American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 216 World's Best Partners - Prologue
evening.

The Kent farm was brightly lit, and the aroma of food wafted from the kitchen.

"boom-!"

The door was pushed open forcefully, and a small figure walked in, bringing with her the hustle and bustle of the metropolis.

"Oh my, our little gods are back?"

Martha, who was busy at the door, happened to run into Shen Du, and a warm smile naturally bloomed on her face.

Her apron was still covered in flour, and she exuded the vitality that comes with youth.

To be honest
No matter how many times God looked at this aunt who had quietly regained her youth, he always felt a subtle sense of unease.

He gave a soft hum through his nose as a response.

Immediately, Shen Du reached into the seemingly empty space beside him with one hand, groped around for a bit, and pulled out a beautifully packaged jewelry box.

He handed it over, his tone curt:

"A souvenir, Auntie."

Martha was taken aback at first, then laughed even harder.

She took the box, but didn't open it right away. She habitually reached out and rubbed Shen Du's head: "Thank you for thinking of your aunt while you're out having fun."

Shen nodded slightly and continued walking into the living room without stopping.

Warm yellow light filled the entire space, and the flickering firelight from the fireplace cast swaying shadows on the walls.

Peeking out, I saw Jonathan sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper.

Upon seeing him, Jonathan naturally smiled and exclaimed, "The gods are back!"

But obviously
Deep within those smiling eyes, there was a clear glimmer of expectation.

The god glared at him irritably and reached into the void again.

This time, he put in some effort and dragged out a square box with sharp, almost exaggerated edges. The wrapping paper was so ornate it was dazzling, and the four corners were so sharp they could be used as weapons!
Four pointed corners?!
Jonathan's eyes widened instantly, and he didn't even notice the newspaper slipping from his hands.

"This...this is...a gift?"

"A souvenir," Shen Du confirmed, his tone remaining calm.

Upon receiving an affirmative answer, Jonathan immediately beamed with joy, rubbing his hands together like a big boy who had just received a beloved toy and couldn't wait to open it.

Locke, who had witnessed all of this, shook his head helplessly.

However, a smile appeared on his face, especially when Shen Du strode up to him.

This time, Shen Du didn't pull out any fancy box.

Instead, it was an exquisitely crafted leather belt, with several high-quality gemstones even inlaid at the buckle.

It looks very valuable.

Locke took it, squeezed the belt, looked up at Shen Du who had a 'praise me' expression on his face, and ruffled his son's hair:
"How much blood did you bleed for your Uncle Lionel this time?"

Upon hearing this, Shen Du proudly raised his chin and casually remarked:
"A little bit."

"..."

Locke paused for a moment, silently sensing the jewel-covered mountain that was floating in the Dragon Court space, which had been 'accumulated bit by bit' by the Divine Capital and almost occupied a giant stone platform.

He laughed in exasperation, then changed the subject, asking, "Where's Clark? Didn't he come back with you?"

"I don't know," Shen Du shrugged indifferently. "After dropping me off at my doorstep, he drove in the north direction, saying he had something to do and would be back in a bit."

"..."

Locke nodded, his gaze thoughtfully drifting towards the deepening twilight outside the window.

The outline of the distant fields blurred into a dark silhouette in the night. He had some guesses in his mind, but he didn't say anything.

"Where is my brother?" Shen Du suddenly asked.

"Sarafil?"

Locke seemed to recall something, pondered for a moment, and instead of answering directly, posed a seemingly unrelated question:

"Shen Du...who do you think is stronger, Superman or Captain Comet?"

"???"
-
On the other side, dusk was deepening.

The last rays of orange-red sunset were quietly disappearing below the horizon.

A tall, handsome young man with black hair, wearing a cowboy hat, was walking silently along the dirt road at the edge of the farm, heading towards the outside world.

"Crack——!"

He casually picked up a withered branch from the ground, used it to carry all his belongings, and tossed it behind him.

Um.
It was said to be all his possessions
In reality, the bag only contained a few clothes, a few pairs of socks, and a pair of pants.
Countless photos.

Bruce walked slowly, his steps seeming much heavier than when he arrived.

My gaze involuntarily lingered on the familiar scenery on both sides of the road.

The barn had a blurred outline, the livestock pen was filled with mooing and rustling sounds, the old windmill was turning slowly, and the wooden fences that had stood for many years.

And what he found most difficult to look away from.
That boundless cornfield, rustling in the evening breeze, bore witness to his many exhausting runs and moments of deep contemplation.

