American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 256 Lex: Are you prepared for the price? Bruce.

The night is thick as ink.

Locke crouched beside the unconscious Bruce.

He frowned as he looked at his 'prized student,' who was covered in wounds and barely breathing.

He reached out and roughly poked the only spot on Bruce's cheek that was still intact.

He pried open his eyelids again to take a look, then impatiently turned his head to look at the shadow that was almost blending into the thick night.

There, Martian Manhunter Ron Jones stood motionless, as if he were General Calvin Swanwick, a figure who had remained unchanged since time immemorial.

"Hey, Rong En."

Locke's voice was clearly filled with confusion, "Why hasn't Bruce woken up yet?"

Ron tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on Bruce.

That gaze seemed to penetrate the skin, directly revealing the turbulent thoughts beneath.

He shrugged.

"I have already performed initial repair and catalytic healing for his physical trauma, including organ damage, blood loss, and some bone fractures."

“His current physical condition is sufficient to support conscious activity,” Rong En said calmly. “Perhaps… he just subconsciously doesn’t want to wake up.”

"You don't want to wake up?"

Locke raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Are you afraid I'll scold him for being unskilled and making himself look like a bear that even a dog would disdain?"

More accurately

Ron seemed to want to add something, but after his gaze pierced through Bruce's tightly closed eyelids and saw the deep turmoil in his thoughts, he nodded. "That's it."

Upon hearing this, Locke sighed and facepalmed.

"I came all this way, not to see him taking his beauty nap."

As he spoke, a glint of lightning flashed in his eyes.

Thoughts moved slightly.

“Sizzle!!!!”

A condensed, almost tangible electric arc.

It appeared out of thin air and mercilessly poured into Bruce's chest!

"Ugh—!"

Bruce, who had been lying on the ground pretending to be dead, suddenly began to bounce uncontrollably.

He practically jumped half a meter off the ground!
His eyes snapped open, his pupils rolling back violently under the intense electric shock.

A thick plume of smoke, carrying a burnt smell, uncontrollably billowed from his slightly open mouth and nostrils, forming a small, eerie column of smoke.

His muscles twitched slightly, and his hair stood on end.

The residual electric arcs were still crackling on his bare chest.

Ok
This experience was so familiar that it sent shivers down the spine of every muscle memory in his body...

The current intensity is both unreasonable and precisely controlled within a safe range...

Bruce turned his still-numb neck and met a pair of eyes that were looking down at him with undisguised disdain and scrutiny.

Is that... Teacher Locke in 'morning training mode'?!
His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.

His voice was hoarse, carrying the lingering fear of surviving a disaster and the instinctive guilt of facing a strict teacher:

"Old...teacher..."

If he still couldn't recognize the source of this electric current that seemed to shake his very soul out of his body, then he would have truly wasted his days being electrocuted on the Kent farm.

I supported my still slightly numb body.

Bruce's gaze passed over Locke's broad shoulders and Ron's calm figure, landing on the ravaged woodland behind them.

as expected
By the dim moonlight, he could see a large group of people lying down.

Each of them was wrapped in faint arcs of electricity, twitching occasionally, clearly indicating that they had been temporarily incapacitated by the electric shock.

Further away, several figures lay frozen in bizarre positions, their bodies marked with horribly clean cuts, precisely severing tendons or disrupting their balance nerves.
I didn't expect it
The teacher sensed his danger and actually came from the farm to rescue him.
Even the U.S. Secretary of Defense came along!

It truly lives up to its name as the King of Smallwell Pumpkins.

Bruce scratched his still slightly stinging hair and looked at Locke sincerely: "Thank you, teacher."

Then he turned to Rong En, who stood silently like a shadow, and nodded slightly:

"Thank you too, Mr. Calvin."

Rong En's gray eyes remained calm, and he simply nodded slightly, accepting his gratitude.

Then, to Bruce's somewhat astonishment, the Secretary of Defense, who had somehow appeared there, calmly pulled out an individually wrapped Oreo cookie from his seemingly empty uniform pocket and handed it over.

