Exposed Crisis

"Clark?!"

A familiar voice woke Clark.

The apocalyptic scene of shattered walls and ruins before his eyes, along with Eric holding a pitchfork and declaring, "Darkseid is dead," vanished at once.

His consciousness returned to his brain, pulling him out of the shocking vision as his senses reconnected with reality.

"You okay?"

Eric frowned as he looked at Clark, who was holding the book and staring blankly into space.

"I-I'm fine."

Clark let out a lingering breath. "I just... just thought of something."

The scene from moments ago had appeared so vividly before him that he could not tell whether he had accidentally glimpsed the future or whether it had merely been an illusion created by his mind.

Uneasy and bewildered, he glanced at Eric. In the vision, Eric seemed to have become something terrifying, while Clark himself appeared to have stood at his side. So... what had happened?

"This book..."

Unaware of Clark's fear and confusion, Eric took the ancient-looking book from his hands.

Feeling the sinister, unfamiliar aura emanating from it, he skimmed through the text.

Written in a mix of obscure ancient Latin and Old English, it described bizarre sacrifices and magical rituals.

"It's probably some kind of black magic. It doesn't suit your current sunny, wholesome image, Clark."

Eric casually closed the book and put it away. At the same time, he tossed the documents from the cabinet into a box, along with the precious metal currency and gold inside, packing them all up as spoils from the battle.

"Eric, are you planning to take all this with you?"

Watching Eric loot the secret chamber, Clark asked hesitantly.

"Should I leave it here for some destined person to find?"

"Uh..."

Clark was at a loss for words, and his expression grew somewhat strange.

He remembered those stacks of green banknotes Eric had hidden beneath his bed. Had Eric gotten those through the same method?

He hesitated, unsure whether he should try to talk Eric out of it.

Although he knew this was all ill-gotten wealth, he still felt that what Eric was doing was inappropriate.

While he struggled with his doubts, Eric packed every valuable item in the secret chamber into the metal case.

"Are you going to stay here and pray for Owlman, or are you leaving, Clark?"

Eric took two steps forward with the metal case, then turned back to ask Clark.

Clark stood where he was and hesitated for a moment. After glancing at the corpse lying in the distance, he quickly followed Eric.

That night, at Luthor Manor.

Fire trucks and police cars were parked at the entrance to the manor. Firefighters extinguished the burning areas and inspected the damaged pipes and electrical wiring.

Lex leaned against his luxury car, expressionlessly watching his father, who had just arrived from Metropolis.

"You promised to keep me safe. Did that include using rockets to bombard my friends?"

Lex questioned his father.

"I was only concerned for your safety, Lex."

Lionel adjusted his glasses and replied calmly.

"No, you don't care about anyone, whether it's me or anyone else."

Lex's tone sharpened. "Even if I had died today, your world would still keep turning as usual. I even suspect that the orders you gave those mercenaries prioritized capturing the enemy alive, even if it meant sacrificing me. Otherwise, there's no explanation for why those people dared to open fire into the hall while Clark was still inside."

"You were even willing to destroy my manor and hurt my friends!"

Lex glanced at the manor, now reduced to ruins, his voice full of accusation.

He still did not know that Clark had escaped. He thought Clark had been buried in the rubble along with those "Owlmen."

"Anger won't solve anything, Lex."

Lionel's tone remained calm, even cold.

"Oh, is that so?"

Lex gave a derisive laugh. "I've learned something else too. Anger that can't be vented only brews deeper anger."

"Like this!"

Lex pulled out an owl mask and threw it before him. "What is this? The masks those killers wore. You told me there was no Owl Council in Metropolis. You even swore it. And now? Don't tell me this was just some prank by jokers who like wearing owl masks! You've been... lying to me!"

Faced with Lex's questioning, Lionel fell silent for several seconds. "Lex, I was trying to protect you, to keep you away from things beyond your reach."

"I can control my own life. I know how to direct it, instead of needing someone else to tell me what to do. You know? The first thing I learned in the Luthor family was how to face unbeatable enemies. Never let anyone tell you, 'You can't do it!'"

Lex reined in his anger and instead replied in a distant, mocking tone.

Lionel's expression did not change. "Lex, sometimes you succeed. You think you've touched the truth. You think you've defeated your enemy. But... that's only what your enemy wants you to see. Some things cannot be judged by appearances alone."

"Mm-hmm."

Lex nodded and said sarcastically, "I know what you're trying to say. Churchill's quote: in extreme complexity lies extreme simplicity. Beneath all your complicated reasoning is one simple purpose—to do what's best for me. Believe me, Father, that's rhetorical deception, and I don't have the talent for being conned forever."

After saying that to his father, Lex turned and left.

Lionel watched Lex's retreating back with a complicated expression. Only after Lex disappeared from sight did he order his men to drive away.

At the same time, at Kent Farm, far from Luthor Manor, Eric and Clark finally returned home.

The farm was quiet beneath the pitch-black night sky.

Dragging his exhausted, battered body—and wearing clothes that were practically nonexistent—Clark pushed open the door.

He dropped onto the sofa and leaned back.

Too many things had happened tonight. He needed to calm down properly, both physically and mentally.

Eric left the metal case outside and pushed open the door, preparing to change clothes.

But the moment he opened it, he froze.

Jonathan and Martha stood solemnly on the staircase leading to the second floor, staring at the two of them in their tattered clothes.

"Clark, Eric, I think... we need to have a serious talk."

Jonathan came down the stairs and walked over to Clark, who was lying on the sofa.

"Dad, weren't you in Metropolis?" Clark sat up in shock.

"Something this big happened at Luthor Manor. I didn't think Martha and I could just stay there."

Jonathan looked at the metal case behind Eric. "Eric, what is that behind you?"

Thanks to "Clear Vast Sea" and "black Jack" for the donations.

Thank you all for the monthly votes and recommendation votes. You've worked hard—I received them, and I'm very grateful!

Also, this book has reached one hundred thousand words. Time to celebrate!