American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 211 The Immortal – Vandal Savage.

Bruce opened his eyes once again on the unfamiliar bed.

He was enveloped by the scent of old wood, hay, and sun-dried cotton from the cabin.

The nights here are different from those in Gotham; they are an overwhelming silence.
It was so quiet that I could hear the sound of my own blood flowing.

Too much quiet can actually make people overthink.
Bruce felt uneasy about the decision he was about to make.

He sighed, silently got up, put on his coat, and decided to go out for some fresh air.

Visit farms more often.
This land always has a strange calming effect on people.

"squeak--!"

The door hinges made a slight creaking sound, which was particularly clear in the still of the night.

The crisp, cool air filled my lungs, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees.

The moonlight was not very bright, but it was enough to outline the hazy contours of the barn, the fence, and the distant cornfield.

"?!"

Bruce's expression tightened when his gaze settled on the barn.

There
Another unfamiliar figure, almost blending into the night, stood there silently.

Like a frozen statue, only the occasional breeze brushing against the hem of her clothes proved that it was not an illusion.

Bruce subconsciously lightened his already silent footsteps, lowered his body slightly, and used the shadows cast by the buildings as natural cover to sneak in silently.

Just as the distance closed to a few meters, he was about to shout.
“Mr. Bruce…”

The figure didn't turn his head, but his deep voice rang out first.

The stillness broke the silence of the night.

Bruce paused for a moment.

Only then, by the light of the sparse starlight, could he make out the outline of the person's profile.

Calvin Swanwick, U.S. Secretary of Defense.

After returning home on Christmas night, he asked Afu to hand him the documents.
I never expected to meet you again in this place and under these circumstances.

The other person's suit almost swallowed all the light, perfectly concealing them in the darkness.

Since he was a friend of the teacher, he relaxed his guard a little and casually made a joke to try to cover up his previous tension, "Minister Swanwick."

"You almost blended into the darkness just now; I almost didn't recognize you."

Ron turned his head, his eyes, which seemed particularly deep in the darkness, glanced at Bruce, and nodded, as if in response to his joke.

Then, he calmly added, "Being aware of the darkness of the night is a sign of normal visual function, Mr. Bruce."

"But rest assured, according to statistics, in rural Kansas, because of the darkness at night, most people will only run into another person who is afraid to walk at night and chooses to pitch a tent and spend the night on the spot."

"..."

Bruce felt a chill creep over him.

This is a lame joke.
Or was it threatening him in an extremely subtle way, implying that anything could happen in this darkness?

He scrutinized the other person's overly calm face, but received no answer.

After thinking for a moment, Bruce lowered his voice slightly: "Mr. Calvin, what is this...?"

There must be a reason for standing here alone late at night.

"I'm waiting for Locke."

Ron's answer was concise and clear. His gaze returned to a certain point in the void, as if sensing something that Bruce could not perceive.

"teacher?"

Bruce was even more puzzled, looking up at the high-hanging moon. "At this time?"

Waiting by the barn in the early hours of the morning?
Do you two have any unusual hobbies?
"coming."

Suddenly interrupting Bruce's thoughts, Ron's tone was completely unexpected, and his movements were as swift as lightning.

He grabbed Bruce's wrist with surprising force, unlike anything one would expect from a pampered politician.

Bruce felt an irresistible force pull him backward, his steps faltering, and he was almost dragged away from his original spot.

That skill?!

Bruce was deeply shocked by the speed and strength of that reaction.
Even after training on the farm for so long, I'm completely powerless to fight back?!

However, before his shock could be expressed in words, the scene before him robbed him of all ability to think.
All that could be seen was the open space in front of the barn.

Without warning, a cross-shaped crack appeared, its edges constantly twisting and flashing with eerie blue electric arcs and tiny starlight!
It tore through the night, as if opening a gateway to another world.

Even more unbelievable is...
From the center of that chaotic crack, a beam of light was projected...

Warm, pure, and golden sunlight that stands out starkly against the cool night sky!
It's as if it comes from a land of eternal daylight!

