Chapter 41 Could this place actually be Satan's hometown?!
The girls ran in the rain.
Joanna was at the very back, while the other two were in front.
This was so that if that flashy old man failed, Joanna could immediately step in front of the two of them.
But obviously, before Grant could catch up, there was still...
"Joanna."
Elaine stopped, panting heavily, "She—look at Mary."
Joanna paused in her tracks.
"Is she having a fever?" Mona reached out and touched the girl's forehead. "So hot."
"It's not a normal fever." Joanna's gaze fell on the girl's fist clutching the badge; the scent of blood still lingered, even stronger than before.
"To the hospital."
The three of them changed direction.
But the rain grew heavier, and the colored banners of the Harvest Festival no longer fluttered, drooping limply and listlessly over the railing.
The little girl's body temperature continued to rise.
"Joanna!"
Elaine seemed to have made up her mind about something. "Wait."
"Hmm?"
Joanna turned her head with a frown.
"Let me try." Elaine lowered her head to look at the girl, a rare and stubborn seriousness appearing in her usually smiling eyes.
Joanna's blue eyes constricted slightly.
The three of them walked into the shadow of an elm tree.
Elaine laid the little girl flat across her knees, while Monaknelt halfway beside them, her worried gaze shifting back and forth between Elaine and the little girl.
"Elaine, your complexion doesn't look too good," Mona said softly. "Are you really..."
"I'm fine, Mona." Elaine took a deep breath, extending her hand to cover the little girl's small fist which was clutching the blood-stained cross badge.
Her palm lit up.
A soft ball of light condensed from deep within the girl's palm, illuminating the water droplets condensed on the little girl's half-closed eyelashes.
The ball of light slowly sank into the girl's body.
In Joanna's eyes, the girl's body temperature dropped rapidly at a visible rate, her breathing stabilized, and her small hand clutching the badge slowly loosened.
"Clatter!"
The badge hit the ground.
Joanna's nostrils flared slightly.
The lingering scent of blood dissipated in that very instant. Lying in the puddle was simply an ordinary Red Cross badge, looking no different from the souvenir merchandise of any Red Cross church.
Mona let out a breath first.
Elaine smiled, but just as she stood up holding the girl, a wave of dizziness suddenly surged up. Her eyes actually began to defocus, and her body subconsciously leaned to the side.
Fortunately, Mona was quick-witted and supported both her and the girl.
"Joanna." Elaine handed the girl into Joanna's arms, a forced smile hanging on the corner of her lips. "You take her. Mona and I will rest here for a bit."
Joanna closed her eyes.
Super Hearing monitored backward, and then she slowly opened her eyes.
"I'll be right back."
She didn't say any extra words. With a flash of her figure, the wind pressure whipped the accumulated rainwater under the elm tree into a mist.
When the water mist dissipated,
the blonde girl had already vanished from the sight of the two of them.
"Joanna runs really fast," Mona sighed softly.
"She's always been fast." Elaine grinned, looking at the increasingly blood-red sky behind her.
---
The town clinic.
The very instant Joanna stopped at the doorway holding the girl,
another figure also rushed out from the rain curtain.
It was a dirt-covered young man whose body was covered in grey dust, currently panting as he held a weak blonde girl.
"Joanna?"
Clark's azure eyes widened in surprise.
"Clark."
Joanna's sky-blue eyes glanced at the blonde girl in his arms and frowned slightly.
The two of them looked at each other for a moment.
"Where is Yale?"
The two of them spoke simultaneously again.
---
Rainwater fell into the pool of blood.
"Old thing."
Grant grinned wildly in the blood mist.
His skull was currently split open from his chin to his forehead. Such a fatal blow, which would make an ordinary person dead beyond dead, didn't seem to matter much to this guy.
His brain was actually suspended in the blood mist, hoisted up by the blood, detached from his body yet not falling off.
"You're nothing much either."
"Heh..."
Deathstroke sneered.
His single eye swept across his front beneath his mask.
Within a radius of a hundred meters,
all the rainwater had been contaminated into a scarlet crimson. Every droplet falling from the sky was contaminated by Grant's blood molecules and then forcibly manipulated by him.
The accumulated water on the slate road also turned into a sea of blood submerging Deathstroke's knees. Occasional red thunder surged through the dark clouds overhead, pulsing continuously like a beating heart.
The entire world seemed to have turned into a part of this disgusting guy before him.
Deathstroke took a deep breath.
This kind of scumbag who played with magic and mechanics should have been handled by that idiot Constantine, that babbling, mystical Englishman.
The ghostly and weird events happening in the town recently made Slade immensely miss his detective friend, and he even considered whether he should find an excuse to trick that con artist into this town.
Wasn't Smallville High School still missing a security guard?
Slade clicked his tongue, spinning his long blade half a turn in his palm.
Without his Prometheus metal suit, he now only had stats, without a single shred of mechanics.
"What are you thinking about, old man?"
Grant hovered mid-air, his body—which had been chopped into pieces by Deathstroke—slowly piecing back together under the manipulation of the blood. "Your blade can't even retain my blood, so what if you cut me? I am the messenger of the Blood Brothers, the servant of my lord Trigon. As long as there is blood, I will not perish."
"Surrender, Deathstroke," Grant grinned grimly. "When I turn you into a blood puppet later, I can still retain a bit of your sanity. Although I lost that girl, you're not bad either."
"Mr. Sebastian will definitely fancy you."
"..."
"I've been a security guard for so many years," Deathstroke suddenly said. "Guess what the biggest commonality between you and the teenagers of my acquaintance is?"
"...?"
Grant raised an eyebrow, as if unable to understand Deathstroke's last words.
"Immature, kid."
"You guys have no idea how stupid you are." The old security guard Slade sighed. "If you actually truly believed in something, I'd take you more seriously."
"..."
"Bastard! Still running your mouth when death is at hand!" Grant laughed out of extreme anger. "You can't kill me at all! As long as the sea of blood hasn't dried up, I am immortal!"
"The blind leading the deaf..."
Deathstroke snorted coldly. "Why don't you take a look behind you?"
"Behind?"
Grant's arrogance faltered, but out of a fighter's instinct,
he still subconsciously split his eyes, sending one eye behind him to keep watch.
A three-hundred-and-sixty-degree blind-spot-free image reflected into his eyes.
Amidst the bloody storm,
the dark-red-stained rain curtain resembled a stage curtain, hanging straight from the sky to the ground, where nothing could be seen clearly or distinguished...
except for those eyes.
A pair of golden eyes.
"You are..."
Grant's pupils contracted. Those two nails, seemingly forged of gold, violently drove straight into his pupils.
"You are?!"
"Hum—!"
Before the blood disciple could finish his words,
a terrifying heatwave gushed out from the golden eyes!
It sliced open the blood-red clouds, slicing open the clear night sky above the clouds that had been obscured by the worldly stench for far too long!
[As shown in the image: Probably something like this]
"Damn brat!"
This guy never had an ounce of accuracy whenever he showed up.
Deathstroke bared his teeth with a grimace, hurriedly rolling clumsily a few times on the concrete ground before that Heat Vision arrived, barely dodging the gaze that made him feel like he was walking alongside death.
But Grant didn't have Deathstroke's reaction speed,
nor did he have his luck.
"No... no...!"
A pillar of fire soared into the sky.
The sea of blood evaporated.
The red faded bit by bit amidst the white steam.
Until the world became clean once again.
A battered and broken Grant knelt on the ground, dazedly raising his remaining hand.
