"Today is Clark's game day. Jonathan and I are going to watch the game. Eric, are you coming?" Martha, who had wrapped her scarf and was ready to go out, stood at the door and asked Eric.
"No." Eric, who was looking through the information he got from the reporter Chris, shook his head and refused.
"Sorry, I'm not interested in football right now."
"Uh-huh." Jonathan put on his coat and said to Eric, "Sometimes we have to make some changes, just like me. I've changed my stance and have to go to the game with Martha, even though I've always been against Clark joining the football team."
"You can't be stubborn forever, Jonathan. Just as we support Eric's writing, you should also support Clark's love for football," Martha said to her husband.
Jonathan sighed, "That's not the same thing at all, Martha."
"It is the same thing, at least in Clark's mind it is."
Martha wrapped the scarf around her husband's neck, "This represents whether a father trusts his son, and trust is sometimes incredibly important."
"I know." Showing his wife the watch on his wrist, Jonathan smiled slightly, "If we don't hurry, we'll be late."
After his parents left, Eric refocused his attention on the laptop in front of him.
Most of the content in the notebook consisted of news interview drafts, videos, and photo materials.
After searching all system drives, he finally found a suspicious document in a hidden folder.
The first page of the document that caught his eye was a nursery rhyme:
We killed it,
Who will be its priest?
Who will be its chief priest?
Who will carry its coffin?
Who will sing its hymn?
The raven, with its small notebook, writes the prayer of Death
The dove sheds tears mourning its beloved, presiding over the future
The kite walks the desolate night road, carrying the heavy coffin
The thrush stands in the bushes, singing the hymn
All the birds sigh and weep
When they hear the funeral bell
It tolls for them
Notice
To all concerned parties
This notice informs
The next Owl Council
Will judge all birds
—
Below the eerie nursery rhyme was a long list of names.
Eric quickly scanned it and only found a few familiar names.
Among them was Lex Luthor.
"For whom does the birds' funeral bell toll? The Court of Owls is getting more and more interesting."
Closing his laptop, Eric stood up with a good mood and stretched.
Relaxing, his Super Vision activated, casting his gaze to the distant football field.
In The Torch editor's office, Chloe, who was typing on the keyboard, glanced at the clock on the wall. There were twenty minutes until Clark's game started, and she had to finish the proofreading and input before then, otherwise she wouldn't make it to Clark's game.
"Clack, clack, clack!" In the silent room, there was only the sound of fingers tapping on the keyboard.
Chloe, fully focused, did not notice a dark shadow quietly moving closer.
"Whoosh!"
Flames suddenly appeared on the computer in front of her, emitting a heart-pounding sound.
The burning, heat-emitting flames, before Chloe could react, swiftly engulfed the computer monitor, keyboard, mouse, and typewriter.
The equipment, as if soaked in gasoline, was quickly covered by the flames, which shot up towards the ceiling.
"Oh my God!" Chloe, startled, retreated in panic.
But the flames seemed to have a life of their own, cutting off her retreat.
The newspapers and documents on the desk were all ignited and burned by the flames.
Thick smoke immediately spread from the center of the room, enveloping her along with the flames.
"Cough, cough!" Chloe, covering her mouth, tried to retreat, but was trapped by the flames and unable to move.
"Help! Help!" Desperate and helpless, she coughed loudly while shouting for help.
But her voice was covered by the burning flames and quickly dissipated into the air.
Coach Watt, who had finished controlling the flames outside the editor's office, looked at Chloe, trapped in the flames, a cold smile on his lips, then turned and walked towards the locker room.
Today was his two-hundredth game as a coach, and he hoped he wouldn't miss this victory.
His pursuit of honor was so pathological that he couldn't tolerate any flaws.
In the locker room, the door was pushed open with a "bang," and Clark, wearing a loose football uniform, walked in, his expression somewhat off, and stood in front of Coach Watt.
"Clark?" Coach Watt was a little surprised by Clark's arrival.
"You should go to the locker room and change. The game is about to start."
"I asked Trevor." Clark approached the coach with an unpleasant expression, "He told me you've been abusing him and helping him cheat."
"Hmph." Coach Watt, who had changed into his coaching clothes, snorted coldly, "So it was that kid who snitched. This means my punishment for him was still too light. A snitch and traitor like him, if he doesn't shut his dog mouth, he'll go to hell and burn to Death!"
"Clark, I am your coach, your mentor, you should not question me! Now, go to the locker room and change!" He gritted his teeth as he said the last words to Clark.
"No!" Clark shook his head, "I won't go on the field, and neither will you."
"You seem to be defying me just like you defy your father, Clark. Don't provoke me, or your fate will be as miserable as your newspaper little minion!" A ruthless expression appeared on Coach Watt's face.
"Chloe?!" Hearing Coach Watt mention "newspaper little minion," Clark's expression suddenly changed.
Bang!
The next second, Coach Watt's fist hit him hard in the stomach.
Clark, who originally had super strong defense, did not take the opponent's attack to heart.
But to his surprise, Coach Watt's punch made him bend over in pain.
His internal organs felt an unbearable stinging pain!
How could this be?
Clark, lying on the floor clutching his stomach, couldn't figure out why the opponent could break through his defense.
Is it the misty heat circulating in the room?! He gasped for breath, suddenly remembering that the coach loved taking saunas.
In the room enveloped by misty heat, the coach could often soak for an entire day and never allowed anyone to approach.
Could the generation of this heat be related to those green meteorite fragments that restrain him?
Bang!
With a flying kick, Coach Watt kicked Clark hard, sending him rolling twice on the ground.
"You look very uncomfortable, Clark." Coach Watt sneered as he leaned closer to him.
"I know you're unusual, just like Eric. You are both guys with extraordinary talent, so unusual that it even makes me wonder if you're like me, affected by those strange stones and turned into monsters."
"Hoo… that feeling is indeed very good. Grinding the green stones into powder and adding them to the steaming air, absorbing them through the nose, mouth, and skin, it's more addictive than anything else in the world."
Watt showed an intoxicated expression, "That granted me extraordinary abilities and endless energy, allowing me to put all my passion into the game."
"Cough, cough." Clark, coughing, ignored Coach Watt's words. He tried to concentrate, using his Super Vision to catch sight of Chloe, only to find that she was already on the verge of Death, trapped in a sea of fire.