American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior

Locke spread out his muddy hands, where there was a box of matches.

He had just used this to ignite the detonator, but now...

The matchbox was obviously quite wet from the rain.

"Tsk."

The man stuffed the cigarette back into the wrinkled cigarette box and said unhappily, "It's already this day and age, how come you don't even have a decent lighter?"

The complaints stopped abruptly, and his eyes turned sharply to the wheat fields in the distance.

The night wind brought a faint sound of a diesel engine—

Someone was coming up on a tractor.

"It looks like your companions have arrived."

"Listen." He looked at the silver water that was dissolving into smoke, and said in a low, serious voice, "This organization is more dangerous than you think. They are like a pack of jackals that smell blood."

"If someone comes to investigate what happened tonight"

"bass!"

A pair of alloy claws popped out from the man's hands, gleaming coldly in the moonlight:

"Just say it was a weirdo who called himself 'Wolf' who saved you."

He turned and walked towards the open barn door, the hem of his leather jacket rustling in the night breeze.

"Don't get involved with those lunatics, kid."

"They're more trouble than all the wheat in your whole farm."

Leaving now?

Looking at Wolverine who was about to leave, Locke suddenly raised his voice:

"and many more!"

"What did you mean by 'not of this world'?"

Logan paused.

The moonlight stretched his back very long, casting it on the muddy ground like a lonely silhouette.

He was silent for a few seconds before he said without turning his head:

"Have you ever seen a talking stone man, kid? Or a purple-skinned sweet potato man?"

The night wind blew across the open space between the two people, carrying with it the unique fragrance of wheat ears after the rain.

"I'm looking for an asshole."

"He dropped us into the wrong world and left me without a home."

Logan's voice suddenly became extremely tired, and then...

"And they kept me locked up in research for another four or five years just to replicate that damned Adelman. I'm such a jerk!"

"Anyway, I'm going to f**k that guy and then **** him!"

"F***, f***, that damn curly-haired ***!"

"."

As if it had been suppressed for a long time, the wolf was constantly roaring asterisks that were not suitable for children.

After venting his anger, Logan took a deep breath and looked much more comfortable. He turned to look at Locke and shrugged, "Are you satisfied with this answer now, Mr. Farmer?"

"father!"

"Locke!"

Before Locke could answer, Dio and Jonathan's family's shouts were heard in the distance, and the pickup truck's headlights swayed in the wheat field.

With one last look at Locke, Logan turned and disappeared into the darkness.

"Mark my words."

His voice drifted out of the night, "This is important."

A few ears of wheat blown by the wind slowly fell down. The figure of the vicissitudes of life man was no longer there. There were only a few deep footprints on the ground and half of a cigar that was still smoking.

Shaking his head, Locke withdrew his gaze, and then shouted in the direction of the beam:

"Dior!"

"Jonathan! Martha!"

"I'm here!"

"Crack——!"

The pickup truck stopped beside the ruins, its headlights making the metal fragments on the ground sparkle.

Dio was the first to jump out of the car. He almost flew over and bumped into Locke's arms.

The boy's arms were tightly wrapped around his father's waist, his mud-covered face buried in Locke's chest, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"I'm fine, brat."

Locke rubbed Dio's wet head, twisting a few straws between his fingers, "You drove the tractor well today!"

"Locke!" Martha hurried forward, her apron still stained with flour, obviously in a hurry. Her hands trembled as she examined Locke's wounds. "God, do you know how scared we were? Dio drove a tractor with a weak Clark straight to our door and even flipped over into the pond! Dio told us not to go out and didn't tell us what happened."

"Locke, where are those guys?!"

Jonathan followed closely behind, carrying an old hunting rifle.

His eyes swept across the shattered barn, then fell on the scattered metal fragments on the ground, his brows knitted into knots:

"Are the IRS here again?!"

"."

Locke couldn't help laughing.

My brother Jonathan, do you hate the IRS more than I do?

