The seven-day deadline had arrived!
Well…
actually, it was fourteen days.
After all, Ariel Kent had, through breathtaking willpower, empirically tested and proven that as long as he didn’t sleep, he wouldn’t enter the Dreaming Assembly.
For an Eternal God, after all…
His cells absorbed cosmic radiation every moment of every day.
Sleep was more of a psychological sanity reset for him than a physiological requirement.
Of course, his current problem wasn’t sleep, but rather the fact that he had blatantly stood up Nightwalk and Silence.
Just imagine the expressions on the two people and one cat.
All in all…
If he didn’t go today, Mogg might actually hiss at him the next time they met.
Thus, Ariel Kent broke precedent and didn’t linger at school.
After completing his daily check-in with Desire to boost the last bit of his strength, he clocked off and hurried home.
“Yo!
Joanna!”
Ariel greeted the blonde girl sitting on the sofa.
“Ariel,” Joanna said in a low voice.
“You’re late coming back today.”
I literally came straight home early, didn’t I?
Ariel swallowed the thought back down.
Arguing about the concept of time with Joanna was completely pointless.
In the girl’s cognitive framework, “late” wasn’t defined by the clock, but by how long she had been waiting.
Ariel shrugged and plopped down beside her.
Today, Joanna was still wearing her short-sleeved shirt printed with a ferocious lightning rat on the chest, paired with denim hot pants that revealed her long, slender legs, her bare feet resting by the edge of the coffee table.
Generally speaking…
Ever since that heart-to-heart a few days ago, her attitude toward him had begun shifting back to how it was two or three years ago.
A subtle change.
If the Joanna of recent years had been a hedgehog, the current her had turned back into the golden-haired pup who loved clinging to Ariel in the old days.
Ariel couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” Joanna asked moodily.
“I’m not laughing.”
“You clearly are.”
“I’m laughing at how dumb this TV commercial is,” Ariel pointed offhandedly.
The TV happened to pause on a shampoo commercial, where an actress was swishing her hair in slow motion.
Joanna remained expressionless, clearly not buying it.
Ariel didn’t bother explaining either, instead deliberately squeezing closer toward her.
This was an interaction pattern they’d had since childhood…
To be precise, it was Ariel’s one-sided harassment mode.
This time, however, Joanna didn’t dodge away, but actually squeezed right back.
Ariel froze, feeling a sudden warmth against his shoulder.
The ripe fruits on the girl’s slender branch were pressed right against him, her scorching body heat radiating through the fabric.
Ariel instinctively tried to pull back.
But Joanna squeezed closer again.
This time even closer, an entire soft curve pressing against his arm, her long blonde hair spilling over, a few strands even draping across his cheek.
“Could you move over a bit…”
Unfortunately, Joanna was staring coldly at the screen, lacking even the slightest intention of listening to him.
Ariel was so exasperated he laughed.
He nudged right back with force!
BOOM.
The two collided head-on, yet both remained completely unmoving; only the suffering sofa let out an agonizing creak.
“Mom saved up household allowance for months to buy this sofa,” Ariel remarked, looking up at the ceiling.
“Then move over,” Joanna said, her expression unreadable.
“You move first.”
“You first.”
“You.”
The two stared at each other, and a great war on the entryway sofa was about to…
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
Knocks sounded at the door.
The sofa breathed a sigh of relief.
“You go open it,” Ariel said.
“No way,” Joanna said, pulling her feet onto the sofa.
“You go.”
“Not going.”
“Joanna, you can’t go on being this socially anxious!
Haven’t you noticed that you’re already sixteen and only have two friends, Elaine and Mona?!”
“…You go!”
A fair foot slammed hard into Ariel’s thigh.
“Damn it…”
Baring his teeth in a grimace, Ariel clambered up from the sofa, rubbing his thigh as he walked toward the door.
CREAK…
The door handle clicked down.
