Lex Luthor, one of Superman's lifelong adversaries.
After discovering Superman, he dedicated himself to freeing the world from Superman's "threat." In his view, Superman confined humanity to a cradle of comfort, denying them opportunities to grow by facing crises, thus weakening humanity's racial potential.
Yesterday, Clark didn't save anyone. Had Lex Luthor fallen into the river during his youth, he would have most likely died.
Yet, he himself had saved one of his greatest future enemies.
"Clark, as long as you're happy."
David shrugged.
"Of course, I'm very happy."
Clark laughed, "Mom, where are the car keys?"
"David, want to go for a drive with me?" he asked, turning to his brother. His recent gloom had also somewhat lifted.
He couldn't wait to drive this car. It was his first car in life. Given their family's financial situation, he thought he wouldn't get one until he started working.
"Clark..." Martha hesitated, "Your dad has the keys."
Rumble.
Beside the shredder, Jonathan was busy processing hay on the farm.
"Dad..."
Clark excitedly pulled David over, wanting to ask for the keys.
Before the young Superman could speak, Jonathan stopped the shredder, his expression darkening slightly. He said sternly, "I know you really want it, but you can't accept it."
He was still recalling how yesterday, Lex Luthor had looked at the mangled car pulled from the river and then at the unharmed Clark with surprise and confusion, as if seeing a miracle that defied common sense and shouldn't exist. His face showed a hidden desire to investigate and pursue.
It was like an ambitious businessman discovering a unique new project.
He had a bad feeling, though he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination.
"Why? I saved him," Clark asked, confused.
"That doesn't mean you can uneasily accept someone's expensive gratitude."
"You can have the new car, Dad. I can drive the old one."
"It's not about that." Seeing his son's unhappiness, Jonathan quickly added.
"A pickup truck, it's nothing to the Luthor family."
David actually agreed with Clark's statement.
Luthor Corp was one of the world's renowned business groups. Even in Smallville, a remote town near Metropolis, the Luthor family's fertilizer plant was a pillar industry. Over two thousand people in the town worked for the Luthors.
Clark had saved Lex Luthor. A pickup truck was hardly an expensive token of gratitude for the life of an heir to a vastly wealthy conglomerate.
"Listen, son, in life, we can't have everything we want, that's normal."
Jonathan wanted to explain patiently.
"Normal? I'm sick of normal!"
Clark's recent frustrations accumulated, finally erupting as he interrupted his father.
He could clearly do so much, he could do more than just watch. He knew he could do anything he set his mind to and do it best.
But for the sake of normalcy, he had to hide himself, to be an insignificant nobody. A bitter feeling welled up as he stood by the sports field, watching the person he secretly admired in someone else's arms, kissing passionately.
"Is this called normal?"
Dodging his father's attempt to put an arm around his shoulder, he angrily walked to the shredder, turned it on, and thrust his arm into the constantly working blades amidst the deafening roar.
Snap!
"Father, tell me!"
As if encountering an impenetrable, high-density alloy, the blades chipped, the gears broke, and the shredder emitted a puff of black smoke before stopping.
"Clark!"
Even though he knew his son had a body of steel, Jonathan cried out in alarm and rushed forward, struggling to pull his son's arm out from the machine.
Only his clothes were shredded; Clark's arm didn't even have a red mark.
"We know you're strong, Clark. Have you ever considered that repairing the shredder costs money?"
David said nonchalantly, hands in his pockets, looking at the adolescent Clark.
He had vented his frustration, but the only result was an injured shredder.
"Father, did you see that?
I'm inherently abnormal." Hearing his brother's words, Clark became even more agitated, his voice trembling with inability to accept his condition.
His mother, Martha, rushed over upon hearing the commotion. Seeing the scene, she guessed what had happened and exchanged a worried glance with her husband, Jonathan.
"Perhaps, it's time, son."
Jonathan sighed, wearily removing his work gloves.
"This day was always going to come."
"What?" Clark suddenly had a bad feeling.
"Come with me." He turned, his steps heavy, and signaled for 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 also have the right to know the truth."
Although David was his and Martha's biological son, Clark was an adopted alien infant, different from the couple in race.
But the kind Jonathan and Martha had never treated him differently; both were their sons in their hearts.
"I know some things can't be hidden from you forever, especially after discovering that Clark, you were born extraordinary, possessing powers unimaginable to humans."
...
In the rundown auto repair shop.
A blond, strong worker, listening to loud death metal, stood by a car, reaching inside to twist the key.
The dashboard lit up, the engine successfully started, and the gum-chewing worker smiled proudly before closing the hood.
Just as he was about to take a break, the worker suddenly noticed a thin figure standing like a ghost in the shadows at the shop's entrance.
"Damn it, you scared me half to death!"
He cursed under his breath, then felt the person in the shadows looked somewhat familiar.
"Do I know you?"
He squinted, recognizing the person, and walked over.
"You look like that Scarecrow guy, what was his name, Jeremy?"
Jeremy, with black hair and a gaunt build, his cheeks sunken like a skull, looked at him coldly, saying nothing.
"I heard you hit your head during that meteor shower and were unconscious..."
As he spoke, the worker, a former Smallville High football player, wiped contemptuously at the other's clothes with his oil-stained hand.
"Finally decided to get out of bed? Look at your scrawny body..."
Before he could finish, a powerful electric current shot from Jeremy's shoulder where he had been touched.
A burnt smell spread through the air.
The worker was thrown back three to four meters, knocking over a tool rack, and landed heavily on the ground.
"Monster!"
He raised his scorched, painful hand, his face changing drastically as he retreated.
"Listen, that was over a decade ago!"
The worker immediately realized why the other person was here and wanted to dissuade him from seeking revenge, shouting in pain.
"That was just a game!"
"A game?"
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