American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 254 Actually, my dad's name is also Jonathan, and my mom's name is also Martha. [Bonus Chapter]

Alone, I sat on the cold metal dome of the lighthouse.

Clark let the wind tousle the black hair on his forehead.

He gazed at the horizon where the sea met the sky, where dark clouds were gathering and churning, foreshadowing an impending storm.

He was a little distracted.

The events that had just occurred at the dock kept replaying in my mind.

Lynch's slander, his own clumsy defense, Blake's unwavering fist, and the white-haired veteran's chilling words.
"Don't just stand there, Clark."

A voice sounded from behind him, carrying a deliberately relaxed tone that dispelled the heaviness that enveloped him.

Blake walked over to Clark and casually tossed him a small object.

Clark instinctively caught it, looked down, and saw it was a bag of individually wrapped Oreo cookies.
Passion fruit flavor?!
He looked up in surprise at Blake: "This... Mr. Blake, it's so windy, where did you get this?"

Blake shrugged and sat down next to him.

“Thanks to modern technology.” He gestured downwards, to a faintly visible vending machine beneath the lighthouse: “Thanks to Wayne Enterprises’ cutting-edge technology.”

"Their new generation of smart vending machines comes with high-capacity backup batteries and anti-interference modules, ensuring your snack supply even in war zones, let alone during power outages."

"Of course, the price is outrageously expensive."

"Luckily I used Scott's account, hahaha."

Blake's laughter sounded unrestrained.

Clark looked down at the Oreo package in his hand, and couldn't help but smile.

Mr. Black also has his own good friends.
Thinking of this, he also remembered Bruce, his friend who used high technology and wealth in all sorts of strange ways.

I wonder how that guy's world tour is going...

He tore open the packaging, picked up a passion fruit Oreo, and put it in his mouth. The sweet and sour fruit flavor mixed with the sweetness of the cookie melted in his mouth, and the wonderful combination eased the gloom in his heart.

He stared blankly at the sky where a new storm was brewing, his thoughts drifting away once more.

If it were Bruce... what would he have done in that situation?
He would probably just listen to all of Lynch's accusations with that cold face, and then, in a way he could never predict, either calmly present irrefutable evidence or set up a clever linguistic trap, making the other party expose his own mistakes while he was smugly pleased with himself...

He would never be like me.
Overwhelmed by resentment and anger, she almost lost control and shouted her defense...

Thinking about his immature behavior just now, Clark swallowed the cookie in his mouth and sighed softly.

He turned to look at Blake, who was quietly keeping him company, his eyes filled with apology:

“I’m sorry, Mr. Blake… I was just… overwhelmed by my grievances and acted very irrationally. I almost lost my composure in front of them…”

His voice lowered, filled with disappointment at his failure to perfectly control his emotions.

As a superhero dedicated to protecting others and bringing hope to people
He felt he should be more composed and impeccable.

This is what I promised my parents and my uncle.
Blake did not respond immediately.

He simply picked up an Oreo and slowly twisted it open.

He licked the white filling in the middle and gazed at the distant sea.

“It’s a newbie protection period, you have to have some privileges.” He finally spoke, his tone relaxed. “Occasionally losing control proves that your blood is still hot and your heart is still soft.”

There's nothing wrong with that.

He turned his head to look at Clark, his gaze devoid of any reproach.

"Compared to some young people who live like meticulously calculated machines, or those full of scheming and plotting... you're much cuter."

"As for that bastard Lynch..."

Blake smirked. "I've wanted to beat him up for a long time."

"Only three-tenths of this punch today was to stand up for you. The remaining seven-tenths was purely my personal 'greeting' to him and the Sky Eye Society behind him that is increasingly deviating from its original purpose."

He let out a short, cold laugh, the sound of which was torn apart by the wind.

“They hide in the security of their offices, using ‘the big picture’ and ‘control’ as excuses to push the dirty and hard work onto others, and then turn around and try to criticize those who actually do the work.”

