American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 257 Ron: Clark, if you'd pay me a bag of Oreos (Bonus Chapter)
Over Smallwell.

The sunlight poured down without reservation.

As Clark flew home, he closed his eyes, letting the warm light penetrate every fiber of his red and blue suit, dispelling the lingering chill and dampness above the sea.

I was so happy I almost hummed a tune.

Under Blake's seemingly absurd guidance, he attempted to rush into the eye of the raging storm, disrupting the energy structure of the entire cyclone system by performing high-speed, precise counter-clockwise spirals inside the eye.

As he stepped back and looked back at the dark clouds that had blotted out the sky, slowly disintegrating and collapsing behind him, the azure sky and bright sunshine once again reigned over the earth.
To tell the truth
This feeling of confronting and ultimately triumphing over the power of nature with one's own strength...

The process itself is a release, quickly leaving all unhappiness behind.

Now that the flight is over, all he feels is...

Double the exhilaration!

Especially now, with the sunlight shining on me without any obstruction, every inch of my skin is greedily absorbing the energy, and a warm and comfortable feeling spreads from my limbs and bones, as if my whole body has been injected with new vitality.

He even couldn't help but hum a country tune that his mother often played.

Enjoying this rare moment of tranquility, I leisurely flew towards the farm, my gaze casually sweeping over the familiar, checkerboard-like wheat and corn fields below...

"?!"

Clark's humming stopped abruptly.

The flight speed suddenly decreased, and the person was suspended in mid-air.

Eyes widened, super vision automatically adjusted focus, locking onto something not far ahead, gliding leisurely at low altitude...

biology?

What a magnificent creature it was!

With its eagle-like head and forepaws, sharp eyes, and broad, feathered wings that create powerful air currents with every flap, it has an eagle-like head and forepaws.

Its hindquarters, however, are the lithe body of a lion, covered with soft fur, with a long tail swaying lazily behind it.

A lion... a griffin?!

Clark's brain briefly went blank.

A mythical griffin has appeared in the skies over Kansas?
Was it because I had been wandering in the storm for too long, or was the sun too intense, causing me to hallucinate like I had eaten mushrooms?

What surprised him even more was...
On the broad back of that magnificent griffin sat two people!
The man in the front, dressed casually in a shirt and looking completely at ease, as if he were just taking his own tractor for a spin, who else could it be but his uncle, Locke?!
Sitting behind Locke, dressed in a smart uniform with an expression that remained unchanged as always, was none other than Ron Jones, the Martian Manhunter.

them…

Did they fly back from Athens on griffins?!
Clark hovered in the air, his mouth slightly open.

Looking at this extremely surreal yet incredibly real scene.

His uncle and a general from the Department of Defense rode together in a creature that should have appeared in a fairy tale, under the clear skies of Smallville, as if they were going home from work.

The two people on the griffin's back had clearly already noticed his presence.

The mythical creature gracefully adjusted its direction and glided slowly to his side.

Locke tilted his head slightly, looking at his stiff nephew with a hint of helplessness on his face.

“I was planning to give you a surprise.” His voice carried clearly on the wind to Clark’s ears, tinged with regret that his plans had been disrupted. “I didn’t expect you to see us first.”

Rong En nodded slightly, as if to say hello.

His face remained unchanged, with that same calm expression, as if riding a griffin through the skies of the American Midwest was a perfectly normal mode of transportation for the Department of Defense.

"call--!"

The griffin flapped its powerful wings, and the wind that blew pulled Clark back to reality.

Honestly, the closer you get, the more you can feel the creature's majesty and power. Its golden eagle eyes are sharp, and its body seems to be surrounded by a faint magical aura.

"Uncle...this...this is..."

Clark swallowed hard, his eyes filled with undisguised admiration.

Isn’t this so cool?!
"Brought back from Paradise Island."

Locke explained in a casual tone, as if he were talking about importing a new breed of dairy cow from overseas.

"I helped them with a small favor, this is my reward."

He reached out and patted the griffin's firm feathers on the side of its neck, earning a low but not resistant purr from the mythical creature.

"Heaven?"

Clark blinked, his brain quickly recalling the relevant information, his eyes flashing with curiosity and excitement. "Is it that mysterious island you mentioned in your previous message... the one that floats in the air and is inhabited entirely by female warriors?"

Locke nodded.

"One male and one female."

He paused, then said in a tone of planning for the future:
"They make a perfect pair."

Reproduction?

Clark imagined what a future Kent farm would look like.

Flocks of griffins circled above the barn, replacing the sparrows and crows of the past.

Perhaps I could even ride a griffin to town to buy things? Or use them for herding?
His expression gradually shifted from shock to excitement.

“Our farm…” he murmured to himself, his voice filled with fervent anticipation, “Is our farm… about to officially enter the era of mythical creature breeding?! I never expected that as soon as you came back, Uncle, you would add so many… uh… novel livestock to the family.”

"——唷!!!"

Clark's overly 'plain' wording seemed to ignite the griffin's proud nerves.

It suddenly let out a piercing cry that seemed to shatter metal and split rocks, and its huge wings flapped angrily, stirring up a chaotic gust of air.

