American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 129 Clark! Think of something calm!
Having gotten up very early, Jonathan stretched comfortably in the slightly cool morning air.

Gazing at the boundless, fertile fields bathed in the morning light, a surge of pride welled up within him.

This Kent family land, under Jonathan Kent's control, has expanded three or four times!
First, they merged with the neighboring Locke Kent's farm through friendly negotiations, and then took over the land left behind by old Bob after he retired to Florida!
Hahaha!
He laughed smugly to himself.

he!
Jonathan Kent is the true king of farming in Smallwell!

but
The initial enthusiasm was quickly replaced by the weariness of reality.

Even the king of farming couldn't escape the fate of having to work in the fields himself.

Jonathan sighed, listlessly picked up the hoe leaning against the porch, and slung it over his shoulder.

To be honest, he missed Logan a little.

Two or three years ago, when that grumpy but hardworking old man came by occasionally, he would silently help them tend to the farmland.

That speed, that efficiency, it's simply inhuman!
Ugh…

He truly deserves the title of "wolf of the farmland".

Remembering Logan, Jonathan slowly walked to the middle of the farmland.

From afar, he saw a figure diligently tilling the land.

The straw is continuously buried in the soil.

Hey!
Locke got up pretty early today!
Jonathan felt a surge of joy, and his fatigue seemed to dissipate considerably.

He quickened his pace and walked over, his demeanor rugged, laughing heartily.

Without thinking, he stretched out his muddy hands.

He slapped the backside of the figure who was working with his back to him, bent over!

"Good brother! I'm so glad you're here to share the good times and the bad!"

"Pfft..."

However, the scene that I had envisioned, where my younger brother Locke would laugh and scold back, did not happen.

The figure staggered from the slap, the hoe flying from his hand, and he fell face down into the freshly turned soil without any resistance!
"?"

Jonathan's smile froze instantly as he looked at his rough, calloused hands in shock.

My strength…

When did it get so big?!

One slap and Locke is done for?!

Could it be that…

My long-hidden superpower, Jonathan Kent
An unbelievable sense of surprise instantly flooded Jonathan's mind!

Subconsciously filled with immense excitement and anticipation, he mimicked his younger brother's occasional gestures, murmuring in a low voice:

“Star Pl…Platinum?”

however…

All around was quiet, with only the morning breeze rustling through the wheat seedlings.

Nothing appeared.

"."

Just as Jonathan looked at his empty hands, lost in immense confusion and self-doubt…

The figure that had collapsed in the field turned its head slowly.

His face was filled with utter despair, and he spoke in a trembling voice that Jonathan had never heard before:
“Uncle Jonathan…it’s me, Lex…”

"?!"
-
Lex Luther swings a hoe in the fields of Kent Farm.

On the other side, the streets of Smallville present a completely different scene.

Two tall figures were escorting their younger brother to school, one on each side.

Dior stood with his hands in his pockets, wearing his usual impeccably tailored black coat.

Her blonde hair shone brightly in the morning light.

He glanced at Clark's outfit, which was completely out of character for him, and couldn't help but scoff, his tone full of disdain:
"Where did you find this old-fashioned outfit? Did Aunt Martha find it while cleaning the attic?"

"."

是 的
Clark was unusually not wearing his signature tight-fitting T-shirt or team jersey today.

Instead, she changed into a slightly retro, even somewhat worn denim shirt and jeans.

He was also wearing a pair of cowboy boots that looked quite old.

“Uncle Locke found it for me yesterday.” Clark scratched the back of his head sheepishly, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “He said he couldn’t fit into it anymore and it would be a waste to leave it there.”

“And,” he paused, looking at Dio with a hint of anticipation in his eyes, “Dio, this year’s Homecoming theme is 'cowboy.' You…”

"This is the stupidest event in the world," Dior said, speechless.

Theme decoration day.
Or it could be called: Mental Health Week.

Students can wear clothing that matches the theme of the year.
Examples include: Retro Day, Toga Day, Morning Styling Day, Nerd Day, Pirate Day, Internet Meme Day, Mouse Band Day, Flannel Friday, and Fashion Minefield Wednesday.

This year, some genius came up with the idea of ​​cowboys.

"Homecoming Day?"

Caught in the middle, Salafir looked up with her little face, curiously tugging at Clark's cowboy jacket, and asked:

"Was Homecoming fun, Clark?"

"It's fun!"

Clark's attention was immediately diverted. He looked down at his brother and said with a bright smile:

“I used to participate as an outsider. That was a lot of fun.”

"This is my first time participating as a Smallwell High School student! It's sure to be even more fun!"

