American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 200 Samael: What kind of meat? Dragon meat.

The midday sun generously bathed the metropolis, causing the glass curtain walls of the skyscrapers to reflect dazzling light.

The city was bustling with traffic and crowds of people.

This particular neighborhood, however, was relatively quiet.

The light was filtered through the dark glass walls of the Lux bar, casting a dim and hazy glow.

Clark led the way before God.

Out of the corner of his eye, he also caught a glimpse of the pair of eyes behind him that were constantly scanning the interior of the bar, from the retro chandeliers to the leather booths and the abstract paintings on the walls, betraying the curiosity in Shen Du's heart.

Clark relaxed slightly, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up slightly.

Ultimately, stripping away the wisdom and sharp words that seem out of place for his age, Shen Du is essentially still a six-year-old child full of curiosity about unfamiliar environments.

This thought softened his heart.

But what followed was an even deeper sense of helplessness.

To tell the truth
Clark sighed inwardly.

He had been too simplistic and optimistic before.

He grew accustomed to Salafir's innocence, dependence, and undisguised closeness.

That little guy is like a warm little sun; his emotions are written all over his face. A little coaxing and a hug can easily cheer him up.

He originally thought that taking his younger brother out would simply mean taking better care of him and bearing a heavier responsibility, and that the process would be roughly the same.

But he completely forgot that the gods were not Salaphire.

Their personalities are completely different.

God is perceptive, suspicious, and proud.

They possess wisdom far exceeding common sense and a self-contained system of logic and values.

He was like a spark encased in a hard shell of ice; you never knew which word or action would accidentally shatter that ice, causing the flames within to burn each other.

And more importantly
The time he truly spent 'being with' God was far too short.

Before the separation, God was mostly just a voice in Salafir's consciousness, an occasional phantom.

This is almost the first time that we have ever had such a long period of time to be alone and communicate as complete, flesh-and-blood individuals.

This is why, from the moment he left Smallwell until now, his attitude has always carried a lingering sense of caution.

He was genuinely afraid—afraid that a word he might blurt out unintentionally, or a thoughtless action he might take, might precisely touch upon Shen Du's exceptionally sensitive and proud nerves, angering him, or even making him feel slighted or offended.

Clark longed to be a good older brother and to build even the slightest bit of closeness with his newly 'acquired' younger brother, but he was too clumsy to know where to begin.

It's like holding a precious but fragile glass vessel; every step you take feels like walking on thin ice.

This has left him with no choice but to resort to the most basic method.

Try to be tolerant of everything God shows, whether it's harsh words or unpredictable temper.

Bringing him to Lux was less about him reminiscing about his old haunts and wanting to visit, and more about him grasping at a straw in the corner of his memory in his panicked helplessness, hoping it might pique his younger brother's interest.

"Snapped--!"

He stopped and stood in the relatively empty central area of ​​the bar, his gaze falling on the languid figure behind the bar counter wiping glasses.

It seems Mr. Samael did not go out today.

Clark's heart eased slightly, and he waved towards the bar, calling out in greeting:

"Mr. Samael! Good afternoon, it's been a long time."

Upon hearing this, the tall, blond man raised his head, his face still carrying that nonchalant languor, as if nothing could truly disturb the peace in his heart.

Only when those deep eyes swept over the two of them did a glint of light appear, as if they had seen something interesting.

He put down the sparkling clean wine glass in his hand, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Oh? Look who's here."

His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of teasing, "Our runaway buddy. What, Smallwell's vast cornfields can't hold you anymore?"

"Mr. Samael," Clark was a little embarrassed by his familiar teasing, and habitually explained, "The Expo opens tomorrow, and I brought my brother to the Metropolis to play. On the way... I stopped by to see you."

"younger brother?"

Upon hearing this, Samael seemed to only then notice the tiny figure with a very strong presence behind Clark.

He raised an eyebrow slightly, lowered his head with interest, and looked up at Shen Du, who was looking up at him.

Seeing this, Shen Du also met his scrutiny without fear, his eyes also examining the boss whom Clark called 'a bit strange'.