Bruce took it blankly, staring at the cookie in his palm that looked particularly out of place in the pale moonlight, and hesitantly took a small bite.

The familiar sweet taste, mixed with the crispness of the biscuit, melts in your mouth.

Having just escaped death and suffering from hunger and cold, this simple thing almost moved him to tears.

So Mr. Calvin was actually... quite humane?

He silently kept this gratitude in his heart, then turned his gaze to the third person present. It was a burly man standing a little distance away, wearing sunglasses.

Even amidst this chaotic scene, he maintained a military-like uprightness and vigilance, his aura as steady as a mountain, clearly indicating that he was no ordinary person.

Bruce looked at Locke with a questioning look in his eyes, clearly waiting for the teacher to introduce him.

But Locke shrugged and said, "This guy isn't one of us."

"When we arrived, he was already fighting those people."

Bruce was even more surprised. Not the teacher's person? Then who could it be?
At that moment, the man wearing sunglasses took a few steps forward.

He took off his sunglasses and said with a calm demeanor:

"Young Master Wayne."

He bowed slightly, but without the slightest hint of humility. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Henry Ducard. I have been entrusted by Mr. Pennyworth of your household to come and confirm your safety."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Bruce's disheveled appearance, and stated calmly, "Mr. Pennyworth says he hasn't received any proactive, valid contact from you for nearly two months."

“He was very worried, so he asked me to come out and find you.”

Bruce Wayne's pupils contracted, his face filled with astonishment.

It was even more shocking than when I was struck by lightning and woken up.

"You...you are Henry Ducard?" His voice was filled with disbelief. "One of the world's most renowned hunters, bounty hunters, and master assassins? 'Ghost' Ducard?"

Of course he'd heard of that name!

In the circles of top mercenaries, master assassins, and tracking operations, Henry Ducard is a legend, a synonym for locating almost any target and accomplishing any impossible task!

He is also one of the mentors I really want to get to know.
I never expected that Ah Fu would actually invite him?
Just because he hasn't... hasn't properly let his family know he's safe for two months?!
A mix of guilt, embarrassment, and the absurdity of "Ah Fu, you're making a mountain out of a molehill again, but it just turned out to be a lucky accident" rushed into Bruce's mind.

The atmosphere at the scene became somewhat awkward.

Locke stood there with his arms crossed.

Ron, on the other hand, maintained Calvin Swanwick's aloof demeanor, standing quietly at the edge of the shadows, as if he had become one with the night.

Ducard could feel the pressure from the two people beside him.

So he subtly adjusted his center of gravity to ensure he could react as quickly as possible in any unexpected situation.

Bruce, who was surrounded in the center, was the most disheveled.

He was covered in blood and dust, his clothes were tattered, and his face still showed signs of shock and weakness from the electric shock.

He felt the gazes of three people converging on him.
The teacher's scrutiny, Ron's observation, and Ducard's assessment.
This is even more stressful than dealing with the pursuit of abandoned babies.
He looked at Locke, cleared his dry throat, and said, "Teacher, let me explain. It's like this, for the past two months I've been investigating something..."

"okay."

Locke, however, decisively interrupted him.

He waved his hand dismissively, a hint of impatience on his face.

Bruce's expression darkened, and his heart sank.

Is he disappointed in himself? Does he feel he's gotten himself into trouble and is so recklessly putting himself in such a desperate situation?

However, Locke's next words completely surprised him.

"What's the point of saying anything now that things have come to this?"

Locke curled his lip, his gaze sweeping disdainfully over Bruce's beggar's clothes. "Let's find a place to take a shower first, then find something decent to eat."

"Look at you, you look like you were just dug out of a garbage dump, you stink and your presence is affecting Ireland's air quality."

The man didn't ask how serious the trouble was, nor did he blame him for disappearing.

My first thought was to make him clean up and fill his stomach.