Bruce felt as if something was quietly binding him.
The flock of sheep that always surrounded him, begging for fodder.
That new field that was about to be cultivated and fertilized.

Mr. Locke said he would teach him how to grow pumpkins.
Mr. Jonathan said he would teach him some handicrafts.

Mrs. Martha said she would teach him how to bake a blueberry pie.

I haven't watched the newly installed television in the cabin more than a few times.

And then there were the evenings spent squeezing onto the sofa with the Kent family to watch stand-up comedy shows—those were long-lost moments filled with the warmth of family…

But he didn't even say goodbye. As dusk approached, he simply packed a few belongings and left without a word, like a thief who had stolen warmth.

but.
I really can't stay here any longer.

Bruce shook his head vigorously.

A resolute light rekindled in his blue-gray eyes.

His time is running out.

Gotham...

They remained there, wallowing in the mire of sin and darkness.

That city that stripped him of all warmth and devoured all light...

He has to go back.

He will take revenge on it, on all the darkness that dwells within it!
In his own way, he became the greatest 'evil' in that city!
This belief sustained him as he almost turned away.

Every extra moment spent here...
The connection with this land and these people deepens with each passing moment.

Those ordinary moments of warmth, the weariness of farm work, even Salafir's curious gaze and the occasional scrutiny from the gods, were like invisible threads, weaving a net to catch him as he flew in.

If he doesn't leave now, when his worries become too many to hold him back, he might really...

I can't live without it.

Bruce took a final deep breath of the cool air, as if trying to etch the taste into his very being.

He gripped the branch tightly, took a step forward, and resolved to move the branch behind him...
Ok
He took only a few steps forward before stopping again.

After standing silently for a while, Bruce seemed to remember something extremely important. He reached into his pocket and pulled out several neatly folded sheets of paper.

In the last rays of daylight, he could see the clear prints and words on it.

It refers to the land deeds of those hilltops, or rather, the plains of today.

He had promised to give it to Mr. Locke as 'tuition'.

"Cough cough."

Such an important matter.

Bruce Wayne coughed softly, as if to conceal some emotion.

He turned around, his gaze once again falling on the farmhouse with its warm lights shining in the twilight, his expression complex.

At once…

The last night.

"boom--!"

However, before he could take a step forward, a familiar engine roar came from afar.

Bruce looked up and saw a motorcycle coming along the dirt road.

Is it the Harley-Davidson I repaired, the one known as 'Tiffany'?

So, if that's the case...
The people on the bus were undoubtedly...

"Clark!"

Bruce shouted it out almost instinctively, a sudden surge of joy welling up inside him.

Could it be that Mr. Locke noticed his departure without saying goodbye and specially sent Clark to find him and bring him back?

"Bruce!"

Clark saw him from afar, waved vigorously, and wore his usual sunny smile.

"Clark!"

"Bruce!"

"Clark!"

"Bruce!"

The two called out to each other from a distance, their voices echoing across the open fields, carrying a unique vitality that dispelled some of the sorrow of parting.

Clark drove his Harley with a clean drift and came to a smooth stop in front of Bruce.

"Bruce!"

Clark nimbly flipped off the car, his movements agile.

He removed his goggles, his eyes first glancing at the branch carrying Bruce's light bag on his shoulder, then landing on his face. He sighed, his tone tinged with familiar complaint, "I saw you lingering here from afar and guessed you might be leaving... Honestly, didn't you even say goodbye? That's so unfriendly!"

Bruce remained silent for a moment.

Ok
From Clark's words and expression, he realized that the other party was not sent by Mr. Locke to persuade him to stay; his purpose seemed to be... very simple: to say goodbye.

But it's alright.
The secret expectation in my heart was dashed, but another kind of warmth rose up.

Somewhat awkwardly, Bruce touched his nose, his gaze drifting slightly towards the cornfield beside him, before revealing the half-true, half-false reason he had prepared beforehand:
“Clark, you know… I’m going to travel the world and hone my skills. I’ve been planning this for a long time, and I can’t stay here too long,” he said calmly.

"Is that so?"

Clark nodded in understanding.

But then he blinked and suddenly realized:

“I thought you were trying to sneak away to avoid the upcoming spring planting season. After all,” he gestured with his hand, “such a large newly reclaimed plain, I reckon the difficulty of tilling and sowing is not ordinary.”

"..." "I had forgotten about it if you hadn't mentioned it, Clark."

Bruce's eyes darted around even more. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain a serious expression: "But you know, Alfred... he bought my plane ticket, the schedule is already set, very strict."

He spoke as if the loyal butler were holding a pocket watch, calculating his journey from a thousand miles away.

