American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 184 Locke: The storks just like our Kent family.

After experiencing a near-apocalyptic crisis.

The familiar lights of Kent Farm remain the only remaining haven in this world.

Although the strange lights caused by energy disturbances still shifted eerily in the night sky at the distant horizon, reminding people of the thrilling events that had just occurred.

But the farm was still firmly protected by warmth.

The warm yellow light shining through the window intertwined with the leaping orange flames in the fireplace, dispelling the chill of the winter night and the panic brought by the outside world.

Inside the barn, the animals, calmed by Salafir's abilities, seemed to sense the past danger, making rustling chewing and pacing sounds, occasionally interspersed with a lazy moo from a cow or a soft bleating from a sheep.

"Cuckoo!"

"Hey!"

"eye--!"

"Gah!"

"Roar--!"

It blended with the faint sounds of laughter coming from inside the house, creating a unique musical that belonged to Christmas Eve.

"boom."

The door is pushed open.

The aroma of roasted turkey, the sweetness of cinnamon rolls, and the refreshing scent of burning pine wood fill the air.

He walked in carrying two babies wrapped in swaddling clothes, each with striking silver hair, followed by a group of people with varying expressions.

Jonathan, looking wistful; Dior, with his left arm crossed and an unreadable expression; Clark, with his right arm crossed and an unreadable expression; and that tall, incongruous figure in the farmhouse living room—a man in black.
火星猎人
Or should this person be called Calvin Swanwick under this skin?

Upon everyone's return, the once noisy and warm living room instantly fell silent.

But the most terrifying thing is...
Martha was holding a ceramic plate filled with bright green peas.

Her gaze darted back and forth between Locke and the baby in his arms, her voice filled with disbelief: "Locke, darling, don't tell me... this... this is...?"

And sitting in an armchair by the fireplace.

Bruce Wayne, who was having a pleasant conversation with Martha, was also stunned.

His sharp eyes swept quickly over the two babies, lingering for a moment on the silver hair, before turning to Locke, his brain already rapidly analyzing various possibilities.

Haha
The teacher must have gotten someone pregnant, and someone came knocking on the door, summoning some monster to retaliate.

wrong
anyway?

Two more heirs to Kent Farm?

By the way, speaking of which, as a student, can he inherit his teacher's property?

This way, I might also have a chance to do something for Mrs. Martha...

"Um?!"

As if sensing something, Salafir, who was lying on the carpet fiddling with the music box fragments, looked up and saw the new face in her father's arms. She immediately scrambled to her feet and ran to Locke's side with her short legs.

She reached out her little hand and grabbed Locke's trouser leg, then stood on tiptoe.

Her bright blue eyes were full of curiosity as she tilted her little face up and asked:
"Dad, them?"

By the whole family
Um.
In addition, there's the attention of an alien guest and a future Batman.

Locke looked down at the two extraordinary little ones in his arms, then looked up and surveyed his family members, each with a different expression.

He sighed deeply, a resigned smile on his face.

"It's a long story."

He chuckled softly:
"In short, our family might have been given special attention by the stork."

"So that's it."

Martha nodded as if suddenly understanding, her face showing a knowing and gentle expression, as if Locke was talking about some common rural phenomenon in Smallville.

"Oh, it was just a stork!"

Salafir followed Martha's example and nodded her little head vigorously.

She even reached out her little hand to wipe away non-existent sweat from her forehead.

"Yes, it's a stork."

Clark laughed.

"?"

Bruce Wayne, the only one present who still maintained a normal worldview, felt a throbbing in his temples. Looking at this family who were completely natural and had accepted the established narrative, he felt that urge to immediately return to Gotham and retreat to Wayne Manor to calm down surge within him once more.

Perhaps he should consider investing in a safe house in Smallwell as well?

Specifically designed to address the cognitive shock brought about by the Kent family.

Is it not here?
"?"

Bruce glanced at Dio and saw him staring blankly at the laughing crowd inside. He breathed a sigh of relief.

It turns out there are still some sensible people out there.

What's this kid doing? Does he want me to punch him?

Seeing Bruce's expression of sighing, nodding, and laughing, Dio felt an itch to take action.

"."

Blinking, Locke breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that everyone accepted his flawed explanation so readily. He then carefully handed the two silver-haired babies in his arms to Martha.

"Virgil, Dante. Their names."

With practiced ease, Martha caught both swaddled babies steadily.

Looking down at the two similar yet strikingly different faces, a long-lost tenderness finally appeared on Salafir's face, which had regained its youthful appearance due to her minor surgery:

"What beautiful names. But... which one is Virgil and which one is Dante?"

"Simple."