"Throwing mud?"

He shook his head, his gaze sweeping over Clark. "Clark, remember this."

"If the sky is dark, then survive in the dark."

"If making a sound is dangerous, then remain silent."

"If you feel powerless to shine, then curl up in a corner."

"But don't get used to the darkness and defend it, don't be proud of your own cowardice, and don't mock those who are braver than you."

"We can be as humble as dust, but we must not be as twisted as maggots."

"This is not just a nice-sounding phrase; it's the bottom line."

"Today he dares to falsely accuse you of bombing the ship and killing people, tomorrow he'll dare to pin even more heinous charges on you. This punch I'm giving him is a show, and it's also a show to everyone hiding in the shadows, plotting the same thing."

"If you want to play this game, first ask us old guys who aren't all dead yet if we agree."

"and"

“If your uncle or Ron were here, it wouldn’t have been just a punch.” Blake’s tone shifted, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. “That Lynch guy would have been skinned alive before he left.”

Upon hearing this, Clark couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He subconsciously picked up another Oreo, his blue eyes gazing once more at the somber sea in the distance.

The storm was still gathering there, preparing to engulf the city.

Mr. Blake

He hesitated before speaking, his voice carried softly by the wind, "Thank you."

"And... that Mr. Wilson from earlier."

Clark scratched his thick, dark hair, a habitual gesture that made him look more like a confused high school student than a superhero capable of lifting a giant ship. "His last words... about the shadows, about... justification..."

He couldn't finish his sentence, but the worry furrowed between his brows clearly revealed his inner struggle.

The white-haired, one-eyed man's cold warning pierced his heart like a thorn.
Blake looked at the young man's conflicted profile and suddenly let out a deep, knowing laugh that echoed across the empty lighthouse top, almost drowning out the sound of the wind.

"Hahahaha...I knew it!"

"That old man can keep good kids up at night just by throwing out a few cool-sounding weird things!"

"Don't treat that kind of talk like gospel, kid."

"That guy has been on the battlefield for too long; his heart and blood are almost as hot as his knife."

"'Justifiable motive for murder'?"

Blake chuckled and shook his head, but his eyes didn't show much disapproval of Wilson himself; rather, they seemed to express a sigh for a certain way of life. "That's the excuse that people like them, living in the gray area, have to make for themselves so they can sleep at night."

"It's like a set of painkillers that sounds reasonable."

His voice lowered, carrying a guiding patience:

"What he meant by 'shadow' is true; you need to be aware of its existence and know where it comes from. But that doesn't mean you have to get yourself tainted by it, or stand there foolishly waiting to be swallowed up."

Blake raised his hand and pointed to the beam of lighthouse at his feet, the light stubbornly piercing through the rain and darkness, carving out a steadfast and bright area on the surging sea.

"Your location is here, Clark."

"Where the light can reach."

"Your power, your original intention, is to pull people out of the dark, icy sea, not to push them in more efficiently."

He withdrew his gaze and returned it to Clark's face, his eyes gentle: "Remember why you're standing here. Not because someone slandered you, nor because Wilson told you how cruel the world is."

"It's because when that ship was about to crash into you, your instinct was to reach out and catch it. That's enough. Everything else is just noise."

The sea breeze whipped Clark's red shawl, making it flutter loudly.

“I understand, Mr. Black.”

Clark said softly, carefully putting the passion fruit Oreo in his mouth.

However, one question lingered in his mind for a long time.
He then said, "But... Mr. Blake... you."

“I don’t quite understand why I’m being so… attentive to you?” Blake chuckled. “Is it because of my duties as a football coach? Because we’re both Smallwells? Or… simply because of Mr. Ron’s request?”

Blake's lips curled into a smile, as if he had expected him to ask this question.

The sea breeze carried his teasing voice into Clark's ears:
"Rugby? Smallwell? That's a barely acceptable reason."

