American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 271 Superman's Date Is Of Course Full of Misfortune

Smallwell High School dismissed students early because of the harvest festival.

In the afternoon, the sunlight lost its morning sharpness.

It becomes mellow and rich.

The sunshine was especially refreshing for Clark today.

He was already planning in his mind to put on the plaid shirt that Lana had said suited him very well.

Thinking of this, Clark couldn't help but feel happy. He slowly flew under the clouds, heading towards home, humming an off-key tune.

However, when he subconsciously glanced at the old-fashioned watch on his wrist, the hands on the dial made his heart skip a beat.
"It seems... a bit late?"

He muttered to himself, imagining Lana waiting in the square, and unconsciously quickened his pace.

But at this very moment...
"what--!"

"Help! The bridge is broken!"

"We're going to fall!"

Miles away, a piercing scream, almost tearing through the air, mixed with shrill noise, was precisely caught by his superhuman hearing.

'? ! '

Clark's figure suddenly stopped in mid-air, and the relaxed and carefree expression on his face froze.

Instead, there is extreme focus and awe.

His superhuman vision pierced through the obstruction of the trees.

The view was clearly locked onto the winding river a few miles away.
A sightseeing bus full of tourists, with happy sunflower patterns painted on its body.

The first half has already been breached by the broken old stone bridge!

It clung precariously to the dilapidated bridge deck by only its rear half and twisted chassis, like a clumsy, wobbly toy, dangerously swaying above the river!

The icy river water churned with gray waves below, its gaping maw seemingly devouring everything in its path.

Inside the bus windows, terrified and desperate faces, accompanied by heart-wrenching cries, flashed by continuously.

What about a late date, what about a plaid shirt that needs to be carefully chosen...?

All personal thoughts belonging to 'Clark Kent' were completely wiped away at this moment.

No hesitation!

Clark changed course in mid-air.

He grabbed the collar of his clothes with both hands and deftly pulled them off—

"Shh!"

That ordinary student uniform was stripped away by the airflow during the high-speed flight.

Like a cicada's shed wing.

Hidden beneath it lies that familiar red and blue hue, shining under the Kansas sun with a light warmer than the sun itself.

This is a Superman suit that Martha sewed herself, imbued with the boundless love and expectations of her family!
Adjust your posture to maximize your speed.

Clark traced a straight line through the air as he hurtled toward the bus that carried dozens of lives, hanging precariously on the edge of an abyss.

be late?

Those will all be trivial matters that I will need to sincerely apologize to Lana and awkwardly explain later.

Right now, saving lives is the only and most important thing under this sky.

On the river bank.

The festive atmosphere was completely torn apart.

Visitors attending the Smallville Harvest Festival stared in horror at the horrifying sight before them.
The stone bridge that spanned the river broke in half.

The front half of a sightseeing bus full of tourists was hanging in the air, barely supported only by the twisted rear half and the fragile remnants of the bridge.
The people inside the bus were in a panic, with screams and cries mingling together.

But only at this moment.
A figure suddenly burst out from the crowd!
He was a middle-aged man with an exceptionally robust build and some gray hair.

Without the slightest hesitation, he scanned the scene.

At a glance, one could see the heavy cables binding the cargo on the pickup truck next to them.

He rushed over in one stride, deftly untied the cable, and, to everyone's astonishment, quickly and firmly tied one end of the rope to the sturdiest tow hook at the rear of the bus!
"What...what are you going to do?!"

A man standing nearby, pale with fright, exclaimed, "That's a bus! It weighs several tons! How could you possibly move it by yourself!"

The man didn't turn his head, but instead reprimanded with an air of authority:
"Who the hell told you it was pulled by hand! Where are your eyes?! Look around! Can't you see all these cars?!"

He pointed to several pickup trucks and SUVs parked on the riverbank and roared, "If one truck can't pull it, then three! Four! Link all the usable vehicles together!"

"Quickly! Get the hell out of here! If you don't want to just stand there like wooden stakes and watch them fall in to feed the fish!"

His decisive words and clear instructions instantly awakened the panicked people.

Several quick-thinking drivers immediately rushed to their vehicles, while others began searching for more ropes, attempting to link the vehicles together to form a temporary rescue force.

But at this crucial moment when every second counts...
"Creak—Boom!"

A terrifyingly loud bang rang out!

The section of the bridge supporting the bus finally gave way and a large chunk collapsed!

The massive bus tilted violently and, along with the cables attached to it, slid down sharply!