Then, a foot wearing familiar work boots stepped out and landed steadily on the grass of Kent Farm.

A tall figure emerged effortlessly from the sunlit crack.

He even calmly turned around and casually waved at the rapidly healing crack, as if saying goodbye.

The cross-shaped crack vanished silently, and the ray of sunlight from another world disappeared as well, and night regained its dominance.

Locke turned around, about to speak.

Then, they spotted two people in a slightly peculiar posture not far away.
Locke's gaze swept back and forth between them, finally landing on Bruce's still-shaken face, his eyebrows slightly raised in surprise:

"What are you...?"

After a while.
"So it's another world?" Bruce looked intently at Locke, his tone filled with undisguised amazement and inquiry: "Parallel universes... they really do exist."

"teacher"

Bruce's eyes flickered, and he hesitated before saying:
"Then... another 'me'?"

What path will he take?
Are they burdened by the same darkness, or have they found different answers?

Locke raised an eyebrow, noticing the rare curiosity in the eyes of this thoughtful student, and a smile just began to form on his lips as if he was about to say something.
"Never mind, teacher."

The young man suddenly waved his hand, interrupting him before he could finish speaking.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, the curiosity had been replaced by an almost cold rationality, and his voice became calm, "It's better not to tell me."

He gazed at the deep night sky in the distance, as if he could see certain predetermined trajectories through the darkness. "That is, after all, a parallel universe... Knowing too much might affect my future decisions and judgments."

"What I need to do requires my complete focus."

Seeing his sudden maturity and even a hint of self-sacrifice in his restraint, Locke couldn't help but smile.

So he readily chimed in with a lighthearted remark:

"I wasn't planning on telling you the details anyway, I was just teasing you."

Bruce's face darkened, feeling embarrassed that his wishful thinking had been exposed.

Then, with an annoyed wave of his hand, as if to dispel the uncomfortable atmosphere of the conversation, he said, "That's all for now, teacher. I'm going back to sleep."

He's not an idiot who can't read the room.

On the contrary, he was exceptionally perceptive about it.

Sensing the atmosphere between Locke and the unfathomable Minister of Defense that required a private conversation, he, an ordinary student, felt superfluous in the situation.

He turned around, his pace quickening slightly as he walked, gradually disappearing into the darkness in the direction of the cabin.

Watching Bruce's departing figure until it completely disappeared into the shadows of the small door, Ron slowly spoke: "Your student."

“A young man who consciously walks into darkness and tries to figure out the underlying reasons. From an animal behavior perspective, he is very interesting.” He tilted his head slightly, as if he were analyzing something, “like a little bat that uses ultrasound to travel.”

"."

"Hahaha"

Locke laughed heartily, patted Ron on the shoulder, and said with admiration in his eyes, "Ron, it seems you've mastered humor quite well! Although it's still a bit dry, overall it's pretty good."

Ron silently accepted Locke's pat on the shoulder, and only after Locke's laughter subsided did he turn his face and mutter, "This time it wasn't a joke."

"Hahahaha"

Locke laughed again. "Is this part of your humor, Ron?"

Rong En chose to keep quiet.

The decision has been made to no longer delve into the complex human social behavior of 'humor'.

Well, some barriers might be insurmountable for Martians. Locke smiled and shook his head, his smile gradually fading, before turning his gaze to a point in the void in front of him.

Behind him, the tall, blue-purple stand-in quietly appeared, and the legendary demonic sword in his hand, imbued with spatial power, once again emitted a faint blue light.

There was no earth-shattering momentum.

The Yamato sword gracefully drew an arc in the air.

The space in front of the barn was silently torn apart once again, revealing a cross-shaped crack with twisted edges and shimmering starlight.

This time, however, the other side of the rift was no longer a sun-drenched otherworldly farm.
Instead, it was a grand and magnificent hall.

—This is the former Merlin Treasury, now the Kent Family Museum.

Locke gestured to Ron and stepped into the crevice first.

Rong En followed closely behind, his steps steady, as if he were stepping into his own living room.