Upon hearing this, Salafir's eyes lit up instantly, filled with longing.

“We have a whole week of activities ahead!” Clark got more and more excited as he began to list them off: “Today is Monday, it’s the ‘Royal Selection’; tomorrow, Tuesday, is the ‘Campus Picnic’; Wednesday is the ‘Mobilization Rally’; Thursday is the most exciting ‘Float Parade’; and then it’s Friday…”

Clark's enthusiasm was instantly ignited: "It's my brother's football game!"

"This is the most important home game!"

Clearly, Friday is the day he looks forward to the most and is happiest.

What is royalty?

Salafir caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar word.

"The students vote to elect a 'King' and a 'Queen,' who will then ride in the most beautiful float through the streets on Thursday, receiving cheers from everyone!" Clark explained with a smile, his gaze unconsciously drifting to Dio beside him, who wore a cold expression. His tone was slightly teasing. "Although in previous years it was usually the eleventh and twelfth graders who were elected, this year is different. This year's 'King' will definitely be…"

He hasn't finished speaking yet——

"Sarafil, we've arrived at school."

Dio coldly interrupted him, and at the same time reached out and precisely grabbed Salafir by the back of his collar.

His 1.9-meter height advantage was on full display at this moment.

With a simple lift of his arm, he lifted Salafir up as easily as if he were a kitten, effortlessly vaulting over the low metal fence at the school gate, and then steadily...
They placed him on the ground inside the school gate.

"?!"

Salafir was a little bewildered by this sudden airlift.

Before he could even react.

After Dior finished doing all this, he immediately turned around.

He grabbed Clark's denim shirt sleeve, who was still in a daze, and practically dragged him away from the school gate.

Completely ignoring her younger brother's pitiful look,

"Dio! What are you doing!"

Clark was pulled so hard he stumbled, and protested angrily.

Dio abruptly stopped, turned around, and stared intently at Clark with his crimson eyes. His low voice was filled with undisguised threat as he spoke, word by word:

"Clark Kent!"

He leaned closer to Clark and whispered through gritted teeth:

"If you dare to say anything more to Salafil..."

"I will definitely..."

"hehe!"

"..."

Looking into Dior's terrifying eyes, which were definitely not a joke.

Clark swallowed hard, a bead of cold sweat sliding down his forehead.

He chuckled twice, trying to ease the tension:
"Ha...haha...I was just kidding...hahahahaha..."

With a cold snort, Dio said no more, released his grip, and straightened his collar.

As if nothing had happened, she continued walking forward expressionlessly.

Clark awkwardly touched his nose, looked at Dio's retreating figure, and then turned back to look at Salafell, who was waving pitifully at them from inside the school.

With a helpless sigh, he quickly followed.

The atmosphere of homecoming began to permeate from early morning, with a faint sweet smell and excited whispers in the air.

A temporary registration desk was specially set up at the school gate, with two eye-catching ballot boxes placed on either side.

One was used to elect the king, and the other was used to elect the queen.

The registration staff warmly greeted each student as they entered the school. According to the rules, each student had to vote immediately, and the vote count would end when three-quarters of the total number of students had been counted.

"Snapped--!"

The school's iron fence opened and closed, welcoming two figures.

First and foremost, there was his dazzling blond hair, handsome face, and innate arrogance.

"That's Dio Kent? I heard his father is Locke Kent, the Pumpkin King!"

"Not only that, he got a perfect score on his physics test last week, he's inhuman..."

Regardless of gender, people passing by him couldn't help but glance at him a few more times and whisper among themselves.

Some people even blushed and secretly took photos.

And under this almost tangible, fiery gaze.

Clark, on the other hand, felt a little uncomfortable from the almost tangible gaze. He subconsciously took a half step back and touched the back of his neck.

As expected of Dior.
Training at a club makes all the difference.
Clark shrugged helplessly, muttered something to himself, and quickened his pace toward the registration desk, eager to cast his vote and slip away.

However, when he saw who was sitting behind the registration desk, he couldn't help but be stunned.

"team leader?"

Sitting behind the registration desk, responsible for recording one of the votes.
He was actually the captain of the rugby team.

Jason Walsh!

He was holding a pen, looking very businesslike.

However, his muscles seemed a bit too taut, just stretched out inside the volunteer's T-shirt.

The posture was as stiff as if one were lifting dumbbells.

It seemed as if it had been frightened by something.
"what?"

Jason looked up at the sound of the voice, saw Clark, and gave an unnatural smile. He chuckled awkwardly, "It's you, Clark. You're just in time. Go ahead and vote, who are you voting for?"

