mtl008 Chapter 4306 Body of Steel (1)
Chapter 4306 Body of Steel (1)
Chapter 4306 Body of Steel (XI)
The world spun around him. After a violent bout of dizziness, Clark found himself back on the Kent family farm.
He didn't know what was happening; he just stood helplessly amidst the ruins, looking around blankly. The officer's last words echoed in his mind; he heard them, but he couldn't understand them.
"Search..." he heard another voice. "Go and search..."
"What are you looking for?!" he asked.
"Go and look for it..."
Rage once again overwhelmed his reason. Clark roared, slamming his fist against the wall and yelling, "Tell me!!! What am I supposed to find!!!"
No one answered him. Just like the night the lamb died, he stood alone in the wheat field, so quiet that it seemed the wind had ceased to exist, and even his roars were as faint as listening to the pulse of the earth from outside the infinite universe, insignificant and negligible.
People often hear their inner voice more clearly in times of despair. In all things, with every choice, they can always hear that unseen voice amidst the boundless turmoil and emotional tsunami. But when it comes to death, people always drown in silence, vanishing without a sound. Death is when humanity first experiences the power of "eternity."
Clark ran out, out of the Kent family's farm, and onto the road outside. But as he crossed the road, he discovered an invisible wall. No matter how much he pounded on it or called out to it, the high wall remained unmoved.
Then he discovered that the farm was surrounded by such transparent high walls, and he had no way to leave. He roared at the sky, kept asking questions, and ran nonstop, but to no avail.
Finally, he stopped, returned to the messy living room, curled up on the sofa, hugged his legs with his arms, buried his face in them, only his blue eyes were visible, staring blankly in one direction.
He began to relive that thunderous moment repeatedly. He wanted to grasp that feeling, but it wasn't easy. Too many things were swirling in his mind; trying to grasp the feeling brought by that instant of intuition was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Clark began to recall that night again. Batman sat across from him, the flickering firelight of the fireplace behind them. It was a rare quiet night; the weather wasn't so cold, and everything seemed so peaceful.
“You want too much…” Clark heard Batman say. “The responsibilities you choose to take on will drive you crazy until you make a terrible mistake.”
Clark never considered the deeper meaning of those words. He simply assumed that Batman was stopping him, that Batman didn't want him to use his superpowers to help others.
But at this moment, he finally heard another meaning in the words that kept swirling and echoing in his mind.
Clark never felt that the responsibilities he wanted to shoulder exceeded his capabilities, because his capabilities were simply too great. He could easily be responsible for the safety of people all over the world, at least that's what he thought.
With great power comes great responsibility. But what if his abilities aren't actually as great as he thinks?
Or, to put it another way, if he pursues an infinite amount of responsibility, then no amount of power can match the responsibility he must bear. What will happen then?
Like now, he's injured and has almost lost his superpowers, but he has a responsibility he must fulfill: he must rescue his mother. How is he now?
Just then, Clark saw the lightning bolt and grabbed the feather. A fleeting, ephemeral moment.
anger.
He was angry.
He is always angry.
When he found Lex, he should have immediately interrogated him about Martha's whereabouts instead of taking his anger out on him with violence.
Diana saved him, so he should have cooperated with her instead of throwing a tantrum because he completely misunderstood her situation.
It was all because of that pervasive anger. He was blinded by rage and made almost every wrong choice, which led things to where they are today.
No, no, no, Clark thought, even earlier than that.
He shouldn't have destroyed that alien spaceship at all, especially not in full view of everyone, using such violent means to destroy it. This was simply provoking the human government.
He shouldn't have brought the wreckage of the spaceship to provoke the Kryptonians. They clearly sent a small ship to avoid alerting the enemy, proving they weren't planning a military invasion of Earth at that time. His actions only exacerbated the conflict between the two sides.
What drove him to do this?
It was anger. An anger that had been building up since that instance, like a tsunami, like an avalanche. Every tiny tremor was preparing for the subsequent cataclysmic destruction.
Clark didn't know why he was acting this way. As Batman's words echoed in his mind, he had a flash of inspiration, but he still couldn't grasp the key point.
But at least he now understands that he lost his mind a long time ago. The way things have turned out is entirely his own fault.
However, he had no time to wallow in self-pity. He had to get rid of his anger as soon as possible, regain his senses, and at least figure out what he had done wrong.
Clark straightened up, sat on the sofa, put his hands on his knees, and said in a low voice, "Okay, Clark, think about it."
With too many chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind, Clark had to sift through them one by one. The most important thing now was to find Martha; he needed to find clues about her first.
First, there's Lex Luthor. What on earth did I do to offend him?