Clark smiled and nudged Bruce lightly with his shoulder:

"So, where is the first stop on the 'world tour for cultivation'?"

“First stop… is Paris.” Bruce curled his lips slightly, with a hint of self-deprecation. “Affleck believes that a qualified ‘Wayne’ should be able to distinguish between Burgundy and Bordeaux wines and not get lost in the Louvre.”

He smiled, but his voice lowered further:
"And he also said...this was a stop on my parents' round-the-world trip."

Clark nodded understandingly: "That's good. Give my regards to Alfred and thank him for the cookies he sent last time; Salafir loved them."

"However," he changed the subject, adding with a touch of pragmatism, "if you happen to pass by any interesting places, remember to send a postcard back."

“Saraphiel seems to have taken a liking to collecting these things lately, and there just happens to be an empty space next to his music box.”

“I will.” Bruce nodded seriously, then paused for a moment before adding, “But I feel that even God’s City can’t be left out; I don’t want to get my ass on fire.”

Clark laughed heartily: "Then it's a deal!"

"But before that..."

Looking intently at Bruce, Clark's eyes held no hint of a joke. "Wherever you go, whatever you do, remember to take care of yourself, Bruce."

"The farm... there's always a place reserved for you here."

Bruce chuckled softly, as if this warm promise was a matter of course: "Of course."

Immediately, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, he took out the neatly folded land deeds from his pocket and shoved them into Clark's hand without a word, his smile becoming more relaxed. "Give this to Mr. Locke. It's the 'tuition fee' we agreed on."

Clark glanced down at the rather heavy sheet of paper in his hand and clicked his tongue in amazement.

No wonder Uncle's eyes have been filled with the light of a planner when he looks at that newly reclaimed plain to the north lately. It turns out that such a large piece of land really does belong to the Kent family.

He had originally intended to further scare Bruce with the 'hardships' of spring plowing, making his belief in 'traveling around the world' even stronger...

It seems we really have to escape now.
"."

While Clark was pondering this briefly, Bruce also felt that the farewell should end here. He took a deep breath and prepared to turn around and disappear into the night.

"Bruce, wait!"

Clark called him back.

A hint of hesitation crossed his face, but it quickly turned into determination.

He deftly removed the minimalist yet luxurious watch from his wrist.

"Bruce, since you're going to travel the world... and experience all sorts of different environments..."

Clark's tone became serious:

“I think you need this more than I do right now.”

He handed over the watch, saying, "This is... a gift from my uncle."

“He said that the watch can release a special kind of particle that, according to the user’s ideas and environmental needs, can create clothing on the body that can adapt to any climate and terrain.” Clark repeated Lionel’s words without hesitation, his eyes pure.

Although he only tried using the masked maneuver a few times this morning to perform acts of heroism, his understanding of the watch is less than one percent of what he claims.

But he always had complete trust in the technological creations given to him by the uncle who watched him grow up.

"."

uncle?

It must be Mr. Locke, right?

Bruce was stunned; he had never expected Clark to give such a valuable and amazing gift.

But looking into Clark's sincere eyes, he didn't refuse or ask how to use it. He simply took the watch instinctively and put it on his wrist without any hesitation.

The cold metallic touch pressed against his skin, a thousand words churning within him, ultimately culminating in a single, powerful gesture: He reached out his hand.

"Thanks, Clark."

Bruce's voice was somewhat low, "I'll definitely return it to you next time we meet."

“Of course, if you don’t return it to me, I’ll be chasing you all over the world.” Clark squeezed his hand back tightly. “By the way, next time we meet, I hope to see Bruce Wayne again.”

He looked Bruce into the eyes and said with utmost seriousness:

"Just be yourself, Bruce."

Be yourself...

Bruce Wayne…

Bruce stiffened slightly and sighed.

That innocent and carefree young Bruce had long since died amidst the sound of jewels scattering in that dark alley.

Bruce, the young man with dreams, was also buried in the pool of blood and ruins where Alfred fell.

Now he…

He's just wearing Bruce Wayne's skin.
Driven by the flames of vengeance…

Just a monster.

Without saying anything more, Bruce simply gave Clark one last look.

He decisively turned around, never looking back, and strode away in the opposite direction from the farm lights.

His figure was quickly swallowed up by the deep night of Kansas, with only the brand-new watch on his wrist reflecting a faint light in the darkness.

Clark stood there, gazing for a long time at the direction where Bruce had disappeared.

Until the footsteps were completely drowned out by the night wind.

