American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 119 You are not Clark.

Everything is settled.

That terrifying creation, capable of destroying a planet, was like a clumsy joke.

It was casually erased by the Heavenly Emperor, as if it had never existed.

Giorno collapsed to his knees, his hands bracing against the cold ground, his body trembling slightly.

The golden light of the experience flickered dimly behind him for a moment before disappearing completely.

It wasn't physical exhaustion, but a profound shock and powerlessness from the depths of his spirit that drained all his will and strength.

All of this, from the birth of Doomsday to its demise, seems to have been entirely within the emperor's expectations.

It was completely under his control.

The humiliation and despair of being crushed by absolute power and manipulated like a chess piece almost choked him, making it hard for him to breathe.

As he descended slowly, Clark's toes lightly touched the ground without stirring up a speck of dust.

His cold, emotionless gaze swept indifferently over Giorno, who was sprawled on the ground, before finally settling on the unusually calm Lex Luthor.

"Lex."

Clark's voice was devoid of emotion; it conveyed only a condescending, absolute judgment.

"Take them with you and live on."

"Open your eyes wide and look carefully. Use that brain of yours that you think can calculate everything to fully understand the real gap between us, to understand what despair is..."

"Then, as we are now, we will lie here helplessly and witness it with our own eyes."

The words fell.

Clark no longer gave anyone time to speak or react.

With a slight movement, he appeared beside Locke as if by teleportation.

Locke felt an irresistible yet unusually gentle force envelop him, and the surrounding scenery instantly became blurry and distorted.

He didn't even have time to react.

next moment.
The two figures vanished without a trace in an instant, like phantoms, in the desolate, ravaged square.

Only Giorno remained, collapsed on the spot; Lex Luthor was expressionless but had deep eyes; and Charles and Bruce were unconscious...

And then there's Gled, who witnessed the entire earth-shattering yet ultimately anticlimactic process from beginning to end, and who is only now snapping out of his utter shock.

His mouth was agape, his eyes wide open, as if he hadn't yet recovered from the shock of the emperor's arrival.

He stood frozen like a wooden statue for several seconds until the suffocating pressure completely disappeared, at which point he suddenly jolted awake.

“Mr. Bruce! Professor Charles!”

He screamed in panic, scrambling towards the unconscious Batman and Professor X, his voice echoing in the empty square, filled with helplessness.

"Wake up! Wake up! What... what are we going to do now?!"
-
sunset.

The golden afterglow bathed the earth.

Locke's vision blurred suddenly as a slight dizziness from the high-speed movement washed over him.

When the view became clear again, the surrounding scenery had completely changed.

The cold, cracked, battle-scarred underground base has vanished.

Instead, there was a vast expanse of—

The sunlight cast a soft glow on everything, and the air was filled with the fragrance of grass and earth.

Ahead was a well-managed farm.

The familiar red-roofed barn stands quietly, and several plump speckled chickens stroll leisurely inside the enclosure, emitting contented clucking.

In the distance, fields of corn and oats swayed gently in the breeze like golden waves, rustling softly.

A slightly old-fashioned but gleaming tractor was parked to the side, its metal parts reflecting the setting sun, and its tires still covered with a little damp mud, as if it had just finished working.

It was so familiar it was almost unbelievable.
It was as if the earth-shattering confrontation that had just transpired across the universe and the mad roar of the doomsday were nothing more than a nightmare dispelled by the sunlight.

And it was in that moment of relaxation that one's mind and spirit were at ease.

A gentle voice came from the side, carrying a subtle, long-lost sense of ease:

"Uncle, have a meal with me."

Locke turned his head at the sound.

Clark was standing not far away next to a barbecue grill that was emitting wisps of smoke.

His imposing golden armor and scarlet cape were gone, replaced by an ordinary but clean red plaid shirt, faded blue jeans, and even a pair of work boots covered in grass clippings.

The cold expression on his face softened.

Although the traces of majesty accumulated over the years still remained between his brows, the golden light in his eyes had faded, returning to the azure blue that Locke was familiar with.

At this moment, it is looking at me with a faint, almost earnest expectation.

He stood there, holding a barbecue tong, just like that big boy who, on countless leisurely weekend afternoons in the past, clumsily but earnestly helped him prepare a family barbecue on his farm.

"Uncle, come on."