Bruce was stunned for a moment.

immediately
A genuine smile dispelled the gloom and fatigue on his face.

He didn't say anything more, but simply nodded and replied in a low voice, "...Okay."

A rustic farmhouse in the Irish countryside.

The morning sunlight filtered through the checkered curtains, casting warm dappled patterns on the wooden table covered with a clean tablecloth.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of toasted bread, fried bacon, and stewed beans.

The four sat around the table, with a hearty typical Irish breakfast laid out in front of them.

Bruce Wayne had changed into a clean and neat set of casual clothes, and his wounds had been properly treated. Although he was still a little pale, he was in much better spirits.

He cut off a piece of roasted rib and put it in his mouth, chewing it carefully.

He commented softly, with a nostalgic tone: "The taste... was not bad."

"But I always feel that it doesn't taste as good as what you made on Kent Farm with the food grown on your own land."

These words, though seemingly casual, hit the nail on the head regarding what a certain farmer would find most useful.

Locke, who was happily devouring a plate of stew, chuckled upon hearing this. "That kid..."
Her voice is as pleasant as ever.

But then Bruce's curiosity was piqued.

He looked at Locke and asked, "Teacher, speaking of which, how did you and Mr. Calvin end up here all of a sudden? I saw on the news a few days ago that Kansas was about to be hit by the very strong Storm 'René', wasn't it? You shouldn't be in the fields at this time..."

"We're here..."

Locke picked up a sausage and shrugged. "That's a long story."

"As for the storm..."

He gestured with his chin toward the old television set in the corner of the room.

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, Rong En, who had been silent all along, didn't even lift his eyelids, but his fingers under the table twitched almost imperceptibly.

The television, which was playing Irish morning light music, suddenly flickered a few times, and the signal source switched instantly.

A standard American English announcement was broadcast.

It stood out conspicuously in this Irish-style restaurant:

"...Emergency news broadcast regarding the previously high-profile storm 'René'."

"According to the latest observation data from the National Hurricane Center and NASA, 'René,' which was originally expected to hit Metropolitan Area, moved over Metropolitan Bay early this morning..."

"It weakened and disintegrated rapidly for unknown reasons, and only a small amount of cloud system remains. All alerts have been lifted."

Meteorologists say this phenomenon is extremely rare and cannot be explained by existing models...

Bruce nodded. Although he didn't know exactly what had happened, now that the storm had passed, Kent Farm and the farmland throughout Kansas should be safe.

This relieved him.

After all, it was land that I had cleared out myself, hoe by hoe.

And then during the meal break.

Bruce also briefly recounted how he had been 'tracking' a certain group for the past two months, which ultimately led to his involvement with the 'abandoned baby'.

He didn't exaggerate the danger; he simply stated the facts calmly.

Upon hearing this, Locke chewed a few bites of food, and finally seemed to have made up his mind.

He pulled a sturdy business card from the inside pocket of the jacket.

He casually pushed the wooden table to the center and slid it toward Bruce.

"This isn't Gotham, after all."

Locke's tone was calm, "Your capable old butler isn't around either. Dealing with that......"

“‘Sunrise Oil Company,’ and the serial killer codenamed ‘The Abandoned Baby’—Hubert Groene,” Ron added calmly from the side.

Yes, it's them.

Locke nodded and looked at Bruce, "To deal with these deeply entrenched local bullies, it's too difficult for you to do it alone. You're likely to suffer losses in the process."

He tapped the business card.

"Even if you don't want it, I can't refuse to give it to you if there's really no other way."

"This person... can provide you with some necessary assistance."

After listening, Locke picked up his glass and took a big gulp of local dark beer, then looked at Bruce and said calmly, "Don't blame me for meddling, do you?"

“Of course.” Bruce put down his knife and fork, sat up straight, and gave a confident smile. “Teacher.”

"However, I still want to try to handle it myself first, after all, this is the path I chose."

