Chapter 442: Beginning of the Blizzard (Part 1)_1

Dawn was slowly breaking, yet the blizzard showed no signs of abating. The feeble morning light streamed through the snowstorm, illuminating a distressingly disheveled reception room. However, the room did not respond with the warmth of illumination, but felt even chillier than the pitch-black night before.

When Lex walked in, his face was pale and expressionless. His lean figure appeared less like a man emerging from a snowstorm and more like a hobgoblin. Clark's fingertips trembled slightly, betraying his restless mood.

But quickly, his anger overwhelmed him, he locked gazes with Lex and demanded, "Did you kill him?"

Upon seeing Lex's denial, Clark filled his tone with rage, "His blood is on your trouser leg. I can tell."

The weary appearance Lex had been putting on faded and was replaced by a mocking grin. When he spoke, his voice was colder than the howling winds outside.

"With your superpower? The ability to identify blood? I'm truly curious what else that power can do? Can you count the bugs while plowing the field like a dumb ox?"

Even Lex himself did not realize it, but behind his cutting words hid an underlying fear.

Clark, standing by the bathroom door, was shrouded in shadow. To Lex, he looked like a monstrous beast lurking in the dark.

At that moment, Lex found that he harbored unbearably contemptuous feelings towards those who could harness unknown powers. The anger welling up inside him was rooted in fear—a primal dread of those sitting at the top of the food chain.

Guided by this fear, he instinctively refused to communicate with Clark and retorted, "Whatever I did is none of your business. Mind your own."

Witnessing his attitude, Clark was beginning to feel annoyed. The gruesome state of Lionel's corpse deeply unsettled him. Raised in a simple small town, he had never come across a dead body, not to mention chillingly bloody murder scenes.

He took a step forward and forced Lex to step back. "Luther," Clark said in a somber voice. "Murder is a crime! And he was your own father! Wasn't he?"

Lex scoffed through his nose in retort, "I know, you're the type who believes in the law. I do not, and I don't feel the need to explain it to you."

Having said this, Lex turned to leave, but Clark quickly stepped forward to grab his arm. "I can't let you go," he said firmly, "unless you promise me that you will never hurt anyone again..."

"Promise?!" Lex raised his voice. He shrugged off Clark's grip, turned to face him and said, "Since you've never trusted me, why should I make any promises to you?"

Without waiting for Clark to reply, Lex cast a glance towards the bathroom door and challenged Clark, "If I'm not mistaken, our plan was for each of us to separately investigate the door leading downstairs. So, why are you here then?"

"Are you investigating me? Do you want to find something to hold against me? Your hypocritical saintly demeanor makes me sick, Clark."

Lex took a step back to stand by the door. Looking at Clark, he continued, "You put on this nice-guy act, urging me and Wayne to cooperate with you from up on your high horse. But what are you doing now? Are you carrying out our plan?"

"Or are you, too, a deceptive fraud who wants us to do your dirty work while you secretly investigate us, eager to discover any proofs you can use against us?"

"I never thought of it that way," Clark defended with a hint of despair.

"But you did." Lex himself did not realize that his tone was trembling.

Clark was standing too close to him now. Even though there was at least two meters of distance between them, Lex could feel a suffocating pressure. He had seen Clark in combat, and he was certain that if Clark wanted to attack, it wouldn't take a second for him to die.

When facing a beast capable of causing one's death, humans inherently react in fear. Clark's various abilities indicated that he was not just an ordinary person; he might not even be human.

Lex did not know how Clark thought. He did not know when Clark might strike, or decide to kill him. All Lex did know was this: with a single thought, Clark could kill him.

No one can stay calm under such terror. Lex's chest heaved violently as he continued to retreat, eager to escape but lacking the courage to turn his back to Clark.

Seeing that Lex had no intention of communicating, Clark took a deep breath and stepped towards Lex. As he bridged the gap between them, Lex, consumed by instinctual fear, turned to flee.

In a flash, Clark grabbed him. But he had no intention of attacking Lex. He just wanted to prevent him from leaving, hoping for a chance to talk and to clear up the misunderstanding.

Even now, Clark thought Lex may not have done it intentionally. After all, Lex, whom he'd interacted with, was more trustworthy than the mysterious caller whose identity was completely unknown.

But Lex was now on the verge of collapse. The moment Clark grabbed him, he felt like an insect trapped in a spider web, being swallowed whole by the formidable hand of Death that was closing in on him. He couldn't even flutter his wings, let alone escape. All he could do was to await Death.

