American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 194 Clark: Oh no, Uncle's become a cripple?! [Bonus Chapter]

early morning.

The last heavy snowfall in Kansas brought snowmelt that turned the dirt roads along the fields into a muddy mess.

Driving his eight-year-old tractor, Locke was about to check on the situation at the other end of the field.

then
"Boom!"

"Tu Tu Tu!"

The car got stuck in a deep pit softened by snowmelt. At this moment, the rear wheel could only spin futilely in the mud, kicking up large clumps of dark brown mud and splashing them everywhere.

The car body sank deeper and deeper, and the chassis was almost touching the muddy ground.

Locke jumped out of the driver's seat.

My boots sank into the mud, splashing up a cloud of mud.

In the past, he could have easily lifted the tractor with just a little effort using both hands.
But now...
"This is troublesome."

Looking at the tire that was deeply stuck and the mud that had been stirred up in the surrounding mess, Locke frowned unexpectedly.

Fortunately, just as he was pondering whether to find some planks to place under the rope or go back to the warehouse to get it,
Turning my head, I saw Clark walking over from the barn, holding his phone to his ear and talking to himself. He looked like he was on the phone.

"Clark"

Locke raised his voice and called out, then waved to him:

"You've come at the right time. Come and lend me a hand and help me get this iron thing out of the mud pit."

Upon hearing the shout, Clark quickly spoke a couple of sentences into his phone and hung up, then casually stuffed the phone into his jeans pocket.

He strode across the muddy ground to the tractor, looked down at the trapped situation, and without asking any questions, simply bent down, grabbed the tractor's metal chassis with both hands, slightly bent his knees, and then used his waist, abdomen, and arms to exert force.

"Crack-!"

The tractor, which would be a behemoth to ordinary people, was lifted up from the mud pit by him as if it were a toy box!

Let the mud and water gush down from the tires and chassis.

Without changing his expression, Clark took two steps and gently placed the tractor on a relatively firm and dry patch of ground to the side.

Only after he finished doing all this did he straighten up, casually patting the mud off his hands and sleeves, and almost without thinking, he complained:

"Dad, you don't have Uncle Locke's strength. If I weren't here, you would be..."

"?"

Looking at Locke, whose face was full of black lines, Clark realized with a start that the unassuming farmer in front of him was his all-powerful uncle.

"Uh, no, Uncle."

Clark quickly changed his tune, but a look of confusion still appeared on his face. He asked, puzzled, "If that's the case, then why didn't you just use the almighty 'Platinum Star' earlier?"

"Cough cough. Cough cough cough."

Before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted by a series of slightly hurried coughs from Locke.

"Clark, I've said it so many times: we cannot arrogantly abandon the principles of conduct just because we have power."

"."

Clark: ()
"Cough cough..."

Locke raised his hand to his lips, coughed a few more times, and glanced somewhat unfocusedly at the haystack beside him, but avoided meeting Clark's questioning gaze.
"In short, we're on a farm. If we rely on our abilities to solve everything, we'll only gradually stray from our true selves. We need to... we need to give these ordinary solutions a purpose, understand?"

"Your uncle didn't send you here to solve problems with force."

Locke spoke vaguely, his tone carrying a barely perceptible evasiveness, then hurriedly opened the tractor door, climbed back into the driver's seat, and turned the key.

Let the engine roar again.

"Remember to wake Sarafiel up."

After saying that, Locke turned the tractor around and drove it towards the other end of the field with a slightly eager look, while Clark still looked on with a puzzled expression.

Two fresh tire tracks were left behind, and I stood there, completely bewildered.

Watching the tractor disappear into the distance, Clark raised his hand and scratched his thick black hair, still unable to understand why his uncle insisted on choosing the more laborious method when there was a simpler and more direct way.

What happened to the promise that super intelligence would choose super power when necessary?
Could it be that the power within Uncle's body has disappeared?

Although reason tells me that this is completely unlikely.
But watching that tractor disappear at the end of the field...
My uncle unusually used transportation and even asked me for help.
Clark's mind was uncontrollably filled with scenes from the Peninsula soap opera he had been watching a few days ago.
The once powerful male protagonist inexplicably lost all his powers overnight, becoming powerless, but in order not to worry his family, he pretended to be fine every day.
He deliberately avoided situations requiring the use of his power, silently enduring misunderstandings and ridicule from all sides, his situation both miserable and frustrating...

He suddenly shivered, a chill running from his forehead to his limbs.

so……

My uncle's ambiguous attitude just now, and his clearly evasive excuse...