A few drops of crimson liquid oozed from his fingertips, trying to condense even a single...
"Siss—"
This pitiful bit of blood was vaporized into a fleeting red water vapor before it even had time to form!
Moonlight pierced through the hole in the clouds above.
A silver-white pillar of light landed squarely on his face.
Grant blankly looked up toward the end of the light pillar, seeing a figure at the boundary where light and rain intertwined.
The golden youth stood atop the streetlamp, hands clasped behind his back.
Looking like something in the sky watching an insect on the ground.
Grant, who had only half a face left, suddenly began to tremble.
Smallville...
This place...
Is it Satan's hometown?
Chapter 42 Clark: "Guah! Super Brain, spin for me! Make me understand everything, yeah!"
It was just a dark hoodie and jeans drenched in rain.
Yet when the moonlight fell on the incoming figure,
this ordinary clothing looked like a robe forged from gold.
The raindrops dripping from his shoulders looked like gems falling from some invisible crown.
He looked down at himself, his golden pupils like two miniature suns in the moonlight.
"Mercy is a sin."
Grant said in a trance, "We shall rise amidst the wails of the unbelievers..."
"Trigon will smile upon us, and you all..."
"Hum——!"
Silver light descended from the sky, piercing Grant's remaining solitary eye like a meteor heavenly spike.
The glowing longsword pinned his prayer along with his skull into the rain-soaked ground amidst the full moon.
"Why are you using a sword?"
Slade looked irritably as the blonde youth jumped down from the street lamp. "Shouldn't the copyright fees be settled? Are you comic artists all so lacking in copyright awareness?"
"You're being a bit wordy, old man."
Yale casually grasped the Moon Blade and pulled it out from the corpse. Moonlight reflected on the blade's body without a trace of blood stained on it, and it could even clearly reflect Yale's eyes, which had not yet completely faded from molten gold.
He closed his eyes slightly.
Moon Blade.
Anything killed by it, its soul shall forever be a servant to the master of the sword.
He tried to feel it.
But...
The interior of the Moon Blade was completely empty.
"Are you trying to find his soul?" Slade thoughtfully sheathed his long knife back into the scabbard. "I suggest you give up early."
"Why?"
Yale opened his eyes to look at him.
"They are Blood Brothers." Slade shrugged. "The Blood Brotherhood sacrifices their souls to the great demon Trigon on the very day they join the cult. The soul beneath your knife—uh, sword—does not belong to himself, neither in life nor in death."
As if to corroborate Slade's words,
"Hum——!"
Grant's corpse actually spontaneously combusted in the puddle.
The dark red flames swallowed the bone and flesh fragments along with wisps of bloodstains. The shell that had once summoned a boundless sea of blood in the torrential rain thus turned into flying ash, blown by the evening breeze into the muddy water, until it was impossible to distinguish which were raindrops and which were human.
"Tch..."
Yale turned the Moon Blade into a dagger and put it back into his pocket, then looked at Slade with his hands crossed over his chest and asked, "Are you very familiar with them?"
"Not bad," Slade said casually. "It is said that they are a Blood Church worshiping the legendary great demon Trigon, originating from Zandia in Europe."
"In 1202 AD, the Christian knights of the Fourth Crusade sacked Zandia, slaughtering the city and burning temples."
"A priest stood up, leading the survivors of Zandia to resist the Crusaders, and eventually drove the invaders out of the country. Shortly after, this priest filled a pool of blood with the blood of the invaders, bathed in it for three days and three nights. After coming out, he claimed that he was endowed with power and immortality by the blood pool, and self-proclaimed himself as the High Priest, calling himself Trigon's emissary on earth."
"The Sebastian that fellow just mentioned is the eighth High Priest passed down to the present day. To put it commonly, he is Sebastian Blood VIII."
After hearing this, Yale nodded thoughtfully.
No wonder they say having an old person at home is like having a treasure.
Such niche settings are only known by niche characters.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Slade's mouth twitched. "What do you mean by that look? I felt a bit of a chill."
"Just looking around." Yale shrugged.
"I dropped everything and rushed over to save your sister." Slade tapped his armored chest dissatisfiedly. "You brat didn't even say thank you."
"Thanks." Yale expressionlessly added.
"Where on earth is your sincerity?"
"You just said old mercenaries don't like girls who are too young. I respect your preference, so I don't plan to introduce anyone to you."
"Scumbag! Did I say I wanted you to introduce anyone?!" Slade gritted his teeth. "I am the most handsome security guard grandpa in Smallville."
"Leaving."
Yale waved his hand, glanced at the flashlight beam cast not far away, gave a leap, and turned over the eaves on the other side to disappear.
"Brat."
Slade cursed with a smile, adjusting his faceplate.
"See you later, Kent brat."
The orange-and-black figure flashed.
Silently blending into the dark alley at the edge of the town.
---
"...According to the latest risk map released by the KansasClimate Security Foundation, Smallville will usher in clear to cloudy skies tomorrow, with a precipitation probability of zero percent..."
"I heard Mr. Weil's warehouse caught fire? How could it catch fire in this heavy rain..."
"Mr. Weil and the fire department both went over. That tall boy from the Kent Family pulled people out from inside. Chloe Sullivan seemed to have choked on smoke..."
Listening to the endless gossip coming from the town, Yalefrowned and subconsciously turned off his Super Hearing.
He landed at the back door of the medical station, deactivated the force field, went around to the front door, pushed open the glass door, and walked in.
There were quite a few people in the hallway.
Several volunteer firefighters leaned against the wall drinking cold coffee in paper cups, and the town's only two police officers whispered to each other in the corner.
And at the end of the hallway.
"Yale!"
Clark hurriedly greeted him, "Where did you just go?"
"Went over to the stall to pack up the comics." Yale said without blushing or skipping a beat, "Did Joanna bring the girl over?"
"Mmm."
Clark nodded, just about to speak.
But Yale's gaze first glanced at a middle-aged man on a folding chair not far away, who was currently lowering his head tiredly and flipping through documents.
The man seemed to sense Yale's gaze and raised his head.
However, Yale's gaze first moved away.
"Who is that person?" He asked Clark in a low voice, "Chloe's family member?"
"August Weil," Clark said casually. "The head of the Climate Security Foundation. What burned down was their foundation's community mutual aid warehouse, which stored emergency supplies and equipment for farmers, so he rushed over too."
"Chloe's family members went to Metropolis today, reportedly with her uncle Lane, and are currently on their way back."
Yale nodded slightly.
"Where is Joanna?" he asked.
"She took Mom and Dad back," Clark sighed. "When the warehouse caught fire, Dad insisted on helping, and as a result accidentally sprained his waist. He was still limping when he just rushed over. Seeing this and feeling worried, Joanna took Mom and Dad back home first."
"Then how is Chloe?"
"The doctor said it's nothing major, just choked and scared. Inhaling oxygen for a while and resting will be fine." Clark's tone relaxed a bit, "Pete is inside accompanying her, and I came out to wait for you."
He said these words with great certainty, as if he knew Yale would definitely come.
"..."
The two of them remained silent.
Yale quietly leaned against the hallway wall, his eyes somewhat drifting, not knowing what he was thinking about.
"Yale."
Clark still couldn't help speaking first.
"What is it?"
"Today, did you—to save me—" Clark hesitated, "—choose to do that?"
Used that power?
Yale felt his teeth ache a bit.
Did this kid see him when he ate kryptonite?
"Stop letting your imagination run wild." Yale shook his head.
This guy Clark had a strange special talent; he could always think of some simple things in a earth-shattering and touching way.
