"I'm very interested in your prophetic dream." Yaleshrugged, "But let's talk about it later, after we deal with tonight's nightmare."

"We?"

But then a sneer rang out from the depths of the colonnade.

"I advise you not to cooperate with that good-for-nothing?" Ice-blue eyes opened, Silence sneered, "When we entered the instance last time, I thought he could at least help a little bit, but as a result, he stood in the broken factory without even the courage to approach that thing. I rushed up alone and fought for twenty minutes, while he observed from behind for a long time and said he was looking for weaknesses."

"..."

The hall went quiet.

Yale noticed that Nightwalker's arms crossed in front of his chest involuntarily dropped.

Anger.

The unique anger of a youth.

Obviously, no matter how composed and calm Bruce Wayne pretended to be on the surface, facing such solid sarcasm, he would still feel humiliated.

Yale felt somewhat wistful.

Are these his teammates?

A grumpy heavyweight woman, a teenage billionaire angry enough to use Silence as a shield.

He could roughly guess the stories behind both of them...

Silence deeply cared about the loneliness of having no one fight side by side with her when facing the nightmare alone last time, coupled with his truancy as council president, which led her to vent her anger on Nightwalker, who looked easier to bully.

"..."

Damned Silence, she didn't dare to get angry at him, the council president, at all! Where is your Will of Fire?! You don't have a shred of Ambition's Will!

"Silence, I despise you!" Yale suddenly said.

Silence: "..."

The woman sneered, but unusually didn't say anything, only turning her head to look at Moge, obviously not planning to have any more communication with Yale.

She wasn't a masochist; there was no need to pick a bone with Yale and bring trouble upon herself...

"Someone's coming again, Traveler!"

Moge's voice suddenly sounded from beside Yale's feet.

"Then why are you telling me?" Yale subconsciously retorted.

"You're the council president now!" Moge said righteously.

"..."

Yale sighed in his heart.

His gaze followed the direction pointed by Moge's erect ears.

The dreamstone was still faithfully executing its duty...

The newcomer was distorted into a blurry outline.

But only the eyes, a pair of sea-blue pupils presented themselves as an exception in Yale's eyes.

"Hello everyone."

The newcomer stopped, scanning the three people and one cat in the hall.

"Another hero!"

Moge spun in circles in excitement, hurriedly scurrying to the newcomer's feet, "Welcome to the Dream Realm, I am Moge, the temporary administrator of the Dream Realm, listen to me..."

Perhaps it was a rare occurrence not to be interrupted.

This made the Burmese cat happily and excitedly complete a comprehensive popularization of the Dream Realm.

"..."

"Zeus... In the name of Hera..." She couldn't believe it, "So the dreams over all these years... are because of the trials of the Lord of Dreams?"

"You know the Dream God?" Moge was surprised.

"I've seen it in ancient texts." The woman sighed, "Legend has it that the God of Sleep Hypnos is merely His messenger, His avatar. He is the dream, the incarnation of all illusion and slumber... I never thought that one day I would personally step into His hall."

"What a pity, the master of the hall is not home right now." Yale casually chimed in.

"Are you the... leader here?" The sea-blue eyes turned to him.

"Council President." Yale corrected, "Elective."

She was stunned for a moment, then nodded.

"What is your guardian beast?" Yale suddenly asked.

"Guardian beast?"

"Before entering this hall, what did you fight against in your dream?"

"Griffin." The woman was equally candid.

Griffin?

And talking constantly about the Greek gods...

"Hello, I am Traveler." Yale cleared his throat and extended his right hand.

"Is this a handshake?" The woman said cautiously.

"Of c—"

"You've never shaken hands?" Before Yale could speak, Silence in the distance asked in surprise a step ahead.

"Of course, my sisters and I usually hug."

The woman answered truthfully.

"... You still have sisters?" Silence seemed to have her interest piqued, her voice unusually curious, "How many?"

"Thousands, I suppose?"

"..."

Silence fell silent.

Thousands of sisters...

She sneered and turned her head.

Obviously feeling that this woman wasn't very honest, using some alien excuse to fob her off just like a certain man.

Nightwalker also nodded slightly, looking with slight helplessness at the two shaking hands.

After all, no matter how you looked at it, this sort of thing was impossible...

Could your home possibly be a country of women?

"..."

What the other two guys were thinking in their hearts, Yalewasn't clear.

It really is a country of women?

This was the first thing he thought of in his heart at this moment.

And the second thing was...

"Ding——!"

"Detected the presence of a special template ability holder."

"Target judgment: Paradise Island Amazon."

"Template entry successful——Olympian Demigod."

"Role-playing conditions: Justice and compassion, truth never yields!"

Sure enough...

Olympian Demigod.

Justice and compassion, fighting for the truth.

Unlike Hyperion.

One is a tyrant, one is a knight.

The former is to defeat the world with the power of one person, to become the dictatorship and hegemony of truth itself.

The latter is drawing the sword to protect the world, fighting for the truth.

Yale nodded slightly. Although it sounded somewhat in conflict with Hyperion, it wasn't to the extent that they couldn't be bound together.

He pondered for a moment, just wanting to speak up about making friends or something.

But... unfortunately, before he could say his next sentence...

While shaking hands with him, the woman did something completely unexpected to everyone present.

"Warriors of the Dream Realm, my future partners."

"Let me introduce myself, I am a warrior of Paradise Island, daughter of Queen Hippolyta, you can directly call me..."

She let go of his hand, and then loudly chanted her name.

"Diana."

"..."

The white hall went quiet.

In a hall specially designed with dreamstones to shield everyone's true identities, right after Moge just explained and suggested using codenames to protect one's safety.

Someone actually stood under the red moon and announced their own name.

Candid to the point of near rudeness, upright to the point of near naivety.

Even Silence on the side cast a look of admiration.

This broad is really a character.

Yale:... Is someone really surfing the internet with their real name?

But things having reached this point...

"... Alright, Diana." Yale supported his forehead, "Thank you for your candor. Very... very candid..."

"Traveler, you..."

Moge sighed, seeming to want to say something to remedy it, but the next instant its ears suddenly stood up!

"Nightmare——!"

It shouted loudly, "The nightmare has appeared, everyone!"

"Where?!" Nightwalker gave a low shout.

"Now!"

"...?"

"Hum——!"

The white hall flickered, and white mist rose!

Everyone only felt their eyes blur.

When they regained their senses, they had already stepped onto the wet ground.

And above the firmament.

A crimson moon hung high.

Acidic drizzle drifted and fluttered down.

Gothic buildings loomed and towered oppressively under the red moon.

"Clang——!"

Above the distant bell tower, the black hour and minute hands overlapped at midnight!

"Caw-caw-caw!"

A flock of crows flew about chaotically amidst the bell tolls.

"This is..."

Yale's pupils shrank, and he subconsciously turned his head to look beside him.

Sure enough, Nightwalker's pupils widened in the rain curtain!

"This is... Gotham?!" He shouted in astonishment.

Gotham...?!

Then what is tonight's nightmare?

Scarecrow... Batman... or?!

"Solomon~ Grundy~"

Deep in some intersecting alley, the drain of a garbage dump!

The music was intermittent.

A music box was turning its gears in some invisible corner!

"Born on a Monday~ Christened on a Tuesday~"

A faint children's voice drifted down from beneath the dark clouds, lingering and rising amidst the midnight acid rain of Gotham.

"Married on a Wednesday~ Took ill on a Thursday~ Growing worse on a Friday~ Died on a Saturday~"

"Buried on a Sunday~ Solomon Grundy~ That's the end of his life~"

Chapter 27 Yale: I'm going to win!

"The nightmare is Solomon Grundy." Nightwalker turned around. "When I was a child, my father told me that ghosts and ghouls don't exist in this world, but Solomon Grundy is an exception. Gotham truly has a monstrously strong, undead walking corpse."

Everyone fell silent, gazing at the red moon in the sky.

"He is forever cursed to cycle between death and resurrection, pathetically and randomly reborn as some entirely new existence."

Memories of the comics he had read in his past life surfaced in his mind; Yale naturally hadn't forgotten Poison Ivy's commentary on Grundy the zombie.

"Meaning we're going to fight zombies next?" He chimed in with Nightwalker's words. "Like the ones in the movies?"