An angry rage ignited in those sharp eagle eyes, and a powerful, scaled forepaw lashed out at Clark with a whooshing sound as it tore through the air!

But the expected scene of skin being torn open did not occur.

The claws, sharp enough to tear through steel, struck Clark's seemingly ordinary red and blue suit, producing only a dull thud, without leaving even a trace of white marks.

"Cuckoo?"

The griffin felt as if its claws had struck an ancient mountain, the force of the impact making its entire leg go numb.

"quack!"

Its eagle eyes widened in disbelief.

Clark was taken aback by the sudden attack.

Then, seeing the griffin's ruffled fur, angry yet helpless expression, the light in his eyes shone even brighter and filled with more affection.

Instead of backing down, he reached out and gently rubbed the griffin's furry head, which was trembling slightly with anger.

Hey, little guy.

His voice was filled with joy, and his smile was as bright as the sunshine overhead. "Are you playing with me?"

"???"

The griffin froze.

"Goo goo goo goo goo! Goo goo goo!"

A series of gurgling and shrieking sounds, a mixture of shock, humiliation, and incomprehensible grunts, escaped from his throat.

His proud attack was completely ignored, or even taken as friendly banter.

This is a devastating blow to the dignity of mythical creatures!
The griffin flapped its wings in despair, emitting even more mournful cries, trying to make the invulnerable red and blue giant understand its anger.

"puff……"

Just then, Rong En, who had been silent all along, suddenly...
Laugh out loud.

Fortunately, he quickly regained his usual poker face, as if his earlier chuckle was just an illusion.

Locke looked over in surprise.

But Rong En simply cleared his throat as if nothing had happened and calmly began to translate:
It said: 'Foolish mortals! I am the noble Son of the Sky, companion of thunder and storm, not a pig to be slaughtered in your circle! If you dare to sully my honor with those blasphemous words again, I will... I will...'

He paused, tilting his head slightly as if listening to another angry cry from the griffin, then nodded and continued relaying the story in his flat, emotionless voice:

“...I will peck at your doorframe for three days as punishment!”

There was silence.

Locke's lips twitched uncontrollably after hearing this. He looked at the bewildered Clark, sighed, and explained in simpler terms, "Ron means that it's angry and feels that comparing it to livestock is a great insult to it."

"It threatened to... peck at our front door for three days."

“Yes, that’s terrible,” Ron concluded. “Clark, if you’re willing to pay a bag of Oreos, I can help you persuade him to forgive you.”

"."

"Here you go." Under Locke's shocked gaze, Clark casually pulled a bag of Oreos from his pocket. "Passion fruit flavored, Mr. Ron. Please tell Mr. Griffin not to be angry." "Yes, sir." Ron accepted the bribe and turned to meet the Griffin's gaze.

"Gugu gugu gugu!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Cuckoo!"

"Uh-huh."

Somehow, the two began to communicate.

“It says if you praise it now,” Ron said, pointing to the proud-looking griffin. “It can forgive and forget, and by the way, give you priority to ride it.”

"Ah? Oh!"

Clark then realized what had happened and his face was filled with apology.

He quickly withdrew his hand from the griffin's head, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Mr. Griffin... uh... you're very majestic and handsome! I misspoke!"

He looked at the griffin, which seemed to have calmed down a little because of his apology, and tentatively added, his eyes sincere:

"But... Uncle made the gate to our farm himself, would you like... to peck at something else?"

Looking at Clark's expression, which was both apologetic and unable to suppress his affection for the griffin.

Locke couldn't help but chuckle and shook his head.

He gently patted the sturdy feathers on the griffin's neck, causing the creature to emit a soft, soothing groan.

"Alright, you two."

"You say you treat them like poultry," Locke's voice carried an undeniable seriousness as he glanced at Clark and then looked ahead. "Don't actually treat them like ordinary livestock."

His tone carried a hint of anticipation.

"From now on, they will be the guardian animals of Kent Farm, partners and family to this land, and not just property kept in enclosures."

The male griffin beneath him seemed to understand the respect and entrustment contained in those words, and let out an excited resonance from its chest.

It suddenly raised its head and let out a clear, melodious cry.

The sound carried far across the wilderness, carrying a sense of pride in being entrusted with a great responsibility.

Locke glanced at Ron, giving him only a look.

Rong En immediately understood and once again switched to his flawless translation mode:

It said, "Thank you for your recognition! I will not keep this honor of protecting the farm to myself. Rest assured, Mr. Locke, I will surely breed a large population for you!"

Upon hearing this, Locke smiled with satisfaction, clearly pleased with the defection.

But his gaze inadvertently drifted to a spot not far behind him.

The female griffin that had been quietly following, yet whose expression carried a hint of aloofness and arrogance.

She was elegantly preening her silver-grey wings, and in response to the male griffin's passionate promise, she merely lazily lifted her eyelids, her eyes seemingly carrying a hint of...disdain.
It's like watching someone who's never seen the world.
A silly boy who gets completely bewildered by a few words from humans.