This sounds exactly like a line from a TV drama when the male lead is trying to hold on!

really……

Uncle didn't not want to use it, he just couldn't use it anymore?!
The unfathomable power within him...

Disappeared? !

The idea exploded in Clark's mind.

The more he thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed, and he got goosebumps all over his body.

He could almost see Uncle Locke alone behind the barn, looking at his hands that no longer shone with lightning, and at the disappearing Star Platinum behind him.

He could only stand alone, silently shedding tears over the haystack.
"Impossible, impossible."

Clark shook his head vigorously, trying to banish the absurd and melodramatic association from his mind.

"Uncle is so strong," he muttered to himself, trying to convince himself, "I must be overthinking it. I really should watch less soap operas."

Clark patted his cheeks, trying to calm himself down.

In short
Whether or not my uncle is putting on a brave face, now is not the time to delve into it.

Remembering Locke's advice, he decided to put these chaotic thoughts aside for the time being.

"Let's go wake Salafir up first."

soon
Clark then tiptoed to Salafir's door.

He raised his hand, ready to knock on the door.
"—You're utterly unreasonable! That kind of stupid decision doesn't even follow the most basic logic!"

The heated argument coming from inside the door made his hand, which was raised in mid-air, pause.

...They seem to be arguing quite fiercely?
He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately didn't knock. He just awkwardly touched his chin, subconsciously focusing his attention, his super hearing unconsciously picking up on any sounds coming from inside the room.

Clark swore he just wanted to know why his brothers were arguing, and definitely didn't want to eavesdrop for fun.

"You're the one who's being unreasonable! I clearly had a safer way, but you insisted on taking the risk!"

"Playing it safe? With your rigid, conventional approach, we would have been utterly defeated long ago!"

Inside the room.
Two identical voices were locked in a fierce confrontation, speaking so fast they were almost sparks flying.

Although the voices were exactly the same, Clark could vaguely distinguish that the one with the slightly aggrieved tone was Salafir, while the one with the colder tone was undoubtedly God.

"That's still better than your reckless actions without considering the consequences! Look at the situation now!"

"The situation? The situation has been ruined by your repeated indecisiveness!"

“It’s you! It’s you, you reckless destroyer! I’ve had enough! I never want to be in the same… space as you again!” Salafir said angrily.

"Don't want to be with me?" Shen Du immediately let out a sharp, cold laugh: "Ha! Foolish brother! Being tied to you is just dragging down my average level! You're a burden, a complete and utter..."

"A burden!"

"What—did—you—say—?! God—!"

"I said you're a burden! Are you an eardrum?! Sal-ra-fi-er!"

"If you heard it, then tell me you heard it!"

Good guy.
Weren't these two little guys just getting along well as brothers a few days ago? How come they've suddenly reached the point of wanting to separate?
Hearing the tension inside growing increasingly palpable, almost to the point of violence, Clark could no longer contain himself and flung open the door. "Stop arguing! Stop arguing!"

He squeezed into the room and stood before Salafir and God, who were glaring at each other, trying to distance himself from the invisible tension.

"Keep your voices down! You don't want to get too worked up and attract Dio's attention, do you? That guy looked after Dante all night last night, and he's really irritable right now!"

"."

Salafir: ()
Divine Capital: _

A certain name is like a silent spell.

The tense atmosphere that had just been building instantly froze.

The two of them fell silent almost simultaneously, leaving only their slightly rapid breathing in the room.

Seeing the two of them instantly calm down, Clark breathed a sigh of relief and finally had a chance to ask, "What exactly happened? How could you be arguing like this?"

Salafil, fuming, shoved the old-fashioned cell phone he was holding in front of Clark's eyes; the screen was still glowing with a grayish-white light.

Clark stared blankly as he took the phone from below.

Come to think of it, I bought this for him myself; I never imagined it would become the fuse for a sibling rivalry.
But what does this have to do with mobile phones?
Clark held up his phone in confusion, and saw that on the small screen, a graphic made up of small squares almost reached the top.

He blinked, and somewhat uncertainly read out the English letters on the screen:
"...Te...t...ris? Tetris?"

He was very familiar with this game.

Going back many years, Pete also approached him with a similar game console, the light from the screen reflecting on his excited face.

But the game was too easy for him. The blocks fell so slowly they seemed to freeze, and he hardly needed to think. His fingers knew exactly where to place them, with unparalleled precision.

This quickly extinguished the light in Pete's eyes. He muttered something about how boring it was and put the game console away.

