The Cheerleader Who Wasn't Doing His Job

Clark ultimately refrained from using his newly awakened "X-ray vision" to peek at Lana.

In his view, using binoculars to observe was within acceptable limits, while using "X-ray vision" would completely violate the other person's privacy.

Despite possessing talents beyond those of ordinary people, Clark had always tried not to let his abilities be controlled by desires.

The next day.

In the Smallville High School stadium, the vibrant cheerleaders were enthusiastically dancing.

Members of the "Crows" team jogged onto the field.

Although the football team suffered heavy losses at the "Blood Prom", under Coach Watt's training and reintegration, the team quickly recovered.

Wearing number 32, Clark took a deep breath and ran from the tunnel to the entrance of the field.

The glaring sunlight, mixed with the slightly burnt smell of grass and soil, made him feel dizzy.

"Phew!"

Clark looked towards the cheerleaders, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lana.

But to his disappointment, Lana's figure did not appear among the cheerleaders.

Puzzled, he looked towards the stands, but still did not find Lana.

Although he didn't find Lana, he unexpectedly saw his father, Jonathan Kent, sitting in the stands.

"Hey, Dad!"

Clark was happy to see his father and, setting aside previous unpleasantness, greeted him warmly.

"I'm glad you could make it, Dad. It means a lot to me."

Jonathan's face remained stern. "I still don't support your decision to join the football team, Clark. I'm here to make sure no one gets hurt because of you."

Hearing his father's cold words, Clark's smile quickly faded.

He had thought their "silent war" had ended, but his father still appeared stubborn.

Feelings of disappointment, anger, and resentment brewed within him.

After giving his father a complex look, he turned and left.

The heavy invisible barrier between them still existed.

"Watch your position, don't get tackled, abandon the kick if there's no opportunity for offense! Got it, Clark?"

Coach Watt, with a voice as loud as a hairdryer, slapped Clark on the shoulder and shouted.

"Got it!"

Clark, feeling slightly nervous, nodded, glancing towards the stands where his father was.

"Whistle!"

A whistle sounded, and the game began.

Clark took the football and instinctively ran forward.

But the next moment, he was ruthlessly knocked down.

"Kent!"

The hotheaded Coach Watt came over, grabbed Clark's helmet, and pulled him up.

"Don't you dare keep staring at the stands, your father isn't the coach, I am! If you keep acting like a fool, I'll kick you out! Pull yourself together, play offense, got it?!"

Through gritted teeth, Coach Watt roared at Clark.

The second round of the match began.

Having adjusted his mood, Clark glanced at his opponent.

Whistle! The game began again.

Clark immediately ran forward with the football.

A wide receiver leapt towards him, ready to tackle him.

But Clark, who was already prepared, gave the incoming towering wide receiver a fierce shoulder, sending him flying.

"Well done, Kent! That's more like it!"

Seeing Clark's brave performance, Coach Watt clapped and encouraged loudly.

Meanwhile, sitting in the stands, Jonathan shook his head, wearing a disappointed expression, and left the stands.

He had no interest in watching the rest of the game.

Completing the touchdown, Clark took off his helmet and looked towards the stands, only to find his father had already left.

The joy of just completing the touchdown was instantly overshadowed.

Meanwhile, Lana, who Clark was searching for, was in the living room flipping through the manuscript she had obtained from Eric.

"Lana, why are you back so early?"

Neil came home from work and was surprised to see Lana sitting in the living room.

"Aren't you supposed to be at cheerleading practice?"

"You could say that I've quit the cheerleading squad, Aunt Neil."

Lana smiled at her aunt, "Although it's a bit regrettable, I don't regret it."

"Why? I thought you loved being on the cheerleading squad? I remember when you first joined, you were so excited that you couldn't sleep all night."

"People change, Aunt Neil."

Lana carefully placed the manuscript on the table, "I've discovered that there are more important things in life than memorizing cheerleading chants and waving pom-poms."

"Forget about cheerleading, Aunt Neil. I've found that one of my classmates is very talented in writing and drawing!"

"Your classmate?"

"Yes, Eric Kent!"

Lana handed the manuscript to her aunt, "This is his work manuscript. I've never seen anything like it! It's subversive, crazy, and goes against all reason. I don't know how to describe it in any language."

Lana's emotions were somewhat excited as she expressed her reading experience, "As I started reading, it felt like I was leaving a naive little island and heading towards a vast, dark sea filled with countless secrets. On the brink of the abyss, I felt as though I could fall into destruction at any moment due to the gaze of some unknown presence. Eric is truly a genius!"

"Really?!"

Neil had never heard Lana praise someone like this before, and she looked at Lana with a mix of belief and doubt as she began to read the manuscript.

The title of the manuscript on the first page caught her eye — "Whispers of the Night".

".The dilapidated dock stretches from the shore into the sea, often decaying into a blurry mess at the end. A long black line on the distant sea surface faintly reveals a strange and sinister atmosphere, and a subtle and peculiar throbbing sensation seems to emerge beyond aversion"

Was this describing Gotham City?

It did resemble the Gotham she remembered, the most crime-ridden city in America.

As she continued reading, she was quickly drawn in by the seemingly magical words.

By the time she finished reading the last paragraph about the "brain in a jar", she shivered.

A cold feeling of darkness and the disappearance of reason surged up.

It was as if her spiritual world had been subjected to a saturation bombardment, with most of her reason being extracted.

Although the text was obscure and sometimes incomprehensible, there was a kind of magic that kept drawing her to read more.

"You said the author's name is Eric Kent? Is he the youngest son of the Kents?!"

Taking a deep breath, Neil, after adjusting her mental state, asked Lana.

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