The Two Hundredth Victory

"Yes, Jonathan, I understand. I've already called the police and fire department. Eric is sitting right beside me. All right, we'll talk later."

In the stands, Martha hung up and said to Eric beside her, "Your father and Clark took Chloe to the hospital. Thankfully, Chloe isn't seriously hurt."

Eric nodded and turned his attention to the football game before him.

After Coach Watt was taken out by his Heat Vision, the out-of-control flames instantly turned on their host.

Within a few breaths, the man had been burned to ashes.

Even though his body had been strengthened by Kryptonite, he still could not withstand the fierce flames.

"Crossing routes! Crossing routes!"

As the assistant coach roared from the sidelines, the Crows' quarterback charged like an unstoppable tank, smashing through the defenders and successfully scoring a touchdown.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

With the referee's final whistle, the game officially came to an end.

The Crows defeated the Mustangs 53–41 and claimed victory.

"Although the Crows won, Coach Watt probably won't get to see it."

Martha watched the celebrating football players and spoke with mixed emotions.

Her husband had already told her the rough outline of what had happened over the phone. She knew what Coach Watt had done. Though she was furious at his despicable actions, seeing the players celebrate before her left her feeling complicated.

"The two hundredth victory... he'll probably never get to see it."

Eric said flatly, "How ironic. The person who went to the greatest lengths to chase victory was the only one who couldn't witness it with his own eyes."

Kent Farm.

It was dinnertime.

Jonathan sampled the spaghetti. Never one to enjoy pasta, he stopped after only a few bites.

"I always thought calling spaghetti 'empty calories' made no sense at all."

Jonathan complained about his wife's spaghetti. "Look at the sauce on this pasta—carrots, onions, parsley, ground meat, cheese, tomatoes. I don't think the calories in this are anywhere close to zero."

"Maybe it should be called American meat sauce pasta."

Martha smiled faintly at her husband's complaint. "Jonathan, you're not Italian, are you? So I don't think your comments on spaghetti carry any weight."

"Mm-hmm."

Jonathan nodded thoughtfully. "Like how non-Brits can't judge 'fish and boiled eggs'? Or how non-Chinese people can't judge 'General Tso's chicken'? Martha, I think you've drawn a very clear line between food and food critics. That doesn't seem very fair."

Jonathan and Martha began discussing spaghetti, while Eric focused all his efforts on the roast beef in front of him.

"Clark."

A few minutes later, the couple had already finished discussing "spaghetti."

After returning his plate to the kitchen, Jonathan walked back to the table and said seriously to Clark, "I'm sorry you didn't get to play today."

Clark still had not recovered from the strange emotions stirred up by the punch Eric had thrown at him earlier that day.

Guilt? Disappointment? Self-reflection? Or resentment?

He did not know which emotion weighed most heavily in his heart.

Hearing his father speak to him, he looked up.

"I thought you came to make sure I wouldn't hurt anyone."

Clark spoke with some disappointment.

He knew his father had always disapproved of him playing football.

"No, of course not."

Jonathan patted his eldest son on the shoulder. "I went to the field to support my son. Maybe your mother is right—I'm stubborn and rude, and sometimes I'm too stubborn to listen to other people's opinions. But I trust you, Clark."

"I've always believed in you, but I'm always a little afraid. I think every parent carries that kind of fear to some extent."

His father's heartfelt words sent a warm current through Clark's heart.

A faint smile appeared on his lips, and all the resentment he had harbored toward his father disappeared. "I said a lot of inappropriate things too, Dad. I'm sorry."

Listening to the conversation between father and son, Martha's lips curved upward. "Eric, aren't you going to try the spaghetti?"

Late at night, Lex's residence.

Lex Luthor sat on the sofa, flipping through a book with a rather bizarre cover.

"Lex, have you heard about what happened at the town school?"

Victoria walked in and asked him.

"Of course. Do you think that aside from playing polo, attending parties, and going to charity dinners, I have no concern whatsoever for how the world functions and develops?"

"Mm-hmm, charity dinners?"

Victoria wore a teasing expression. "I always thought the Luthor family looked down on charity dinners like that more than anyone."

"My father believes—"

Lex closed the book. "That possessing great wealth is a symbol of divine favor; that aiding the poor or restricting the rich interferes with God's will. Typical social Darwinist thinking. My views differ from my father's. I believe that when class conflict intensifies and social consciousness awakens, anyone who stubbornly refuses to adapt will eventually be cast aside by society."

"May I take that as criticism of your father?"

Victoria smiled as she sat beside him.

"Or criticism of the entire decayed class. I've always enjoyed being the one who stirs up conflict."

Lex rose and poured himself a glass of Salon Champagne. "There was a fire at Smallville High School, and someone may have died. This isn't the first time I've heard of something like this. In this town, you can always hear all sorts of bizarre stories."

"So that's why you like staying in this town?"

"Only partly."

Lex took a sip of champagne. "I'm not alone. I have friends here too."

"The Kent family?"

Victoria chuckled and picked up the book Lex had left on the round table. "For example, the author of this book, Cthulhu, is Eric Kent, who is also part of the Kent family. Is this a newly published book?"

"Strictly speaking, it hasn't been published yet. I simply obtained it through special channels."

Lex explained to Victoria, "As for the Kent family, only Clark can barely be considered my friend. Clark's parents have quite a problem with me because they firmly believe that bad bamboo cannot produce good shoots. And Eric is an abyss I wish to explore. Just as he wrote in this book: the most merciful thing in the world is the inability of the human mind to comprehend it in its entirety. Eric Kent seems to have revealed in this book a world beyond human thought. For some reason, it resonates with me, so I'm very curious."

"Lex, sometimes curiosity isn't a good thing."

Victoria replied.

"Perhaps."

Lex shrugged. Just as he was about to say something, his phone suddenly rang.

After answering it and listening to the caller for a few moments, Lex's expression changed.

Thanks to "Aizen Put on Silver" for the tip, and thank you all for your votes.

Thank you, truly!