"Not ordinary zombies; he is forever cursed in death and resurrection—"

"Clang—!" The clock tower's hands chimed!

The minute hand, having returned to midnight, moved forward once more, the sound of the pendulum echoing across the entire city! A flock of crows scattered in terror like wraiths under the blood moon!

"Grundy! In this life! Walk it to the end!"

The rough voice cascaded endlessly from above the firmament!

"In this life! Walk it to the end!!!"

Beneath the red moon, atop the clock tower's spire.

There clearly crouched a bulky, grey figure.

His skin was leaden-cyan, his black suit jacket bulging tautly! Stretched by his muscles, it was almost on the verge of bursting! His cuffs and hem were plastered with swamp muck and unidentifiable aquatic weeds! A pair of turbid eyes gradually focused on the four-person squad hiding in the shadows!

Solomon Grundy!

"Thud! Thud! Thud!"

The grey tiles on the roof clattered down.

"Does anyone think he looks like King Kong?" Yale tilted his head. "All he's missing right now is beating his chest."

"What are you babbling about?" Nightwalker frowned and snapped in a low voice.

"I mean that 1933 movie, the big guy who beats his chest, stands tall, and grabs humans as easily as bananas." Yaleadded unhurriedly, "Except he's uglier, shorter, greyer, and doesn't chase the heroine up a clock tower… Well, thinking about it carefully, maybe he's not that similar after all."

"…"

"Are you talking about a monkey?" A voice came from beside them.

Sea-blue eyes turned over; Diana tilted her head and actually thought seriously about the metaphor.

"Doesn't your home have a movie theater?" Yale asked.

"There's no such thing on the island." She answered candidly, even taking half a step toward Yale, clearly showing a genuine interest in the topic of King Kong.

"Of course, he really does look like an ape, my home—"

"Is this really the time for humor?" Nightwalker helplessly facepalmed, his grey-blue eyes looking at the giant under the red moon.

"Can you fucking shut up?" Silence's roar rang out, her ice-blue eyes flashing under the red moon. "All of you, look at the sky! He's about to jump down!"

"Take your fucking monkeys and elephants home and look at them later!"

As her words fell, the grey giant shadow plummeted down from the clock tower!

"Grundy—"

The freakish walking corpse descended from the heavens!

"Bang—"

Yale grabbed Nightwalker by the back of his collar from the shadow of the colossal object, pulling the unresponsive young billionaire away!

Staggering two steps to regain his balance, a shaken Nightwalker seemed to want to say something like words of gratitude.

"Now is not the time for this." Yale didn't even look back. "Stand further back, you rich little fatcat."

"Everyone move aside—"

A furious shout!

An ice-blue speck of light crashed toward Grundy!

"Thud—"

Grundy was knocked back, staggering.

Facts proved that Silence's strength was indeed very great, and at times she could truly play the role of a primary attacker or similar roles.

But for Grundy, it was still far from enough. Even though the force of every single punch of hers could smash boulders into powder, slamming them onto the walking corpse's ashen torso only caused ripples of vibration across his rotted flesh.

"Roar—! Grundy!"

The zombie was furious, swinging his fist to—

"Hum!"

A spear whistled through the air, stabbing into the rotted flesh! Then, spinning with the momentum, the tail of the spear flicked upward to strike Grundy's chin.

Truly worthy of being Paradise Island's Valkyrie.

Yale nodded slightly; this fellow was too professional.

However…

"Where did the spear come from?"

Nightwalker froze. He was very certain everyone had been empty-handed, so where did this woman conjure a spear from?

"If this place is a dream, it's the breeding ground for all things born and unborn." Yale said thoughtfully.

"Meaning…"

"You can materialize weapons."

Moge popped out from who-knows-where to add.

"But you must pay attention…"

"The more powerful the weapon, the stronger the nightmare will become accordingly! The power of your imagination will feed back into the nightmare itself!"

"…"

"Then who designed this setting?" Yale clicked his tongue speechlessly. "Handing out weapons while increasing the boss's difficulty at the same time?"

"Fighting infinite fear with finite imagination, don't you think it's cool?" Moge asked with great dissatisfaction.

"I don't."

"Can't be helped then," the cat said. "Rules are rules."

"…"

Yale didn't want to bother with it, simply turning his head to look at Nightwalker.

He was closing his eyes, his brows tightly furrowed.

Evidently, to a seventeen-year-old mortal without any superpowers, the phrase that weapons could be materialized out of thin air was comparable to a certain blue raccoon cat finally pulling out a bamboo-copter at a critical moment—it was undoubtedly an unexpected pleasant surprise.

"Hoo…"

Slowly opening his eyes, Nightwalker took a deep breath and clenched his right hand in the air. The next instant, a silver spear condensed and formed in his palm.

"Are you an idiot?" Yale pressed down on the spear shaft instead.

"Why?"

"She uses a spear because she's been a warrior since childhood. You want to use a spear? Are you charging up to be a salad for the zombie?" Yale's mouth twitched. "Think about what level you're at, will you?"

"…"

"Use this, keep your distance, and fire whenever you see an opportunity." Yale flipped his hand casually, materializing a semi-automatic pistol in his palm and handing it over.

Nightwalker instinctively reached out to catch it.

"Clatter…"

The pistol slipped and fell.

Yale completely hadn't expected that the moment Nightwalker saw the pistol, he would firmly slump down into the puddle, his breathing turning rapid, his grey-blue eyes filled with terror.

Oh no…

Yale's mouth twitched.

A fragment of memory in his brain that he thought he wouldn't need popped out.

A rainy night, Crime Alley, a pearl necklace.

"...Sorry."

Yale casually kicked the black pistol into the drainage ditch.

"Use this instead."

Nightwalker blankly raised his head, his grey-blue eyes meeting amber pupils under the red moon, as well as a longbow glowing in the moonlight.

"...Sorry, I just now—" Nightwalker stood up from the ground.

"Stand here and don't move." Yale casually interrupted and instructed, "Then shoot."

Nightwalker nodded, taking the longbow and pulling the bowstring to test the feel.

The string was very tight, and the draw weight wasn't low.

But for him, drawing it was no problem.

He narrowed his eyes, materialized an arrow, nocked it, and drew the bow.

"Whoosh—"

The arrow sliced through the red rain curtain, the sound of breaking air piercing through Gotham's alleys!

Until it struck squarely in the back of Grundy's neck.

The accuracy was quite good.

Should one say it's truly talent?

"Alfred taught me."

Nightwalker seemed to perceive the gaze Yale cast over, and in the gap between drawing his bow and notching an arrow, he didn't forget to throw back a sentence.

"…"

The things rich kids played with were indeed somewhat different from other families...

Why could Jonathan only teach him how to grow corn? Truly shivering with anger!

"You're just watching from below?" Nightwalker asked.

"Mhm."

Yale leaned against the wall, thoughtful. "I'm observing the weaknesses."

"…"

Nightwalker fell silent.

Last time, someone else also said "I'm observing the weaknesses"...

That person was himself...

And Silence's evaluation of this was...

Trash.

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

Silver arrows fired in rapid succession, their tails humming and vibrating.

"Aim before you shoot! Trash—"

Silence's familiar furious scolding came from afar.

Nightwalker's mouth twitched, his eyes looking toward the ice-blue specks of light weaving around Grundy on the other side of the battlefield.

Silence's punches landed squarely on flesh, but the zombie didn't feel pain.

The walking corpse had long since lost the sensation of pain.

He was the incarnation of Gotham's swamp.

Aside from Yale...

This was the first time Silence had encountered something with greater strength than her own.

Based on what?

That man whose words made people furious was one thing.

Why on earth was the strength of a walking corpse without a soul, who only knew how to throw punches, greater than hers?

"Grundy... walk it to the end!"

The giant impatiently raised two sandbag-sized fists!

"Slap—"

Diana's spear swept horizontally!

Smashing Grundy into a staggering half-kneel.

The power of stats was evident.

"Don't lose focus!" She snapped at Silence.

Silence curled her lips, her ice-blue eyes casting a cold, sideways glance at Diana through the rain.

And this newcomer who just arrived...

What right did they have to boss her around?

