Revelations and Resolutions

Many classmates followed him, calling out, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Whitney."

"Don't forget to come back and visit us...."

"Will you come to the graduation party?"

He didn't look at them, his heart was racing as if he were being chased.

Only he knew he was trying to avoid a bright and piercingly honest soul.

...

Metropolis.

Luthor Mansion.

In the dark, gloomy room, heavy velvet blackout curtains were drawn tightly, letting only a sliver of twilight through.

The room was covered in marble walls and expensive walnut flooring.

Roman-style columns decorated the walls.

The fireplace on the left wall had gathered dust from disuse.

Above the fireplace hung a massive classical religious painting, nearly three meters high: Christ's suffering, the Virgin Mary comforting her child, and mortals on Earth gazing up at the Holy Son, with dozens of hands reaching upward, trying to catch the drops of Jesus's blood.

Lex Luthor, with his red hair, sat in front of his computer, his fingers pressing the "left" and "right" keys on the keyboard.

He kept pausing and replaying a video over and over again.

The video was from his car's dash cam, showing the scene of the accident.

The part of the video he watched repeatedly showed Clark lifting the school bus and breaking through the water.

The strong boy, almost like a god, was using his shoulders and arms to lift a bus weighing several tons.

It seemed like he was using some invisible force, effortlessly moving the bus without any struggle.

Even the act of lifting the bus out of the water looked unnatural, as if he was being raised by an unseen power rather than using his body to balance in the water.

It was as if—

He was flying.

Lex Luthor slowly developed a strange and excited smile, pulling the corners of his mouth into a near-sinister curve before quickly letting it drop.

His eyes shone with a fierce light, like a hyena spotting its prey or a player finding a worthy opponent.

This is fascinating... So there are people like this in Smallville.

He felt a thrill of excitement, his scalp tingling and his body trembling.

If he had known earlier, he would have taken on Luthor's task much sooner.

He had gone to Smallville that day filled with anger and frustration.

Since the Hargreaves Mansion party, the back-and-forth DOS attacks between Lex Luthor and Tony Stark hadn't stopped.

Tony kept trying to hack into Lex's computer system to see what information he had.

But Lex Luthor didn't want to make it easy for him.

The top-secret files he'd painstakingly collected from Soviet archives were not meant for Tony Stark's little "who's the culprit" game.

Lex Luthor simply wanted to watch Tony Stark unravel in frustration.

Lex Luthor had heard about an "important asset" related to Hydra from others.

He then secretly gathered a lot of information about this mysterious asset from around the world and discovered that Tony Stark's biological father didn't die from a mere accident.

Lex Luthor found this extremely interesting.

He enjoyed tormenting people, especially when the person being tormented was Tony Stark, someone he'd always disliked.

This was a rare source of amusement in his otherwise dull life.

However, Lex Luthor's father, Lionel Luthor, was upset with him for spending too much time attacking Tony Stark's computer.

Lionel Luthor thought Lex Luthor was wasting his time, and as an old capitalist, he despised such unproductive behavior.

Lionel Luthor berated Lex Luthor harshly, criticizing him for being useless, and in his anger, sent Lex Luthor to Smallville to reorganize the failing Luthor Industries facility there.

Lex Luthor was furious.

He sped down the country road in his expensive sports car, pushing the pedal to the metal.

He didn't expect to crash into a school bus.

The high-tech safety system of his car saved his life.

He stumbled out of the wrecked car and, without a second thought, turned and ran away.

He hated responsibility.

He hated students.

He hated everything.

The beautiful, the bright, the kind, the great, the sacred—he hated it all, and he resented it all.

But the accident gave him an unexpected prize.

"What are you?" he murmured to himself, holding up a thin enrollment form with a picture of Clark Kent on it, along with his birth date and enrollment date.

He stared at Clark's photo for a long time, then slowly shifted his gaze to the huge desk in front of him.

The desk was covered with hundreds of reports about the strange events in Smallville over the years, newspaper clippings from the meteor shower that happened worldwide, photos, and scattered notes.

All of Clark Kent's paper files from childhood to the present were spread out before him.

"…What exactly are you?"

…

As graduation season approached, the entire twelfth grade at Smallville High School started to get restless, like bubbles popping up on a calm water surface.

Everyone began to organize the prom.

People were busy finding dance partners, preparing outfits, and even the most reclusive kids in class started joining discussions about the prom.

By late April, Soren received many invitations from girls asking him to be their prom date.

Clark also got a lot of invitations—his popularity at school was now just as high as Whitney's used to be.

Soren smiled and told each girl who invited him that he would give them an answer later.

Clark, on the other hand, turned down every invitation directly.

Clark found it strange; he didn't know who he was waiting for, but he felt that he shouldn't just agree to any girl's prom invitation.

Even a week before the prom was set to start, he still hadn't confirmed his date, while Soren had already agreed to go with Chloe.

Chloe had long been the editor of the Smallville High School weekly newspaper and was also the head of the news department where Clark worked.

She was friendly, bright, independent, and smart, and Soren enjoyed spending time with someone like her.

It made him feel comfortable and at ease.