"Uncle Ben said," the youth talked nonsense with a straight face, "if you can do a good deed for others, you have a moral responsibility to do it. This is a duty, not a choice."
It was that simple.
But for Clark,
what he heard was Yale once again unwilling to admit it.
To protect him and Chloe, Yale definitely used some taboo power. He had seen with his own eyes that Yale ate that green stone, and moreover, every time Yale finished using that kind of power...
his younger brother's eyes would turn into colors like molten gold, completely a different species from the Yalewho joked and played around with him on ordinary days!
"Yale," Clark sniffled. "If it weren't for you, I..."
"Without me, there'd still be you." Yale couldn't help smiling as he bumped his shoulder against the town boy. "Didn't you already rush in? It's just that your posture wasn't very elegant."
Looking at Yale's smile, Clark wanted to smile too, but he couldn't.
"But I am broken, Yale. The fire hydrant is broken too," Clark said in a low voice. "I went to twist the fire hydrant next to the warehouse, but the pipes inside were rusted. You know, right? Dad proposed the plan four years ago, and it was unanimously agreed upon by the town residents, but in just these four years... the fire hydrant actually broke..."
Shoddy engineering.
Or did no one care at all whether the fire hydrant next to the warehouse on the outskirts of the town could produce water?
Yale sighed in his heart.
"I always thought before that responsibility meant doing what you can when you have the ability," Clark said in a trance. "But I rushed in today, yet I couldn't do anything, and even the fire hydrant was broken."
"If you hadn't come, I might have just used my own power to send myself and Chloe into the fire together."
"Then do you think you shouldn't have gone in?" Yaleasked.
"I don't know," Clark said blankly. "I just feel, I just feel that 'wanting to save people' seems completely not enough."
"Of course it's not enough," Yale said. "Wanting to save people is only the beginning."
"You also have to know where the fire started, why the water couldn't come out, who locked people inside, and who made everyone think that this warehouse wouldn't have any accidents."
"Huh?"
Clark was dumbfounded.
"Mmm, perhaps you are suited to be a reporter? My dear brother," Yale sighed. "Otherwise, if you go to be a football player, I think your future would still be too bright."
"What?"
"What I said is not important," Yale waved his hand. "The point is you've already learned one thing today."
Looking at the fire engine outside the window whose police lights had stopped flashing,
"You can't save people every single time, Clark," he said. "So stop mixing up 'I must save' and 'I can definitely save' into one thing."
Clark listened quietly.
A thought abruptly flashed into his mind along with the spinning of his Super Brain.
You can't save people every single time?
Yale also knew he couldn't necessarily save everyone?
Yet he still rushed to the very front every time, still helped him secretly every time.
He never told anyone, never admitted what he was enduring.
"Yale, will there also be people you can't save?" Clarkasked.
The angle of this question was slightly beyond Yale's expectation.
He originally thought his idiot brother would struggle over whether to be a football player or a reporter, but he didn't expect this guy to have already learned how to bounce the question back.
As expected of the ace intern of the Daily Planet.
"Then finish doing what you can do." Yale said casually.
"What if you think what you did is right, but everyone else says you're wrong?" Clark stared at Yale's profile, only feeling that the youth's chin was exceptionally sharp tonight, just like—
the silhouette of the Roman emperor he saw in *meditations*.
"Then let's see if they have the ability to prove I'm wrong." The youth answered as a matter of course.
"What if that person is me?"
"You?"
Yale turned his head in surprise.
"If in the future you think what you're doing is right," Clarktook a deep breath, "but I think you're wrong?"
Good grief.
Yale's eyes sharpened.
It seemed his Superman brother still had the risk of growing astray now, unexpectedly giving birth to the will to rebel against himself, a model youth younger brother from Kansas?!
"The world cannot be decided by one person forever." The joking tone in his voice faded a lot. "Mistakes will always be corrected by later generations."
"Besides, Clark, under what circumstances do you think a person is considered out of control?"
"When power exceeds the scope of control?"
"Power is just a tool; how could a person lose control because of a tool?"
Clark was silent for a moment.
"But what if he clearly knows it will hurt others," he continued, "yet still does it?"
"That is his choice," Yale smiled self-deprecatingly. "Don't attribute every choice you dislike to loss of control. Sometimes a person just very soberly does something you cannot accept."
Actually, compared to the future crooked Clark,
the things he did to Bob Rickman, the things he did to Desiree, not a single one was the product of a loss of control; every single one was a choice made after careful consideration.
And these choices, Old Man Jonathan and the future Superman Clark probably wouldn't agree with any of them.
But Yale didn't feel much regret.
This was his answer.
He was just casually telling Clark.
He was Hyperion.
Truth is he, he is truth.
It's just a pity that under the spinning of Clark's Super Brain, this set,
had already undergone a different kind of decoding.
The town youth looked at his younger brother's slightly resolute and self-deprecating smile, and a wave of soreness welled up in his heart.
Yale had indeed foreseen the future where power gets out of control...
He already knew that in the future he might not be able to listen to other people's words.
His sanity was clearer than anyone else's, clear enough to make so-called correct choices for the entire world on behalf of everyone, and that kind of sober dictatorship was more dangerous than any madness.
Yale was crying out to him for help.
He knew he would grow stronger and stronger, and he also knew he would increasingly get used to making decisions for others.
That was why he deliberately told him all these words, told his brother Clark Kent, and that was why he taught him every day and trained him every day! Urging him from a young age to bask in the sun early and late every day!
Turns out it was to give him the ability to stop him when he crossed the line in the future.
——Help me! Brother Clark!
Clark's eye sockets turned red, as if he had already heard his younger brother's inner cry when eating the green stone, and the panic and fear in his heart when his family members became increasingly cold-blooded.
His younger brother's painstaking efforts, he actually only discovered them now?!
Clark, you really aren't human!
"Yale!"
The boy suddenly opened his arms and hugged a caught-off-guard Yale into a full embrace.
"...?"
"I will definitely help you!"
"...Help me with what?" Yale was dumbfounded. "If you're willing to help me write my homework, it's not impossible either."
"Although you still have this nonchalant, twisted expression, don't worry, younger brother!" Clark choked out, "I will grow stronger, I will learn to judge, I will learn to save people..."
"Wait a minute," Yale laughed in exasperation. "Did you misunderstand something, Clark?"
Could it be that the impact of him eating raw kryptonite today was too big for this kid?
"You said it, Yale, let me use my Super Brain to think carefully about everything!" Clark said in a resolute tone, "I understand everything now!"
"Heh..."
Yale, laughing in extreme anger, was just about to output some colorful language to his riddle-maker brother.
It's just a pity that before the words came out, he met a pair of sky-blue eyes at the end of the hallway staring at the two brothers without blinking.
"..."
"Am I coming at a bad time?" the blonde girl said faintly.
"..."
The blonde youth was silent for a moment.
"...No!"
He revealed a sunny and bright smile, actively spreading open his other arm, "You came at just the right time."
Chapter 43: Raven Gate Opens! Redemption Enters the World!
"It's your fault."
"…"
Clark couldn't refute.
Just a moment ago, the two of them had been driven out like this by Joanna on the grounds that they were disturbing the hospital's peace.
"Your Super Brain probably really needs maintenance, Clark." Yale sneered, "When was your last annual inspection?"
Clark chose to remain silent, staring at Yale's profile with a resentful look.
However, the blonde youth chose to ignore him, quietly raising his head to look at the night sky of Smallville.
The rain had gotten much lighter, leaving only a pattering finale.