"not good!"

The man's pupils contracted sharply.

The loose cable in his hand suddenly felt an irresistible force.

Almost instinctively, driven by a soldier's deep-seated sense of responsibility, he gripped the rapidly sliding rope tightly with both hands at the last moment before it slipped from his grasp!

"Watch out! Let go!"

The people nearby screamed in terror.

But it was too late!

A tremendous drag force came instantly.

The man felt a force that was impossible for human will to resist suddenly pull him to the ground! The rough cable instantly chafed the skin on his palms until they were bloody and raw, and a burning pain shot through his hands.

He was dragged along mercilessly, leaving a pitiful trail on the gravelly ground, sliding uncontrollably toward the steep edge of the riverbank.

They were about to be dragged into the icy river along with the rope by the falling bus!
The man gritted his teeth, just as he was about to give up in despair, abandoning this futile effort—

Suddenly, my hand loosened.

The immense force that had nearly torn his arm apart and crushed his bones vanished abruptly.

Did the rope finally break? Or...?
The man looked up in astonishment, following the slack in the cable—

That is?

"Crack-!"

In the reflection of his pupils, which contracted slightly in surprise.

Beneath the broken stone bridge, above the turbid, surging river, all that could be seen was...

A figure…

It is rising from beneath the shimmering water.

Sunlight pierced through the water curtain that exploded around him, reflecting a divine halo on his iconic red and blue battle suit.

Water droplets rolled down his strong muscle lines and the huge "S" logo, as if worshipping this power that mortals could not understand.

He did not fall from the sky, but rather burst forth from a river carrying crisis.

He steadily supported the sightseeing bus weighing several tons with both arms!

The massive vehicle seemed to lose all weight in his hands, or as if it were enveloped by some absolute power, so stable it was breathtaking.

The water dripping from the bus chassis even gently gathered into a small waterfall at his feet.

In this way, with an almost elegant demeanor, he transformed the brink of destruction into a display of power, and the scene of despair into a manifestation of hope.

Sam Lane
This general, who had witnessed countless battles and power and believed in iron and fire, knelt on the edge of the riverbank, his hands still gripping the rope tightly, blood dripping from his fingertips onto the soil.

This high-ranking Ministry of National Defense officer, who came in plain clothes today to visit his sister's family...

He tilted his head back, forgetting the pain and the need to breathe, staring intently at the figure that was lifting the massive steel object from the water, bathed in sunlight and shimmering water.

A complex emotion mixed with disbelief and a sense of having one's perceptions overturned.
It exploded in his heart
This... is...

The superhuman who's been constantly being put on his desk lately?
Calvin Swanwick, that guy who would protect the person in his heart no matter what.
Superman?!
"It's Superman!"

The first incredulous shout erupted from the crowd!

Sam Lane was still kneeling on the ground.

He felt a sharp pain in his palm, but he could barely feel it.

Countless excited onlookers surged past him like a tide, eager to get closer and confirm with their own eyes that it was not an illusion.

They raised their cameras, letting out excited screams and cheers.

His face was filled with excitement at witnessing a hero.

"It really is him! I came from the metropolis! I knew it!"

"To see Superman! This trip to Kansas would be worth dying for!"

"It was worth it! Absolutely worth it!"

A chorus of agreement rose and fell; these tourists from the metropolis seemed to have forgotten their earlier panic, completely immersed in the excitement of getting up close and personal with the hero.

A gentle breeze ruffled the signature black curls across her forehead.

Clark looked down, his gaze sweeping over the man who, despite his bloodied hands, clung tightly to the cable, refusing to give up. Respect filled his eyes.

The next moment, he steadily exerted force with both arms.

The massive sightseeing bus was slowly pulled back to safety from the brink of death.

The bus door was deformed and couldn't be opened for a while, but that didn't stop him.

He randomly found a point of leverage and applied slight force.
They then silently removed the twisted car door.

The scene inside the car was revealed in an instant.

The initial silence lasted only a second.

Immediately, the suppressed fear and despair burst forth like a flood, transforming into deafening sobs, choked sobs, and incoherent gratitude.

"God...we are saved..."

"It's Superman! Superman has come to save us!"

An elderly woman held her grandson tightly, tears streaming down her face, and repeatedly made the sign of the cross in Clark's direction.

A young girl slumped in her seat, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling violently, it was hard to tell whether it was from lingering fear or excitement.

Clark stood outside the car door, not leaving immediately.