The cracks quietly closed behind them, and the chirping of insects and the gentle breeze of the farm at night were instantly replaced by a unique fragrance from the museum.

"Rong En."

Standing in the shadow cast by a massive dinosaur fossil, Locke's voice echoed softly in the empty exhibition hall, "To our surprise, the history available for reference in parallel universes, especially the part about Lionel Luther, is vastly different from ours and has almost no direct reference value."

He briefly recounted to Ron what he had seen and heard in that 'heavenly' universe, and about Lionel Luther's drastically different fate.

Ron listened quietly until Locke finished speaking, at which point he nodded slightly.

“Small deviations in the fundamental frequency of the universe, after a long period of accumulation and nonlinear amplification, are enough to trigger a huge butterfly effect at the level of individual fate. This is consistent with the basic model of multiverse oscillation and interference established by Mr. Jason Garrick in his early years.”

"It seems that we still cannot interfere with our own universe by simply 'copying homework'."

“That’s right,” Locke nodded.

“By the way,” Ron asked at the opportune moment, steer the conversation to another key point, “How did you feel about your trip to that universe? How was it different from the last time you traveled through it using that Speed ​​Force device you mentioned?”

"how?"

Locke repeated himself, his expression somewhat enigmatic.
"If last time, relying on the Speed ​​Force watch brought by Giorno was like being 'smuggled' across by being wrapped in a fragile energy membrane, then after the Speed ​​Force membrane shattered, I could clearly feel the entire universe repelling and squeezing me, this outsider..."

"The pervasive malice and pressure were suffocating, like being in the deep sea."

"And this time..."

Locke looked up at Ron, his eyes gleaming with thought: "I used the power of the Yamato to tear open a spatial rift, walking in so openly and honestly, and there was no resistance at all."

"It's like pushing open a slightly ajar door, rather than crashing through a solid wall."

Rong En pondered for a moment before speaking: "This might mean that the 'nature' of the spatial barrier in that particular parallel universe... the 'Heaven' universe, has changed, or that its 'definition' of 'you' has changed."

He tilted his head slightly, as if organizing the most precise language: "Based on a hypothesis of string theory, different universes are like membranes with different vibration frequencies."

"Last time, you relied on the unique, high-frequency vibration characteristics of the Speed ​​Force to forcibly adjust your own frequency of existence to be synchronized with that universe, which allowed you to sneak into it indirectly."

"So once the Speed ​​Force disappears, you, whose vibrational frequency is different from that universe, will naturally trigger its 'rejection reaction'."

"And this time..."

“I think there are several possibilities: that universe may have been affected by the multiverse wars that you mentioned, causing its spatial structure to be eroded by continuous energy bombardment, making it more ‘permeable’ or exhibiting a kind of ‘inertness’.”

"It's like a radio that has been forcibly modified and had its filters removed, so that any signal of any 'frequency' is included in a 'whitelist' that can be identified and even passively accepted."

"Anyone can go in."

"The second possibility is that you left a strong enough 'mark' in that universe, so that after you entered directly this time, that universe did not treat you as a thief, but as someone who returned 'home' from another universe openly and legitimately."

"It automatically matched you with a corresponding identity, assigned you a unique 'frequency,' and treated you as a member of this 'family.'"

"One, two? So there are three more?" Locke asked.

“Hmm, if it’s San…” Rong En’s gaze became even more profound: “…then there might be a stronger will or power that predicted our trajectory long ago and tacitly approved your visit on a cosmic level, or even welcomed it very much.”

"It's like the owner unlocked the door for you in advance, and then, not feeling safe, handed you a key."

Locke listened quietly, lost in thought.

We still have too little experience with traveling between parallel universes.
"It seems."

Locke finally chuckled, breaking the museum's silence. "This door is much easier to get through than I expected. I just wonder what awaits us behind it—tea and snacks, or hunting rifles."

Rong En calmly replied, "According to probability, either is possible. I suggest remaining vigilant, and... you can look forward to some refreshments."