A few stars were even shining somewhat self-consciously in the gaps of the distant clouds.
"Come to think of it…" Clark was just about to say something.
But the words still stopped at his lips.
In the rain curtain not far away, a beam of light pierced through the darkness.
Rainy night, small dirt road, Maybach.
No matter how one looked at it, this was not right.
The degree of out-of-placeness of this car appearing in Smallville was comparable to Clark swallowing a piece of Kryptonite raw the next second.
"Bang—!"
Parking steadily in front of the hospital entrance, the Maybach's door was pushed open from the back seat, and then a bald head drilled out just like that.
Yale: …
He just knew.
In the entire Smallville, only this guy had this kind of airs.
"Clark!"
A sincere smile appeared on the bald head's face, and he walked briskly toward Clark, not even paying attention to the black umbrella held by the bodyguard behind him, and not caring at all when his leather shoes stepped through the puddles.
"Oh ~ My brother."
He skipped over and embraced Clark, "You don't look too spirited?"
"Lex."
Clark scratched his head, obviously somewhat at a loss for the young master's affection, "Why are you here?"
"I heard there was some trouble in town." Lex let go of his hand and took half a step back, sizing up Clark's dust-covered body, "Are you unhurt? I heard you rushed into the fire and fished a girl out."
"Actually, it wasn't me…"
Clark subconsciously glanced at Yale.
Yale shook his head.
"Small matter." Clark smiled shyly, "You know, I didn't think that much when I saved you."
"Modest."
Lex said heartily, "You're like this every time. Everyone treats you as a hero, but in the end, you never take it to heart yourself. This makes the rest of us feel quite embarrassed."
"I…"
Clark was stunned.
Is that so?
The small-town youth subconsciously lowered his head and looked at his own hands.
Am I too modest?
You choose to take responsibility and become a role model.
That's very good, my child, go and demonstrate the role of a role model.
Dad's words of comfort before leaving while supporting his old waist welled up in his mind.
"By the way… Who is this?" Lex's gaze turned to the side.
Clark patted his forehead as if waking from a dream.
"This is my younger brother, Yale."
"Yale, this is my friend Lex, he is a very rich person."
"Yale Kent, the Golden Lion of Smallville?" Lex's eyes brightened slightly, "I've read your comic books, the all-American sales champion, sixteen years old."
"Goodness, at this age I was still dumped at boarding school by my dad playing guerrilla warfare with the dean."
"Lex Luthor." Yale shook hands with the bald man, "LexCorp… Uh, prospective heir? Future heir? What should I call you? The organizational structure of LexCorp seems a bit more complicated than I understand."
"…"
Lex's smile faltered, but then he couldn't help laughing.
"Just call me Lex. I hope to build LexCorp through my own efforts, rather than relying on the Luthor name."
The bald youth naturally let go of his hand and took a step back, "And in Smallville, I'm just Clark's friend, aren't I?"
As he spoke, he even blinked at Clark.
This scene couldn't help but make Yale laugh.
Well, Lex Luthor's social skills are truly top-notch.
Yale couldn't tell whether he was acting, or if he was just born this way, or if he had acted to the extent that even he couldn't tell the difference.
But no matter what…
If the bald man's affection for the current Superman is real…
This might make things complicated…
False affection is easy to sever, but sincere affection's explosive equivalent when it collapses is a hundred times that of the former.
Glancing at Clark and Lex acting like sworn brothers, Yalesighed.
He couldn't exactly play the role of the couple-breaker, could he?
"By the way, Kent brothers." The bald youth looked back and glanced at the Maybach, "You saved people today, someone has to show some appreciation. Mr. Weil's foundation might not be able to come up with a reward fund, but I can come up with a car."
"What?!"
Clark exclaimed, then waved his hands in embarrassment,
"Lex, I can't…"
"This is a Maybach, I even insured it—uh, sorry, I mean my dad will kill me. Really, last time he was furious over your pickup truck."
Lex burst out laughing.
"Fine, fine, then how about a second-hand pickup truck next time?"
"Lex," Clark said helplessly.
"Just kidding, just kidding."
Lex raised both hands and shrugged, making an embarrassed expression, "Actually, I don't have that much financial power to give away cars everywhere right now, my company has been having some financial difficulties recently."
"Financial difficulties?" Clark was stunned, "You too…"
"Mr. Lex!"
A voice came from the entrance of the medical station.
Following the sound, Yale saw the middle-aged man who had been sitting in a chair reading documents standing at the entrance, slightly nodding in greeting toward Lex.
"August." Lex's expression turned serious, "I've already seen the report on the warehouse losses."
"Send me the equipment list tomorrow, LexCorp will supply them at the lowest price."
"That couldn't be better." August let out a sigh of relief, "The construction of the meteorological tower is now imminent, and this incident suddenly happened, sigh…"
The middle-aged man shook his head.
"Right, you two, this is my business partner." Lex turned sideways, gesturing to the Kent brothers with his hand, "My friend Clark, and his younger brother Yale."
"Of course I know." August showed a polite smile, "You Kent family are celebrities in Smallville after all."
"Of course." Lex seemed to share the honor, pointing back at August, "Yale, Clark, this is August Weil, the head of the Kansas Climate Security Foundation, and currently also LexCorp's partner in the fields of clean energy and meteorological monitoring."
Nodding, Yale and Clark each politely shook hands with August one by one.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. August." Yale smiled, "I've heard your weather forecasts are very accurate."
"Oh?"
A proud smile appeared on August's face, his spirits soaring, and the exhaustion from just moments before was completely invisible.
"Of course, I've always been very confident in my data model."
"Right now we're just experimenting in Smallville, and we've already accurately predicted tornadoes, droughts, and hailstorms!"
"You must know that although the Kansas Plains are one of the most important grain-producing regions in the entire US, it is also the region with the most frequent meteorological disasters."
"If we can popularize the meteorological monitoring network across the US, the hemisphere, and finally all of humanity!"
A yearning brilliance flickered on August's face.
"Humanity will no longer be constrained by nature in any way!"
"Yeah, by then you'll be sitting on par with Newton and Einstein." Lex cooperated by clapping, then looked at Clarkand muttered in a low voice, "However, our current goal is just to build a new generation of meteorological monitoring high tower, we still shouldn't aim too high."
"Yes." August seemed to have calmed down a lot, smiling somewhat tiredly, "Combined with the small meteorological satellite networking provided by Mr. Lex's LexCorp, after raising the accuracy to over ninety percent, I think it will be the time to expand coverage from Smallvilleto one-tenth of Kansas."
"A tall tower?" Clark asked curiously.
"Mhm, the preliminary site selection is in the suburbs of Smallville." Lex made a gesture, "That most conspicuous white building is it."
"Sounds good. If successful, the farmers of Kansas owe you a big favor, gentlemen." Yale said with a smile, "You guys are doing a cause that benefits all mankind."
"You flatter me, Yale." Lex waved his hand, "I just want to defeat my father."
"Ah?"
Clark wrote confusion all over his face.
Do these rich kids all have some kind of mental issue?
If his family were as rich as Lex, Clark felt he would have bought Smallville to grow corn a long time ago, defeating Jonathan or something…
He and Yale had defeated Jonathan when they were six years old.
"Sorry sorry, Clark."
"I said so many things you couldn't understand again."
Lex smiled apologetically, a hint of adolescent embarrassment mixed into his smile.
It seemed he only just realized he had expressed too many private emotions in front of two high schoolers.
"Let's go, Mr. August." Lex turned and waved, "Let's go offer our condolences to the victims' situation."