Clark blinked, for some reason.

He actually caught a very subtle... hint beneath Captain Jason's hearty smile.

eccentric?
Suppressing his doubts, Clark answered decisively without much thought: "Dio Kent."

He felt that his vote was absolutely safe.

We will win.

"Hmm. One vote for Dio Kent."

Jason nodded, his expression seemingly relaxed a bit. He quickly wrote his name on a small piece of paper, then crumpled it up without looking at it and accurately tossed it into the 'King' ballot box behind him.

The movements were fluid and practiced, as if they had been repeated countless times.

Everyone says it's a sure win, a safe bet.
Clark shrugged and turned to walk towards the classroom.

"Hey, wait a minute! Clark!" Jason suddenly called out to him.

"What's wrong, Captain?" Clark turned around, puzzled. "When are your football uniforms coming over?" Jason asked casually, as if it were just a casual question.

"What should I send?" Clark was even more confused. "Don't I always wash my own team uniforms?"

Upon hearing this, Jason's face revealed a certain expression—

What are you pretending to be stupid for, kid?

He lowered his voice and said, "You promised to wash it for me!"

"I'm the team leader, so of course I'll start washing you first!"

oh.
It's about the bet from last time.

Clark chuckled and patted Jason on the shoulder. "Let's talk about it after the match, hehe."

"You bastard!"

Jason's face turned green.

Clark, that guy, actually wants to make something of himself.

He had already won the heart of his beloved.
Seeing Jason's expression, Clark couldn't help but feel a little elated. He smiled, turned around, and left.

Until you walk a long way
Clark was stunned, realizing what was happening.

and many more?

When did I tell them that I had successfully invited Lana?

Clark was stunned.

I'm planning to give everyone a surprise during the game this Friday.

He turned around, about to ask a question, but found that Jason was already calling the next student.

Forget it
It's nothing serious anyway.

Clark shrugged and decided to take a nap in the school magazine room first.

We trained all night last night, and it was thundering and raining outside.

He's barely slept, and now his eyelids are drooping with sleep.

"boom--!"

The door to the school magazine room was slammed open with a brute force, the sound almost shattering the silence of the corridor.

"—Who is Clark?!"

The door to the school magazine room was suddenly pushed open.

Under the shocked gazes of Chloe and Pete.
Clark didn't even have time to utter a question before he was swept away from his spot in a daze, like a leaf caught in the wind.

then--

"?"

Clark Kent stood blankly on the stage of the school auditorium, the blinding spotlight making it hard for him to open his eyes for a moment.

Colorful balloons floated under the ceiling, and cheerful pop music vibrated in the air.

The entire auditorium was enveloped in a festive, celebratory atmosphere.

And he
I stood in the center of the so-called 'royal selection platform,' surrounded by deafening cheers and screams that almost lifted the roof off, with a sea of ​​excited classmates in front of me.

He could clearly see several of his rugby teammates in the crowd giving him a thumbs-up, and then shedding sad tears.

Further away, even some classmates who weren't usually close to each other wore kind smiles.

What happened?
Looking down in disbelief, Clark glanced at the sash with the word 'King' pinned to his chest by someone.

He turned his head stiffly again.

Lana stood there, a sash with the word 'Queen' pinned to her chest.

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn't expected this outcome.

But soon, her beautiful eyes softened, turning into a gentle pool of spring water, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously turned up. Her eyes held both surprise and a hint of inexplicable anticipation.

But Clark didn't have time to care about any of that.

What he cared more about was exactly where this place was.
Am I dreaming?

king…

It was me?!

The thought struck him like a hammer blow to his chest.

Panic, joy, absurdity, disbelief.
It was as if his eyes were about to uncontrollably heat up and burn at any moment.

calm
Clark, calm down, think about something calm, Clark!

He screamed wildly in his heart.

Think back to your memories.
The coldest thing!

冷.
Almost subconsciously.
He suddenly recalled the cold look Dior had given him that morning.

Like the wind blowing from Siberia.

"."

The effect is remarkable.

An invisible chill descended upon him, quickly spreading to his limbs.

Clark took a deep breath, the agitation in his eyes gradually subsided, and his heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

In that split second as his emotions subsided, his gaze unconsciously swept towards the back row of the crowd.
really
Dior was there.

He leaned lazily against the wall, his arms casually crossed in front of his chest.

A faint smile played on that flawless face.

It wasn't happiness, it wasn't mockery, and it wasn't a blessing—

It was more like a detached, amused observation, as if the whole farce was just a game he was orchestrating.

And I am that king who has just been moved.

The moment their eyes met, Clark's face darkened.