Although it looks like...

He appears to be just an ordinary human body, dressed in a well-fitting bartender's uniform, with a languid and composed demeanor.

Even after using all his senses... he couldn't see anything...

There were no abnormal energy fluctuations, no inhuman aura, and no observable flaws; it was as clean as a blank sheet of paper.

But that's precisely the problem.
How could there be anything in this world that he couldn't see?

This absolute ordinariness is itself the greatest extraordinary.

The man named Samael in front of me is definitely not ordinary, at least...

It couldn't possibly be an ordinary human being as it appears on the surface.

"Um……"

Clark nodded, stepped aside slightly, and began the formal introduction:
“My brother, Shen Du. Shen Du, this is Mr. Samael, the boss of Lux. I was very grateful for his help when I worked here.”

Instead of immediately responding to Clark's introduction, Samael's eyes, which seemed to see into souls, lingered on Shen Du for several seconds.

From the child's tense little face to the glint of arrogance, scrutiny, and a barely perceptible curiosity in his eyes.

Then he chuckled softly.

Samael straightened up, bracing himself on the bar, leaning slightly forward, his gaze shifting between Clark and Shen Du, his tone playful:

"So, gentlemen, would you like a drink?"

Upon hearing this, Clark instinctively pulled the gods behind him, quickly waving his hands with a hint of embarrassment: "Mr. Samael, we're not old enough to drink yet..."

"Who said it was alcohol?"

Samael waved his hand lazily, as if he had heard an amusing joke.

As he spoke, he magically produced two drinks out of nowhere.

A glass of freshly squeezed orange juice is a clear, bright orange-yellow color, with tiny fruit fibers suspended inside. It looks like the most ordinary freshly squeezed orange juice.

The other glass was an almost intense purplish-red color, and it looked like concentrated grape juice.

“This is a commendation for my best employee in the past, Mr. Clark Kent.”

Samael gently pushed the two drinks across the smooth bar counter, making a soft scraping sound, indicating that the two could choose for themselves.

"?!"

Looking at the tempting drink in front of him, Clark looked incredulously at Samael, who had a lazy smile on his face.

His eyes widened slightly, his face filled with shock and confusion.

This is the kind of boss who would nitpick over even an extra slice of bacon in the staff meal and is so strict with cost control that he's almost stingy...

He actually treated us to drinks today?! And two drinks at that?!
The sun comes out in the west?

Could it be that……

Clark felt a surge of warmth in his heart. Mr. Samael had noticed that I was a little nervous with my younger brother and wanted to help me in this way so that I could save face in front of my brother.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed, and his eyes filled with gratitude as he looked at Samael.

"Mr. Samael, thank you so much."

“Alright.” Samael casually interrupted him, his gaze sweeping over the two of them with a hint of nonchalant inquiry. “Judging from your travel-worn appearance, have you had lunch?”

"I think... there's a high probability that it's not?"

Clark then realized that they hadn't had lunch yet on their way here.

He glanced instinctively at Shen Du, who seemed completely unconcerned about hunger and maintained a cold expression, and was immediately overwhelmed by a strong sense of embarrassment.

How did this happen, and now the younger brother is going hungry?
"Please have a seat, gentlemen."

Samael let out a cryptic laugh, turned, and walked towards the kitchen, leaving behind only the words:
"I'll go to the kitchen and take a look."

Upon hearing this, Clark found a seat, sat down first, and then naturally and quickly reached out, almost before Shendu could react, and lifted him onto the bar stool that was a bit too high for him.

"Sorry, God Capital."

With a sincere apology on his face, he said, "The sun has been so strong all the way here, I was so focused on getting on the road that I completely forgot about lunch..."

Scratching his head, Clark felt he was a terrible older brother for letting his younger brother go hungry.

Sitting on the high chair, with his legs dangling in the air, Shen Du shrugged his small shoulders indifferently and said in a flat tone, "No need to apologize, big, silly brother."