He sighed softly, gripped the heavy land deed in his hand, turned and got into the car, driving towards the warm light of the farm.
-
He parked his Tiffany car safely in the barn.

She carried a faint sense of melancholy about parting with Bruce.

Clark walked toward the farmhouse, which was lit by warm lights.

Before he even got close to the door, his extraordinary hearing detected the unusual noise inside.

Through the wooden door, the indistinct sounds of Shen Du and Salafir arguing were like two ruffled kittens hissing at each other, interspersed with Keira's gentle persuasion and Locke's low sighs.

Clark's heart tightened, and he quickened his pace, almost instantly reaching the door. He eagerly opened the familiar door and headed towards the living room.

The sight before him left him frozen in place.

The lights flooded the living room, and the firelight from the fireplace danced on everyone's faces.

Uncle Locke stood helplessly in the center of the living room, like a human dividing line.

Salafir's face turned red with anger. Kayla hugged her tightly from behind, and she was still waving her little fists in frustration.

Shen Du stood opposite, arms crossed, his small face displaying his usual aloofness.

His eyes were filled with an air of superiority, as if he believed in the saying "I don't argue with fools."

Clark was secretly alarmed.

They've gotten so noisy that my uncle has to personally intervene to physically separate them?!
How intense must this battle be?!

He immediately and carefully moved to the sofa, looked at Jonathan who was holding a newspaper and almost huddled into the sofa, and asked in a low voice:
"Dad, what happened? Why are they arguing like this?"

Jonathan looked up, gave him a strange look, and then silently flipped the Daily Planet to the second page, pointing to the "Reader Interaction" section.

[Reader Interaction: What are your thoughts on Captain Comet and the newly emerged "Superman"? Who is more powerful? We welcome your submissions for discussion. The first 100 lucky readers will receive a limited-edition Captain Comet merchandise item! (Please send your submissions to the "Hero Discussion" section of the Planet Daily editorial department.)]

Alongside it was a photo of Captain Comet looking dashing and a blurry silhouette of Superman, the two heroes appearing in stark contrast on the newspaper.

"?"

A question mark appeared above Clark's head.

He looked blankly at his younger brothers, who were arguing heatedly.

It was at this moment that Salafil broke free from Kayla's grasp.

Bearing the grievance of being betrayed and the determination to persist, he shouted:
"Capital City! I think you just went to the Metropolis and got your mind clouded by those glittering shop windows! Captain Comet is clearly stronger than Superman! He's experienced and has defeated so many bad guys!"

"Ha ha……"

Shen Du let out a clear, cold laugh, his tone full of contempt, "A pervert in a bodysuit, his taste in uniform is still stuck in the last century."

"Nothing is as cool as Superman's armor."

"you……"

Salafir gritted his teeth.

Behind her, Kayla tried to comfort him: "Garlic bird, garlic bird... Heroes have it tough, they're all good people..."

"But...Captain Comet is the strongest!"

Salafil emphasized this reluctantly.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Clark, who had just entered the room and seemed still unaware of what was happening. She immediately exclaimed with delight, as if she had found a savior, "Brother Clark! You're back!"

Then she jogged forward, grabbed his leg, and looked up at him with her little face.

"Brother Clark, tell me! Who's stronger, Captain Comet or Superman?"

"..."

Clark stiffened.

He subconsciously glanced at Shen Du, who was sitting beside him with a relaxed and amused smile, and then looked down at Salafir, who was in his arms with bright and expectant eyes.

Finally, his gaze swept over his father on the sofa, who was pretending to read the newspaper but actually listening intently.

And Uncle Locke in the center, with a "you guys continue, I'm watching" expression.

His eyes began to dart around uncontrollably, his cheeks flushed, and his voice carried a hint of guilt:
"Superman will win, right?"

He said it almost as if he was forcing himself to.

Salafir's smile froze.

He slowly released his grip on Clark's thigh, his small body lurching backward several steps as if struck by an invisible shockwave, until his back hit Locke's solid leg and he stopped.

He looked at the arrogant Shen Du in disbelief.

Then he glanced at Clark, whose eyes were darting away.

A terrible thought appeared in his young mind.

I was here first.
PS:

Captain Comet:

Adam Black was born when a comet passed over his house; the radiation from the comet spurred his physical evolution, putting him a thousand years ahead of humankind.

The background story after "Rebirth" was rewritten as follows:
Because he was misunderstood, he was ostracized by his father and the entire town, and wandered in the Kansas countryside for several years.

His hometown is the Kansas countryside.

So he appeared in *Superboy* as Clark's first mentor. (But it's clearly not that simple.)
(End of this chapter)