"Mind your own business!" Silence cursed back, baring her teeth as she punched Grundy's right ribs.

Taking advantage of this time, she raised her head.

Above the ridge of the roof, beneath the red moon.

A pair of golden pupils was suspended mid-air, overlooking the battlefield from on high.

That guy was just floating up there like that.

Silence grew even more furious.

"Traveler?!"

Diana looked up and shouted.

There was no response.

Diana frowned.

What on earth was this fellow called Traveler doing?!

"Ha—"

Silence roared and lunged at the zombie once again.

"Ignore him! Diana! We'll be just fine without this coward!"

She wanted to prove it to everyone!

She alone could smash this pile of rotted flesh into slag!

"Thud—"

With a single punch down, Grundy's chest was forcibly blasted wide open!

The giant staggered, violently retreating a step!

Finally... finally retreated a step!

A smile curled at the corner of Silence's mouth.

But...

"Crack."

Vines reached out from the blasted cracks in the zombie's chest!

Like a swarm of snakes, they burrowed out from every single one of Grundy's wounds!

"...?!"

Not good!

Silence tried to break free, but the power of the vines was actually growing.

Grundy was the incarnation of the swamp.

Everything he touched would be dragged into the decaying abyss, swallowed layer by layer by peat and stagnant water!

"Swish— swish—"

More vines burrowed out from the cracks in the ground, wrapping around the woman's ankles!

Clearly...

This dream Gotham was also closing the net for its nightmare!

"In the name of Hera—"

Diana swung her spear!

But no matter how she severed the vines, even more vines grew back anew from the broken ends!

Grundy's turbid eyes slowly turned toward the entangled Silence.

"Traveler!"

Diana raised her head and shouted once more.

Yale didn't make a sound.

"Traveler?!" Moge meowed at Nightwalker's feet. "Move already?! Why aren't you moving?! Could it be that you've betrayed us?!"

Yale was suspended mid-air, his golden pupils half-closed.

"Traveler!"

Nightwalker also looked up and called out perplexedly.

Although the other party seemed lax, judging from his words and actions over these past few days, Nightwalkernever felt that the other party was a psychiatric patient hiding in Arkham.

Then there was only one possibility...

Could it be?

However...

No one knew whether he was truly waiting for a certain time to ripen in the rainy night just as he said.

Nightwalker gritted his teeth, raising his bow and nocking an arrow.

If he shot the eyes...

"Grundy! Going to kill you..."

The zombie raised his giant fist.

"Silence!"

Below, Diana also shouted eagerly, looking at the woman bound by the vines, attempting to awaken her fighting spirit.

But...

Under the effect of the vines, under the corruption of the swamp itself...

The habitually hot-tempered Silence even began to lose focus in both eyes.

Damn it...

The Amazonian female warrior took a deep breath, looking at the glowing bracelets on her wrists. If possible, as long as—

"Boom—"

A molten-gold beam of light pierced through the red moon!

Before her! Before Grundy swung down his giant fist! Everything was eclipsed before the light erupting from the depths of the man's eyes! Grundy's massive body was blasted flying out! The grey rotted flesh turned into charred coal in the high temperature, and then into ashes!

Silence fell off from the restraints, dumbfoundedly sitting down heavily on the ground.

What the vines brought her seemed not just the draining of her strength, but even caused a certain impact on her psyche.

Diana withdrew her gaze and looked toward the firmament.

Beneath the red moon.

The Traveler's eyes were still burning with crimson gold, coldly overlooking the women below who had crawled up from the edge of death.

Nightwalker swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

The young man who had just pulled him along while running and joking didn't seem like the same person as the one currently in the air.

Just hovering beneath the red moon and looking down at them...

Just two beams of light shooting out from his eyes...

"Grundy!"

The zombie's upper body grew with a twist!

The bones reorganized with a creaking sound beneath skin and flesh.

"Grundy!!! Kill!!!"

A roar burst out from the rotting mouth!

"Boom—"

The grey giant sprinted crazily toward the golden figure mid-air!

Yale lowered his eyelids.

Looking down from his perspective.

The immortal zombie was running toward him amidst a ruined city composed of decay and a red moon.

Mhm...

"Step back, foul creature!"

An imperial decree!

Moonlight distorted, water droplets vibrated!

This was a verdict! This was a judgment!

Grundy's footsteps inexplicably halted, standing in place and blankly watching the golden figure in the sky.

"If you dare take another step, it will be the overturning of heaven and earth!"

"...?!"

Nightwalker stood frozen in place holding his bow.

Did this guy's chuunibyou act up?

No, if it were chuunibyou, then what was up with this layer of oppression on him that made people want to kneel down?

"Traveler, you..."

Are you really an alien?!

The young man, however, turned his head a step ahead, the sun wheel seeming to be suspended within his pupils.

"I'm going to win."

He said.

Nightwalker: "…"

Who asked you?

But Yale had already turned his head back.

Grundy snapped back to his senses, rising from the ruins to roar, issuing a challenge to the golden figure mid-air!

[Hyperion Roleplay Completion: 41.8% → 43.8%]

Yale's mouth curled up.

The roleplay completion increased.

He had merely said a cliché line to an immortal zombie reeking of decay with an intelligence roughly equivalent to a negative number.

Roleplay completion increased just like that?

He suddenly understood a bit why that silver lion always smiled in his dreams.

Hyperion, you are truth itself...

Truth brooks no compromise; you are truth itself.

You don't need to prove anything to anyone, because what needs to be proved is not the truth.

Translated into plain words, that would be...

Flaunting one's coolness like the wind, constantly accompanying oneself?!

Chapter 28 Bruce: "My house is very big, you can come in and sit."

"Ahem… Ahem-ahem!"

Nightwalker coughed, clearing his throat as he walked out of the smoke.

"Is it over…"

He narrowed his eyes and looked ahead.

Under the red moon, Traveler was pinching Grundy's head.

The zombie's massive body went limp in his hand.

"Grundy… this life… has come to an end…"

His golden eyes narrowed slightly.

"Bang—!"

The head exploded like a watermelon.

Then it was inhaled bit by bit into Yale's nostrils.

Ninety-nine percent… A rare item.

It's great to be alive.

Gotham truly is a place blessed with outstanding people.

Even a zombie contained such considerable radiation.

Hmm…

Moving to Gotham doesn't seem completely out of the question, does it?

"Traveler?!"

"What are you doing?!"

"…"

Well, if a certain person is in Gotham, then never mind.

Yale looked down.

Under the moonlight, Nightwalker's eyes were filled with astonishment.

Not far away, Diana's sea-blue eyes also carried a look of scrutiny.

Obviously…

Blowing up a zombie and then taking a nice, satisfying breath of it still seemed a bit too advanced for this era.

"Purifying exhaust gases." Yale said with a straight face.

Nightwalker: "…"

Who are you trying to kid?!

But before he could question him, the red moon in the firmament suddenly began to spin on its axis!

Gotham in the dream began to shatter!

The world was contracting!

"Hum—"

With a sudden lightness underfoot, everyone returned to the Endless White Palace.

The hourglass beneath the dome continued its eternal reverse flow, and the golden grains of sand climbed upward at a steady pace.

"Silence? Can you hear me?"

Yale raised an eyebrow and turned his head, only to see the usually irritable woman kneeling in place with unfocused eyes.

"Moge?" Nightwalker asked in a deep voice.

"She has been eroded by the nightmare."

The Burmese cat poked its head out from beside Yale's feet, "She was forcibly trapped in another layer of nightmare within her dream, so she became trapped in her own fear. She needs a stimulus to be dragged out."

"What kind of stimulus?" Diana frowned.

"Physical means, the simple and brutal kind," the cat hesitated, "Of course, I still hope you guys can go a bit easy on her."

"Physical means?" Yale raised an eyebrow, then looked around and said, "Who's going to do it?"

The two people and one cat stared uniformly at Yale.

Yale: "…"

Looking speechlessly around at these two teammates who placed high hopes on him and the cat, the young man strode toward Silence.

The woman's eyes were lifeless.

The fellow who used to trade blows with the walking dead was now nothing more than a child frightened by a nightmare, too scared to crawl out from under the covers.

"Slap—!"

With a swing of his hand, Yale slapped her and gave a low shout:

"You coward! Wake up!"