Chapter 25 The Kent Family

“There’s no IRS, Jonathan.”

"Some minor troubles, I have solved them."

Locke shook his head and then asked, "What about Clark? How is he?"

"Here it is."

Martha turned and walked to the back seat of the pickup truck, carefully helping out a frail figure.

Clark's face was still pale, but the blue in his eyes had regained some of its luster.

He was wrapped in Martha's plaid shawl and walked a little unsteadily, but he insisted on standing on his own.

"Uncle Locke." Clark's voice was much softer than usual. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Silly boy."

Locke strode forward holding Dio and pulled Clark into his arms. He could feel the boy's thin body trembling slightly, like a straw swaying in the wind.

Perhaps it was because he learned about his future from Giorno, or perhaps it was because he became a burden tonight.

In short

"this is not your fault."

Locke said softly, "It's not any of our fault."

"Everyone is fine."

Wiping her eyes, Martha suddenly noticed the cigarette butt on the ground.

Locke doesn't smoke.

"This is.?"

"A wolf."

Locke put it lightly, stamping it on the sole of his foot with the toe of his boot, "He helped solve the problem."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows suspiciously, but when he saw his wife's warning look, he wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.

His brother already had enough secrets anyway.

The night wind blew through the ruins, picking up a few charred barn boards.

"Let's go." Locke put one hand on Dio's shoulder and supported Clark with the other. "We can have a midnight snack when we get home."

"Oh no!" Martha suddenly exclaimed. "Oh my God! My blueberry pie is still in the oven!"

-

The sweet aroma of blueberry pie wafted through the kitchen, and the dining table was littered with cups and plates.

Dio leaned back in his chair contentedly, with a little jam on the corner of his mouth, while Clark sipped Martha's special hot cocoa, his face much rosier than when he came.

"It's getting late."

Locke stood up and put on Jonathan's cowboy hat. The brim of the hat cast a shadow in the light. "Dior."

Pursing his lips, Dio slowly slid down from the chair and stuffed the last biscuit into his pocket.

Following Dio's movements, a hint of hesitation flashed in Clark's blue eyes.

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then lowered his head, his fingers unconsciously twisting the tassels of his shawl.

Ok…

Such an abnormality naturally couldn't be hidden from Martha. She wiped her hands and took out another blueberry pie wrapped in tin foil from the oven: "Locke, wait."

Calling the two of them, Martha stuffed the warm pie into Dio's arms, then squatted down and gently tidied Clark's messy curly hair:

"Honey, do you have anything to say?"

Clark's ears instantly turned red.

He secretly glanced at Dio and Locke, and said in a voice as thin as a mosquito: "I think..."

"Let Clark come to your place tonight."

Martha suddenly looked up at Locke and said in a tone that left no room for doubt, "Isn't he going to inspect the wheat fields with you tomorrow?"

Jonathan was drinking his coffee and almost choked when he heard this:

"Wait, honey, Clark just..."

After receiving his wife's glare, Jonathan immediately swallowed the rest of his sentence and pretended to be very interested in the night view outside the window.

"Is it really possible?"

Clark's eyes lit up for a moment, but then dimmed again. "But my body."

"Cut the nonsense."

Dio suddenly interrupted him, his red eyes flashing with impatience under the light, "If you want to leave, hurry up and don't dawdle."

Looking at the two teenagers, Locke's mouth corners unconsciously rose.

He reached out and rubbed Clark's head: "Your mother is right. The three of us still have work to do tomorrow. It's time for you to get some sun."

"yeah!"

Clark cheered and almost jumped up from his chair, but his body went limp and he almost fell to the ground.

Martha quickly supported him and shook her head with a mixture of heartache and amusement.

"Be careful, kid."

Jonathan finally couldn't help but speak, and patted Clark's shoulder with his rough big hand, "Remember to listen to Uncle Locke."

"I will!"

Clark nodded vigorously, his curly hair bouncing with the movement.

He turned and hugged Martha tightly, "Thank you, Mom!"