The two of them walked side by side toward the medical station's doors, discussing something in low voices.
"Right, Clark!"
Lex suddenly turned back, one hand blocking the glass door that was about to close, "I have a small party next week, guess who is the only one who hasn't received an invitation yet?"
Clark blankly pointed at himself.
Lex gave a thumbs up and winked.
"Remember to come next week, bring Yale along."
The door closed behind him.
The glass surface reflected the figures of the two brothers staring at each other under the street lamp.
"Oh ~ Clark, my brother."
Yale suddenly opened his arms, perfectly replicating Lex's entrance from earlier.
"Cut it out." Clark held his forehead, his face already red to the roots of his neck.
"Clark Kent." Yale's tone was lingering, "When did you swear brotherhood with someone outside? You should have told me, so I could prepare three sacrificial animals, incense paper and yellow paper, and a big knife used by Lord Guan."
"What are you gibbering about?" Clark defended, "Lex is my good friend, but…"
"Yale, you are my only brother." The small-town youth's tone suddenly became earnest, "There is no other."
This sentence was said too sincerely.
Making Yale unable to help laughing out.
"If your mouth is this useful, go be a reporter in the future…"
Halfway through his sentence.
A pair of sky-blue eyes were staring at them from behind the two.
"My sister is also the only one I have, Joanna." Yale said solemnly, taking the opportunity to sweep a glance at Clark beside him, and added, "As for Clark, I don't know how many sisters he has, his social circle is too broad, I can't keep up anymore."
"Yale…" Clark laughed out of anger.
Just as he wanted to speak, he found that Yale had frozen.
However, subconsciously following his younger brother's gaze, Clark couldn't see anything.
The girl's expression remained her daily iciness.
But only Yale saw that fleeting moment…
Joanna's mouth twitched into a small arc, and a few strands of golden broken hair scattered across her forehead swayed in his eyes.
Joanna smiled?
Although the smile lasted only for a split second and the girl quickly returned to her usual coldness, for Yale who possessed Super Vision, it was still easy to quickly capture.
"What happened?" Clark was clueless.
"How is the little girl?" Yale casually changed the subject.
"She's from Kansas City." Joanna spoke, "Her real name is Mary Bloomberg, from an ordinary family. Why she was brought here currently remains unclear. The police over in Kansas City are already contacting her family."
Child trafficking?
An ordinary-to-the-extreme family background, with no reason whatsoever for a secret society to dispatch a messenger.
But Grant had indeed targeted her.
And now Grant was dead…
Then…
Would those people still come?
Rats in the gutter are always the most troublesome.
So, how much would it cost to hire Slade to go into the sewers to hunt and slaughter all the rats?
Yale's frown grew deeper and deeper.
Clark looked at his younger brother's profile and unconsciously swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
Every time Yale wore this expression, whatever he was going to do next must be dangerous and arbitrary.
And he wouldn't tell anyone in advance.
Clark wrapped an arm around Yale's shoulder.
"Yale, we should go home to sleep."
"…?"
Pulled back to reality from his deep thought.
Yale was stunned.
"What are you talking about?"
"Let's go, Yale."
Joanna had already taken steps forward in front.
"It's getting late, time to go home to sleep."
Yale: …
Why hadn't he ever seen them love sleeping so much before?!
---
Gotham.
Beneath this city.
Countless cavities left over from the Victorian era in the brick sewer network are distributed.
A pool of blood was rippling in one of the cavities.
Surrounding it were natural rocks, engraved with Ancient Guzandian dialects, flashing crimson in the blood waves.
"Splash…"
A figure climbed out from the blood pool.
"Mr. Sebastian." He bowed respectfully toward the deepest part of the pool, "Grant has returned to Trigon's kingdom."
"And the vessel?"
Sebastian lifted his eyelids.
"It seems to be… purified." The blood cultist lowered his voice, "The priests cannot locate it."
"…"
Silence lasted for a long time, so long that the blood cultist shivered in the blood pool.
"Go find a new vessel, before the blood sacrifice."
"Yes."
The blood cultist kowtowed, then hurriedly retreated.
"…"
Sebastian Blood VIII sat alone in the center of the blood pool.
"Mother."
He murmured, scooping up a handful of bloody water.
"Would you be proud of us?"
No one responded.
Yet Sebastian let out a low laugh.
"Raven Gate Opens! Redemption Enters the World!"
He loosened both hands, and the bloody water poured from his palms back into the pool.
The sea of blood surged, the earth dragon turned over.
The entire Gotham resonated with this.
---
Yale, who was in Metropolis, naturally didn't know about the anomaly that occurred in Gotham.
After all, his schedule today was packed.
In the morning, he had to personally go negotiate contract revenue-sharing matters with the publishing house.
In the afternoon, he had to take Joanna and the third wheel Clark to the mall.
"Three of you? Have you considered it?"
JAC Comet Galaxy Publishing House, conference room.
Yale sat at one end of the long table, leisurely sizing up the three tense, almost cramp-inducing faces opposite him.
"Mr. Yale."
The content director in the middle spoke first, "Pardon my bluntness, but what you drew is simply…"
"Genius!"
The publishing house CEO on the left shouted with raised arms.
"You are simply a genius!"
"Yeah, simply a genius."
The LexCorp investment representative echoed in exclamation.
They were the largest investors in JAC Comet Galaxy Publishing House.
The content director nodded.
"Mr. Yale, it's hard to imagine you're only sixteen years old."
He looked at the comic manuscript in his hands.
"Peter! For you!"
"No regrets in killing my son."
"Uncle Ben shouted out a mighty punch, trying to strike his biological son John to death right here!"
"For the sake of his nephew, he's actually willing to have no regrets in killing my son!"
Looking at John, who had narrowly evaded the blow but still had his arm shattered, the content director's eye rims turned red, "Such a deeply touching scene, Mr. Yale."
"It makes one excited enough to pitch a tent." The young CEO said excitedly.
"Feedback from many readers at the reading preview sessions said that seeing this scene made dying completely worth it." The LexCorp investment representative sighed.
As the words fell, three pairs of eyes stared fixedly at the blonde youth without blinking.
"What on earth were you thinking, Mr. Yale?"
Chapter 44: Amusement parks are accident-prone places.
Stepping out of the conference room doors.
Yale glanced behind him.
"Cheap biological father, expensive adoptive father." The content director scribbled furiously, "I see. In the face of true familial affection, even blood ties appear so cheap. Is this the weight of choice?"
"This level of thematic depth has already surpassed the narrative framework of traditional superheroes." The young CEO beside him shed hot tears, "So badass."
Yale silently closed the door.
Hiding his merits and fame.
Bringing the warmth of family affection back to this cold society.
Perhaps this was the meaning of him drawing comics.
He looked out the window.
Metropolis's skyline flashed with a cold light, yet everyone was shedding tears of emotion in this cold city.
The clouds parted, seeming to form a handsome face with a cigarette in its mouth and a full beard within the young man's gaze.
CHEERS.
Yale silently raised his coffee cup, paying tribute to Uncle Ben in the sky.
Surely Uncle Ben would be so happy he'd pop a boner after finding out he was about to become one of the top ten comic characters who moved America, right?
---
The afternoon heat wave was rolling.
Yale pushed open the revolving door.
At a glance, he saw Joanna standing beside the holly tree.
Bathed in the midday sun, the girl wore a light blue dress, her long golden hair shining brilliantly.
