American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 219 is both Clark and Superman.
Clark smiled sheepishly and unconsciously pushed up his black-rimmed glasses.

Especially when Blake mentioned Ron's name, his tense shoulder lines visibly relaxed, as if he had found some familiar anchor.

"So it's Mr. Rong En."

He said softly, with a tone of sudden realization and warmth, "No wonder he said some strange things to me before. I thought he was telling some new corny joke he had learned somewhere."

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, dancing on Blake's slightly graying temples.

Upon hearing this, the legendary hero burst into laughter, a loud and infectious laugh that startled a sparrow in the oak tree outside the window.

“To be honest, kid.” Blake wiped away the tears of laughter and took a neatly folded certificate from the drawer. “When I received this football coaching offer, I was even more shocked than you were just now.”

"I also thought Ron was telling a lame joke. A superhero retiring to become a football coach is something I never even imagined."

He gently stroked the raised seal on the certificate, his gaze becoming distant.

“You know that, Clark?”

Blake's voice softened, as if he were sharing a secret he had kept for many years: "When I was a kid in this small town, my biggest dream was to touch a football."

Clark blinked, and in the warm afternoon light, he could see the wistfulness flickering in Mr. Blake's eyes.

“But we are born different, aren’t we?” Blake turned to look out the window at the playground, where the figures of ordinary students training became blurry. “My parents… they were very afraid. They always demanded that I be patient, docile, and never show any extraordinary abilities in my daily life.”

He raised his hand and gently tapped on the windowpane, a hint of emotion in his voice:

"So back then at school, I had to stay far away from crowds. I couldn't control my strength, and no one taught me how to control my strength and senses."

“I have no friends, and sometimes I have to endure all kinds of bullying. They push me, steal my lunch money, and all I can do is clench my fists and count my breaths,” his voice gradually lowered. “As for rugby? That’s a luxury I can’t even dream of.”

Clark nodded, remaining silent for a moment.
He remembered the warmth of his father's large, warm hands on his head.
The patient look in his uncle's eyes as he taught him to control his strength in the barn.
My mother always gently says, "Just be yourself."

Also, there's Dior, Chloe, Pete, Lana, and the rugby team.
He has brothers and friends.
"Whoo~"

The wind blowing in from outside the window carries the scent of fresh grass.

This was the first time Clark had realized so clearly.
What seems like ordinary good fortune to one person is, in another person's eyes, an unattainable childhood dream.

"Alright. This is getting a bit heavy, Clark."

Blake burst into laughter and patted Clark's shoulder hard, so hard that Clark involuntarily swayed.

The old hero's laughter echoed in the sun-drenched office.

"Cherish it, child."

A smile played in his eyes. "Not everyone like us is as lucky as you."

"Ah."

Clark nodded.

The connection with family and friends has always been a strong and warm current in his heart.

"it is good"

Blake shrugged and casually stuffed the coaching certificate back into the drawer.

He turned and leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, letting the afternoon sun create a halo around him. "Well then, Mr. Clark, let's get down to business now."

A sly smile curved his lips as his gaze swept across Clark's face.

"Do you want us to discuss the football team's training plan first, like how to get a bunch of high school kids to behave? Or..."

He deliberately dragged out his words, his eyes flashing with a light like a comet in the Kansas night sky: "Would you like to hear my advice, as a 'superhero mentor,' on some clothing issues? To be honest, the aesthetics of those makeshift suits in the newspapers lately are really not flattering."

Clark felt his ears getting slightly hot.
Lately, I've been secretly going to Metropolis and Gotham to do heroic deeds without my parents' or uncle's knowledge.
But because the watch was given to Bruce, he could only secretly sew a makeshift suit that was barely acceptable using his rough skills.

The stitches were crooked, the collar was not cut asymmetrically, and the S-shaped logo cut from yellow cloth on the chest was even a little wrinkled.

Moreover, to conceal his identity, he even found a simple bat mask.

So the result of all this piecing things together...

He stood silently in front of the mirror for a long time.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Blake.”

Clark pushed up his glasses somewhat awkwardly. "About superheroes... I think we should listen to Uncle Locke and Mom and Dad's opinions first."