This time, even Locke was somewhat uncertain.
Was Rong En joking or not?

"I would prefer tea and snacks."

Locke nodded, a helpless smile playing on his lips.

But then, as if remembering something, a playful look appeared on his face. "Let's talk about something else. I have another discovery besides this."

"Do you know Vandal Savage?"

"?"

Under Ron's questioning gaze, Locke slowly put aside his thoughts about the parallel universe portal and turned the topic to a more imminent threat.

That immortal being.
Vandal Savage's conspiracy spanning thousands of years.

From the tribal era 50,000 years ago to today's Legion Club.
Let me explain them one by one.

Behind the shadow of every historical event, the figure of that immortal being flickers faintly.

"...such a guy who has lived from before Christ to the present day, and has intervened at almost every turning point in history," Locke finished speaking and looked at Ron, "You DEO, or rather, this surveillance network you established, were completely unaware of his existence?"

Rong En nodded and admitted:

“There is a record of the individual ‘Vandal Savage’ in the database.”

"But the information we have, whether in terms of the time span of its activities or the depth and breadth of its involvement in historical events, is far less than one ten-thousandth of what you just described."

"In our files, he is more like a... elusive extremist, rather than the mastermind behind the millennia-old conspiracy network you describe."

"His first appearance was in 1932, where he was suspected of working for the German leader at the time. He reappeared in 1969, attempting to interfere with the moon landing program, but was ultimately defeated by The Flash—Mr. Jason Garrick."

Upon hearing this, Locke's lips curled into a meaningful smile.

"is it?"

He gently countered, "Then you might really start to suspect that there's something wrong with your internal systems, or the information sources you rely on, at their very core."

"You should be able to judge the weight of what I just mentioned."

"Such an immortal being with infinite time and patience, any historical event you consider accidental or inevitable may have his shadow swaying behind it. He can easily approach kings, scholars, and generals, and can also sow deadly seeds in the midst of plague."

"If he wanted to, he might even have 'participated' in the early stages of your intelligence agency's establishment, and... left some small backdoors."

Rong En listened in silence.

After a moment, he slowly spoke, his voice no longer steady, but carrying a rare solemnity:

"Locke, did you know? According to our most optimistic model estimates, there are currently individuals on Earth whose abilities surpass the limits of ordinary humans."

"The total number of individuals referred to as 'superhumans' is approximately thirteen million."

"And this number is still growing. Keep in mind that about a hundred years ago, the number of superhuman individuals was only around one million, and even before that, according to data from Planet Oa retrieved by Mr. Stark, the number of superhuman individuals on Earth fluctuated only around ten thousand."

He raised his eyes and looked directly into Locke's eyes.

"In conclusion, while we are constantly improving our operational efficiency to cope with the 'superhuman wave' that the world is about to face."

"But even so, of those, less than five percent are included in the monitoring list through various means, and whose movements and capabilities we can roughly grasp."

"Of the 5 percent of individuals monitored, only about 1 percent actually possess the ability to cause large-scale, systemic harm to the existing human social structure."

"This means that more than five out of every thousand superhumans with the power to harm society live in our blind spots. They may live like ordinary people, or they may be accumulating power in the shadows."

"If Savage truly possesses such a long lifespan and the patience to lie dormant, as you claim, and he intentionally conceals himself..."

Rong En didn't say anything more, but the conclusion was self-evident.

They were facing not just a powerful immortal, but a…

It has become intertwined and symbiotic with the history of human civilization itself, and may even be, on some levels...

A monster that manipulates historical narratives.

He has the ability and the time to perfectly hide himself in the 13 million unmonitored 'shadows', or even possibly infiltrate the 5% that are monitored, existing as a harmless illusion.

Their eyes met in the dim museum air.

Locke could clearly see the seriousness in Ron's eyes.

Dust refracted light in the hall, while the skeletons of ancient creatures cast huge shadows around them.
That buried, dark history, that history recklessly written by the immortals.
It is slowly revealing only the tip of the iceberg to them.

(End of this chapter)