"A violent explosion occurred at Smallville High School. A Google search revealed that three fire trucks from Smallville had been dispatched earlier to the auditorium where the school dance was being held to extinguish a fire, which is now largely under control. It is reported that all fire hydrants at the school have been damaged, and the water pressure in the town's main pipeline, from Prince Street to Gus Square, has dropped to zero, significantly increasing the difficulty for firefighters."
Smallville's radio was broadcasting the latest news.
In the speeding car, Jonathan listened carefully to the radio broadcast while comforting Martha.
"Don't worry, Martha, Eric and Clark will be fine. They're not ordinary students anymore."
"I understand, Jonathan."
Martha's gaze followed the increasing number of police cars on the street, her brows furrowed.
"I'm just worried that Clark and Eric might accidentally get involved, after all, they're not mature enough."
"They won't."
Jonathan's tone was calmer than Martha's, "Our sons are far more mature than we imagine."
As they spoke, the two arrived at the school.
The fire in the school auditorium, caused by a "short circuit," had been extinguished, and now there were many police cars and ambulances parked on campus.
Firefighters had already put out the fire in the auditorium and were cooperating with police and medical personnel to carry out injured students.
Students who had narrowly escaped the dance were either cooperating with the police for brief statements or crying in their parents' arms, wrapped in blankets.
It's estimated that tonight's "Bloody Dance" will become the most unforgettable dance of their lives.
Looking at the groaning injured crowd, Martha anxiously glanced around.
She soon spotted Clark, sitting on the steps, looking somewhat distracted.
Sitting next to him were his two best friends, Chloe and Pete.
Chloe and Pete had recovered from the intense emotions of their narrow escape, and both were now comforting Clark.
"Clark, you don't have to blame yourself for this. Even if you possess extraordinary talents, you can't decide everything."
"I agree."
Pete's expression was solemn, "Misfortunes happen every day in this world, Clark, you can't help and save everyone."
The two tacitly avoided discussing the conflict between Clark and Eric just now.
"I should have..."
Clark sighed slightly, looking at the injured being attended to by doctors ahead, "I should have discovered the murderer was Jerome earlier. If I hadn't wasted so much time on Eric, maybe..."
Hearing Clark mention Jerome, Chloe's expression changed slightly.
After a moment of thought, she decided to tell Clark.
"Actually, Clark, Eric once hinted to me that the murderer of Dan Brown was Jerome, but I didn't think much of it at the time."
Chloe recounted how Eric had been looking through news reports about "Jerome" in the editor's office yesterday.
After listening to Chloe's account, Clark fell silent.
A sense of confusion arose within him.
Had he misunderstood Eric?!
"Clark!"
Just as he was deep in thought, he heard a familiar voice.
He looked up and saw his mother, Martha, walking towards him with a worried expression.
"Are you alright, Clark?"
"I'm fine, Mom."
Clark forced a small smile, composed himself, stood up, and replied to his mother.
"That's good, as long as you're alright."
Jonathan walked over and patted his eldest son's shoulder, "Where's Eric? Is he not with you?"
"No."
Clark replied with a somewhat unusual expression.
Not noticing his son's unusual expression, Jonathan frowned, took off his hat, and looked around, hoping to find Eric in the crowd.
"Uncle Jonathan."
Lana, accompanied by her aunt, wrapped in a white blanket, walked over to greet the couple.
"Lana."
Seeing Lana, looking somewhat disheveled and with bloodstains on her forehead, Martha lovingly came over and hugged her.
"What a sad night. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, no serious injuries, just a bump."
Lana smiled at Martha, her gaze sweeping over Clark and the others.
A look of disappointment appeared on her face when she didn't see Eric.
She hadn't told the police that she had personally witnessed Jerome being killed by Eric.
Because she had many questions, she wanted to talk to Eric, but he wasn't here.
Lana quickly composed her disappointment and, after exchanging a few words with the couple, left under the pretext of "going to the hospital to take care of Whitney."
Clark only came back to his senses after watching Lana's retreating figure disappear.
He was somewhat bothered that Lana hadn't come over to greet him.
Chloe and Pete, observing Clark's dejected expression in front of his goddess, exchanged glances.
Everything was understood without words.
After seeing Lana off, Jonathan prepared to ask the police about Eric's whereabouts.
He had only taken two steps when his gaze shifted, and he saw Eric talking to the police.
"Eric!"
Jonathan, relieved that his youngest son was safe, let out a long breath, walked over quickly, and put an arm around Eric's shoulder.
"Are you alright, Eric?"
"I'm fine, Dad, my clothes just got torn accidentally."
Eric smiled as he responded to his father.
"That's good, as long as you're alright."
Jonathan patted Eric's shoulder, "Martha and Clark are waiting over there, let's go over."
The next day, morning.
Metropolis.
"Metropolis's Wild Youth? Playboy Lex Luthor and the Zero Club Story?!"
In Luther Manor, Lex Luthor was flipping through the latest newspaper, and seeing the gossip about himself, he sneered.
"If a genie escapes from a bottle, it's no longer a genie, and it's the same for eye-catching gossip; if it's reported completely, then it's no longer gossip."
Putting down the newspaper, Lex stood up.
Intelligent, young, confident, full of vibrant energy, Lex, except for his baldness, had just completed an intense fencing training session.
During his break, he casually picked up the newspaper, saw the report about himself, and immediately commented on it with disdain.
"So you admit the report is false?"
The female fencing coach had a good relationship with Lex, so she asked directly.
"Audrey, do you know how fencing became a refined sport?"
Lex stood up, picked up the fencing mask on the table, and without waiting for her reply, continued, "In 1776, French fencing master La Boëssière invented the mask, which made fencing a refined sport. The invention of the mask completely prevented accidental injuries during offense and defense. For me, wearing a mask is a protection for the offense and defense in my life."
"Who are the targets of your life's confrontations? Your father, or his subordinates?"
Audrey continued to ask.
"Who knows? Maybe neither, maybe both."
A smile of unclear meaning appeared on Lex's lips.
He sat down and continued to flip through the newspaper, his gaze falling on a report about Smallville.
After a brief read, Lex immediately became interested.
"Smallville High School Dance Tragedy? Lightning?... Interesting."