"I am not a coward!" Silence's eyes refocused as she abruptly stood up, "Did you just hit me?!"

"Yes." Yale stood up.

"…"

"Then you hit pretty lightly." Silence took a deep breath, stubbornly persisting, "Were you afraid of making me cry?"

"That's not it, but I was genuinely afraid of hitting you so hard you'd start laughing."

"…"

Seeming not to expect Yale to be so bold and unrepentant…

Even Silence couldn't help being stunned for a long time, unable to say a word.

"Traveler just wanted to wake you up, he didn't mean it like that." Diana walked over helplessly, gently embracing Silence's shoulders, and said in a low voice, "I don't think you're a coward. After all, in tonight's battle, you were the first one to charge up."

Silence didn't make a sound, her ice-blue eyes lowering as if she was thinking about something.

Yale curled his lip in disgust and turned to walk toward Moge in the direction of the throne.

He never had any patience when it came to comforting women.

"Ahem."

Seeing that Silence had regained her senses, Moge also cleared its throat and leaped onto the armrest of the throne.

"First of all, congratulations to everyone for successfully defeating tonight's nightmare. Grundy is quite a tricky opponent, especially since today we were on his home turf, Gotham, and yet everyone managed to…"

"Cut the crap! Hurry up and tell us about our rewards." Yaleinterrupted.

"…"

Moge's tail stiffened for a moment.

It forced an awkward smile.

"The dream distributes rewards based on the proportion of contribution to defeating the nightmare. Considering that this time it was completed mostly through Traveler's efforts," the cat's round golden eyes glanced cautiously at the other three people, "The lion's share goes to Traveler, no objections from anyone, right?"

"You all heard that?"

Yale said expressionlessly and calmly:

"Who agrees?"

The White Palace was silent.

"Who opposes?"

"…"

The White Palace remained silent.

After all…

Nightwalker knew his own contribution was indeed limited.

Diana felt that the final killer taking the largest share of the prey was an unquestionable rule on Paradise Island for three thousand years, and it was the same in the dream, nothing strange about it.

Silence merely snorted, glaring at Yale with her ice-blue eyes, but that was all.

"Unanimously passed."

Moge swung its tail happily. "Come with me, Traveler."

It trotted across the hall and stopped in front of a high wall churning with mist.

"Go in."

Moge raised a front paw and pointed toward the depths of the mist.

"The hourglass has recognized your contribution, and the mist won't actively swallow you up. But as I said before, don't look too deep. Just get what 'Dream' has bestowed upon you and come out."

Yale nodded slightly.

The lesson from last time, when he was almost altered in his cognition by the Anti-Life Equation, was still vivid in his mind.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the white mist.

And this time…

The white mist quietly retreated to both sides, opening a passageway before him.

At the end of the passageway was…

A dagger suspended mid-air?

"Hum—!"

Knowledge followed the closing white mist and drilled into his mind.

"Moonblade?"

Yale raised an eyebrow, reached out in surprise to take the dagger, and aimed it at the red moon in the firmament.

The moonlight layered upon the blade, forming a long sword.

Sure enough…

This was equipment once held by a certain notoriously unlucky detective.

——Moonblade.

Its form would change according to the moon phase.

On a crescent moon night, it was a dagger; on a full moon night, it was a long sword.

And most importantly, any existence slain by the Moonblade under the moonlight would have its soul permanently sealed within the blade, becoming a servant of the sword wielder.

Its functionality could not be described as anything less than powerful.

"It's just a bit unlucky."

Yale put the long sword away with regret.

The silver light collapsed layer by layer, turning back into a dagger that obediently lay in his palm.

The mist receded.

"What did you get?" Nightwalker greeted him at the first moment.

"The best sword in the village." Yale casually stuffed the dagger into his pocket.

"…"

Nightwalker looked silently at Moge.

Trying to get more accurate intelligence from the Burmese cat, who was the dream administrator.

But the cat, after sensing Nightwalker's gaze, turned its head the other way.

"…"

Nightwalker almost laughed in anger.

Starting to respect privacy at a time like this, huh?

Damn it, is this the darkness of the Dream Council?!

He suppressed the depression clogging his chest and looked back at Yale.

"Are you also in Gotham in reality?" he asked casually.

Yale raised an eyebrow.

"My house is very big," Nightwalker continued on his own, "Do you want to come over and sit…"

"Don't say it like that. Over in our part of the universe, the next step after talking about how big a house is to ask if the other person wants to have breakfast in bed together."

"...That is quite a cultural difference," Nightwalkerhesitated.

"Do you know why?"

"You're an alien?"

"Wrong. It's because no matter which planet you're on, this is a very low-level probing attempt." Yale was speechless. "If you want to invite someone to your house as a guest, you should at least ask whether they want coffee or tea first, instead of bragging about how big your house is. Who did you learn these half-assed tricks from? Did your butler teach you?"

"…"

A trace of embarrassment flashed in Nightwalker's eyes.

But what kind of person was he? He was Bruce Wayne.

The man with the most masks.

"Then let's talk about it now?" He cleared his throat, and his tone turned serious again.

"Go ahead." Yale nodded.

Apparently, he also remembered the prophetic dream the young billionaire had mentioned earlier.

"I dreamed of a magnificent banquet hall, and dignitaries in evening wear," Nightwalker explained in a low voice, "I couldn't see their faces, but I saw their corpses. The bodies of hundreds of people were swimming in blood at that banquet."

"…"

"Is there anything else?" Yale asked with a frown.

"Yes."

Nightwalker pondered for a moment. "In the past few days when I enter dreams, there are occasionally images of crows pecking at the rotting meat on the corpses."

"Have these prophetic dreams also been appearing recently?"

"Intermittent fragments, occasionally flashing by even when I'm awake," Nightwalker said, "They're getting more frequent, and I've also asked Alfred to check; Gothamreally is having a charity banquet at the end of next month."

"So you want me to go to the scene to help you stop this?" Yale asked.

"Yes."

"After all, there are hundreds of human lives, Traveler."

Nightwalker said solemnly, "Can you help me?"

"What can you give me?" Yale asked naturally.

"The friendship of the Wayne family." Nightwalker didn't hesitate.

Yale: …

"...Money?"

"Do you think I lack money?" Yale sneered.

Well…

That was indeed hard to refute.

An alien who could crush an immortal zombie with one hand under a red moon didn't look like someone who cared about money no matter how you looked at it.

"Then what do you want?" he asked in a low voice.

"I want you…" Yale looked at him.

Nightwalker's butt tightened, and his eyes shrank.

No wonder this guy was so rough to Silence, turns out it was…

"...The Wayne Group under your name."

"…"

Nightwalker let out a long sigh of relief.

Turns out it was just money.

Wait?!

"What do you mean by wanting me?" He laughed out of anger.

Really opening your mouth like a lion, huh?!

"Literally what it means." Yale said casually, "Of course I won't ask for too much, just split half of the shares with me."

"…"

"Even if I wanted to give it to you, I couldn't." Nightwalkersaid somewhat helplessly, "Don't forget I'm still a minor. The equity and operational rights of the group are controlled by my uncle Kane and Alfred."

"…"

That seemed to be the case?

Yale was pensive.

No matter how unimaginably wealthy the person before him was, he was currently just a seventeen-year-old kid who couldn't even legally buy alcohol.

"Then how much do you have on you?" Yale asked with slight regret.

"Thirty million dollars."

"Exchange it all for equivalent gold and give it to me after it's done." Yale said, "Don't think it's expensive. Think about it, thirty million to buy hundreds of lives, that's only one hundred thousand each, cheaper than the overtime pay your group allocates to the Gotham City Police Department every year."

"…"

It… It really was?

Nightwalker thought about it carefully and found it really made sense.

Turning the cold numbers in a bank account into living human lives…

Could those good-for-nothings do that?

"Deal." Nightwalker let out a relieved breath.

Meanwhile, the red moon also reached the end of the horizon.

Nightwalker seemed to want to say something more, but his body's outline was already starting to become transparent.

The grey-blue spots of light dissipated in the red moon.

"Until next time, Traveler." Diana stood up and nodded slightly to Yale.

Her sea-blue eyes melted into the White Palace.