"That's good." Locke's lips curled up slightly, as if he was satisfied, or as if he had expected this. "In short, take a look first. When dealing with villains, efficiency is still important."

Upon hearing this, Bruce smiled sheepishly and naturally picked up the business card.

The business card design is simple.

It is made of a special material and feels cool to the touch.

A name and a series of contact details were clearly printed on it.

Lex Luthor.

"Lex?"

Bruce paused slightly, then looked up. "The one Clark mentioned... well, that's me..."

His words stopped abruptly.

His gaze passed over Locke's shoulder and was drawn to a streak of light flashing past the restaurant window in the distance.

It was a slender figure, wrapped in a slightly oversized, dusty old cloak, walking briskly toward a long-distance tour bus parked by the roadside, head down.

A gentle morning breeze swept through the streets and alleys, lifting the hood of her cloak at just the right moment.

In an instant, a few strands of golden hair, woven from sunlight, peeked out, shimmering brilliantly in the morning light.

Bruce's fingers tightened slightly as he held the business card.

He just watched quietly as the figure stepped onto the bus without the slightest hesitation and disappeared cleanly into the shadow of the slowly closing doors.

"what happened?"

Locke noticed his absent-mindedness and followed his gaze to the window, only to see a back view and the heavy rear of the bus.

Bruce slowly withdrew his gaze, his emotions quickly calming down.

Instead, a relieved smile appeared.

He shook his head, his tone becoming more relaxed:

"That's it."

"We met briefly when I was 'investigating' in Paris."

"Is that so?" Locke smiled.

Bruce remained noncommittal, silently concealing his subtle emotions.

He then turned to Henry Ducard, who had remained silent throughout, and his tone became formal and earnest:
“Mr. Ducard, I have a request that requires a large sum of money.”

……

The meal ended, and the morning light was just right.

On the meadow in the middle of the forest.

The two magnificent griffins scratched at each other with some impatience.

Their presence seemed out of place in the tranquility of Ireland, attracting curious glances from a few squirrels in the distance.

Bruce stood in the middle of the open space, watching Locke easily leap onto the back of one of the griffins, while Ron gracefully landed on the other.

He's still somewhat shocked and dazed, to be honest...

He never imagined that his teacher not only had such leisure and refined tastes, but also managed to get the US Secretary of Defense to ride around the world on a mythical creature…

Bruce looked down and smiled.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons why teachers choose that semi-secluded life.
Unbound by any rules, truly free, even in the way of getting around…

Unique.

He stretched.

Feeling the warmth of the sunshine on my body dispelled the chill and fatigue of the past few days.

His gaze drifted to Henry Ducard, who was waiting by the roadside in the distance.

This world-class hunting master will be his 'mentor' for the next stage.

But, before that...

Bruce took out his phone first, looking at the cold-textured business card.

After a moment's hesitation, he couldn't suppress his curiosity any longer.

I dialed the number listed above, hoping to chat with my senior brother whom I had never met.

The call was answered almost instantly, as if the person on the other end had been waiting for this greeting.

"Bruce Wayne?"

A young male voice came through, his tone steady.

You can't hear too much emotion in his voice, but there's a subtle sense of composure, as if he has everything under control.

Before Bruce could answer, the man on the other end chuckled, the laughter sounding somewhat distorted through the receiver: "Uncle has already spoken to me."

“Sunrise Oil Company, right?” He paused, his tone becoming more interested. “Coincidentally, the energy sector is also a key area that my Lex Group plans to focus on entering in the next phase.”

“I can provide certain levels of ‘convenience’.”

"but."

His voice paused subtly here.

“Mr. Wayne, I need to make one thing clear before we begin working together.”

“Even though we all come from Kent farms, getting help from me is never free.”

"You, are you prepared to pay the price?"

"Snapped--!"

The call ended abruptly, and the sound ceased.

Retract your thumb from the hang-up button.

Bruce wondered if he had dialed the wrong number.

This sounds like we've attacked some kind of hellish demon.

That sounds very unreliable.
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