Pedestrians in Metropolis would unconsciously glance at this girl who looked like a sun elf as they passed by, but unfortunately, whenever they wanted to take a second look, they would be scared away by the sky-blue eyes the girl coldly opened.
"Why aren't you waiting inside?" Yale walked down the steps. "The urban heat island effect in the big city could fry an egg."
"Sunbathing." She said calmly.
"..."
Yale facepalmed.
Back then, he had only made up an excuse to give the girl a reason to sunbathe together with him and Clark to foster their relationship, yet this child had believed it until now.
She still believed that her superpowers came from the sun.
"You're different from that corn cob Clark." Yale said solemnly. "Joanna, people change. Absorbing ultraviolet rays used to help synthesize vitamin D, but now absorbing UV rays will only make you tan."
"..."
The girl silently took a step back, sinking into the shadow under the tree.
Yale was stunned. She was actually this obedient?
Normally, shouldn't she refute him by saying the sun is a public resource, and then start hissing…
Slightly turning his head, Yale felt the resentful gaze coming from behind the shadows.
"Clark is here too." He cleared his throat.
"What do you mean by 'Clark is here too'?" The Smallvilleyouth held three ice creams and said gloomily, "I've always been here."
He irritably distributed the ice creams to the two of them.
"I waited in line for half an hour," Clark accused, "And the greeting I get is 'Clark is a corn cob' and 'Clark is here too?' I feel like there's no need for me to eat ice cream anymore."
Licking a bite of chocolate-flavored ice cream,
Yale casually changed the topic. "Did Mom and Dad go over there?"
This move indeed worked effectively.
The resentment on Clark's face instantly dissipated.
"They've already gone."
The boy sighed heavily. "I hope things go smoothly for them."
"Relax, it's been so many years." Yale smiled helplessly.
Their maternal grandparents.
Lawrence and Patricia Clark.
Lived in a villa near Union Square in Metropolis with a twenty-four-hour doorman.
It was rumored that a photo of the two of them at their law firm and their Harvard Law School graduation certificates were still displayed on the entryway cabinet to this day.
It was also rumored that they still hadn't forgiven that farmer from Kansas who had kidnapped their only daughter away to the countryside.
The relationship between the two families remained deadlocked just like that.
Even the few phone calls that came throughout the year were calls that always made Martha sigh after answering, or calls that Jonathan would angrily hang up after saying just a few words.
And today,
taking advantage of Yale bringing Clark and Joanna to Metropolis to buy homecoming formal wear, Marthasuggested visiting her parents. Although Jonathanhesitated somewhat, seeing the cautious care on Martha's face, he finally mustered up the courage once again to embark on the journey to his father-in-law's house.
"How did the talk go?" Clark broke the silence, a bright, sunny smile hanging on his face once again.
"Not bad, gained a few percentage points, and chatted about some peripheral merchandise development along the way." Yale shrugged. "I guess we'll be shipping goods to Mexico in the future."
"That's fantastic! The influence of the comics is getting bigger and bigger, Yale." Clark exclaimed sincerely. "Uncle Ben would definitely be very happy if he knew, right? Joan—"
His voice stopped abruptly.
The blonde girl had somehow already followed Yale's pace and stepped several meters away, the figures of the two swaying slightly in the afternoon heat wave.
Yale was turning his head slightly, saying something to Joanna, while Joanna replied off and on.
Clark: "..."
As expected, he shouldn't have come out from under the car.
Metropolis, New Troy, Tomorrow Boulevard.
This was one of Metropolis's six administrative districts, located in the city center and representing the core hub of Metropolis's central business district.
"Football?"
After pushing open the door and entering the department store.
The light bursting from Clark's eyes could almost be compared to when his Heat Vision awakened last time.
"Don't forget to buy the homecoming suit!" Yale had barely finished half his sentence.
Clark had already vanished at the end of the escalator, so fast that Yale doubted whether the other party had set super speed as a passive skill.
Whatever, anyway he himself wasn't worried about this.
The people at the publishing house had already told him at the end of the meeting that before Saturday's charity banquet in Gotham, a custom-tailored suit would be delivered to the hotel, and all he had to do was wear it.
"The lightbulb has wisely disappeared, it's time for us to go." Yale looked at Joanna beside him, who was as quiet as a beautiful icicle.
"Where are we going?"
"To buy you a dress." Yale shrugged. "We promised before, didn't we? For the glory of the Kent Family."
Raising his hand to hand out his black card to wave away the shopping assistant ladies who wanted to step forward to serve them.
After all, Yale certainly didn't want any bloodshed to break out here.
However, if things were like this…
For Joanna to pick out a formal dress or something…
Perhaps it was still too advanced?
Walking among these expensive garments, the girl's eyes were filled with blank confusion.
This was normal too; after all, her clothes had always been prepared by Martha since she was little, and picking out clothes by herself was practically rare, let alone coming to this unfamiliar city and unfamiliar mall.
Yale sighed.
He watched the retreat intent almost floating up on the girl's face, knowing that if he didn't make a decision for her, this fellow would probably bolt out the door.
"Try it on?"
Yale casually glanced around, combining Super Vision and Super Brain, and instantly calculated and casually pulled a white dress from the rack to hand over.
"Mn."
The girl breathed a sigh of relief, as if she had finally found her backbone.
A moment later.
Yale was leaning against the opposite pillar pressing the flip phone, when his peripheral vision first swept over a pale golden light walking out from behind the curtain.
The dress matched his calculations well; it fit very nicely, but also…
Too well-fitting.
The white formal dress fell against the girl's waistline, outlining her slender and powerful lines.
The thin strap at her waist was also tied into a perfect knot; it was clear that the girl's Super Brain found getting the hang of such things quite effortless.
However, amidst this perfection, there was still a slight flaw.
"The shoes aren't right." Yale realized suddenly.
Yet he saw that the girl's feet were still wearing that pair of canvas shoes, which looked exceptionally glaring compared to the expensive formal dress on her body.
"What's wrong with the shoes?" Joanna was puzzled.
"Go pick a pair over there." Yale sighed. "Otherwise, an accident will happen."
Joanna tilted her head, looking blankly at the area pointed out by Yale.
Countless shoes were displayed on the shelves.
Lowering her eyelids slightly, Joanna said in a low voice, "You help me pick."
"... Alright."
Yale couldn't help but chuckle, then scanned the shelves in the same manner. In the blink of an eye—merely the time it took for Joanna to blink—a pair of silver high heels was handed before her.
"Try them on."
"I…"
Joanna tugged at the dress on her body, her brows slightly furrowed, showing some irritation.
When it came to all form-fitting clothes,
obviously, the girl's degree of resistance was still far greater than acceptance.
"Sorry, sorry, how can we let the princess put on her own shoes at a time like this?" Yale half-knelt in front of the shoe-trying stool like a gentleman. "Please sit, Ms. Joanna."
The girl gave him a blank, expressionless look.
But in the end, she 'reluctantly' sat down lightly in front of him, keeping her legs together.
Yale shrugged.
Holding an ankle that could be encircled by just one hand, he casually untied the laces of the canvas shoes, slipped off the shoes and socks, revealing the icy-white instep hidden beneath, the light pink toenails, and the rounded toes.
Speaking of which, Joanna's arches seemed higher and more curved than ordinary people's, the curve starting from the heel and arching upward, reaching the highest point at the sole, and then slowly descending toward the base of the toes like a smooth wave.
It was hard to imagine that the explosive force of this pair of feet was enough to kick apart a skyscraper.
Yale felt somewhat absent-minded for no reason.