“Rong En? That guy can’t afford to hire me as a nanny.”

He finally turned his head, and his eyes, which had seen countless stars and seas, now gleamed with a cunning light that seemed out of place for a legendary hero.

He leaned closer to Clark and lowered his voice:

“Actually, let me tell you a secret, Clark.” His tone became solemn, as if he were entrusting something extremely precious. “My father’s name is Jonathan Black. My mother is Martha Black.”

"...?!"

Clark's breath hitched, his blue eyes widening slightly in utter shock. How could such a coincidence exist in the world?
Jonathan... Martha...

And they are all in Smallwell
"This...how is this possible..."

"Sh-!"

Blake quickly put a finger to his lips to stop the question that was about to slip out, his eyes gleaming with even more cunning. "It's a secret."

"A secret that, in today's world, may only be known to the two of us."

He leaned back against the cold lighthouse railing, looked up at the night sky where the Milky Way was just beginning to appear, and his tone became ethereal and meaningful: "Perhaps, this is just Smallwell, or the most common name in all of Kansas, which just happens to appear repeatedly in two... well... not so common people."

"Or perhaps... that land, that starry sky, has a special fondness for the combination of these names... maybe it's some kind of wonderful fate."

"That was back in 1931."

Blake's voice lowered and softened, "Kansas is not much different now, endless farmland, the wind is full of dust and the smell of crops."

“Jonathan Black and Martha Black had a son, and they named him Adam.”

"Shortly after Adam's birth, a comet streaked across the Midwestern sky. Jonathan, a natural optimist, pointed to the star and joked that it was a sign of good fortune."

Blake chuckled softly and shook his head. His laughter was filled with nostalgia for the innocent days of the past, and also carried a hint of regret for the cruel twist of fate.

"The comet brought low-intensity radiation, which triggered Adam within Martha... and triggered something dormant."

“When he was four years old, he could ‘see’ his mother’s lost wedding ring in his mind, which was stuck under a pile of scrap wood.”

"At the age of eight, he could recite the entire encyclopedia without missing a single word."

He paused, as if examining his childhood, a period in which he felt out of place with his surroundings.

"During my teenage years, I never touched a clarinet, yet my fingers could find their place on their own and produce Mozart's tunes."

He spoke casually, but Clark could sense the alienation from the world beneath his calm words.

"And then..."

“Unbreakable, tireless… and like I told you before, I learned some other little tricks when I was being bullied once,” he raised his hand, a barely visible wisp of comet energy flowing like a firefly at his fingertips, “and with that energy, I saved a classmate named Betty.”

"I met a professor named Zacro."

"The professor said you are a mutant... your mind and body are 100,000 years more advanced than our time..."

"It was then that Adam truly realized how deep the chasm was between him and his father Jonathan, his mother Martha, and the ordinary, warm world they represented."

"A gap of 100,000 years."

He remained silent for a moment, letting the sea breeze fill the silence between them.

Finally, he looked at Clark again, his eyes regaining their previous gentleness and determination.

"Over the years, Clark."

"I am often lonely. Not because I am alone, but because..."

“In those early years.” He carefully chose his words, his gaze seemingly piercing through the young man before him, seeing his own reflection in the long river of time. “I regarded all my fellow human beings as the crystallization of nobility and purity, like the boundless golden wheat fields of Kansas in autumn.”

"But as I delve deeper into the darkest corners of the world, or battle the most despicable shadows of human nature, I realize how erroneous that blindly optimistic perspective is."

“It’s even a kind of arrogance.”

His words contained no cynicism, only a clarity tempered by repeated trials by reality.

"so……"

Clark replied softly, his eyes reflecting the somber profile of his senior, "So you chose to leave Earth and go to that place called Lann, is that right?"

He tried to understand this kind of journey born of disappointment.

Blake smiled, a smile tinged with bitterness.

But more than anything, it's an ember that has never been extinguished.