Finally came Silence.

A pair of ice-blue eyes were glaring at Yale.

"One day I will surpass you! Traveler!" she shouted loudly.

"Then go ahead and chase."

Yale yawned absentmindedly, "Chase until you can't even see my back anymore."

"You…!"

Silence seemed to want to say something harsh enough to make Yale remember it for a whole week, but unfortunately, before she could say it, she turned into a wisp of silver mist and dissipated within the White Palace.

Yale stood in place.

The hourglass rustled beneath the dome, and the red moon was about to sink below the horizon.

He actually turned out to be the last person to disappear.

Was this also a privilege of the Council President?

He lowered his head and looked at his feet.

Moge was curled up on the throne, its golden eyes narrowed down to mere slits.

"Are you going to sleep too?" Yale looked at this furry creature.

"Of course."

Moge yawned. "Kitties need to sleep sixteen hours a day."

"…"

The White Palace was quiet for a moment.

There was only a final thread of the red moon left.

Yale could feel himself getting lighter little by little.

"Good morning, Yale." Moge suddenly said with its eyes closed.

"…"

"Good night, Moge."

Yale couldn't help but chuckle as he scratched the cat's head, listening to it purr comfortably.

Just like that until the world lost its color.

...

Metropolis, an underground location.

Pure white walls, pure white ceiling, pure white floor.

"Bastard!"

A dark figure bounced up from the bed.

Endless white grand hall, red moon hanging in the sky.

An uninhibited man pinned her to the ground and called her a coward.

"I am not a coward…" She gritted her teeth.

"Clatter…"

The dark figure's ears twitched.

Footsteps came from the end of the corridor.

"Creeak…"

The door was pushed open.

The person who came was a handsome young man with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Little sister…" he said softly, "The application to go up has been approved, it seems like we'll be able to leave this place soon and become…"

"Shut up! John!"

The dark figure turned her head around, her ice-blue eyes beneath the mask incomparably cold.

"How many times have I told you not to call me little sister!"

The young man's smile froze at the corner of his mouth.

He was silent for a moment, but then a flattering smile hung on his face again.

"Did you have another nightmare?" the young man asked cautiously.

But seeing the young man looking like this made the woman even more furious.

Clearly both of them were guys who could fly and had glowing eyes, why was the one in front of her…

"Get lost! You coward! Don't you know your sissy face is more disgusting than a nightmare?!"

"Get the hell out of here!"

"I… Then you… what do you want to eat tonight? I…"

"Get lost!"

"…"

"Sorry."

John turned around and looked at the ceiling for a while, then quietly walked out of the room.

The action of closing the door was very light, as if he was afraid of breaking something.

But…

In this white room, other than the woman, there was nothing else. What else was there that required him to carefully protect?

A moment later.

The woman finally seemed to recover from the nightmare.

"Traveler…" She took a deep breath, "You just wait for me…"

Chapter 29: The Five Good Emperors, But Dark Superman.

Above the firmament, dark clouds surged.

The white tower stood right in the middle of the sea of clouds, surrounded by flickering blue-purple electric arcs.

"Hum——!"

The storm tightened abruptly.

Yale opened his eyes in a trance.

Another prophetic dream?

Last time he saw Metropolis five years later when Darkseid descended, the burning scorched earth, and the black sky; what he saw this time was a storm, the white tower, and rolling thunder.

Yale pondered for a moment.

Looking out the window, the sunlight was obscured by dark clouds, and under the blowing cold wind lay mostly withered grasslands; Smallville, once possessing golden black soil, had turned into such a decadent appearance.

The drought had lasted from summer to now, and a crop failure seemed already doomed.

No matter how Jonathan united the community, in the face of nature, mortal power was ultimately limited.

...

Smallville High School, classroom.

Although winter had not yet fully arrived, the turning cold weather already made the students in the entire classroom shiver, but there was no help for it; Smallville's school budget had been in deficit for years, and educational funds had to be shifted around before they could be allocated to each student's hands.

"Pay attention, class."

History teacher Mr. Adam Black wore a short-sleeved shirt without feeling cold at all and pointed to the blackboard, "During the Vietnam War."

"The U.S. Marine 1st Division, 717th Infantry Regiment encountered encirclement in the jungle, and over three hundred soldiers were trapped deep in the rainforest."

"But at this time, a hero stepped forward."

"He covered the retreat of the entire battalion single-handedly."

"Afterward, the soldiers cleaned the battlefield and found that he alone had wiped out one hundred and twenty-eight enemies."

The classroom suddenly quieted down.

"Who is he, teacher?" someone exclaimed and asked.

"He is Soldier Boy." Black sighed, "It is said that the Pentagon intended to award him the rank of lieutenant colonel at the time, but he refused, saying that with great power comes great responsibility, and then returned to the battlefield."

"He said standing at his height, he saw many people who could not be evacuated."

Yale:...

He could guarantee that the facts were definitely not like this.

"However, what I want to say is..."

"Height can allow people to see a lot." Black glanced around, and finally rested his gaze on the two Kent brothers, "But it is also easy to make people mistakenly think they have seen everything."

"For example?" Yale raised his hand.

"No examples, Mr. Yale." Black smiled gently, "This is after-school homework. Please think about it carefully when you go back, and hand in a report tomorrow."

"...I hate Soldier Boy!"

Derek sitting in front wailed.

Yale curled his lips.

He felt that this old fogey definitely had some extraordinary relationship with Benjamin. Could it be a colleague of that guy Slade?

"Ring——!"

The class bell rang.

Yale yawned, stood up, and was about to walk towards Clark to chat about the argument between him and his father Jonathan last night.

But before he could speak—

"Mr. Kent."

The Kent brothers raised their heads at the same time.

"Uh... sorry, I mean my class representative, Mr. Kent." Black apologized, "Mr. Clark Kent."

Clark nodded, quite silently put his schoolbag on his back, and walked towards Black.

Yale raised an eyebrow, leaned against the classroom, and watched what tricks this kind-looking Mr. Black had up his sleeve.

"Here, my class representative."

Black casually handed a book to Clark, smiled mysteriously, "The class representative's perks, perhaps it will help you hand in tomorrow's report."

Clark took it, flipped through it, and was somewhat puzzled.

meditations".

——Marcus Aurelius.

If Clark remembered correctly.

Marcus Aurelius, the last of the Five Good Emperors of the Roman Empire.

"Mr. Black, this is..." Clark was about to say something, but the history teacher's back completely gave him no chance to continue speaking, and just left on his own like that.

Clark twitched the corner of his mouth, inexplicably recalling what Yale often hung on his lips.

"Riddles..."

"Forget about the riddler." Yale stepped up and put his arm around Clark's shoulder, "Our top priority right now is to think about how to solve the family crisis. Am I right, my dear brother who argued with Dad?"

...

Rooftop.

The wind was much colder than in the classroom.

The wire mesh shuddered in the wind, and a broken plastic bat that someone didn't know who had stuck was hanging on it, one wing trembling precariously on it.

Looking at Yale's back.

Clark was on high alert.

After all, this was the rooftop.

People who came here either confessed their love or...

Fought.

The former was impossible, so there was only the latter explanation.

Could it be that Yale finally couldn't stand him anymore and was going to blow up with him?!

Clark, clutching the copy of meditations", swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

"What are you nervous about?" Yale was puzzled.

"Nothing."

"Fine, then you can go back."

...

"This is not funny at all." Clark's mouth twitched.

"Knowing that I didn't come to joke with you, why don't you confess honestly?" Yale snorted coldly, "Joanna said you and Dad had a fight."

"I knew it."

Clark had a bit of a headache.

Then he sighed and said: "I saved a person yesterday."

"An off-road vehicle rushed off the bridge. I happened to be passing by at the time, so I jumped down and saved the person, and the person I saved happened to be—"

"Lex Luthor."

Clark was stunned, "How do you know?"

"Never mind me, continue."

...

"Anyway, to thank me, that guy plans to give me a new pickup truck." Clark pressed his lips together, "But Dad..."

"He refused?"

"Yeah... refusing is one thing, Dad also sarcastically mocked Lex, and after Lex left, he sighed and said that I shouldn't have exposed my powers to save people, saying I wasn't ready yet." Clark squatted down under the wire mesh, feeling unhappy, "Dad is always like this, not letting us do anything, Yale."