Jonathan chuckled and, before Martha could hold him securely, quickly and gently flicked the diaper area of ​​each baby with his finger.

"Wow--!"

One of them immediately burst into tears, loud and plaintive.

"Uh…"

The other one suddenly wrinkled her face and twitched her nostrils.

His azure eyes instantly welled up with tears, but he pursed his lips tightly, managing to suppress his sobs.

Seeing this, Jonathan laughed triumphantly and pointed to the two babies, announcing the test results:

"Look! That's Dante crying."

"That one trying so hard to hold back his tears is Virgil. Hahahaha!"

A brief silence fell over the living room.

Dior's lips twitched subtly, as if he wanted to mock him but then thought the behavior was too childish and didn't bother to speak.

Clark, looking embarrassed, quickly apologized to Locke with a look that seemed to say, "I'm sorry, Uncle, my dad is so childish."

Rong En's green face remained expressionless, but a hint of renewed understanding of Earthling family behavior patterns seemed to flash in his eyes.

Martha snapped out of her daze, rolled her eyes in annoyance, and with one hand free, delivered a precise and well-forced chop to the back of her husband's head.

“Jonathan Kent! Are you getting worse and worse?! What kind of behavior is this in front of the children and guests?!”

Jonathan covered the back of his head, his laughter abruptly stopping.

She shrank her neck in grievance, but her eyes still held a lingering smile.

"Garlic bird, garlic bird, it's Christmas Eve today!"

Watching Jonathan being punished by Martha, Locke sighed and decided to let the matter drop.

He cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to the tall figure who stood quietly by the door, somewhat out of place with the surroundings.

"By the way, let me introduce you all, this is my friend."

"Hello, I am..."

“Ron Jones,” Locke laughed.

Dressed in a suit and tie, he was subconsciously preparing to assume his human identity.
For example, Ron, who introduced himself as 'Calvin Swanwick,' paused slightly when he heard Locke's simple and direct introduction.

The hard lines on his usually serious Black face softened slightly, almost imperceptibly.

They simply accepted this identity, stripped of his position and pretense, which brought him closer to his true nature.

He stepped forward, his steady voice echoing in the living room: "It is an honor to meet you all."

He then displayed an old-fashioned and sincere politeness.

He took the initiative to extend his hand and shake hands with each family member present.

First, there was Martha, who had a pleased smile on her face; then Jonathan, who was rubbing the back of his head, looking a little embarrassed but responding enthusiastically; next, there was Dior, who had a scrutinizing gaze but still maintained basic etiquette; and then there was Clark, who had a sunny smile but was slightly reserved.

Even when he walked up to little Salafir.
The tall Martian hunter did not give a perfunctory answer.

He solemnly bent down, looked the child straight in the eye, and extended his large hand, no different from that of an earthling, to gently shake the small hand that Salafil had extended.

"Hello, powerful little guardian."

He spoke earnestly, as if he were talking to a colleague of equal status.

Feeling a little shy from this solemn attitude, Salafir blushed slightly, but still bravely shook hands with him. Then she quickly hid behind Locke's legs, only peeking out half her head to curiously examine the uncle.

Finally, Ron walked over to the person who had been sitting by the fireplace.
Bruce, observing quietly.

He extended his hand: "Mr. Wayne, I've heard so much about you."

Bruce stood up, shaking hands with Ron with the aloofness and elegance typical of a prince, his voice steady:

"Mr. Jones, it's a pleasure to meet you."

but
The moment their eyes met, his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

A strange sense of familiarity swept over me.

Why do I feel like I've seen this somewhere before?

But we didn't let him think too much about it.

The long dining table was quickly filled with food.

Reheated food still smells delicious.

Pumpkin pie, apple pie, blueberry pie...

The atmosphere became warm and harmonious again amidst the steaming food and the conversations of family members.

Ron sat quietly at the dining table, holding a small piece of the blueberry pie that Salafil had highly recommended.

Savoring that sweet and sour, warm and rich flavor.

He was surrounded by an atmosphere he had never truly experienced in many years.

Noisy laughter
The slight clinking of bowls and plates
The children's whispers, the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace...

All these sounds intertwined, creating a chaotic yet incredibly warm atmosphere.
family?

This made his mind, which was long accustomed to telepathy and absolute rationality,...
I felt a strange sense of comfort.

After dinner, Bruce Wayne got up to say goodbye.

He put on his coat and turned his gaze to Locke.

"Afu still needs me tonight."

He said calmly, "I'll come back the day after tomorrow... teacher."

Why did you call on the teacher?
And why is it so natural to ask for leave? You said you'd be back tomorrow.

Locke felt somewhat helpless, but looking at Bruce's unquestionable gaze...

