American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 109 Dior: How did a bald guy suddenly appear out of the bushes?!

The full moon hangs high in the night sky.

The bright moonlight bathed the small road outside Smallville in a pale white light.

A Harley speeds along a quiet night road.

Smallwell's biting wind tore at the blond youth, as if eager to brush away the unclean aura left on him by the clamor of Gotham.

"Whoo~"

Exhaling a breath of stale air, Dior's tense nerves relaxed slightly.

Can…

The road conditions didn't seem to give him much of a break.

It was late at night, close to midnight.
Three black SUVs were blocking the road.

A group of figures could be vaguely seen working furtively in the cornfield.

By the moonlight, one could see that they seemed to be...
Dig?

"Tsk."

Dior narrowed his eyes in displeasure, and almost instinctively a thought flickered in his mind.

A massive, unseen figure emerged in the moonlight, invisible to ordinary people. The World Brand binoculars allowed him to barely make out the outlines of those people's movements at such a distance and under such light.

But that's enough, after all, unlike Star Platinum, the World excels at...
Dior's face suddenly darkened.

He suddenly realized that even in this auxiliary function of long-range reconnaissance.

The "world" seems to be overshadowed by the "Platinum Star" in every way.

"This is such a hassle..."

He cursed under his breath, completely losing patience with further investigation, and only wanted to leave this place of trouble as soon as possible.

My only thought right now is to get this Harley back to the Cebresta shop as soon as possible.

Then I went home and slept like a log.

But fate seemed determined to work against him.

Just as Dior twisted the accelerator, trying to speed past the SUV, another stretch Lincoln appeared, blocking the already narrow road completely.

"Squeak—!"

Dior slammed on the brakes again, and the Harley's tires screeched as they scraped across the gravel road before coming to a steady stop.

"."

His face was so gloomy it was almost dripping with water, and his long, slender fingers impatiently pressed the horn twice.

The sound of the horn was particularly jarring in the open wilderness.

Those guys had better be smart and get out of there right now.

His patience has completely run out, not a single bit left.

"Sorry sorry."

The group reacted quickly.

A man in a well-tailored black suit quickly emerged from the cornfield.

His attitude was unusually respectful; he even jogged over to the car and bowed slightly.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, I'll move your car right away."

Dior raised an eyebrow.

This script is wrong.

Logically, shouldn't a few burly men get out of the car at this point and menacingly tell him to immediately take a detour and get lost?

He sized up the other person.

His well-made suit, the faintly visible earpiece wires on his ears, and his efficient and precise movements all exude the aura of a highly trained professional bodyguard.

"hurry up."

Dio nodded indifferently, his sharp gaze sweeping over the badge that was faintly visible on the other man's collar.

I always felt that pattern
Looks familiar?

Without a word, the man in the suit turned around deftly, got into the car, and started the engine.

They then skillfully moved the massive Lincoln to the side of the road, making enough room for it to pass.

He then got out of the car and used a flashlight to illuminate several potholes on the road for Dior, adopting a very humble posture.

"The road conditions are bad, please drive carefully. Have a safe trip, sir."

"boom!"

Without further ado, Dio twisted the throttle, sending the Harley into a rapid roar.

With a quick acceleration, it drove through the cleared passage.

The night breeze blew again.

The wind rustled through the endless cornfields on both sides of the road, creating a undulating golden sea under the moonlight.

However.
Right there in the gaps between the swaying corn stalks—

Out of the corner of his eye, Dior could keenly see that the bodyguard who had just been so respectful to him was now turning to a figure standing deep in the cornfield, bowing humbly as he reported.

The bright moonlight also illuminated the back of the person being reported to at that moment.

A very eye-catching
Bald.

"Where did this bald guy come from?"

Dior withdrew his gaze, a barely perceptible sneer curving his lips.

He didn't care, and he didn't care at all about what these cowardly people were doing.

correct
Talk about it.
He also seems to have a bald friend he hasn't seen in a long time.
-
The moonlight poured down on the cornfield like quicksilver, turning the swaying stalks into a cold silver color.