"Even though I've already gotten my driver's license! I can usually help the family deliver goods too! But he just thinks I shouldn't accept it! He always says we're different, this won't do, that won't do!"

"But why?" Unreconciled emotions surged in Clark's eyes, "Yale, you know, we clearly..."

"Hum——!"

A stream of Heat Vision burst from Clark's eyes, melting the wire mesh straight through with high temperature, burning a football-sized hole in it.

Molten iron slowly dripped down.

"Yale! Did you see that?" Clark panted and said, "We both have this power, we can do a lot of things..."

"When did your eyes awaken?" Yale frowned and interrupted, "Heat Vision? Why didn't you tell me?"

"A few days ago indeed." Clark spoke without blushing.

...

Yale stared at the charred hole, capturing Clark's heartbeat in his ear.

Mm...

It's about to hit ninety.

A few days ago indeed.

But Yale couldn't be bothered to expose this idiot brother. He pondered for a moment, looking this young Superman up and down.

Black hair and blue eyes, shoulders a circle broader than last year, and a cleft chin about to appear.

Yale suddenly thought of the prophetic dream this morning.

The white tower, dark clouds, the rotating storm.

Clark had grown up.

And the grown-up Superman would naturally usher in dark clouds and storms.

Father Jonathan might think it wasn't the time, but Yalethought it was time to put an idealism buff on his brother too.

"How did you awaken?" Yale asked casually.

"I..."

Clark's eyes drifted a bit, "An accident."

Yale raised an eyebrow, but couldn't be bothered to care about certain minor details.

"Clark." He opened his mouth, "Do you know why Uncle Ben was able to become Captain America?"

Clark couldn't help laughing, "Wasn't that made up by you?"

"Captain America is something I made up..." Yale said, "But with great power comes great responsibility, right?"

"That was made up by Uncle Ben?" Clark was stunned.

"Just how bad is your impression of him?" Yale covered his forehead, "Do you remember Soldier Boy?"

"The one Teacher Black talked about in class?" Clarknodded, then immediately realized, "Oh, I see, you mean to say that the prototype of Captain America is Soldier Boy?"

"Wrong, Uncle Ben is Soldier Boy."

The hole in the wire mesh expanded by seventy percent in the wind, expanding just like the shock in Clark's heart at this moment.

"That guy who curses a blue streak, has a filthy mouth, constantly brings up other people's family members, and doesn't even say a hello when leaving or coming home—"

"Benjamin, Soldier Boy."

...

Clark fell silent.

"With great power comes great responsibility." He muttered it again.

He suddenly felt that this sentence suddenly became lofty.

"You couldn't have never taken it to heart before, right?" Yale was surprised. He thought the Kansas sunshine boy would have treasured this sentence like a precious jewel.

"Before, I just thought it was a middle-aged uncle who constantly swore lecturing us." Clark said honestly.

Yale:...

So out of the whole family, only he, this little spider, carefully savored Uncle Ben's sentence?!

Clark was silent for a while, then seemed to have figured something out.

"So what you want to tell me is..."

He said earnestly, "I should be like Uncle Ben? Use my own power to be a hero? To shoulder responsibilities? Superheroes should save people without asking for anything in return?"

"Wrong!"

Clark:...

Yale, is there ever a time when I am actually right in your heart?

"...Then what on earth do you want to say?" The simple rural youth completely couldn't figure out what his younger brother was thinking.

"I think you need to learn to control your Heat Visionbefore talking about saving the world," Yale raised his hand and pointed at the charred hole. "Right now, you can't even control your own new abilities, yet you're asking Dad why he has to keep an eye on you."

Clark scratched his head, unable to hide the embarrassment on his face.

"But looking at it now, compared to your Heat Vision, I think you're straying off the path." While speaking, Yalegrabbed the wire mesh with his bare hands, tied a knot, and stitched them back together. "So what I want to tell you is another thing Dad taught me before."

"The greater the responsibility, the greater the power."

"Why didn't he teach me?!"

"That's not the point."

"Uncle's words reversed?" Clark furrowed his brow.

"Of course, that's the real point."

Yale casually pulled out the copy of meditations that Blake gave to Clark and flipped through a few pages.

Very good, it wasn't some dark magic book disguised as a philosophy book.

"The Emperor of the Roman Empire, Marcus Aurelius, in this work he left behind, never emphasized how to conquer the world; he only reflected on how to use power to control one's own thoughts and not be trapped by tools, and I suppose that's also the reason he could become one of the Five Good Emperors." Yale calmly handed the book back. "Clark, our Power is immense, so immense that we might be able to rule the world, but if one day you really want to change the world, fists alone won't cut it."

"Fists are just the crudest application of Power." Yaleshrugged. "True Power, however, allows your will to be executed even when you aren't present."

"I can't tell you what these words mean; you'll have to figure it out yourself using your Super Brain. Take a good look at this book, it might give you some new inspiration."

"..."

"I understand, Yale."

Clark took the book and took a deep breath,

"Very good, what do you understand?"

"You just wanted to lecture me, right?" he said with a serious expression.

"You're so slow to react." Yale shrugged.

"My reaction is fast, for instance, there's one more thing."

"... What else?"

"Mr. Wilson has been acting a bit strange lately."

"The one-eyed security guard at the school gate?"

"I've observed him for several days." Clark said seriously, "I found out that Chloe was right, Yale. He's been following people from our Kent Family."

"Mm."

"..."

"You aren't surprised?" Clark suddenly realized, "I knew you must have fought with him that day!"

"Slade Wilson. Nicknamed Deathstroke." Yale said.

"...?"

"Uncle Ben hired him to protect us." He smiled helplessly, "So he's been a security guard at this school for eight years."

"Uncle Ben..." Clark muttered softly, "He actually..."

"..."

Looking at the nearly worshipful expression on Clark's face, Yale suddenly regretted it.

Perhaps he really shouldn't have used a certain old man with bad legs as an example.

Forget it.

Considering the old man hired someone to protect his family for eight years...

"Alright, stop wearing that fanboy expression." Yale patted the young man's shoulder, "How's your Heat Vision control coming along?"

A subtle look appeared on Clark's face.

"That depends on the situation."

"What situation?"

"It's okay when I'm not angry, but a bit hard to control when I am."

"Come out tonight."

"Training?"

"Wrong!"

"...?"

"It's extra training."

Nightfall.

"Yale, is this really useful?"

Clark stood still in the open space next to the barn, somewhat sheepishly placing a plastic bag on the ground.

"Of course it's useful."

"Do you know what a Rasengan is?"

"What weird thing did you make up again?"

"Never mind that." Yale pulled out a water balloon, "Anyway, now use your Heat Vision to heat it up."

"Raise the water temperature inside, but don't let the water boil."

Clark frowned and looked at the water balloon in his hand.

"Sizz—!"

"Pop!"

The water balloon burst.

"..."

Yale wiped the water off his face.

"Anyway, that's how it is, train properly by yourself." He expressionlessly pointed at the water balloons filling the black bag on the ground.

"Hey! Are you sure you're not messing with me?!"

"..."

"Then watch closely."

Yale's eyes glowed slightly red.

The water balloon expanded slightly.

A moment later, Yale withdrew his gaze.

He bent down, picked up the water balloon, and threw it to Clark.

Clark instinctively caught it.

The balloon was intact, and the water inside...

Was pleasantly warm, neither too hot nor too cold.

"How did you do that?"

"You have a Super Brain and you're still asking me?"

"Isn't there no sun right now?"

"Do you want a pickup truck?"

"... Can we afford it?!"

Clark's eyes lit up a bit.

"Your brother is the bestselling comic author in America."

Yale shrugged, "We can afford it, but the premise is you have to control your eyes first, big guy."

"I get what you mean, Officer Yale." Clark said with a serious face.

"Very good, Clark, have you memorized everything I said today?"

"Of course, Officer Yale!"

"Then I'll go back to sleep first." Yale waved his hand, turned around, and sneaked away, "Also, after training, when you lie in bed, remember to think carefully about what I told you today."

…

A moment later.

Yale, lying in bed, instead began to ponder in his heart.