"Yes, part of it. I wanted to look at it from a different angle, and also see if other stars could offer different answers."

He admitted, "Because I still dream of a better world, don't I?"

"Therefore, I still hope, and must, use my power to make the world, at least a part of it, a better place."

He raised his hand, letting a faint wisp of comet energy swirl in his palm.

It flickers like a dying candle in the storm, yet it shines persistently.

"But unfortunately, Clark, my strength alone is still far from enough to face the dark currents of the entire galaxy and even the universe."

"Saving a ship, stopping an alien invasion, I can do it."

"But to turn back that deeper, darker vortex..."

"Clark, I'm getting old."

He shook his head, and the swirling energy quietly dissipated.

His gaze was as calm as a still, deep sea, devoid of any self-pity, only showing composure towards time, the sole conqueror, and a sense of relief after unloading a heavy burden.

Upon hearing these words, which sounded almost like a 'delegation,' Clark was momentarily speechless.

My throat felt like it was blocked by something, and even my super brain went into a brief standstill.

Just a few days ago, Salafir and God were arguing heatedly over a childish question: "Who is stronger, Superman or Captain Comet?"

But today, this living legend, atop this swaying lighthouse, calmly tells himself that he is old, and the future belongs to him…

How...how can this be?

The amount of information he received today was so overwhelming that even his super brain was starting to overheat, and he almost wanted to escape reality and go offline to restart.

Clark opened his mouth, trying to organize his thoughts and express something that even he found inadequate.
"Hahahahaha..."

But Blake laughed first, the laughter rising from deep in his throat, accompanied by a slightly suppressed cough, and finally turning into a deep and hearty laugh.

"There's still plenty of time, silly boy!"

Blake patted Clark hard on the back. "When you're really going to take over, it'll be at least another ten or twenty years!"

“We old guys are still gotta stay healthy, we’re not going to die so young!” He winked and joked. “Besides, that Hall (Hawkman) guy, I reckon he’ll be wielding his mace until the day the earth explodes!”

Clark breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this, and seeing Blake instantly switch from a brooding senior to a carefree veteran, a feeling of both amusement and exasperation welled up inside him.

He scratched his head, then smiled with complete relief, just like Blake.

Their laughter echoed atop the lighthouse and beneath the storm, dispelling the heavy atmosphere that had just settled in.

As he was laughing, Blake suddenly stopped, leaving only a sly smile on his lips.

He raised his hand, no longer pointing to the starry sky, but to the distance.

The dark clouds that had been gathering at the horizon were now rapidly converging.
The old hero spoke in a relaxed tone, as if he were assigning a simple homework assignment:

"Alright, Clark, stop grinning like an idiot. The final exams this semester—"

He paused for a moment, letting the howling wind fill the brief silence.

Then he said, slowly and deliberately:

"Go and resolve that storm."

Clark stood at attention almost reflexively, a smile still lingering on his face, and replied loudly, "Yes, Mr. Black! I'm coming right away."

He stopped abruptly halfway through his sentence.

The smile on his face froze.

"?!"

Clark turned his head sharply, looked at Blake, then at the massive storm system in the distance that stretched to the horizon and contained the violent power of nature, before finally looking back at Blake's face, which was filled with a mocking smile.

What... to defy nature?

Are you kidding me...?!
-
PS:

Trivia:
In the 1950s, it was not uncommon for many comic book artists to create characters modeled after Superman, a household name in popular culture. (So it's truly a case of the opposite of who's who, Blake, mentoring Clark Kent is a complete reversal of the natural order.)
Captain Comet not only possesses abilities similar to Superman's, but his parents also share the same names as Superman's adoptive parents on Earth—Jonathan and Martha.

By the way:
Although Captain Comet has appeared frequently since 1951, he has never had his own solo series.

---------

Two updates tomorrow morning.

There will also be an extra chapter at the beginning of the month, updated irregularly.

(End of this chapter)