He repeated it again, this time in a gentler tone.

Then he smiled and reached out to lift the lid of the huge barbecue grill.

Instantly, a rich and enticing aroma of meat, a blend of fruitwood smoke and various spices, wafted over, stirring the pent-up energy in Locke's stomach.

"This batch of meat."

Clark's tone carried a hint of barely perceptible pride. "I baked it for thirteen hours."

"..."

Looking at the extremely incongruous yet inexplicably warm scene before him, Locke was momentarily stunned, unsure of how to react.

He remained silent for a few seconds, then finally shook his head and smiled, a smile filled with helplessness, emotion, and a hint of relaxation that even he himself didn't realize.

"What kind of meat?"

"Doomsday's."

"Oh, destruction."

"?!"

"Hahahahaha."

"Regular beef brisket, uncle."

Clark burst into laughter.

"You kid..."

Locke muttered something under his breath, as if it were a complaint, or perhaps an opening remark after a long separation, unsure of where to begin.

He said nothing more and walked forward naturally, just as he had done countless times before.

Without any hesitation, he took the barbecue tongs from Clark and began to carefully inspect the grill lid himself.

Amidst the swirling smoke, a large, deep red beef brisket with a perfectly caramelized surface lay quietly.

The meat looks tender yet retains its shape, and the juices seem to be perfectly locked in.

However, Locke simply took a deep breath and his brows furrowed as usual.

"...Clark, how many times have I told you!"

He pointed at the piece of meat with tongs, annoyed. "You need to keep it moist during the smoking process! You have to keep spraying liquid to keep the surface moist, otherwise the outer layer will easily dry out and become bitter! I didn't smell any apple cider vinegar!"

"Tell your uncle where the apple cider vinegar went!"

Instead of being displeased by his uncle's scolding, Clark smiled genuinely and shrugged somewhat sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, Uncle."

He pointed to a small spray bottle filled with a clear liquid next to the stove.

"This is the recipe and process you revised about twenty-five years ago. You later said that a mixture of beer and broth works better, and there's no need to add apple cider vinegar." "..."

Locke froze, his old face flushing slightly.

This world has actually overturned the rules left by our ancestors!

He snorted irritably, picked up the meat cleaver to cover his irritation, and with a flick of his wrist, deftly sliced ​​off a thick piece from the fattest part of the brisket.

Beneath the crispy, caramelized exterior lies a tender, enticing interior with distinct textures and juicy goodness.

The rich smoky and meaty aromas directly assault the sense of smell.

Locke put the slice of meat into his mouth.

"Ok?"

His chewing motion paused slightly, and the expression on his face changed instantly.

From habitual criticism, it quickly transformed into a hint of barely concealed surprise, then into focused appreciation, and finally...

It turned into pure admiration and disbelief.

The meat is extremely tender and melts in your mouth, yet it miraculously retains the fibrous texture and chewiness that meat should have.

The smoky flavor penetrates deep into the bone marrow, rich in layers yet never overpowering, perfectly complementing the rich aroma itself.

The combination of various spices is just right, with a perfect balance of salty and sweet, and the juices burst in your mouth, bringing unparalleled satisfaction.

The heat control... the seasoning... the texture...

It seems... they actually have some skills?!
This kid's barbecue skills have reached this level?!
"Father! Are you trying to be bought off by his culinary tactics?!" "Divine Capital" warned Locke in his mind, her tone laced with wariness and jealousy. "Be careful, he might have added something! Who knows what this emperor is up to!"

"..."

"Keep your voice down," Locke retorted irritably in his mind, using his demonic energy. "I'll figure out a way to get you some later."

"Hmph! I don't care for that kind of thing..."

Before the words "Divine Capital" could even finish, the rest of the sentence was already out.

Clark's gentle voice rang out at just the right moment, as if unintentionally interrupting the magical exchange between the father and son:
"Uncle, please let my brother out."

As he spoke, he cut off a slice of evenly thick beef brisket and placed it naturally on Locke's plate, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary.

Upon hearing this, Locke abruptly stopped chewing, his pupils contracting almost imperceptibly.

This kid...

How could they possibly sense the existence of the "Divine Capital"?

They could even detect the extremely subtle demonic energy transmission between them.
"uncle."

Seeing the shock that flashed across Locke's face, Clark simply smiled gently.