“My energy expenditure is very low, I’m actually not hungry.” He even casually made a joke, though his tone still carried his usual mockery. “Just a reminder, next time you go out with Miss Lana Lang or Chloe Sullivan, don’t forget to take them out to eat too.”

"Hmm."

“My dear brother, in that case, your future prospects will probably be bleak.”

Clark was taken aback at first, seemingly not expecting the topic to suddenly shift in this direction.

However, instead of the shyness or explanation that Shen Du had expected, a gentle smile slowly appeared on his face.

Is this... even the gods are playing a joke on me?
Although the method is still awkward, it is undoubtedly a huge step forward!

Clark chuckled, feeling a warm glow in his heart, as if a ray of sunshine had touched him.

Seeing Clark's expression of elation, as if he had struck gold, God curled his lip in disinterest, seemingly finding it uninteresting.

Her gaze then fell on the tightly closed kitchen door, a rare seriousness appearing on her small face. She lowered her voice and said to Clark:
“Your boss, Samael, is definitely not an ordinary person.”

"Ah."

Clark blinked and nodded matter-of-factly. "I know."

after all
Even the evil self of mine, under the influence of red kryptonite and filled with destructive and rebellious desires, had to obediently wash cups here for seven days without daring to blow up half the bar.
How could it be an ordinary human?

Clark does have that much judgment.

"then you……"

God frowned, about to press Clark for details about whether he had realized anything.
But Clark seemed oblivious to his concerns, instead leaning forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, and interrupted him:

"Shen Du, are you... worried about your brother?"

Shen Du: "..."

He seemed to choke on something, finally letting out a helpless sigh:

“...I’m afraid you’ll be sold off and you’ll be happily helping them count the money, and then your father will have to come and redeem you.”

"Is this so..."

Clark looked at Shen Du's old-fashioned face and didn't continue arguing, but just smiled noncommittally.

Then, with a gentle gaze, he looked behind the bar, as if he could see Samael cooking through that door.

"But I can sense it. It's the capital."

Clark's voice was steady, carrying an inner certainty, "Boss Samael... he may not be an ordinary person, he has many mysteries, but at his core, he's a good person." He paused, struggling to organize his thoughts, trying to explain his seemingly simple judgment to his younger brother, who was wary of the world:

"Although their behavior is a bit strange, and they always talk incomprehensible ways, their fees are particularly high..."

“His family life may not be very happy, which may have led to his poor mental state.”

“But when I was in a really bad state, when I didn’t even know what I was doing, he gave me a job and a place to stay temporarily.”
-
On that rain-soaked night.

The sky above the metropolis seemed to have been torn open, and icy rain poured down.

Riding the motorcycle he 'borrowed' from Dior, Clark wandered aimlessly through the unfamiliar streets.

The effects of the red kryptonite still coursed through his veins, making even the neon lights he was used to look dazzling and irritating.

His original plan was to just find a bridge hole.
For example, you could spend the night under the 'Hell's Gate Bridge' marked on the map.

But when he stopped his motorcycle according to the vague map, he found that what he saw in front of him was not the bustling bridge he had imagined, but a dilapidated corner that was out of place in the bustling metropolis.

The place is dimly lit, with low buildings and walls covered in mottled graffiti. The air is thick with the mixed smell of garbage and rust that even rain cannot mask.

The streets were deserted, with only the monotonous sound of rain pounding on the tin roofs.

"Damn it... is this really Little Gotham?"

Clark cursed under his breath and irritably wiped the rain off his face.

He looked around but couldn't find any trace of the so-called 'Hell's Gate Bridge', and his sense of direction was completely lost.

The violence within him was stirred by this terrible situation, making him almost want to punch the wall next to him.

And it was at this moment that something even more upsetting happened.

As if emerging from the shadows themselves, a dozen or so figures silently emerged from the dark alleyway and abandoned porch.

They were all dressed in black jackets with skull and crossbones symbols, and carried steel pipes, baseball bats, and even a few guns.

With fierce eyes, they instantly surrounded Clark and his motorcycle.