Today, he first applied a subjective-idealism buff to the future Superman that might trigger God knows when.

And incidentally gave the Smallville Superman a boot camp session.

Not bad, today was full of gains, completely not wasting time, the Kent Family truly has a bright future.

Yale closed his eyes.

Super Hearing immediately captured the sound of water balloons constantly exploding.

How nice…

A child worth teaching.

Yale felt comforted in his heart and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

"Yale."

"...?"

Scorched earth again, and an ash-black sky again.

Yale was silent for a moment.

So… who is calling out to him this time?

He turned around.

"My brother."

A man dressed in black, eighty percent similar to Clark, spoke to him ecstatically, "The greater the responsibility, the greater the power, isn't that right?"

"Hum—!"

Heat Vision roared forth, cutting a cluster of buildings in half at the waist.

"Now, I have lifted the world with one hand." The Superman in black sneered, "Domination! True Power! Is domination! Dominating this world! Then one can possess supreme power! Yale, you were right!"

"I am the Emperor! I am Superman!"

"And today! Yale! My hand shakes! My heart aches! But we still must fight to the death here! I think I will always miss you! I..."

"Get the hell out of here!"

Yale couldn't help but slap him across the face.

"Bang!"

The dream shattered.

Yale sat up abruptly, his ears twitching slightly, and sure enough, the sound of water balloons bursting had disappeared.

The familiar sound of snoring rang out.

That guy had already fallen into a deep sleep.

Rotten wood cannot be carved!

Did I give you a subjective-idealism buff for you to come and beat me up?!

Yale laughed out of extreme anger, stood up, and was about to rush over to the guy who had misinterpreted his meaning, but just as he pushed open the door, he met a pair of blue eyes glowing in the dark.

"...?"

The girl's little white dress fluttered gently in the night breeze.

At this moment, she was staring at him without blinking.

"Why are you here? How long have you been standing here?"

"Not long."

"Not cold?"

"Not cold."

"Want some water?"

"No."

"Then I'm going to find Clark, go to sleep early."

Having said that, Yale turned around gritting his teeth.

A dissatisfied soft hum came from behind.

Normally, Yale might turn back to tease Joanna, but right now was not the time to care about that. The most urgent matter right now was to clean up the house for the Kent Family.

…

"Bang—!"

The room door burst open with a bang.

Clark was dazed and sleepy, his nostrils twitching slightly.

Yale's scent? Then it's fine…

"Pop—!"

A water balloon burst on his head.

"...?!"

The damage wasn't high, but the sobering effect was extremely strong.

Clark opened his eyes abruptly.

"What's wrong?! Yale! Is the IRS here?!" he exclaimed.

But what he met was a pair of burning golden pupils.

"Of course the IRS didn't come, my brother." Yale cast a gloomy look at his Superman brother who was about to grow crooked, then turned his head back to look at the half-flipped copy of meditations on the desk.

Right now, this looked simply like a dark magic book.

"I just want to ask how you slept tonight? I see you've been working very hard?"

"Of course I've been working hard."

Although he didn't know what was going on with Yale, Clark still said proudly, "Tonight, not only did I thoroughly read meditations, but I also kept thinking about what you said, which has benefited me immensely. As expected of you, and as expected of the memorandum written by the wise Roman emperor, it made me..."

"Made me..."

Looking at Yale's increasingly ferocious smile, Clark's voice paused, and he couldn't help swallowing a mouthful of saliva.

He now felt that his younger brother was even scarier than the tax bureau that occasionally visited the farm.

"Yale..."

"Mm?"

"How about you let me go check if the IRS is here first?"

Chapter 30 Clark: Brother! I will definitely save you!

I really wonder what the wise Roman emperor would think if he knew that the philosophical notes he wrote could turn a sunny Kansas teenager into a corrupted emperor dreaming of ruling the world.

Yale flipped through the meditations, but after searching for a long time, he couldn't find a single thing wrong.

"What are you pondering?" Clark asked cautiously.

"I am pondering how to make you understand what Power means." Yale handed the book back.

"Strength?"

Clark took the book back.

"Wrong."

"..."

"Ability... or rather, authority and power."

"You mean to say that authority is essentially also a kind of ability?" The Super Boy caught on immediately.

"Otherwise? You have super strength to stop a runaway tank with your bare hands, but the young master of the Lex Luthor family can also hire an army to stop a runaway tank."

"Old man Jonathan is just an ordinary farmer, yet everyone in the town listens to his dispatch during disasters. Everyone trusts him. This trust allows an ordinary farmer like Dad to mobilize the town's well water, seeds, and farm machinery to fight against natural disasters. This is Power."

Clark nodded.

Come to think of it, since they grew up, this was the first time in many years that Yale had told him so many profound truths, and it was actually at night?!

"With great power comes great responsibility—when said in comic books, those words are indeed very stirring." Yaleshook his head. "You are very powerful, so you are a hero, and you should be the savior; many works are like this nowadays."

"But reality is not a comic book," Clark said in a low voice.

"Of course, the vast majority of people in reality do not have superpowers; their Power comes from elsewhere."

"The physique given by parents, the trust given by friends, the resources given by society, the gifts of nature... or rather, the power bestowed upon us by the sun."

"We accumulate these things bit by bit, which is what allows us to burn a hole in the wire mesh with Heat Vision, or weld back the wire mesh that was burned into a hole."

"Is that why Dad said different things to Uncle Ben?" Clarkscratched his head.

"Because Dad never hoped for us to be any kind of superhero; he was simply reminding us that the power on our bodies comes from nature, from society, from the land, and from the sun. Don't think you can do whatever you want just because you acquire power."

"What if Soldier Boy gave up his identity?" Yale said. "What if he wanted to go back to Washington to drink coffee? Then he wouldn't have fulfilled what those people—"

"—who trained him, trusted him, and placed resources into his hands—"

"—expected of him in terms of responsibility."

Clark listened quietly.

"Of course, if he takes this power and becomes a villain, that's not out of the question either; that's also his choice." Yale shrugged. "However, that would mean Uncle Ben forever gives up the chance to become that hero in everyone's hearts."

"Uncle Ben shouldn't be like that, right?!" Clark blurted out.

"Probably not, which is why he is qualified to say that with great power comes great responsibility."

"And what our father said—that with greater responsibility comes greater power—is..."

"Literally. The heavier the responsibility you shoulder, the more resources you can mobilize... Because of trust, more things are handed over to you; this is a cycle."

Clark looked thoughtful.

"Right, do you know about Teacher Desiree's ability?" Yalechanged the subject abruptly.

"Ability?" Clark was surprised.

"She secretes a pheromone that causes people around her to briefly lose self-control." Yale grinned and said, "Now you know why you couldn't control your eyes that night, right?"

"So that's how it was..."

"And Bob Rickman."

"That businessman who came to town to hold an explanatory meeting?"

"His superpower is that after shaking hands, he can amplify the other person's inner desires and make people work for him." Yale scoffed. "Pretty impressive, right? I've always said our Smallville is a land of outstanding people."

"..."

"Yale."

"Hm?"

"How do you know all of this?" Clark's expression was somewhat complicated.

"Potential threats, I just casually resolved them." Yale said dismissively.

"..."

"Yale, you've been like this since you were a child." Clarksighed.

"Like what?"

"Thinking everything is self—"

"Back to Power." Yale casually pulled the topic back. "What is Rickman's superpower? Touching others, amplifying desires, making people submit to his will. Sounds very strong, right?"

"Very strong."

"But not enough." Yale explained, "Personal ability allows Rickman to change a person's will."

"Yet what truly allows him to turn his will into reality is Power."

"Capital, public opinion, connections."

"It is precisely these things that allow Rickman's will to still be executed even when he doesn't need to be personally present."

"Just like Luthor's pickup truck."

Clark nodded.

"He gave you a truck, and you think it's because he's grateful you saved his life. That's right, he probably is grateful. But what is a thirty-thousand-dollar pickup truck to the Luthor family? His dad's pocket money. And to the Kent Family? Half a year's income."

"And by accepting this car, you owe Lex a favor. The bald guy doesn't need to make any demands right now. He just needs to wait until a certain day when he needs your help and come find you: Hey, Clark, remember that pickup truck?" Yale snorted coldly. "Now you know why Dad Jonathan refused that car, right? It's because he knew Luthor was displaying his Power to you, a simple-minded small-town youth."