His smile held a knowing understanding, yet contained no malice. He explained, "Don't misunderstand. I don't understand what you're specifically talking about, but..."

He pointed to himself, then to Locke.

"Its energy fluctuations, its 'aura,' are the same as some kind of power within you, yet they exist independently."

"Such a close relationship couldn't possibly be with someone I've never met before..."

"Your second uncle?"

Locke stared at Clark for a few seconds, and after confirming that there was only calm gentleness in his deep blue eyes, he shrugged helplessly.

He had been carefully enveloping and hiding the "Divine Capital" deep within his body with the energy of Genshan, precisely because he was afraid that Clark of this world would notice it and see it as a threat.

In retrospect, it was completely unnecessary.

Since the other party doesn't care, there's nothing left for him to hide.

With a thought, a wisp of solid, dark red demonic energy, carrying a faint dragon's might, rose from his shoulder.

It quickly coalesced into that miniature version of the dragon soul, with a fierce yet adorable look.

Upon appearing, "Divine Capital" immediately assumed its strongest defensive stance. He raised his head and let out a low, menacing growl at Clark:
"Don't think I'll be afraid of you just because of that! You're nothing but a mere little emperor!"

It's very impressive.

If you ignore the fact that he shamelessly huddled most of his body behind Locke's head, only peeking out half his head and a pair of wide, round eyes staring intently at Clark.

Locke was both amused and exasperated by his son's blustering yet cowardly demeanor.

He shook his head helplessly, cut off a small piece of tender, juicy beef with his fork, and held it to the mouth of "Shen Du," who was hiding behind his head. He then explained to Clark in a slightly embarrassed tone:
"Shen Du... he has a rather unique personality, please be understanding. Actually, once you get to know him, you'll find he's a good kid."

Did my father praise me?
"Shen Du" was overjoyed.

However, he still glanced warily at the meat so close to him, and suspiciously looked at Clark, who was smiling.

Ultimately, the allure of the delicious food overcame his vigilance.

With a turn of his body, he transformed from his dragon soul form into a little boy who looked exactly like Salafir.

He ate the meat in one bite, chewing quickly with his little mouth.

Even the way he glared at Clark softened a little.

Seeing this slightly comical yet exceptionally heartwarming scene, Clark smiled knowingly.

If outsiders in this world were to see this, they would certainly find it impossible to connect this sunny and warm-hearted young man with the Heavenly Emperor who sits serenely in heaven, coldly looking down upon all living beings.

"It's alright, Uncle."

His voice was soft, filled with genuine compassion: "He is your son, but he is also my brother."

"Who is your brother?!"

The "Divine Capital," which was struggling to chew, immediately protested in a garbled manner, trying to maintain its last shred of dignity.

"We're not from the same world! And in this world, I don't exist."

Looking at "Shen Du" with his adorable expression of wolfing down his food while stubbornly trying to maintain his dignity.

Locke couldn't help but reach out and rub its little head, which was formed from demonic energy.

Don't say
It feels pretty good.

As he rose slightly, Locke casually cut off another piece of medium-sized, well-marbled beef brisket and placed it on the plate in front of Clark.

After doing this action.

He didn't even look at Clark's reaction, acting as if he were back in his own home.

He turned and walked to the wooden steps of the porch, where he sat down.

He then patted the empty seat next to him, gesturing for Clark to sit down.

Clark paused slightly, but looking at the piece of meat his uncle had cut for him on the plate, and at his uncle's familiar movements, a complex glint flashed in his azure eyes.

He walked over silently and sat down next to Locke.

The two sat side by side on the steps of the porch.

Before me lay a familiar and comforting farm.

On the distant horizon, the setting sun is slowly sinking, dyeing the clouds in the sky a brilliant orange-red and purple.

The air was filled with the aroma of roasting meat, the fragrance of earth, and the scent of fresh grass. It was so quiet that the only sounds were the rustling of the wind through the cornfields, and…

The silhouette of "Shen Du" trying to steal two slices of beef brisket.

Looking at this farm that was too perfect.
Locke remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he let out a soft sigh.

The sigh contained too many indescribable emotions.

He turned his head and looked calmly at his nephew beside him.

"you……"

Locke paused, his voice clear and firm, carrying an unmistakable certainty.

"...Not Clark."

(End of this chapter)