More recently, a few months ago, Chloe had been biting her pen in the school newspaper office while shoving her phone at her, begging her to help her get past that damn hurdle.

He completed the task effortlessly, though he was still puzzled by Chloe's tightly pursed lips and inexplicably displeased expression.

But thinking about this...
Clark's lips still curved into a confident smile as his fingers lightly tapped across the keys.

In just a few blocks, part of the hole was filled, eliminating the unnecessary layers. Then, a few more precise landings instantly sheared away most of the previously precarious tower, revealing precious gaps on the screen again.

The situation has been brought back to life.

"Isn't it awesome?"

He handed the phone back, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Sarafil, here it is..."

But Sarafiel did not answer.

"."

"Brother Clark"

The boy, his earlier indignation gone, sighed softly, "A game isn't fun if you don't play it yourself."

Shen Du, standing to the side, also let out a short, cold snort. His eyes, which were the same but radiated golden light, were also fixed on Clark, filled with complete agreement, even with a hint of offended disdain.

"We'll give you the phone."

He added curtly, "I just want you to be the judge."

Clark's outstretched hand froze in mid-air, his smile gradually turning into an embarrassed expression.

Ok.

The reason was found.

His movements are always too fast, faster than the pace that others really need.

However, when he looked at his two younger brothers, who had just been arguing fiercely, they were now both looking at him with an expression that said, "You just don't understand."
Beneath that slight embarrassment, a relaxed smile spread across her face.

It seems that they will still unite against external threats when it matters most.
"Seriously," Shen Du thought, feeling like he'd punched a pillow, seeing Clark's unyielding smile. "You two go have fun."

Looking back now, the cause of the argument was so simple it was almost laughable.

They figured out the Tetris game from that old cell phone.

He fought alone for an entire night.

The next morning, the foolish older brother woke up rubbing his eyes and saw that he was still struggling on the battlefield made of constantly falling blocks, and the block tower he had built was already teetering on the brink of collapse.

"That... L-shaped thing, would it be better if we rotated it and put it in the left-hand empty space?"

Salafir, still half-asleep, lightly pressed a case with his fingertip.

This unintentional suggestion became the last straw that broke the camel's back.

The situation collapsed.

The blocks on the screen piled up at an alarming rate, leaving no room for maneuver.

This is the reason why the two of them were arguing.

But now God only felt bored. He yawned widely, his eyelids so heavy they almost stuck together. His small figure began to thin out, like a wisp of smoke, reluctantly shrinking back into the depths of Salafir's consciousness.

He needs to catch up on his sleep.

"boom!"

The door is closed.

Salafir yawned and decided to go find Kayla first.

Clark, remembering Lana's invitation on the phone, decided to go to the town to take a look.

The two of them walked out of the house one after the other.

Their attention was drawn to a commotion coming from the open space behind the barn halfway there.

A tall and imposing figure stood there, surrounded by an invisible low pressure.

Bruce was standing right in front of him, awkwardly perched on one leg on a moss-covered pebble, his other leg trembling and dangling in the air, veins bulging on his forehead, and sweat dripping down his chin.

And the surrounding area.
It was a lightning barrier filled with electric arcs.

Salafir and Clark simultaneously slowed their pace, exchanged a glance, and looked at each other with a familiar sense of pity.

Clark sighed and looked away.

Alas, my poor friend, Blue.
and many more? !
Clark turned around abruptly.

He glanced subconsciously in the direction of the paddy field ridge.

From the moment he put down the tractor, to mediating his brothers' Tetris dispute, and then walking out of the house to get here, it took him no more than ten minutes.

But my uncle...
"Brother Clark, do you know?"

Salafir didn't notice Clark's unusual behavior; he simply remarked, "Bruce has been telling himself it's a trial every night when he takes a shower lately. Sigh...it's so tough for him."

"But there's nothing we can do about it; Dad's become a bit cold every morning lately."

"Indifferent?"

Clark answered almost instinctively, his thoughts still lingering on his earlier doubts: "But... Uncle Locke just asked me to help lift the car, and he seemed a bit... fragile."

"Fragile?"

The words fell.

The two stopped in their tracks at the same time.

Salafir looked up, while Clark looked down.

His eyes reflected the other person's equally bewildered yet gradually turbulent expression.

A few withered leaves were swept up by the wind and swirled in the distance.

That absurd association about soap opera protagonists that Clark forcibly suppressed
Mixed with Salafir's resentment at being coldly rejected by her father.
At this moment, they silently converge, slowly condensing into a huge and heavy question mark.

(End of this chapter)