He decided to do something to cover his fear. So, he raised his voice and spoke quickly, "Yes, I killed him! I dismembered him with my own hands. That's what I wanted to do! What are you going to do about it? Kill me?"

"I've told you long ago, Clark, your powerful abilities immunize you from most of the harm that could come your way, which naturally makes it easier for you to put on the facade of kindness!"

"But if you want to use your power to judge or even kill me, then we are no different. You are the monster!"

Lex's tone was extremely intense. The moment Clark heard him admit that he was the killer, Clark felt a wave of anger. It wasn't just because of the gruesome state of the crime scene, but he didn't understand why a man could commit such a brutal act and show no remorse.

Again, Lex was retreating. Clark lunged forward and raised his arm, slamming it into Lex's neck, knocking him unconscious.

Clark stood still, panting. For some reason, he was surged by strong emotions. He had clearly seen the look of fear in Lex's eyes as he lashed out.

He must be afraid, afraid that his crimes would be revealed, Clark consoled himself. But the voice inside him was telling him, Lex was actually scared of him, scared of his powerful strength.

Lex saw Clark as a monster, not one of his own species. He believed that Clark couldn't be reasoned with and was filled with fear of him.

The feeling made Clark uncomfortable, as if he had indeed become a beast lurking among the crowd, haphazardly assailing the human race with his powerful strength.

Just as he doubled over and prepared to carry Lex back to his guest room, once again, a strong feeling of weakness struck him. Clark gasped heavily and dropped onto one knee.

In the past, all it took was a moment of relaxation and a bit of deep breathing, and this feeling would fade. But this time, Clark remained in the same spot, panting heavily for a long time, and the feeling was only getting stronger.

All of a sudden, he sensed a shadow looming above him. He looked up, only to see a man in a long suit standing before him. Further up, in the man's pale hands, was a special container, inside which was a stone emitting a green light.

Clark strained to lift his head and look up. Sure enough, a face bearing a mad grin appeared within his line of sight, and a string of mad laughter echoed from above.

The cover of the container was opened, and the green stone was thrown directly onto Clark. Clark let out a pained groan, his body barely able to uphold itself, and he collapsed onto the ground.

Suddenly, a grotesque face painted up as the Joker appeared in Clark's blurred vision. The Joker leaned in, even patted Clark's face and flashed a big grin.

The Joker reached out and picked up the green stone, waved it in front of Clark's eyes, then raised his arm high and slammed it down harshly.

"Ah!!!!!"

Clark let out a low agonized scream. The moment the green stone touched his skin, he felt an intense burning sensation. Even worse, the feeling of weakness was intensifying, causing him to feel dizzy and nauseous. He had never felt this way before.

Suddenly, he felt a liquid covering his eyes, sticking to his eyelashes, and making it hard to open his eyes.

The smell of blood wafted to him from nearby. He reached up and touched his forehead, the pain shot through, and he brought his finger to his eyes. He saw that his hand was covered in thick blood.

Was he bleeding?

Clark's breathing became more and more labored. He felt a feeling that he had never experienced before. He thought it might be fear. This was the first time he had been hurt and seen his own blood since he was born.

His vision was blurred by blood. Through a pair of leather shoes, Clark saw Lex collapsed on the ground. The blood on the back of his neck had already dried and turned into a black scab.

The unceasing smell of blood reminded Clark that ordinary people would feel great pain when they were injured.

But at that moment, the man in the long suit walked over to Lex. He crouched down next to Lex, poking Lex's arm with his fingers.

Lex's body, already not robust, remained unconscious. Therefore, he showed no reaction. However, the madman with the Joker's makeup chattered to himself gleefully:

"Oh, look at this poor little Lex Luther, traumatized by his father's long-term domestic abuse, his whole body covered in wounds... "

Saying that, the Joker lifted the back of Lex Luther's shirt. Clark's eyes widened; he saw countless scars on Lex's back, new ones overlaying old ones, clearly not inflicted in one day.

Clark pounded on the floor with his hand. He struggled to crawl up, but the green stone was too close to him. Just as he managed to straighten his upper body slightly, he collapsed again to the ground.

"He sought revenge so hard. He waited so long and finally seized an opportunity to kill that damned maniac, avenging for his mother and himself... "

"He succeeded... He succeeded!" The Joker pouted, nodding in affirmation. But soon, he broke into a fit of laughter and said:

"But he's a lousy and outdated screenwriter. No one likes this kind of revenge plot. People want every performance to end with a touch of humor!"

Saying this, the Joker swayed and stood up, looking down at Clark and said, "It's okay if he can't pull this off, I can help."

"Now, this scene ends with enough humor..."

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!"