Son, It's Time

Lex Luthor, one of Superman's lifelong adversaries.

After discovering Superman, he devoted himself to freeing the world from Superman's "threat." In his view, Superman had locked humanity in a comfortable cradle, denying people the chance to grow by facing crises and weakening humanity's racial potential.

If Clark had not saved him yesterday, the young Lex Luthor would most likely have died after falling into the river.

Yet he had personally saved one of his greatest future enemies.

"As long as you're happy, Clark."

David shrugged.

"Of course I'm happy."

Clark smiled. "Mom, where are the keys to this car?"

"David, want to go for a drive with me?" He turned back to his younger brother, and the gloom of the past few days eased a little.

He could not wait to drive this car, the first car that had ever belonged to him. Given his family's financial situation, he had thought he would have to wait until he got a job to have one.

"Clark..." Martha hesitated. "Your father has the keys."

Rumble, rumble, rumble.

Beside the hay shredder, Jonathan was busy processing hay from the farms.

"Dad..."

Clark excitedly pulled David over, intending to ask for the keys.

The young Superman had barely opened his mouth when Jonathan stopped the hay shredder. His expression darkened slightly as he said sternly, "I know you want it badly, but you can't accept it."

He was still thinking about the look in Lex Luthor's eyes yesterday as he examined the wrecked car pulled from the river, then turned to the completely unharmed Clark. It had been a look of surprise and confusion, as though he had seen a miracle that defied reason and should not exist, with a faint desire to investigate and pursue it showing on his face.

Like an ambitious business owner discovering a one-of-a-kind new venture.

He did not know whether it was just an illusion, but he had a bad feeling.

"Why? I saved him." Clark did not understand.

"That doesn't mean you can accept someone's expensive gratitude with a clear conscience."

"A new car for you, Dad. I can drive the old one."

"That has nothing to do with it." Seeing the displeasure on his son's face, Jonathan quickly said.

"A pickup truck is nothing to the Luthor family."

David agreed with Clark on that point.

The Luthor Group was one of the world's most famous business conglomerates. Even in Smallville, a remote town near Metropolis, the Luthor family's fertilizer plant was a pillar industry, with more than two thousand townspeople working for the Luthor family.

Clark had saved Lex Luthor. A pickup truck was hardly expensive compared to the life of an heir to a conglomerate rich enough to rival a nation.

"Listen, son. In life, we can't have everything we want. That's normal."

Jonathan tried to explain patiently.

"Normal? I've had enough of normal!"

The frustration Clark had been holding in for the past few days finally erupted, cutting off his father.

He could clearly do so many things. He clearly did not have to merely stand by and watch. No matter what it was, as long as he stepped in, he could do it better than anyone else.

But for the sake of being normal, he had to hide himself. He could only be an inconspicuous nobody, standing bitterly at the edge of the field and watching the person he secretly loved kiss someone else passionately in their arms.

"Is this what you call normal?"

Avoiding his father's attempt to put an arm around his shoulders, he stormed over to the hay shredder, switched it on, and thrust his arm into the constantly moving blades amid the deafening buzzing.

Crack! Crack!

"Father, tell me!"

As if it had encountered indestructible High-Density Alloy, the blades curled and broke, the gears shattered, and a burst of black smoke rose from the hay shredder before it stopped working.

"Clark!"

Even though he knew his son had a body of steel and iron, Jonathan still cried out in alarm and hurried over to pull his son's arm out with difficulty.

Only his clothes had been shredded. There was not even a red mark on Clark's arm.

"We know you're impressive, Clark, but have you considered that repairing the hay shredder costs money?"

Watching the adolescent Clark, David said flatly with his hands in his pockets.

After all that venting, the only one hurt was the hay shredder.

"Father, did you see that?

I was born abnormal." Hearing his younger brother's words only made Clark angrier. His voice shook with agitation as he failed to accept his situation.

Martha hurried over after hearing the commotion. Seeing the scene, she guessed what had happened and exchanged a worried glance with her husband Jonathan.

"Perhaps it's time, son."

Jonathan sighed and wearily removed his work gloves.

"This day was bound to come."

"What?" Clark suddenly had a bad premonition.

"Come with me." He turned around with heavy steps, signaling Clark to follow.

Then he looked at his younger son and hesitated briefly. "David, you come too. As part of this family, you have the right to know the truth as well."

Although David was the biological son of Martha and him, while Clark was merely an alien baby they had found, of an entirely different species from the couple.

The kind-hearted Jonathan and Martha had never treated them differently. Both were his sons in his heart.

"I know some things can't be kept from you forever, especially after discovering that you, Clark, were born extraordinary and possessed power beyond human imagination."

Inside a shabby repair shop.

A muscular blond worker listened to aggressive death rock as he stood beside a car, reached inside, and turned the key.

The dashboard lit up, and the engine started successfully. Chewing gum, the worker wore a satisfied smile and closed the front hood.

Just as he was about to take a break, he suddenly noticed a thin figure standing like a ghost in the shadows by the shop entrance, though he had no idea when the person had arrived.

"Damn it, you scared the hell out of me!"

After muttering a curse under his breath, the worker suddenly felt that the person in the shadows looked familiar.

"Do I know you?"

He narrowed his eyes, recognized the visitor, and walked over.

"You look like that Scarecrow. What was your name again? Something like... Jeremy?"

Jeremy, with black hair and a thin frame, his hollow cheeks making him look like a skull, stared at him coldly without saying a word.

"I heard you hurt your head in that meteor shower and fell into a coma..."

As he spoke, the worker, once a member of Smallville High School's football team, contemptuously reached out with an oil-stained hand to wipe it on the other man's clothes.

"Finally willing to leave your hospital bed?

Look at that scrawny body of yours..."

Before he could finish, a powerful current shot from Jeremy's shoulder where he had touched him.

The smell of burning flesh spread through the air.

The worker was violently blasted three or four meters away, knocking over a tool rack before crashing heavily to the floor.

"Monster!"

He raised his charred, agonizing hand and staggered backward, his face changing drastically.

"Listen, that was over a decade ago!"

The worker immediately realized why the other man had come here. Trying to dissuade him from seeking revenge, he shouted in pain.

"It was just a game!"

"A game?"