...You did it, didn't you, Dior!
It must be that move!

Time stopped...

Replace the ballot box…

Or simply change the vote count...

Clark's lips twitched, and his face fell.

Dior…

You've really put me through a lot.
Smallwell High School's homecoming celebration has always taken up only the morning classes.

The remaining half-day is free time for the students.

Or rather, it was time for the king to go on a grand tour with his entourage, putting on airs like a big shot.

However, this year's king seems to be somewhat...

Not in a state of mind.

"Pfft..."

Jonathan was the first to lose his temper.

Looking at the incredibly conspicuous sash on Clark's chest, coupled with his slightly retro and even somewhat ill-fitting denim outfit, one can see the striking details.

As the king's 'father,' he couldn't help but let out a muffled laugh.

Locke's lips twitched twice. Looking at his nephew's dramatic appearance, he almost couldn't help but laugh out loud, and could only force a cough to cover it up.

I'm sorry, Clark.
I shouldn't have lied to you about wearing jeans.
She rolled her eyes at the two frivolous men, clearly annoyed.

Martha looked at Clark, her eyes immediately softening.

He stepped aside, straightened Clark's slightly crooked sash, and said solemnly:
"Clark, my child, I am so proud of you. This is a testament to your classmates' respect for you."

"Mother…"

Clark sighed helplessly.

Normally, he would be very happy.

But now.
This approval is really weird.

Clark looked past Martha's shoulder and onto the blond brother across the table, who was elegantly and slowly cutting his steak.

"Dio...you did it, didn't you?"

His tone was almost certain.

Dior didn't even look up, his knife precisely cutting through the beef's texture.

"Clark, don't always misunderstand others. You need to believe in your own charm."

He slightly raised his eyes, a mocking smile flashing in his crimson pupils. "Look at the 'Empress' beside you back then, the way she looked at you?"

"Hmm."

He paused deliberately, leaving a blank space that left much to the imagination.

"Is it that girl named Lana Lang from last time?"

Upon hearing something interesting, Lex, who had been wolfing down his food, stopped eating.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, his movements becoming elegant again, and asked with great interest.

“Lex…”

Clark sighed, feeling the conversation was drifting further and further off track.

"Haha, so it's Homecoming, right? Sounds like an interesting tradition."

Lex smiled and leaned back slightly. "In that case, how about I prepare a 'gift' for you too? To celebrate our king's coronation."

"Gift?"

Dio raised an eyebrow and said bluntly, "What, is Young Master Luther planning to buy Smallwell High School as a gift to 'this king'?"

“Dio, watch your words. The current king is Clark.”

Luther shrugged, his tone relaxed and seemingly indifferent, and said, "But if he wants it, it's not impossible."

"It's just a public high school in a school district; it's not difficult to manage."

"Ha, easy for you to say."

Dior scoffed, "Then I'd like to see your 'sincerity' by Friday."

“That depends on Clark.” Luther turned to Clark, looking on with interest. “Do you want it, Your Majesty?”

"I…"

Startled by this unexpected gift, Clark quickly waved his hand:
"No, no need! Lex, thank you for your kindness, but really, it's not necessary!"

He didn't want to be the kind of weirdo who would have his friend buy the school just because he was the king of homecoming.

but…

If we really buy it, what should we name it?
"Alright, alright, that's enough talk!"

Locke finally spoke, interrupting the increasingly absurd conversation.

He said irritably, "What king or no king?"

Even if the King of Heaven himself came here, we still have to work.

"There's still a lot of work to do in the fields this afternoon, so all three of you better eat your fill."

“Especially you.” Locke’s helpless gaze fell on Luther: “Eat more, Lex.”

“You were slapped into the ground by Jonathan this morning and almost couldn’t get up. With your build, the task of turning the soil this afternoon will be quite heavy.”

"."

Lex Luthor, who was called out, froze.

The composed facade of an elite man cracked instantly, revealing a hint of genuine embarrassment: "Uncle Locke..."

He protested in a low voice helplessly, recalling the embarrassing scene from that morning and his still slightly aching buttocks, and suddenly even the top-quality steak on his plate seemed rather tasteless.

The atmosphere at the dinner table became somewhat awkward. Jonathan tried hard to suppress his laughter, Clark looked at Lex with sympathy, and Dio's lips curled up slightly, clearly pleased to see his rich young friend get his comeuppance.

Martha shook her head helplessly and got up to add more mashed potatoes and gravy to everyone's plate.

Ok
Clark's Homecoming, the King's Glory, at Kent Farm, ultimately had to lose to the more tangible work of the fields.

(End of this chapter)