"Clark?!"
A familiar voice awakened Clark. Google search to read.
The apocalyptic scene of ruined walls and debris before him, and Eric holding a steel fork announcing "Darkseid is dead," instantly vanished.
His consciousness returned to his brain, exiting the illusory scene, and his senses reconnected with reality.
"Are you okay?"
Eric frowned and asked, looking at Clark who was staring blankly, holding a book.
"I-I'm fine."
Clark exhaled with lingering fear, "I just… I just thought of some things."
The scene just now appeared so vividly before his eyes that it made him wonder if it was a future he had accidentally touched, or merely an illusion produced by his own mind.
Uncertain and surprised, he glanced at Eric. In the scene he had just witnessed, Eric seemed to have become a terrifying existence, and he himself seemed to be on his side. So what exactly happened?
"This book…"
Eric didn't know of Clark's inner surprise and fear. He took the ancient-looking book from the other's hand.
Feeling the evil, unknown aura emanating from it, he briefly glanced at the text.
Mixed with obscure and difficult-to-understand Old Latin and Old English, it described strange forms of sacrifices and magical rituals.
"It should be something like Black Magic. This isn't suitable for your current youthful, sunny image, Clark."
Eric casually closed the book and put it away, while also throwing the documents and materials from the wall cabinet into a box, along with the precious metal currency and gold in the box, packing them all as spoils of this battle.
"Eric, are you planning to take all these things with you?"
Clark hesitated and asked, watching Eric pilfering things from the secret room.
"Should I leave them here for some fated person to take?"
"Uh…"
Clark was speechless, and his expression became a bit strange.
He remembered the green American dollars Eric had hidden under his bed. Could Eric have gotten those things in this way too?
Hesitating, he didn't know whether to persuade Eric.
Although he knew these were ill-gotten gains, he always felt that the other party's actions were improper.
So, amidst his entanglement and hesitation, Eric packed all the valuable items in the secret room into a metal box.
"Do you want to stay here and pray to the Owlman, or leave, Clark?"
Eric took two steps forward, carrying the metal box, then turned his head and asked Clark.
Clark stood still and hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the body lying on the ground in the distance before quickly catching up to Eric.
That night, Luthor Manor.
Fire trucks and police cars were parked at the manor entrance. Firefighters extinguished the areas that had caught fire and checked the damage to the water pipes and electrical circuits.
Lex leaned against his luxury car, expressionless, watching his father who had just arrived from Metropolis.
"You promised me you'd protect my safety, and that includes bombing my friends with rockets?"
Lex questioned his father.
"I'm just concerned about your safety, Lex."
Lionel pushed his glasses up, replying calmly.
"No, you don't care about anyone, whether it's me or anyone else."
Lex's tone deepened, "Even if I died today, your world would still turn as usual. I even suspect that the orders you gave those mercenaries, prioritizing capturing the enemy, meant you could even sacrifice me. Otherwise, it wouldn't explain why the mercenaries dared to open fire inside while Clark was still in the hall."
"For this, you even didn't hesitate to destroy my manor and harm my friends!"
Lex glanced at the manor, which had already turned into ruins, his voice full of accusation.
He didn't know that Clark had already escaped, thinking that Clark, along with those "Owlman," had been buried in the ruins.
"Anger won't solve things, Lex."
Lionel's tone remained calm, even cold.
"Oh, really?"
Lex scoffed, "I also understand one thing: anger that isn't vented can only brew deeper anger."
"Just like this!"
Lex took out an Owl mask and threw it in front of the other party. "What is this? The masks those killers wore. You told me there was no Owl Council in Metropolis, and even swore to it. Now what? Don't tell me this is just a prank by the Joker who likes to wear Owl masks! You've always—deceived me!"
Facing Lex's questioning, Lionel was silent for a few seconds, "Lex, I'm trying to protect you, to keep you away from those untouchable existences."
"I can control my own life, and I know how to lead my life, without needing others to tell me what to do, do you know that? The first thing I learned in the Luthor Family was how to face unconquerable enemies, and never let others tell you what is right."
Lex reined in his anger, instead replying with a detached and sarcastic tone.
Lionel's emotions remained unchanged, "Lex, sometimes you succeed, you think you've touched the truth, you think you've defeated your enemy, but that's just what your enemy wants you to see. Some things can't just be seen on the surface."
"Uh huh."
Lex nodded, scoffing: "I know what you want to say, Churchill's famous quote, extreme simplicity in extreme complexity. Your complex grand theories have only one simple purpose: for my own good. Believe me, Father, this is a form of verbal deception, and I don't have the talent to be perpetually deceived."
After speaking to his father, Lex turned and left.
Lionel stared at Lex's retreating figure with a complex expression, waiting until his figure disappeared before instructing his subordinates to drive away.
At the same time, at Kent Farm, far from Luthor Manor, Eric and Clark finally returned home.
In the deep darkness of the night, the farm was quiet.
Dragging his weary, scarred body, and clothes that were practically non-existent, Clark pushed open the door.
He flopped onto the sofa, leaning back.
A series of things had happened tonight, and he needed to calm down, both physically and mentally.
Eric placed the metal box outside, pushed open the door, and prepared to change clothes.
But the moment he pushed open the door, he froze.
Jonathan and Martha stood solemnly on the stairs leading to the second floor, watching the two "ragged" individuals.
"Clark, Eric, I think we need to have a good talk."
Jonathan came down the stairs and walked in front of Clark, who was lying on the sofa.
"Dad, weren't you in Metropolis?" Clark sat up in surprise.
"With such a big incident happening at Luthor Manor, I don't think Martha and I could stay put."
Jonathan looked at the metal box behind Eric, "Eric, what's that thing behind you?"
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