Joanna would actually quietly sit on the mall's stool, letting him put a pair of brand-new shoes that had never belonged to anyone onto her feet.
How should he put it, right now he always felt as though he were really playing some cliché role in a Grimm's fairy tale.
"Yale…" The girl's puzzled voice came over.
"Don't rush, I'm thinking." Yale said solemnly.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Your feet are so small."
"... Are you really a pervert?"
"I just wanted to see if the size fits." Yale glanced up slightly from the corner of his eye, "Right? The Cinderella of the Kent Family."
Beneath the ceiling lights, Joanna's face was expressionless, her blue eyes seemingly filled with disgust.
Not good.
He felt as though he was about to be nailed to the pillar of shame.
Yale fell into silence.
Joanna lowered her head slightly, letting her blonde hair fall to cover her flushed, burning ears.
The tingling sensation of the young man staring unblinkingly at her feet made her curl her toes uneasily.
Fortunately, Yale quickly adjusted, widened the opening of the high heels, and lifted her foot to slide it in.
"Perfect."
Looking at the girl's tiny heel enveloped by the shoe opening and the glittering rim under the light, Yale stood up sheepishly, cleared his throat, and said, "How is it? This set?"
"..."
The girl did not speak.
The mall's central air conditioner blew out cold air, and a female singer on the broadcast brought sweet pop hits.
"Actually..."
"You actually don't like it?" Yale couldn't help laughing, "If you don't like it, we can change it. We have plenty of time today."
"..."
"Not..."
Joanna turned her head slightly, looking blankly at the mirror. She originally wanted to say it wasn't a problem with the shoes, but the words slipped out as they reached her lips.
"Do I look good… dressed like this?"
These high heels made her appear taller than usual.
And less like herself.
The girl in the mirror wore a gorgeous evening gown, exquisite shoes on her feet, and blonde hair draped over her shoulders.
She looked like the princess from the fairy tale Yale had just mentioned.
But that face was still cold.
As cold as if she had never known how to look forward to anything.
"You look good." Yale nodded.
"Just good?"
"Then should I write an eight-hundred-word reflection for you?"
Joanna was not amused.
"Then do you like me like this?"
Yale's smile paused for a moment.
"I always hate myself for acting like that." Joanna seemed to realize her words were too direct, "Always looking so icy."
"Do you prefer me like this too?" The girl looked away, staring back at herself in the evening gown in the mirror.
Gorgeous, elegant, graceful.
"Like what?"
"Wearing pretty clothes, trying on shoes, acting like an ordinary girl..."
"You care about these?" Yale asked in surprise.
"I care about them." She whispered, "But I also hate myself for caring, and hate myself for being like ordinary girls."
Yale looked Joanna up and down.
The girl's eyes remained calm, desperately pretending nothing had happened, but her flushed ears had already ignited a spark at the tips, burning all the way down her neck.
"Then do you want to change?" The young man rubbed his younger sister's head, "Joanna, the utterly ordinary girl."
"..."
"I don't want to be ordinary, at least not in front of you."
The girl rubbed her back heel, pretending she was just checking if the heel fit, but could not help continuing.
"Yale, I want to be a bit special..."
"A bit more special, alright?"
Yale looked at her and couldn't help laughing.
Where were there any princes and princesses? Here were merely an utterly ordinary pair of siblings—a younger sister in puberty worrying whether she was too ordinary, and an older brother in puberty worrying whether his younger sister hated him.
"When have you ever been ordinary?" He rubbed the head of the girl in the evening gown who now looked like a princess, "From the day you walked out of the cage, you haven't been ordinary anymore, Joanna."
He grinned and reached out a hand.
"Let's go, see if you can walk."
The girl stared blankly at the right hand extended before her, her eyes seeming to ripple with an entire ocean.
"But… Yale, if I become extraordinary in the future..."
"If I become very troublesome, very willful, and hard to get along with."
"Actually, you're pretty much like that now."
"Yale."
"Alright, alright, alright."
Yale raised his hands in surrender.
Joanna's eyelashes trembled slightly.
"Then will you always watch over me?"
"I will." Yale answered without a second thought.
"Because I'm your ordinary sister?"
"Because you're wearing these shoes and walking like a penguin."
Joanna's face turned cold again.
"I knew it."
"You didn't know, because you are a very special little penguin."
"Shut up."
"Alright."
Yale reached out his hand again.
"Let's go, wanna try?"
Looking at her older brother's extended hand, the girl's lips curved up slightly, then she grabbed it without hesitation, stood up, and took two steps.
"Not bad."
"Mhm, and then?"
"The dress isn't ugly either." She hesitated and said.
"What else?" Yale coaxed patiently.
"Thank you, Yale."
The girl revealed a heartfelt smile, like melting spring snow.
---
The main entrance on the first floor of the mall.
"You guys finally came out."
Clark hugged four paper bags and a long box, sighing, "I've been waiting for you guys for ages."
"What did you buy with my card? You corn cob." Yalecarried two bags, his mouth twitching, "I need to reconsider the feasibility of buying you a pickup truck."
"Don't be like that." Clark gave a sheepish smile, "Didn't you say as long as it doesn't exceed the limit? Besides, I only bought some cheap comic merchandise."
"Is that your reason for buying a cheap suit? Clark, I despise you. Even if it's not custom-made, it should at least be a major brand."
"Baleno, isn't that a major brand?" Clark was puzzled.
"You wouldn't understand even if I told you." Yale had no intention of explaining, "Where are Mom and Dad?"
"Sorry, sorry, I forgot all about it. I'll call Mom and Dad right now." Clark piled the paper bags on the edge of the nearby flowerbed, took out his phone, and walked a few steps toward the parking lot, "Wait for me!"
His figure flashed.
Yale also subconsciously glanced at the paper bags Clarkplaced on the flowerbed.
No regrets in killing the son!
A tank top, a trench coat, and trousers printed with this string of characters.
Yale: "..."
The Smallville Boy Scout really still had a childlike innocence.
He glanced at Joanna and silently stepped forward to block the bags.
Which department actually developed such a small merchandise combo of a tank top and a trench coat?
"What's inside there?"
"Things that only real men can wear," Yale said in a deep voice.
Joanna: "…?"
But before she could ask further.
She saw Clark walking back.
"Mom and Dad said it's not over yet, and told us to handle lunch ourselves."
His tone was very relaxed, but Yale could still see the dark clouds on the boy's face.
Yale didn't even need to think to guess that the conversation over there probably hadn't gone well.
He sighed and turned his gaze to the side.
Joanna was standing on his right, half her face hidden behind her pale blonde hair, her gaze silently looking toward not far away…
Although she quickly withdrew her eyes, Yale still saw it.
Not far away, a Ferris wheel was spinning, below which was a whole expanse of colorful amusement facilities.
Very good.
"Let's go, Clark." Yale patted his good brother's shoulder.
"Where to?"
"The amusement park."
"Yay!" Clark's eyes lit up, "I've wanted to go for a long time, Yale!"
Fifteen minutes later.
On a bench in the amusement park.
Yale and Joanna sat side by side.
In front of them were various amusement facilities spinning amidst screams.
Clark stood before them, holding three ice creams resentfully in his hands.
"So… you guys just wanted to taste what amusement park ice cream tastes like?" Clark laughed out of extreme anger.
"I've never had amusement park ice cream before. I heard it's a different species from the mall's ice cream," Yaleyawned, "Just like you and other football players are different species."
"But I!"
"Stop arguing, you two." Joanna licked her ice cream and said coldly.
