Kent Farm.
Clark looked at his father in disbelief. "Why not? I just want to join the football team, and I can't?"
"We've talked about this, Clark."
Jonathan had just returned from the barn. After washing his face, he said to Clark, a little tired, "The talent you possess is not in football."
"Why? I can control my strength. Dad, don't you trust me?"
"It's not a matter of trust."
Jonathan hesitated. "On the field, there are many unpredictable situations. For example, if you get emotional or angry, or if you want to show off for a girl, someone could get hurt. Clark, you have a more important mission than winning football games."
Clark didn't understand his father's intentions and asked with disappointment, "Eric's talent in painting is acknowledged by you, but mine in football isn't?"
"I'm tired of being punished for my talent! You trust Eric to handle everything, but you don't trust me to handle things on the field. You never trust me!"
Clark's voice held a hint of anger. "I can control my strength, and I can make my own decisions!"
"Clark."
Jonathan's tone also became a bit heavier. "I won't sign the permission slip."
"I don't need your permission! I'm definitely joining the football team, and you can't stop me!"
Clark confronted his father.
The standoff between the two continued until Eric and Martha returned from grocery shopping.
Martha sensed the unusual atmosphere between her husband and eldest son. She quietly leaned closer to her younger son and asked Eric, "Eric, do you know what happened between your father and Clark?"
"It's probably about the football team."
Eric explained to his mother, "I heard Coach Watt is planning to recruit Clark for the football team."
"Oh, I see."
Martha nodded, saying nothing more, but a worried expression appeared on her face.
She knew her husband's attitude towards the football team.
Now that Jonathan and Clark had started a silent war, they must have had an argument earlier.
Eric also had some guesses as to why Clark was so determined to join the football team.
He probably felt a little jealous after hearing Lana's praise for his painting, so he was eager to impress Lana as well.
And since Lana was the cheerleading captain, joining the football team was the most suitable choice.
As for mediating the conflict between Jonathan and Clark, he wasn't interested.
The Kryptonian's Son, currently in his rebellious phase, probably wouldn't listen to him either.
Since Clark wanted to join the football team, let him try; he would definitely quit in the end anyway.
The reason for this certainty was that Eric was 100% sure there was something wrong with the team's Coach Watt.
A tyrannical, chaotic, and uncontrolled aura overflowed from his body. Although he didn't know how the other party acquired that extraordinary energy, if Coach Watt, who was on the verge of losing control, were to erupt, it would definitely cause irreversible consequences.
Clark and his father's "silent war" showed no signs of easing even by noon; neither of them showed any intention of backing down.
Clark shoveled a few mouthfuls of rice into his mouth, then silently left the farm.
"I don't know why he's so stubborn?"
Jonathan helplessly put down his knife and fork. "Eric also joined the football team once, but he quit very quickly."
"That's different, Jonathan."
Martha looked at Eric, who was focused on his beef and potatoes. "Eric joined the football team in junior high. At that time, football wouldn't have been seen by them as a source of honor to prove themselves."
"When I was Clark's age, I wasn't like him either."
Jonathan didn't compare himself to Eric, but spoke about himself.
"Yes, you were very obedient to your parents, and you never ran away from home one summer to try and join the Metropolis Sharks."
Martha exposed her husband's past.
"Cough."
Jonathan awkwardly glanced at Eric, a little embarrassed about losing face in front of his younger son. "When did you join the opposing camp?"
"Jonathan, Clark just wants you to give him some trust," Martha whispered.
"His talent comes with responsibility."
Facing his wife's persuasion, Jonathan sighed with a dejected expression.
The open-air cafe by the artificial lake was the only decent open-air cafe in Smallville.
Lex Luthor was sitting at the coffee table closest to the lake's edge, savoring the unique taste of the town's coffee.
"Lex, honestly, I find it a bit hard to believe your father would transfer you to the fertilizer plant here."
A middle-aged man sitting opposite Lex said to him.
"Caesar would send his sons to the farthest frontiers of the empire so they could see how the world works. For my father, who fancies himself Caesar, sending me to a small town's fertilizer plant is nothing out of the ordinary, though I think they have nothing in common besides ambition."
Lex put down his coffee cup. "Let's get back on track. What's the progress on the Smallville High School dance matter I asked you to investigate?"
"Of course, that's precisely why I asked to meet you."
The middle-aged man placed a manila envelope on the coffee table.
"Things are far more complicated than imagined. The Smallville town government attributed the cause of the tragedy to an electrical fire, but this is clearly an attempt to cover up the truth. This isn't the first time they've tried to conceal the truth; many similar incidents have occurred."
Lex nodded, opened the envelope, and flipping through the materials the middle-aged man had collected, asked, "Regarding the suspect, Jerome, can he really unleash lightning?"
"According to eyewitness testimonies and the autopsy report of the deceased, yes, he can."
The middle-aged man nodded gravely. "Also, there's something very strange."
He pulled out a few photos from the file and handed them to Lex. "This is the gymnasium northeast of Smallville High School, which was severely damaged on the night of the dance tragedy."
Lex adjusted his posture, carefully observing the shocking damage on the gymnasium in the photos.
Collapsed floor, broken basketball hoops, collapsed holes punched into the walls—
"You're not going to tell me this was caused by a human?"
Lex put down the photos, his brows slightly furrowed.
"Although it sounds absurd, but—"
The middle-aged man shrugged. "That's what it looks like."
"Mommy, balloon!"
Their conversation was interrupted.
From a coffee table not far from Lex, a little girl's tender voice rang out.
The little girl ran into the road in a few steps, chasing after a flying balloon.
"Beep beep!!"
A heavy truck, honking frantically, rushed over.
The driver, to avoid the little girl in the middle of the road, gritted his teeth, slammed on the brakes, and sharply turned the steering wheel.
"Screech!"
The truck swerved left, and the immense inertia immediately caused it to lose control.
The tilting truck sped towards Lex's direction.