He didn't say much, but simply reached out and patted Bruce's already very strong shoulder firmly, everything was understood without words.

And the other side.
Martha was gently rocking the makeshift crib she had found, humming a tuneless lullaby. Dante found a comfortable spot in the warm and cozy crib, nuzzled his head, smacked his lips, and drifted off to sleep again.

Virgil, meanwhile, remained quietly observing this new world with his overly calm blue eyes.

Locke looked at this scene with a somewhat dazed expression.

Time seemed to flow backward at this moment, overlapping with scenes from many years ago.

It's the same living room, with the same warm lighting.

Young Martha, young Jonathan.
My younger self.
With a look of tenderness and helplessness on her face, she carefully held two completely different swaddled babies.

One was the blond Dior, the other the dark-haired Clark; they too had once nestled so small and vulnerable in their arms…

Even earlier
He found this place all by himself.
She begged her brother and sister-in-law, who were barely in their early twenties and struggling to make ends meet, to give her a place to stay.

In the blink of an eye
It has been twenty-eight years since he came to this farm when he was twelve years old.
"dad?"

Salafir gently tugged at his sleeve, pulling him back from his memories to reality.

Locke composed himself.

Then you see the whole family gathered around Masha and the two new babies.

Jonathan's young face broke into a kind smile again, while Clark's eyes were filled with curiosity about his new brother.

Even Dio and the gods.
Although they both maintained an arrogant posture with their arms crossed, there was an irresistible glimpse in their eyes towards the baby, a hint of inquiry and subtle possessiveness in their gazes.
But they still betrayed their true thoughts.

Looking at this bustling, warm scene, Locke couldn't help but chuckle softly, the mental exhaustion that had accumulated in his chest from the Doomsday War fading away.
At this moment, the light that belonged to home quietly dispelled my fears.

Perhaps this is also Locke's own idealistic power?
As Martha lulled the children to sleep, Jonathan began clearing the kitchen dishes.

Locke gave Ron a wink, and the two walked in tacit agreement toward the relatively quiet porch.

The scent of hay mingled with the aroma of wood; far from the noise of the living room, the only sound was the soft rustling of snow sliding off the roof.

"Mr. Jones".

Locke, as always, went straight to the point: "These two children..."

Rong En did not answer immediately, but instantly reverted to his true form as a red-eyed green Martian.

The barn, illuminated only by moonlight and the faint glow of distant lights, appeared even more inhuman and solemn.

"Mr. Locke."

His voice resounded directly in Locke's mind, carrying a unique telepathic resonance:
"They undoubtedly possess magical bloodlines and immense power." He paused, his crimson eyes seeming to pierce through dimensional barriers:
“In fact, I am more inclined to believe that this is a kind of original bloodline originating from a certain higher-level other dimension.”

"Let their very existence be like the dimensional coordinates of two living beings."

"what does that mean?"

Locke frowned and responded with his thoughts.

“It means an endless attraction,” Ron said bluntly, his tone heavy.

"They are the lighthouse in the darkness."

"Low-level demons and wandering predators will be instinctively drawn to you, though they are like moths to a flame before your barrier."

“But that’s not the most troublesome thing… What’s even more terrifying is that some ancient beings are sleeping and can easily sense the location of this ‘delicious’ coordinates.”

"They themselves may not be able to easily descend into our dimension in their true form due to limitations of rules or power, but they have followers in countless worlds and cultists who thirst for power."

Locke was silent for a moment, then turned and walked to the window.

Looking out the window, I saw my family members bustling about.

Martha was holding Dante and humming softly, Jonathan was wiping the table, and Clark and Dio seemed to be arguing about something...

His gaze gradually hardened to the firmness of a Kansas rock.

ROCK.

“I understand.” Locke’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a strange power. “Then, in the DEO’s official files…”

“They will be recorded as ‘your children’.”

Ron continued, his green body pulsating once more, transforming back into the stern black general Calvin Swanwick. He gave the clearest assurance, delivered orally:
"The highest level of observation and protection is granted to you, Locke Kent, with full authority."

"This is the basis of all our agreements and my commitment."

"We will do our best to provide all possible assistance."

“Ron.” Locke turned around and solemnly extended his hand. “Thank you.”

He shook hands firmly with Locke.

A rare, almost human-like softening appeared on that serious face:
"Thank you too, Locke."

"It gave me a truly unforgettable Christmas Eve."

"You guy."

"His emotional intelligence isn't low either."

Locke chuckled softly and looked at the endless farm in the distance.

Fine snowflakes drifted silently down from the night sky once more.

Silently covering the scars of the great war, it also gently envelops the farm where the lights are, as if to preserve this brief and precious tranquility for a little longer.

(End of this chapter)