He looked up, his gaze sincere as he looked through his glasses at Blake:
“You know, before this, what I did was more like a neighbor who couldn’t help but lend a hand when they saw someone in need at night.”

"It's an act of 'heroism,' but it's far from being a 'superhero' like you or Captain Comet."

Blake listened to the answer, which carried the rustic charm of the Kansas countryside, and a knowing smile appeared on his face.

He walked to the water dispenser, slowly filled two glasses with water, and handed one to Clark.

“Of course, Clark.”

He took a sip of water and said calmly, “We have plenty of time. According to my contract with the school, I will teach here for about two years, right up until you graduate from high school.”

As he spoke, Blackpool walked to the window, looking at the young players on the field who were sweating it out for the spring tournament. His back looked rather broad.

“These two years are enough for you to slowly figure out a lot of things. Like how to balance student life and… those nighttime ‘extracurricular activities’.” He turned his head, winked at Clark, with a hint of slyness from someone who’d been there before, and also enough for me to enjoy this belated gift, to be able to legitimately stay on the football field for a job.

"Honestly, commanding a group of energetic young men is much easier than dealing with the war machine of Sanagara in the Vega system, although the level of noise may be just as high."

His humor dispelled Clark's last bit of tension.

"so."

Blake walked back, placed his hands on the desk, leaned slightly forward, and his gaze once again became full of expectation, like that of a true coach.

“Mr. Clark Kent, our football team captain, can we now focus on how you and your players can achieve something Smallwell can be proud of in the upcoming Spring League?”

"I'm a professional rugby player."

The setting sun bathed the grass on the playground in a warm golden hue.

The echoes of the whistle signaling the end of training still reverberated in the air.

When Coach Blake decisively announced the disbandment, the players did not scatter as usual, but instead gathered around Clark.

"My God, Clark!"

The backup linebacker wiped his sweaty neck with a towel, his eyes still fixed on Blake, who was looking at the board in his hand, walking away in the distance. His tone was full of disbelief, "This new coach... just who is he?"

"They're practically omnipotent!"

The receiver gestured excitedly, "Remember Vince's habitual dragging of his toes? Coach Black only glanced at it, then walked over, not to criticize, but to demonstrate the subtle adjustment with his own foot, just that one moment!"

"Vince, how are you feeling?"

Vince, who had been called out, looked as if he had just woken up from a dream. He rubbed his ankles and muttered, "Amazing...it's really amazing. The power delivery feels so smooth now."

"And Mark twisted his ankle!"

Another teammate chimed in, his voice tinged with relief, "I thought my ankle was going to be ruined when I saw it."

"Then the coach came over, and his technique was both fast and steady."

"Mark can actually walk slowly now!"

The crowd chattered amongst themselves, their eyes gleaming with awe.

What Blake demonstrated during the afternoon training session was not only his profound knowledge of football, but also his composure in handling situations with ease.

His points were spot-on, his demonstrations were textbook perfect, and the newly devised tactics cleverly incorporated the strengths of each individual.
This is the first time.
This gave these high school students a real taste of what professionalism truly means!
Honestly

Mark, limping beside him, sighed, his tone tinged with a complex mix of nostalgia, "If Jason were still here... that tactical fanatic of his would probably be chasing after Coach Blake every day with his notebook, begging him to explain more..."

Hearing his teammates' heartfelt praise, Clark's lips unconsciously curved into a smile.

Seeing how quickly everyone accepted Mr. Blake, the little weight in his heart finally lifted, and a sense of pride and joy filled his heart.

How could anyone have imagined that?
Mr. Black is actually the famous Captain Comet.
"Hey! Guys!"

Just then, familiar footsteps approached.

Blake watched the group of young people huddled together, a half-smile on his face.

"What bad things are you saying about me here?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone relaxed, with just the right amount of teasing. "Are you complaining about the heavy training load or the overly complicated tactics?"

"No! Coach!"

Everyone shook their heads in unison.

Blake smiled, his gaze sweeping over each young face.

"That's good. Go home early and get some rest; muscles grow while you sleep. Tomorrow, I hope to see you all more energetic."

He waved his hand, making a shooing gesture. The team members laughed and began to disperse.

Blake, as if suddenly remembering something, turned to Clark, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear in the gradually quieting playground:
"By the way, Clark, tell your parents and Uncle Locke that I need to visit them sometime in a few days."