Even if he is a despicable person who does all sorts of evil, he should at least have a reason to target himself.
After ruling out all the impossibilities, Clark only found one reason: that Lex Luthor may have seen him appear and destroy the spaceship that day.
He carefully recalled the location at the time, and given the location of Luther Building, it was indeed directly facing the accident site.
So, just because of this?!
Clark just couldn't understand it. He hadn't destroyed a human spaceship; he had beaten up one of his own kind. Why was Lex Luthor so upset?!
No, that's not right. Clark continued, "This kind of mentality can't be judged by common sense. The Luther Group is very wealthy, with many businesses; they must be afraid of war, especially war that happens right above them. By the same token, they must be afraid of aliens."
Because if aliens invade Metropolis, they'll suffer the most. Buildings will be toppled, factories destroyed—which business owner wouldn't be afraid of that?
Well, that's a plausible reason, Clark thought. It's because he's afraid of aliens and desperately wants to find their weaknesses that he's set his sights on Martha.
Clark didn't need to think much about how he found his identity information or how he located Martha. Even though he was just a small-town boy, he knew that wealthy people like him had connections everywhere. If they wanted to investigate, there was nothing they couldn't find.
Okay, so how did he kidnap Martha?
Clark began pacing around the living room, lost in thought. His own universe's Schiller had already told him what had happened. Luther had bailed out a gang of notorious kidnappers, sending them to Smallville, Kansas, to kidnap a woman named Martha Kent.
And then? What else?
Clark was somewhat bewildered. That was how it all happened, so where would these terrorists take Martha?
Clark racked his brains but couldn't come up with any clues. Who knew where those terrorists would take the kidnapped people?!
Clark kept pacing back and forth in the living room, standing up and sitting down, going out and coming back, sometimes lying on the sofa, sometimes kneeling on the floor, as if doing so would make his super brain work a little better.
He didn't know how much time had passed, it felt like an eternity, and Clark felt his mind had stopped. He lay helplessly on his back in the middle of the living room, staring blankly at the slightly worn chandelier.
Suddenly, he heard a sound. His hearing was exceptionally sharp at that moment, because the space was completely silent, and even the slightest sound would attract attention.
He quickly got up from the ground, turned around, and froze.
Jonathan Kent stood in the middle of the living room looking at him.
“Dad!” he called out.
"Long time no see, Clark, how are you?"
"I..." A thousand words gathered in Clark's chest, but in the end, they only turned into one sentence: "...Not bad."
"That's good. You're very smart, and you'll definitely do well in a big city."
“I…” Clark didn’t know what to say. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, rubbing his hands and turning his head to one side.
Then he couldn't help but look at his father. Looking at that familiar face, the happy family life of the past began to flash before his eyes.
Every morning, he would wake up to the aroma. Just by smelling it, he could tell whether Martha had cooked oatmeal or fried sandwiches. Clark preferred oatmeal, which was cooked until thick and sticky with oats and milk, topped with a generous amount of sugar. Drinking a bowl of it seemed like he could get through the day's work.
Wait, oatmeal porridge...
Clark turned to look at the kitchen, then rushed over like a madman, picked up the pot that had fallen to the ground, and stared in shock at the oatmeal porridge that had splattered all over the floor.
There were no footprints left, but the oatmeal porridge scattered on the ground was far from enough to fill this pot.
Clark looked down at the pot of porridge in his hand, then at the porridge on the ground. Now he was even more certain that what was scattered on the ground wouldn't even fill a bowl, let alone a pot.
Why? What happened to the rest of the porridge?
Clark put down the pot and looked at the smashed island counter, the table and chairs that had been ripped to pieces. He rushed out the door again and looked at the messy skid marks on the ground, the scattered bundles of straw, the road that looked like it had been swept by a tornado, and the broken telephone poles.
Good heavens. Clark gasped for breath, as if he had never seen anything like it before.
He had indeed never seen this scene before. To be precise, the part of his super brain that controlled reason had never seen it; only the part that acted on emotion, only anger, had.
When the enraged Clark Kent saw this, he only grew angrier. It was seeing this horrific scene of destruction that caused Clark to lose his last shred of reason, losing even the will to linger and search further. He headed straight for Luther Tower to vent his anger on Lex Luther.
But now, standing there rationally, Clark Kent suddenly realized that something was wrong.
This is wrong, that is wrong, there is nothing right.
Clark stood in front of the half-collapsed farmhouse, feeling that the world was so absurd it made him want to laugh, and his own stupidity made him want to laugh even more. Just as he was about to laugh through his tears, someone patted him on the shoulder from behind.
Clark looked back and saw his father, Jonathan Kent, standing behind him, saying, "Go look for it."
(End of this chapter)