"Hey! Kid! Who gave you permission to trespass on our international gang's territory?!"

"Judging by his big, clumsy appearance, he must be a spy sent by 'Blood Axe'!"

"For the international gang! Kill him!"

Without giving Clark any chance to explain, amidst chaotic shouts, sticks and bullets rained down on him.

Under normal circumstances, Clark might have tried to communicate with them.

But under the influence of the red kryptonite, that pent-up destructive urge was instantly ignited.

"Ugh, so annoying! Get out of my way!"

With a low growl, he charged forward like a tiger among sheep, relying on his extremely enhanced physique and a savage rage.

"boom!"

"Crack!"

"what--!"

The dull thud of fists colliding with flesh, the crisp sound of bones breaking, and the agonizing howls mingled together with the sound of rain.

In just a few minutes, the dozen or so burly men who had been so aggressive just moments before were all lying on the muddy, slippery ground, completely incapacitated.

Standing in the middle of the haphazardly arranged crowd, Clark was slightly out of breath, rain running down his black hair and dripping onto his clenched fists.

Looking at the mess around him, he felt a little relieved of his frustration, but what followed was a deeper sense of emptiness and bewilderment.

He shook the rain off his hands, feeling somewhat speechless.
This group of people inexplicably rushed up, and then inexplicably were knocked down by him. The whole process was completely meaningless, it was simply...

"Wow."

A voice, filled with obvious admiration yet utterly languid, suddenly rang out on the quiet street.

Clark turned his head sharply towards the source of the sound.

Not far away, a blond man, out of place with his dilapidated surroundings, was leaning lazily against a broken lamppost.

He held a long-handled black umbrella in his hand, his clothes spotless, as if the torrential rain and the muddy ground had nothing to do with him.

A playful glint in his overly handsome face, his eyes taking in Clark and the group of unfortunate souls at his feet with keen interest.

"It seems my walk tonight has brought me some unexpected...entertainment."

The man approached slowly, tilting the umbrella slightly to shield Clark from some of the rain.

He focused his gaze on Clark, who was soaking wet and whose eyes still held a hint of malice, and a charming smile curved his lips:

"Lost traveler, it seems you need a place... for a drink?"
-
To tell the truth
Clark originally planned to have a drink and then run away.

But looking at Samael's eyes, which showed no fear and no judgment...
There was only a kind of bored tolerance and a tiny bit of interest in her eyes.
“He didn’t try to ‘correct’ me, nor was he afraid of me. He just… gave me a space to stay here and do simple, repetitive things, like washing cups.”

As Clark recalled those days, a complex smile unconsciously crept onto his lips.

"Moreover, he clearly has the ability to do many incredible things, yet he prefers to stay in this little bar wiping glasses and talking to himself in front of empty chairs..."

“I think Mr. Samael might just be… a little lonely?”

Or perhaps, they are searching for something?

“So, I believe him,” Clark concluded. “Not because he is so powerful or mysterious, but because… he has no ill intentions toward me or us.”

"Knowing this is enough for now."

As he spoke, he raised his orange juice and gently touched it to Shen Du's glass of grape juice, making a crisp sound.

Shendu remained silent for a moment, unusually refraining from offering any rebuttal or sarcasm.

He simply turned his head, took a small sip of the drink in front of him, and said nothing more, as if he had tacitly agreed with Clark's judgment.

Just then, the kitchen door was pushed open.

Samael came out carrying a wooden tray with two plates on it that looked...

A fairly ordinary, even somewhat simple, lunch?
A thick, golden-brown steak is placed on top of white rice.

A few blanched green vegetables are placed on the side, drizzled with a dark sauce.

"Is this... a rice bowl dish from Chinese cuisine?"

Clark blinked, somewhat uncertain.

This was quite different from the strange and wonderful things his boss had researched, as he had imagined.

"Try it."

Samael placed the plates in front of the two men, then leaned back lazily against the bar, looking like he was waiting to see what would happen.

Clark and God subconsciously exchanged a glance, seeing similar doubts in each other's eyes.