"The temptation of displaying Power."

"Temptation?"

"That is what you should continue to ponder. All I can say is that if you don't understand the essence of Power yet possess the strength to rule the world, you will become a very terrifying tyrant."

Yale pulled open the curtains.

Moonlight flowed in through the gaps.

"Power is merely a tool, but after most people fail to withstand the temptation of Power, they are dominated by the tool, thereby thinking of making the world operate according to their personal will."

"This is very dangerous for you, Clark."

"..."

A... a tyrant...

Him? Clark Kent? A simple-minded small-town youth?!

Would he become a tyrant?

"You don't have to worry too much either; I just mean that a seed might have been buried in your mind, and some day who knows what kind of fertilizer will make it take root and sprout." Yale added.

"..."

"Can you wish me something good for once?" Clark came to his senses, unable to help but laugh in exasperation. "Fertilizer has even come out, huh? Could it be that my Super Brain is really completely useless?!"

"It's good that you know."

"..."

"Fine, I admit you're right, and I also admit I didn't understand too much, but I still want to say one thing..." Clark sighed deeply. "As expected, people eventually live to become the very thing they hate the most."

"For example?"

"Are you a riddle-maker?! Yale."

...

A sleepless night.

At least for Clark, that was the case.

He spent the entire night pondering what Yale had said.

Although sunbathing allowed his body to recover quickly, mental exhaustion was still unavoidable.

"Good grief." Pete let out an exclamation in The Torchoffice. "Clark, how many times did you take off last night?"

"Take off?" Clark yawned. "I don't even know how to fly."

"No, no, no, you can fly." Pete blinked winkingly, staring at Clark's exhausted face. "Clark can fly."

"Mumbling what nonsense." Clark threw his school bag onto the table and sighed, "I just read books too late, and the thinking took a bit long."

"Whoa... Mr. Clark Kent actually reads books?" Chloe spun around along with her swivel chair, her pretty face under short hair raising an eyebrow. "Could it be that you were..."

"Cut it out." Clark blocked the girl's mouth a step ahead.

"I haven't said anything yet..."

"Your eyebrows have already spoken what you wanted to say." The young man sighed. "Hurry up, didn't you say you still have something to show me?"

"Mm."

Chloe's expression suddenly turned solemn.

"Take a look at what we recently discovered." As she spoke, she slammed a stack of documents onto the table with a clatter. "On October 16, 1991, a large-scale meteorite fall event occurred in central Kansas."

This date?

Isn't this his own birthday? Clark was somewhat baffled yet felt it sounded impressive.

"The official record says it was a meteor shower, but in reality, Smallville and the three surrounding towns were all affected by the meteorites."

Clark nodded.

He had an impression; Jonathan and Martha said that it was on this very day that they found him in the cornfield.

"And according to our investigation," Chloe said solemnly, "Bob Rickman—that is, the very wealthy capitalist who recently came to Smallville—was nineteen years old at the time. He survived in the meteorite and core impact zone, and was discharged after six weeks of hospitalization at Metropolis Hospital."

"..."

"Chloe."

"What?"

"Where on earth did you get this intelligence?" Clark was astonished. "Is this really intelligence a high schooler can dig up?"

"That's a long story." Chloe stuck out her tongue. "Next time..."

"Next time, what next time." Pete held back a laugh. "She called her cousin Lois at Metropolis Journalism University and begged for half a month before Lois reluctantly agreed to help investigate two people."

"Is that so..." Clark smiled helplessly, but then asked curiously, "Two people?"

"Right."

Chloe said irritably, "And another one is Desiree Atkins, our biology teacher. She was also one of the survivors, falling into a coma for forty-eight hours, but when she finally woke up, there were no abnormalities on her body at all."

"So Chloe, what do you mean?"

"I suspect they have superpowers." The girl spoke solemnly. "I even suspect that Yale has already been controlled by Desiree. Don't forget that Yale is now her biology class representative, and Yale frequently goes in and out of the office. I suspect Desiree now treats Yale as a vent..."

"...That's impossible." Clark asserted firmly.

"How do you know it's impossible?"

"Of course I know." Clark smiled mysteriously.

"..."

Chloe gnashed her teeth in anger.

Clark let out a breath of relief comfortably.

Is this the joy of being a riddle-maker?

However, Chloe was ultimately Chloe...

A journalist's anger comes and goes quickly. To her, any matter that has already been verified is not worth wasting too much time on.

And...

Without guessing, one knows for sure that Yale must have done something behind the scenes again.

Otherwise, could one expect Clark to make a good investigative reporter? He doesn't even know how to use a voice recorder.

"But I guess..."

Chloe sneered, "You definitely don't know another thing."

"...There's more?"

Chloe nodded and casually pulled out another photograph.

On it was a middle-aged man who looked to be in his forties, dressed plainly with a gentle expression. In the photo, he was being surrounded at the center by a crowd at a disaster site.

August Weil.

"Who?" Clark frowned.

"Disaster engineering risk assessment consultant, head of the Kansas Climate Security Foundation, main donor to Smallville's upcoming Harvest Festival." Chloe rattled it off in one breath, then pulled out yet another photograph.

August in this photo was placing one hand on an old woman's shoulder while handing her a cup of water with the other hand, seeming to speak words of comfort.

"..."

"Head of the Smallville Climate Insurance Foundation? Does our Smallville even have that?" Clark was stunned.

"Mm, because Bob Rickman suddenly withdrew all farmers' land sale intention agreements yesterday." Chloecast a meaningful glance at Clark. "And he actively paid a crop failure relief fund to every farming household that had signed the letter of intent, preventing those farmers who almost sold their ancestral properties from suffering heavy losses in the disaster."

"Finally, he even turned all his assets into the KansasClimate Security Foundation."

"..."

"Powerful Power allows your will to still be executed when you yourself are not present."

Yale's words echoed in his ears, and an inexplicable chill caused Clark to subconsciously rub his eyes, which hadn't closed all night.

Rickman's conscience found?

Of course he didn't believe it.

Then this was...

Yale's Power?

Clark suddenly discovered in a daze.

The withdrawn agreements, the money whose flow direction was rewritten...

The conversations last night regarding Power, domination, tyrants, and meditations finally connected with the evidence in reality at this moment.

Even if Yale was slumping in the back row of the classroom dozing off right now, or sunbathing under the wire mesh on the rooftop...

Yet his will was still dominating Rickman.

Could it be?!

Was Yale asking him for help last night?! Asking him, Clark Kent, the eldest son of the Kent Family, as a younger brother asking his older brother for help?!

Although Yale appeared lighthearted on the surface, bickering with Joanna every day, discussing pumpkins with Jonathan, showing Martha the royalties from comics, and then crawling up in the middle of the night to pelt his own brother with water balloons—

—in reality, had he already realized that he might be dominated by Power and become a tyrant in the future, which was why he said so many words to ask his older brother for help?!

"Yale!"

Clark suddenly stood up!

"...?!"

The two people around looked with blank expressions at Clark, whose face was full of lingering fear.

"Cl... Clark?" Pete swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

"Sorry."

"You scared me to death; I thought you were about to go berserk." Chloe patted her chest.

"I didn't..."

Clark turned his head to look at Chloe, but his eyes suddenly blurred.

"Chloe...?!"

"What is it?!"

"Nothing..."

Clark subconsciously raised his head.

Did he just catch a glimpse of something all white?

"What are you doing?"

"..."

"Nothing." Clark stared at the ceiling, his gaze wandering.

"Freak." Chloe twitch the corners of her mouth. "Anyway, August Weil, I suspect he also has superpowers now."

"This man can predict the weather."

"Predict the weather?" Clark refocused his attention toward Chloe, breathing a sigh of relief.

At least it wasn't an all-white blur anymore.

"Yes, predict the weather." Chloe pulled out a meteorological chart. "Smallville disaster risk assessment, dynamic forecast for the next twenty-four hours."

"It is said that every farmer who signed an agreement with him can get this daily-updated risk chart."

"And according to their feedback..."

"This man is even a thousand times more powerful than the director of the Kansas television station's meteorological observatory."