He nodded slightly to the still-shaken people inside the car.

Then he turned around.

The cheering crowd was like the Red Sea parted by Moses.

Amidst the distortion of the bio-force field, she instinctively stepped aside to make way for him. She walked straight towards the man who was still kneeling on the riverbank.

Under his complex and unspoken gaze, Superman stopped in front of him.

He leaned slightly forward and extended the hand that had just lifted several tons of weight to the general who had just tried his best to rescue him.

Sunlight streamed down from behind Superman, casting a dazzling halo around him and blurring his face, making him appear even more divine.

Sam could see those eyes.
There was no condescending pity, no arrogant display of power, only one kind of...

Like the boy next door
The purest form of goodwill.

Sam had to admit it.
This presence, repeatedly debated at Defense Department meetings and viewed as a potential threat or strategic asset,
Calvin Swanwick insisted that it was the existence of hope.
He had just witnessed firsthand how the other party effortlessly accomplished something that ordinary people could not do even with all their might.

This power is awe-inspiring, even...

Ok…

The other person's outstretched hand and the gentleness in their eyes.
After a brief silence, Sam Lane took a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbing.

He didn't touch Superman's outstretched hand, but instead used his uninjured left hand to support himself and, with his own strength, stood up somewhat unsteadily.

Sam steadied himself and met Clark's gaze without flinching.

"Thank you, Superman."

He did not address him as "sir" or use any more official title.

This expression of gratitude comes from someone who has just been indirectly saved from the brink of danger, and from a witness who has seen dozens of lives saved.

"This is what I should do."

Looking at the long-unseen face before him, Clark, Chloe's uncle, smiled gently, "You're the one."

"Get out of the way! Everyone get out of the way! That's my uncle!"

A clear and urgent girl's voice pierced through the crowd, bringing Clark to an abrupt halt.

“You are a hero too, Mr. Sam Lane.”

"Comfort Chloe well, I just saw that she was terrified."

After uttering those words, Clark's figure flickered slightly in everyone's eyes, transforming into an almost elusive red and blue afterimage that disappeared through the gaps in the crowd and soared into the sky.

"Uncle!" Chloe finally pushed through the crowd and ran breathlessly to Sam, her face still showing lingering panic. "Are you alright?! Your hand!"

"I'm fine."

Sam smiled and was about to reach out to comfort his frightened niece.

etc.
Sam's expression changed.

It's not strange that you know me.
but.
How did Superman meet Chloe?!

Clark stopped almost staggeringly, bracing himself on his knees.

The wind from the supersonic speed still whistled past his ears, clashing with the tranquil and lively street scene of the small town before him.

Then, he saw Lana.

She stood under the old oak tree, which was covered with golden ribbons.

She wore a pale yellow dress, the hem of which swayed gently in the breeze, like a tender flame bathed in the autumn sunlight.

She was slightly tilting her head, talking to the energetic Ms. Joni behind the lemonade stand next to her, a faint smile on her lips.

Clark's heart skipped a beat, not just because of the running, but also because of the overwhelming guilt that almost burst forth.

half an hour
He was far too late.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward with utmost caution.

"Lana!"

Hearing his voice, Lana turned her head.

The moment she saw Clark, her clear eyes lit up.

But then, as if remembering something, she deliberately tightened her face, her small nostrils twitched slightly, she let out a soft hum, and turned her head away.

This posture.
It's clearly another way of proving to Clark.
Even she gets angry sometimes!
Clark was at a loss, unsure of where to begin his explanation.

Fortunately, Ms. Joni, who was standing nearby, saw all of this.

A knowing yet mischievous smile spread across her kind, wrinkled face. She first pointed at Clark with the lemon stirrer in her hand, then said sternly, "Silly boy! How can you leave such a beautiful girl waiting in the wind!"

"You're just like your stupid father!"

Then, Joni changed the subject:
An apology alone isn't enough; you need to show some appreciation.

"Buy your upset girlfriend a glass of my special lemonade, and I guarantee it will instantly cheer her up!"

"When your father first brought your mother to this small town, he caused quite a bit of trouble. In the end, he only calmed down after drinking my lemonade."

Clark nodded gratefully.

Then he looked at Lana, and saw that although she was still tilting her head, her slightly turned ear was obviously picking up his reaction.

Clark's eyes lit up, and he quickly fumbled for some change in his pocket.

"Well... please give me two drinks, Ms. Joni."

"okay!"

Ms. Joni chuckled in agreement and turned to rummage through the fruit basket beside her.