"Enough, Clark." Yale spread his hands, "The judge has ruled. Go play if you want, don't disturb me and the judge in bonding."
"Right, bring back cotton candy for both of us later."
Clark gnashed his teeth, just as he wanted to say more…
He saw the corner of Yale's eye twitch.
"Clark." The blonde young man's tone suddenly turned serious.
"...What?"
Clark was stunned.
"It's here."
The screams of the crowd came!
"Ah——!"
"A monster?!"
"Why is there an ape in the amusement park?!"
The crowd boiled over.
Tourists fled, and carts overturned.
"Ultra-Humanite!!!!"
The three of them looked against the crowd.
They saw, atop a tall tower in the amusement park not far away.
"Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!"
"Ultra-Humanite!!!!"
A white gorilla was pinching the spire of the tower and beating its chest.
"Roar——!"
And letting out roars from time to time.
[As shown: Superman's first supervillain in history.]
"King..."
The ice cream in Clark's hand dropped to the ground.
The small-town youth wore a look of astonishment.
"King Kong?!"
Yale: …
Was Metropolis, which had enjoyed peace for many years, finally about to welcome a disaster-ridden tomorrow with the arrival of Superman?
Chapter 45: Clark, go do what you think is right.
It was taller than any gorilla in nature.
Right now, it was facing the skyline of Metropolis!
"Boom——! Boom——! Boom——!"
It was beating its chest!
"Boom——!"
It leaped down from the top of the tower.
The shockwave scattered in all directions, and the airflow rolled in.
A little boy was tripped, lying on the ground crying his eyes out, but no one stopped as the fleeing crowd surged past him.
"Hey!"
A pair of warm, large hands reached over to grab his body, effortlessly lifting him out of the crowd.
"What is your name?" The handsome young man squatted in front of the boy.
"Marcus," the boy whimpered.
"Where are you from?"
"Gotham."
"Alright, Mr. Marcus from Gotham, I am Clark." The young man carried him under the low wall to the side. "Now please stand here and don't walk around, understand?"
"Okay..."
Looking at the tall figure in front, the boy's sobs gradually stopped.
"Wait for me to come back."
Clark waved his hand, and with a flash of his figure, he disappeared into the bustling crowd.
But as soon as he left, the anxiety on his face could no longer be contained.
"Yale."
He found his younger brother, who was evacuating the crowd, and pointed at the gorilla rushing towards the Ferris wheel not far away. "What should we do now?"
Watching the crowd disappear into the danger zone.
Yale glanced at the white behemoth not far away.
Ultra-Humanite
Ultra-Humanite.
A perverted genius who transplanted his own brain into an albino gorilla in order to gain superhuman strength to commit crimes.
When he saw this character concept in a comic book store back then, he even wondered if the writer had smoked some American mushrooms to come up with such a crazy move of stuffing a human brain into a gorilla's skull to gain superhuman strength.
And...
The distance between the gorilla in front of him—which smashed whatever it saw and had an IQ inferior to a corncob—and a super genius was probably equivalent to the distance between Clark and himself.
Was it that the brain transplantation experiment went out of control and led to intellectual regression? Or was it just a biological weapon used for testing?
"What do you think?" Yale withdrew his gaze and looked at Clark.
"I..."
Clark couldn't help looking in the direction of the Ferris wheel.
Super Vision and Super Hearing vividly reflected every scene there.
He could perceive the pain and despair of countless people.
And he had the power...
He could stop countless sins that shouldn't happen and help many people escape the vortex of destiny.
Of course...
He could also stand by and watch.
"You can suppress your perception," Yale suddenly spoke. "Clark, it's fine; no one will blame a small-town youth from the countryside."
"But... that's just deceiving oneself, Yale," Clark smiled bitterly. "Ordinary people might be able to live freely and abide by their duties, but I can't."
"I know clearly, and I hear clearly; I really cannot remain indifferent, Yale," the small-town youth murmured in a low voice. "I really have no way to control my own eyes not to listen and not to look. I can't just walk away."
"Yale, you said before that Power is authority and strength, and it is also everyone's trust in us. If I heard them shouting for help and I chose..."
"Clark."
Yale suddenly interrupted, "Uncle Ben didn't become Soldier Boy because he had to bear greater responsibility; it was precisely because he voluntarily assumed that part which he shouldn't have originally borne that he became Soldier Boy."
"When you take responsibility, when you stand up, power has meaning. Great power comes from this."
Taking something out of his embrace, Yale gently handed it over.
"What is this?"
Clark took it blankly, looking perplexedly at the pumpkin mask in his hand.
Orange paint coated the cheeks, and the two corners of the eyes slanted upwards evilly.
No matter how you looked at it, it didn't look like a superhero.
"Go do what you think is right, Clark." The blonde youth patted his shoulder.
Clark felt inexplicably dazed.
He remembered an ordinary morning when he was six years old, when the ordinary old farmer Jonathan stood by the tractor and handed him a pitifully small screwdriver, saying:
"Help me, son."
A father handed the tool to his son.
Just like at this moment, a younger brother handed power to his older brother.
"I understand, Yale."
"Thank you." He fastened the mask onto his face.
Not only to protect this world that bestowed upon him sunlight and power, not only to protect Mom and Dad who bestowed upon him love and hope, but also...
To protect his younger brother...
If he stood up.
Yale could bear a little less, and his younger brother wouldn't have to face it alone every time.
Clark took a deep breath and took a step forward.
"Wait."
"...?"
"Change your clothes." Yale pointed expressionlessly at a few paper bags by the edge of the flower bed.
The blue eyes behind the pumpkin mask widened.
"...Can I not wear it?"
"This is to hide your identity," Yale said in a calm tone. "Clark, you wouldn't want Mom and Dad to recognize you in the news, right?"
Clark silently closed his eyes.
A moment later.
A black figure flew out from the bushes.
A black trench coat fluttered in the wind, underneath which was a tight vest.
On the front were four blood-red characters—No Regret in Killing a Son!
"Roar——!"
The white behemoth raised its dual fists, preparing to deliver the final punch towards the base of the Ferris wheel amidst the weeping and crying of tourists!
"Boom!"
The figure that came crashing out sent the behemoth flying with a charge!
"He is doing pretty well."
Yale leaned against the tree trunk, licking his ice cream, "First time performing a heroic action."
"Is it really alright?" Joanna slightly furrowed her brows.
"Trust him."
"Yale..."
The girl's force in pulling his hem grew a bit heavier.
"It's fine, I'm here." Yale shrugged, "Rest assured."
"..."
The fingers pulling the boy's cuff loosened just a little bit; this was Joanna's way of expressing agreement, but...
"Oh no!"
"What's wrong?" Sparks suddenly ignited in the girl's eyes.
"I forgot to let him give himself a nickname," Yale said with grief and indignation. "How do you think the Bright Moon Holy King sounds? It can also give a preview for the subsequent characters in my comic, so readers will know who the prototype is at a glance."
Joanna: "..."
The girl was just about to say something.
"Joanna, I'm going to the restroom," the youth beside her suddenly spoke.
Amidst all the noisy background noises, his super senses...
Captured a strange frequency.
On the east side of the amusement park, above the roller coaster tracks.
A height of forty-seven meters.
The frequency was very weak, but to him, capturing it was also a breeze.
A familiar frequency...
"What?" Joanna was stunned, a trace of confusion flashing in her sky-blue eyes.
She turned her head to look, but before the force in her fingers could tighten.
A section of fabric fluttered lightly away from his fingertips.
"Yale?"
The shade of the tree was empty.