Seeing the mother griffin's reaction, Locke's smile froze slightly.

The ambition is good, but the process will likely be very tortuous.

He glanced at the male griffin beneath him, who was still immersed in its lofty ambitions.

Locke glanced again at the female griffin, who seemed aloof and uninterested in everything, and sighed silently.

Ok
After all, the other party was the 'concubine' that Angelo, the Griffin King of Paradise Island, had originally reserved.
They have high standards.

The grassy slope on the edge of Kent Farm, bathed in the warm afternoon sun.

Salafil lay sprawled on the soft grass.

He was surrounded by the animal inhabitants of what is now the farm kingdom.

Chipmunks peeked out from above his head.

Several sparrows with glossy feathers circled and whispered above his head.

The lone wolf, Big Grey, and the burly brown bear, having abandoned all their majesty, lay lazily at his feet, enjoying this moment of leisure together.

But Saraphir was not happy.

He listlessly twirled a blade of grass between his fingers, staring unfocused at the cloudless blue sky.

"When is Daddy coming back, Sister Kayla?"

His voice was drawn out, tinged with impatience.

Stretching out, Kayla resembled a big dog that had just had a good afternoon nap in the sun.

She stretched lazily, and her thick, cloud-like silver curls spread out, rippling softly across the grass.

Her honey-colored, healthy skin shimmered with a delicate, warm glow under the light, and her eyes, brimming with a gentle smile, gazed tenderly at the restless little one beside her.

"Don't rush, Salafir."

He casually pressed his straw hat gently against Salafir's small face, obscuring his view of the sky.

"My grandmother once said that, based on the wisdom of our ancestors in observing the stars and animals, when the wasps begin their third visit to the sage flower, when the western clouds are dyed crimson by the setting sun like the cross-section of a deer antler..."

She paused, letting the mysterious atmosphere build up.

Imitating my mother-in-law's mysterious tone, I said:
"That's probably when the person you're hoping for should come home for dinner."

But from beneath the straw hat came Salafir's muffled, confused voice:

“Wasps…sage…but Sister Keira, didn’t Brother Dior send away our hornet’s nest? And what does the reddish-brown color of the deer antler’s cross-section look like? Is it the same as the grape juice that Brother Dior hid in the refrigerator?”

Kayla tried to maintain a serious expression, but the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn up in a smile:
“It’s a metaphor, Salafir,” Kayla cleared her throat, trying to salvage her image as a mysterious prophet. “Just as you can’t see the wind directly with your eyes, but you can see the willow branches dancing for you. When the time comes, they will naturally appear.”

Salafir flung off her straw hat, revealing a pair of clear, bright eyes that seemed to say, "But last time Uncle Jonathan came home!"

"Aunt Martha only said, 'It's five o'clock,' and then the sound of Uncle's tractor came from the intersection!"

“I think our Kent family should have the ability to summon family members using language.”

"..."

Upon hearing this, Kayla's feigned mystery crumbled instantly, and she couldn't help but giggle. Her clear laughter echoed across the grassy slope, startling a few timid sparrows.

“Okay, okay. You win.” Kayla smiled, tears welling in her eyes, and affectionately ruffled Salafir’s soft hair. “Mr. Locke is probably preparing a super-huge surprise for us somewhere we can’t imagine.”

Infected by Kayla's happiness, Salafir also grinned.

His voice held a mix of longing and drowsiness: "I hope the surprise will be sweet... like the chocolates and sundaes that God secretly hid away..."

After muttering to himself, he waited quietly under his straw hat for a while.

But he didn't hear Kayla respond with her usual witty metaphors.

The only sounds were the sudden, unusually quiet rustling of the surrounding small animals and a growing sense of wind pressure.

"Sister Kayla?"

He called out in confusion, but there was still no response.

A strange feeling made him suddenly raise his small hand and yank off the straw hat covering his face.

The blinding sunlight made her squint instinctively, but then her entire field of vision was enveloped by a huge, slowly swirling shadow.

The shadow fell on him and the surrounding grass, blocking out the sunlight, carrying a certain heaviness and antiquity.

Salafir's eyes widened instantly.

The enormous object hovering low in the sky was reflected in his pupils.

That mythical creature with the head of an eagle and the body of a lion, with an astonishing wingspan.

Each slow but powerful flap of its enormous wings would create a strong gust of wind that would cause the entire grassy slope to bend low.

On the broad back of that magnificent griffin, a figure leaped down gracefully, landing cleanly and swiftly in front of his son.

Locke knelt down on one knee, looking directly into Salafir's eyes, which were filled with shock and confusion.

He reached out and gently brushed the bits of grass from his hair, his tone tinged with amusement, as if he had simply brought back a bag of fresh seeds:

"I'm back from Athens. By the way... I brought you and the gods a 'surprise'."

Salafir's little mouth opened into a round shape.

He didn't even notice when his straw hat fell onto the grass.

He looked at the enormous bird, then at his father; his little mind was clearly unable to process this scene that was beyond his comprehension.

This surprise
Isn't it a bit... super super super big?
Add more.

By the way, please give me some votes.

(End of this chapter)