A middle-aged man, dressed in rags and covered in dust, knelt in the middle of the field. His face was covered in mud and dried blood, and his hands were tied behind his back.

Not far away, six bodyguards dressed in black, like silent machines, mechanically and efficiently wielded shovels.

As the soil was continuously dug up, a deep pit, large enough to accommodate a person, gradually took shape beneath their feet.

At the heart of all this brutality, Lex Luthor seemed detached, even somewhat at ease.

He leaned back leisurely in a portable rocking chair, his fingertips lightly tapping the armrest, like a gentleman enjoying a peaceful night on a country vacation.

"Young Master." The man in the suit who had gone to move the car earlier quickly returned, bowed, and reported in a low voice, "A motorcyclist who was passing by."

"Just move it."

Luther waved his hand casually, his tone carrying a hint of admonition, "How many times have I told you, leave room for maneuver in everything you do. The same applies to closing roads—"

"Don't leave people with nowhere to go."

“Like there.” He tilted his head slightly, glancing at the increasingly clear and deep pit, then turned his attention back to the kneeling man, his voice calm. “You see, Mr. Riley Vick. Actually, I’ve left you a way out—”

"So now, tell us quickly."

"Who told you precisely that I would be going to Kent Farm alone that afternoon? And who had the ability to work from the inside to help you replace the hydraulic lines in the brake system?"

“Mr. Luther…”

The man called Vic trembled violently, the clattering of his teeth particularly jarring in the silent night.

"I...I really don't know what you're talking about...I don't know anything!"

"Oh?"

Luther raised an eyebrow slightly.

The next second—

"Bang!" Without warning, a bodyguard suddenly raised his foot and kicked Vic hard into the pit that had just been dug!
Luther waved his hand dismissively, as if he were merely brushing away a speck of dust.

The bodyguards immediately understood and began backfilling the soil without hesitation.

"Then you can go down there and try to remember it."

"?!"

The dirt rained down on him, and Vic's face instantly turned ashen.

He struggled frantically at the bottom of the pit, desperately trying to climb up, but was once again stomped back down by the bodyguard.

"I really do not know!"

Vic cried out, his wails tearing through the night, “I don’t know those people at all! They… they just gave me a key and told me to go to your estate’s garage to change a part… all our communication has been through coffee shop receipts in town!”

Keyword capture.

Luther raised an eyebrow and gently lifted his hand.

The bodyguard immediately understood, reached out and pulled Vic out of the pit, roughly searched his inner pocket and pulled out a crumpled, sweat-soaked coffee shop receipt, which he then handed to Luther.

At 7:23 AM, the manor was deserted.

“Interesting.” Luther examined the receipt, then suddenly waved to his bodyguard, “Untie him.”

Vic collapsed to the ground, almost unable to believe he had been rescued.

He scrambled and crawled, trying to escape deeper into the cornfield—

"and many more."

Luther's voice wasn't loud, but it was like an invisible shackle, pinning him firmly to the spot.

“If you can still contact them,” his voice was steady yet icy, “pass on a message to your employer.”

"No one can take my things."

"A rustling sound."

Vic staggered and finally disappeared into the rustling cornfield, swallowed up by the boundless darkness.

Under the moonlight, only the unfilled pit and the silent crowd remained.

The man in the suit stepped forward, his face etched with lingering worry. He lowered his voice and spoke cautiously:
“Young Master, even though we’ve hidden in a remote place like Smallwell, we still can’t escape their eyes and ears… This means their reach is deeper than we thought.”

"Then...why don't we just go back to the metropolis?"

"At least with the boss there, those people would never dare to be so blatant..."

Luther raised a hand and abruptly interrupted him.

"Pointless."

His voice carried an undeniable determination.

The man in the suit paused, his lips moving slightly, clearly failing to grasp the logic behind it.

Luther tilted his head slightly, his gaze seemingly piercing through the endless cornfields, looking into the distance.

“They fear my father like mice fear the old cat in the cattery,” he explained in a nonchalant tone. “But this fear will only make them hide deeper and use more covert methods.”