Until Clark forked a large piece of steak and stuffed it into his mouth
Shen Du cautiously cut off a small piece and put it in his mouth.

The two brothers stopped moving at the same time.

An indescribable deliciousness explodes on the tongue, the meat is incredibly tender and smooth, and there's something else that's hard to describe.
A rich aroma, as if containing the power of stars, blends perfectly!
Every bite brings a rich texture and a surge of energy, and even ordinary rice and sauce seem to be given a soul when complemented by this meat.

The two looked at each other, both seeing the same shock in each other's eyes.

Without saying a word, they all buried their heads and began to focus on eating.

Clark only breathed a satisfied sigh of relief and snapped out of his daze after scraping the last grain of rice from the plate.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he looked at Samael and asked curiously:
"Boss, what kind of meat do you use? The flavor is so unique!"

“The finest ingredients often require only the simplest cooking methods.” Samael swirled the wine glass that had reappeared in his hand, without even lifting his eyelids, and casually uttered two words: “Dragon meat.”

"?!"

Shen Du's hand holding the spoon suddenly froze, and the color drained from her face instantly.

"Hahaha……"

Samael let out a cheerful laugh, then waved his hand. "Just kidding, how could that be... It's just a regular pork chop, maybe... a special kind?"

Shendu glanced at Samael with a dark expression.

I had a feeling that this guy was implying something, like he was testing or teasing me about something.

Unaware of the murderous glare from the gods, Samael continued to speak to himself:

"If life deceives you, I suggest you eat pizza."

"Why?" Clark asked, puzzled.

“Because there are six or eight slices of pizza.” Samael laughed heartily. “No cheating. Hahahaha.”

"."

Both Shen Du and Clark shivered simultaneously.

It's a bit cold.

“Um… Mr. Samael.” Clark quickly stood up, feeling that if he stayed any longer, something even stranger might happen. “Thank you for your hospitality! It’s getting late, we should go find a hotel.”

As he spoke, he reached out and gently grabbed Shen Du's arm, thinking he should make a quick getaway.

“Wait, Clark.”

Samael's voice slowly rose.

Clark paused, a sense of foreboding creeping over him.

"We haven't paid for the meal yet."

Samael pointed to the empty plate.

"?"

A huge question mark appeared above Clark's head. What happened to the promised treat?
"Oh, Clark."

Samael sighed, a look of melancholy on his face. He rubbed his forehead, his voice lowering slightly: "You know, business is tough these days."

"Rentals in the metropolis are so expensive. If this keeps up, Lux won't even be able to pay next month's rent... Just support your boss, okay?"

Looking at the mysterious and powerful bar owner in front of him, who now resembled a pitiful little businessman struggling to make ends meet, Clark was speechless for a moment.

He knew perfectly well that it was most likely an act, but...

"...How much?" Clark resignedly pulled out his wallet.

"One hundred dollars?" Samael quoted a number.

"..."

Clark opened his wallet and looked inside at the ten Franklins he had painstakingly saved up through frugality.

He paused for two seconds, then took a deep breath, pulled out three banknotes, and reluctantly placed them on the bar.

"Keep the change, boss. The extra... consider it a VIP subscription."

After saying that, he didn't dare wait for Samael to say anything more. He picked up Shen Du, who hadn't even reacted yet, and with a slight movement of his bio-force field, his super speed was activated instantly. He rushed out of the Lux Bar like the wind, got on his motorcycle, and disappeared into the street.

Standing alone, Samael watched the direction in which the two had disappeared in a panic.

He slowly picked up the three hundred-dollar bills, flicked them with his fingertips with an elegant motion, making a crisp sound, and then put them into the cash register under the bar with satisfaction.

"At least you have some conscience."

Samael muttered to himself, a satisfied smile curving his lips, a hint of an enigmatic glint in his eyes, “It wasn’t for nothing that I personally went to the Realm of Gods and brought back two griffins.”
-
P.S.: There will be another update in the morning.

(End of this chapter)