Her eyesight was failing, and her fingers trembled as she picked up a fruit knife. She then gestured towards a bunch of plump, glistening purple grapes beside her, muttering to herself:

"Grandma will pick out two of the sourest lemons for you, to refresh your minds..."

“Wait! Ms. Joni,” Clark quickly interrupted, half-laughing and half-crying, “those are grapes…the lemons are in the yellow basket over there.”

"Huh? Oh, oh, oh, my old eyes are getting blurry!"

Grandma Joni exaggeratedly slapped her forehead, then leaned closer to examine them carefully. "Oh dear, these purple ones are grapes... and the yellow ones are lemons..."

"When you get old, you become useless and can hardly distinguish colors anymore."

She chuckled and made a self-deprecating joke as she slowly turned toward the correct basket.

This flurry of activity and mistaking grapes for lemons finally made Lana, who was trying to keep a straight face, burst into laughter.

Most of that feigned anger dissipated.

Her gaze returned to Clark.
Sweat still glistened on his forehead, and he was covered in fallen leaves and dust.
Ok
It's unlikely that he was deliberately late.

"Lana, here you go."

Clark's gentle voice pulled her back from her thoughts.

Lana blinked, somewhat surprised, and took the glass of lemonade with ice floating on it, which smelled refreshing.

Why is Grandma Joni moving so fast today?
She glanced at the stall instinctively, then her eyes widened in surprise.

On the stall, there were whole yellow lemons.
At this moment, they were all cut in half and neatly stacked into two small mountains of lemons.

The juices were still glistening on the freshly cut surface.

Ms. Joni scratched her gray hair, her face full of genuine confusion, and muttered to herself, "Strange...when did I cut so many lemons?"

"Clark."

Lana finally spoke, her voice tinged with helplessness.

"I'm so sorry! Lana, I..."

Clark gestured awkwardly with his hands. "Uh... something came up."

The girl stared at him silently for a few seconds, and that gaze almost made him want to confess everything.

But in the end, Lana only sighed softly.
"never mind."

Her tone held a helpless indulgence: "It's good that you're here."

The two left the lemonade stand side by side and blended into the bustling crowd on the festival street.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the colorful banners, casting dappled shadows on them.

“Clark,” Lana said softly, “did you know? Mrs. Cassandra from the nursing home passed away a few days ago.”

"what?"

Clark paused slightly, a genuine look of surprise and regret flashing across his face. "I just saw her last month... She even held my hand and mysteriously warned me to 'watch out for potato chips'..."

"potato chips?"

"Could it be that the capital city is... plotting some unprecedented 'prank' on your birthday party potato chip reserves?"

She deliberately lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret that only they knew.

This little joke dispelled the lingering sadness about the deceased.

Clark couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head, feeling both helpless and amused by his brother's eccentric thinking.

"correct."

Lana stopped and turned to face him.

Happy birthday, Clark.

As she spoke, she took a small object out of the pocket of her dress.

It was a hand-woven bracelet made of interwoven thin cords of several colors, with a small, warm, milky-white bead in the center that looked like it was filled with moonlight.

Clark stiffened for a moment.

Some unpleasant and painful memories are about to resurface.

However, he immediately realized it.
This is just an ordinary bracelet, without any power to weaken you, only the girl's pure heart.

Clark took it carefully.

"Thank you... Lana, I like it very much."

As Lana watched Clark solemnly put the bracelet on her wrist, the corners of her mouth curved into a deeper smile.

The two exchanged a smile and continued walking forward, their figures gradually disappearing into the hustle and bustle and colors of the celebration.

Behind them, behind the lemonade stand.

Ms. Joni was slowly stacking up her 'mysteriously' cut lemons.

Her gaze swept past the bustling crowd, following the departing figures of the young couple.

The boy was tall and upright, and he listened to the girl speak with his head slightly tilted to the side, his posture showing obvious focus.

The girl looked up, her chestnut hair dancing in the light, her smile brimming with the pure and gentle joy unique to her age.

This scene is so familiar.
It made her feel as if she were seeing a harvest festival from decades ago.

The young farmer with broad shoulders and a shy smile, and the bright-eyed girl beside him.

"It's so similar..."

The old man murmured softly.

He then lowered his head and continued to slowly and meticulously wipe the lemon, as if wiping away a faded yet still vivid memory.

Time may pass, but the story of the small town remains.
Similar tender chapters are always playing out in each generation.

(End of this chapter)