Lex Luthor, one of Superman's lifelong rivals.

 

After discovering Superman, he devoted himself to freeing the world from Superman's "threat". In his view, Superman locks humanity in a comfortable cradle, depriving them of the opportunity to grow in the face of crisis and weakening the potential of the human race.

 

Yesterday, when Clark failed to save someone, a young Lex Luthor fell into the river and was presumed dead.

 

But he actually saved one of his future greatest enemies.

 

"Clark, as long as you're happy."

 

David shrugged.

 

"Of course, I'm very happy."

 

Clark smiled and said, "Mom, where are the keys to this car?"

 

"David, do you want to go for a ride with me?" he turned to his younger brother and said, feeling slightly relieved after these few days of frustration.

 

He couldn't wait to drive this car, his first car in his life. Given the family's financial situation, he thought he would have to wait until he started working to get one.

 

"Clark…" Martha hesitated, "The keys are with your father."

 

Vroom.

 

Beside the lawnmower, Jonathan was busy processing hay on the farm.

 

"Dad…"

 

Clark happily pulled David over to him, wanting to ask for the keys.

 

Just as the young Superman was about to speak, Jonathan stopped the lawnmower, his face slightly serious. He remembered yesterday when Lex Luthor observed the car that was pulled out of the river in a wrecked state, and then looked at Clark who were unharmed. He was surprised and puzzled, as if he had seen a miracle that violated common sense and should not exist in the world. His expression revealed a desire to investigate and explore, like an ambitious businessman discovering a unique new project. Whether it was an illusion or not, he had a bad feeling about it.

 

"Why? I saved him," Clark asked, puzzled.

 

"That doesn't mean you can accept expensive gratitude from others without a guilty conscience."

 

"I'll give you the new car, Dad. I can drive the old one."

 

"That's not the point." Seeing his son's unhappiness, Jonathan quickly explained.

 

"A pickup truck means nothing to the Luthor family."

 

David agreed with Clark's statement.

 

The Luthor Group is one of the world's well-known business conglomerates, and even the remote town of Smallville near Metropolis has a Luthor family-owned fertilizer plant as its main industry, with over two thousand people working for the Luthor family in the town.

 

Clark saved Lex Luthor, and a pickup truck is not considered expensive for an heir of a wealthy and powerful conglomerate.

 

"Listen, son, in life, we can't always get what we want. That's normal."

 

Jonathan wanted to explain patiently.

 

"Normal? I've had enough of normal!"

 

Clark's frustration from the past few days accumulated and finally erupted, interrupting his father's words.

 

He knew he could do so much more. He knew he could do more than just watch. He knew that as long as he took action, he could do his best at anything.

 

But for the sake of normalcy, he had to hide himself and be nothing more than an inconspicuous lackey, standing by the playground with a bitter heart, watching the person he secretly loved passionately kissing someone else.

 

Is this normal?

 

Dodging his father's attempt to grab his shoulder, he angrily walked to the lawnmower and started the machine. Amidst the buzzing noise, he reached his arm into the constantly working blade.

 

Crack!

 

"Father, did you see that?"

 

Like encountering an indestructible high-density alloy, the blade of the lawnmower broke, the gears were damaged, and the lawnmower emitted a burst of black smoke, stopping its work.

 

"Clark!"

 

Even though he knew his son had a body of steel, Jonathan still exclaimed and quickly went up to pull his son's arm out of the machine.

 

Only his clothes were torn, and there wasn't even a scratch on Clark's arm.

 

"You're amazing, Clark. Have you ever thought about the fact that repairing the lawnmower costs money?"

 

Looking at the teenage Clark, David casually interjected.

 

Clark vented his anger, but the only result was the lawnmower getting damaged.

 

"Father, did you see that? I was born different."

 

Hearing his younger brother's words, Clark became even more furious, his voice filled with excitement and an inability to accept his own situation.

 

Mother Martha heard the commotion and hurried over. Seeing the scene, she guessed what had happened and exchanged a worried glance with her husband Jonathan.

 

"Perhaps, it's time, son."

 

Jonathan sighed and took off the gloves he was wearing for work, feeling exhausted.

 

"This day was bound to come."

 

"What?" Clark suddenly had a foreboding feeling.

 

"Come with me." He turned around with heavy steps, asking Clark to follow.

 

Then he glanced at his younger son, hesitating for a moment. "David, you come too. As a member of this family, you have the right to know the truth."

 

Although David was his and Martha's biological son, Clark was an alien baby they found, and the two races were different.

 

But kind-hearted Jonathan and Martha had never treated them differently in their hearts. Both of them were their sons.

 

"I know that some things can't be hidden forever from you, especially after discovering that you, Clark, are extraordinary and possess unimaginable human strength."

 

…

 

In the rundown auto repair shop.

 

A blond, strong-bodied worker listened to the energetic and loud death metal music, standing next to a car and inserting the key into the ignition.The dashboard lit up, the engine successfully started, and the gum-chewing worker flashed a triumphant smile, closing the hood of the car.

 

Just as he was about to take a break, the worker suddenly noticed a thin figure standing in the shadows by the shop entrance, as if a ghost had appeared out of nowhere.

 

"Damn it, you scared the hell out of me!"

 

Muttering a curse under his breath, the worker suddenly felt a sense of familiarity with the figure in the shadows.

 

"Do I know you?"

 

He squinted, recognizing the visitor, and approached him.

 

"You look like that scarecrow, what's his name, something like…Jerome?"

 

Jerome, with his black hair and thin figure, his cheeks hollowed out like a skull, stared at him coldly, not uttering a word.

 

"I heard you got hit in the head during that meteor shower, and you've been unconscious ever since…"

 

As he spoke, the worker, who used to be a football player at Mogul High School, disdainfully wiped his greasy hand on Jerome's clothes.

 

"Finally decided to leave your sickbed?

 

Look at your skinny frame…"

 

Before he could finish, a strong current shot out from the spot where he touched Jerome's shoulder.

 

A smell of burning filled the air.

 

The worker was thrown back three or four meters, knocking over a tool rack and crashing heavily to the ground.

 

"Monster!"

 

He lifted his hand, which was charred and throbbing with pain, and backed away with a drastic change in his expression.

 

"Listen, that was over a decade ago!"

 

The worker immediately realized why the other man had appeared here, trying to dissuade him from seeking revenge, he cried out in pain.

 

"That was just a game!"

 

"A game?"