The team members, who hadn't gone far, stopped in their tracks.
All eyes immediately focused on Clark.
Surprise, envy, and good-natured teasing.

"Wow--!"

Vince nudged Clark with his elbow dramatically. "Look at this, it's only day one! Captain, you've already captured the coach's full attention!"

Clark immediately felt a little embarrassed.

The feeling of being singled out and given special attention left him somewhat bewildered.

"OK OK."

Mark stepped in at the opportune moment, put his arm around Vince's neck and pulled him back, smiling as he smoothed things over, "Clark is our captain now, Jason has entrusted us all to him. Isn't it normal for the coach to make a routine home visit to the captain to get a feel for things? Don't make a fuss."

We walked along the familiar dirt road toward the farm.

The setting sun cast Clark's shadow long behind him.

Sunlight streamed onto his muscles, bringing a satisfying warmth, but Clark's mind was still filled with thoughts of Blake's home visit.

exactly
It's not far from the wooden fence at the farm entrance.

A familiar figure was leaning against the wooden fence.

Calvin Swanwick.
Or
Mr. Ron Jones.

He was gazing at the setting sun sinking below the horizon in the distance, and his usually expressionless dark face softened slightly in the twilight.

"Mr. Rong En?"

Clark greeted him somewhat unexpectedly.

What brings this busy person to the farm today?

Is it about spring planting or about Mr. Blake?
Rong En turned his head and nodded slightly.

"Is training over?" His voice was as steady as ever. "It seems your first meeting with Coach Blake went smoothly."

"Um"

Clark nodded, but hesitated for a moment before finally saying, "Mr. Ron, Coach Blake, he..."

"Was it really you who suggested he come to Smallwell to be a football coach?"

"of course."

Ron straightened up, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and turned his gaze back to the vast fields where he had sweated for most of the afternoon. "Blake and his teammates have just finished their frontline rotation on Lann in the Vega system."

"That conflict with Sanagar lasted for quite some time, and even superheroes need time to catch their breath and return to normal life."

“The earth is his root, Kansas is his homeland, and I don’t think there is a better place for him to rest and recuperate.”

He paused, then laughed, "And some upstart superheroes do need some...experienced mentors."

"What are you saying? You're so focused."

A cheerful voice came from behind them.

Locke emerged from behind the house, carrying a wrench. He seemed to have just repaired and maintained the farm tools that were quite worn out today, and there were still some oil stains on his work pants.

He looked at Clark, then at Ron, a question mark appearing on his face.

Rong En nodded and repeated what he had just said.

"I see!" Locke looked at Ron with a hint of teasing in his eyes and said, "This is one of those friends you mentioned before, those who 'just returned from a business trip to another star system'?"

"Um"

“By the way, Locke,” Ron added, “maybe next time we can consider introducing some alien varieties of corn and see if they can adapt to the soil and climate of Kansas.”

Locke was about to blurt out, "Ron, stop with your damn lame jokes."

But he swallowed the words back down his throat.

He paused, his hand holding the wrench pausing. His gaze swept over his family's boundless farmland stretching into the twilight, and a kind of instinctive curiosity about the land and crops gradually surfaced in his eyes.

"Alien species...assuming they can adapt to Earth's environment, maybe they really do have some special advantages? Disease resistance? Yield? Or tolerance to extreme weather?"

Rong En nodded slightly, his tone remaining calm as if he were giving a scientific report:
"Theoretically, based on limited observational data, the grains on some Earth-like planets in the Vega system have indeed evolved unique nitrogen fixation mechanisms and photosynthetic pathways. If we can overcome the gravitational field and atmospheric composition..."

"Speak like a human being," Locke said irritably.

“In theory, as long as we bring it back, we can plant it,” Rong En said succinctly.

"If we could really get some seeds, the farm is big enough anyway, it could be an experimental field." Locke's eyes lit up as he spoke.

It's as if I can already see some kind of corn, shimmering with a strange luster, swaying in the breeze.

Clark stood aside, quietly watching the scene unfold.

The afterglow of the setting sun stained Uncle's oil-stained work pants and Mr. Rong'en's crisp suit with the same color.