"They won't disappear because of this, they'll just wait patiently, waiting for the old cat to doze off, get distracted, or... reveal the slightest weakness."

“Yes…” The man in the suit sighed deeply, his worry deepening. “Young Master, that’s exactly why it’s too dangerous to stay outside. It’s easy to dodge a spear in the open, but hard to guard against an arrow in the dark.”

"Danger?"

Luther repeated the word, then let out a very soft chuckle, as if he had heard something childish.

“So what if it’s dangerous?” He paused. “It’s better than hiding in the old cat’s shadow forever, under his protection, and eating the scraps that the rats offer with fear and trembling.”

"......."

The man in the suit seemed to understand, but seeing the young master's unquestionable expression, he finally just nodded, swallowed all his doubts, and silently stepped aside.

Luther said no more, simply leaning back in his rocking chair, slowly closing his eyes, seemingly enjoying the country night breeze.

In fact, to put it in the simplest and most understandable way
It was in this seemingly dangerous Smallville that he could sense a twisted...
Peace of mind.

A sense of growth and exhilaration as a young kitten, eager to prove itself, finally able to face the storms and learn to hunt on its own after being away from its parents.

But obviously
This excitement, born of independence and danger, is something no one can understand at this moment.

Perhaps, if it were the father…

He can understand?
This thought made Luther's closed eyelids twitch slightly.

His thoughts surged like a tide under the moonlight, inevitably pointing once again to the man in his life whom he both depended on intensely and constantly longed to surpass.

For the past five years, while he ate nutritious porridge, he watched as his father wove a huge net of interests and fear, keeping everyone out, including his only son.

That man called all these cold, effective methods—

truth.

Yes
My father must have been longing for this too, right?
Does he yearn for a successor who can truly understand his 'truth' and ultimately surpass him to prove its correctness?
Otherwise, why would these cold 'truths' be handed to him one by one like weapons?

Luther's memory of what he saw and heard back then was exceptionally clear—

"Lex."

The man said, "I know you really want to visit Locke and the others, and miss that... meaningless ease."

"But I must remind you. Emotions are the most deadly rust on a precision lever; they can make you lose your strength at the most crucial moment and lead you to make wrong judgments."

"Stop making a fuss. Stay by my side and learn what I'm going to teach you. This is the path you should take."

"Remember, this empire is destined to be handed over to you in the future."

"Don't let those pointless emotions hold you back. Let those past, useless friends naturally fade into the dust of history."

"In short, don't let my years of hard work go to waste on you, Lex."

"."

Flowers bloom again, only to wither and fall; the clouds part to reveal the dawn.

From that moment on!

From that moment on!
The bewildered Lex Luthor finally understood the meaning of his existence and realized the role he had been given.

He was born to verify this 'truth,' to ultimately surpass, and even replace, that supreme 'creator'!
Think of this.

A cold, sharp smile silently crept up Luther's lips, standing out starkly against his young face.

So many years have passed, Father
You have used all of Luther Enterprises’ resources and all its means.

But they still couldn't completely pull out and uproot those worms hiding in the gutter.

To put it bluntly, if Uncle Locke hadn't astutely pointed out your fatal mistake in the strategic layout of the agricultural state back then...

It's likely that the behemoth that was Luther Enterprises has already become history due to infighting at certain levels.

And now, even if you already possess certain...

Extraterrestrial technology capable of changing the rules of the world.

Surprisingly, they still couldn't achieve absolute control.

What exactly is this for?
Has the passage of time gradually eroded your once thunderous decisiveness? Or has the sheer size of your empire made you overly cautious, thus dulling your most aggressive claws?
My foolish yet powerful father.

I will do as you wish.

I will walk the path you have paved for me, a path filled with 'truth'.

now
A mixture of disdain, disappointment, and an increasingly intense, almost bursting ambition swelled and burned wildly in Luther's chest.

Replace? Surpass?
This is no longer a vague, imposed idea.

This is a choice he himself has made, which is becoming increasingly clear.
inevitable!

(End of this chapter)