He looked at Uncle Locke
This man, who can lift a tractor with his bare hands and confront demons from hell, is now seriously pondering a corn seed that may come from light-years away.
And Mr. Rong En.
This defense minister, the guardian from Mars that my uncle spoke of.
Then he and his uncle seriously discussed which planet they should go to and bring back some specialty crops.

Clark seemed somewhat dazed.
seem
The home he owned was never just a simple, ordinary farm.

It is an anchor point, a wondrous intersection, closely connecting the most simple labor on the land with the vastest expanse of stars and sea.

The so-called 'ordinary' and 'extraordinary'.
Here, they are not in opposition, but rather intertwined and coexist as naturally as breathing, forming the most solid foundation of his life.

'Superman' and 'Clark Kent'.
Perhaps it's not a matter of choosing one over the other.

He recalled Lana Lang's slightly flushed cheeks and hesitant gaze in the afternoon sunlight. That hazy yet beautiful allure had once captivated him, yet he was hindered by the self-imposed chasm between 'Kryptonians' and 'ordinary people'.

He always subconsciously separated 'Clark Kent' from 'Superman', believing that the truth hidden behind the glasses was destined to keep him and ordinary girls like Lana in two different worlds.

But at this moment, looking at Uncle Locke and Mr. Ron discussing alien crops, and feeling the seamless integration of interstellar space and planting in the daily life of the farm, he suddenly realized that the question he had been struggling with might have been asked wrong from the very beginning.

The issue isn't whether he's 'Clark Kent' or 'Superman'.

The question is whether he can find a way, like this farm or this home, for these two parts to coexist as naturally as breathing.

Clark Kent is not playing an ordinary character.
His roots are planted in this land, and his emotions are deeply intertwined with his uncle's teachings, his parents' care, and Dio's awkward brotherly affection.

This is the foundation of his power, the reason he is 'him'.

Superman
—It is not an alien object that needs to be hidden, nor is it an object that is opposed to 'Clark'.

That was only a part of his ability, a gift this body received under the yellow sun, a natural extension of action driven by the inner drive of 'responsibility' and 'accountability' from Kansas.

Just like Uncle Locke, who could both repair farm tools with a wrench and tear the sky apart with thunder.

Just like Mr. Ron can handle official business as Minister of Defense, he can also seriously consider the feasibility of extraterrestrial corn.

Clark Kent and Superman are simply different facets of the same soul.

So, what about Lana?
He might not need to reveal all his secrets immediately; that would be too heavy a burden, and perhaps not something she needs to bear at this moment.

But he might try.
No longer isolating myself with a sense of alienation as someone 'not of my kind'.

He can first learn to embrace his somewhat complex nature, just as his uncle embraced a life mixed with stars and soil.

Then, with Clark Kent
A Kansas boy with some special abilities, but who also worries about his studies, gets anxious about the team's wins and losses, and secretly has a crush on a girl.
Go get closer to her.

He may need more time to truly understand and accept this coexistence, and to find that balance.

But at least for now, he no longer felt it was an insurmountable chasm.

Because the lights behind him, the ground beneath his feet, and his family members who lived such an "extraordinary" life so "ordinarily" were all silently telling him...
You can be both Clark and Superman.

Just like this farm, it is not only the land that nurtures crops, but also an anchor point connecting to the stars.

What he needs to do is to carry this confidence from his unique 'home' and explore his own path, whether as the captain of the rugby team or as the guardian who streaks across the night sky with red and blue.

Perhaps one day, when he can fully accept this wonderful coexistence, he will also have the courage to show a more complete version of himself to that chestnut-haired girl.
-
PS:

It might be a bit wordy.
But I think growth should be as clear as possible (otherwise, wouldn't we just be rambling on about nothing every day? QAQ)

The Clark of the past was confused about his identity as a 'human' and an 'alien'.
The current Clark Kent is caught in a limbo between 'Clark Kent' and 'Superman'.
In any case, Clark's growth to this point can be considered halfway complete.

And the next growth path.
Travel the world, measuring the world in the footsteps of Clark Kent.

A new Kryptonian has arrived, and it will measure the world with the footsteps of 'Superman'.

Until finally getting married and having children, entering middle age, as a father and eldest brother, he examines his children and younger brothers, completing his final transformation.

(End of this chapter)