“Yo, Frank.” The young man flashed a smile like a warm spring breeze.
Standing outside the door was a white-haired old man with two letters tucked under his arm.
Frank Casey.
The old mailman who had worked in Smallville for thirty-two years.
Legend had it that this old man was the only person in the entire town who knew everyone’s birthday in every single household, and he would ring the doorbell two extra times on each person’s special day.
“Ariel.” Frank tapped the brim of his hat.
“Back early today.”
“Yeah, Frank.
Occasionally, I need to let the setting sun see me walking out of the school gates.”
“Hahaha…” The old mailman chuckled and handed over the two letters.
“Two of ’em.
One from out of state, and one forwarded by the town government.”
Ariel took the letters, his eyes sweeping across the envelopes.
Risk Assessment Company.
The second was an invitation to an information briefing forwarded by the town government.
It stated that Greenfield Agrochemical Company was inviting all residents of Smallville to attend a briefing held in a temporary exhibition tent outside the town hall auditorium.
The general idea was that they hoped to acquire Smallville’s land for crop processing.
Signed by the person in charge—Bob Rickman.
Ariel narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Thanks, Frank.”
“Don’t mention it, don’t mention it.” The old mailman waved his hand.
“By the way, did Mrs.
Martha bake pie today?”
“Today is Wednesday, Frank.
Mom bakes on Fridays.”
A look of disappointment flickered in the old man’s eyes.
“But I don’t think Mom would mind preparing one for you on Friday,” Ariel added.
“You really are an angel, Ariel.” Frank’s smile returned once more.
“I’ll leave it to you then!”
Watching the old mailman ride away on his bicycle while humming an unrecognizable tune, Ariel lowered his head to re-examine the two letters in his hand.
“Ariel!”
A call sounded from afar as Jonathan walked over, waving his straw hat.
“Dad.”
Ariel handed the letters over casually.
“Today’s mail.”
Jonathan paused for a moment before taking them right away.
“Free risk assessment?” He shook his head.
“Smallville’s air is already free enough.”
He casually tossed the first letter into the trash can by the door.
Only then did he open the second one.
This time, he read it a bit more carefully.
“Greenfield Agrochemical?” He frowned, then looked up at Ariel, who was standing there cool as a cucumber.
“Son, are you free tonight?”
“You’re going?”
Jonathan nodded.
“You’ve finally seen the light and want to sell the farm to move to Metropolis and enjoy life?” Ariel raised an eyebrow.
“You brat…”
Jonathan laughed helplessly.
If this kind of joke had been made ten years ago, he probably would have lectured Ariel sternly about the meaning of land and family heritage.
After ten years, however, he had learned to distinguish between real offenses and the endless nonsense that spilled from this brat’s mouth…
“I’m just worried our neighbors will get scammed.” Jonathan folded the letter and placed it into his chest pocket.
“I’ve heard a whisper about this Rickman guy.
A couple of years ago, he held a similar briefing over in Salisbury.
Later, some dispute broke out, and last time he was fined a hefty sum over environmental engineering issues.”
“We’re going to keep an eye out for them.”
Ariel looked at his adoptive father’s side profile and smiled helplessly.
This man spent his entire life worrying about others.
Worrying about crops, worrying about neighbors, worrying about his two adopted sons, and worrying about a superpowered niece who ran out of a laboratory.
Now he even had to worry about a bunch of fellow townsfolk who might get duped by an agrochemical company.
“Let’s go then,” Ariel shrugged.
Just as the words left his mouth, however…
“I want to go too,” a cold female voice sounded from behind.
Ariel and Jonathan turned their heads in surprise.
They saw Joanna leaning against the doorframe, the lightning rat baring its teeth on her chest, contrasting with her expressionless, serious face.
“You want to go too?” Ariel raised an eyebrow.
The socially anxious girl who stayed home every single night actually wanted to go out and socialize?
“I can’t?” Joanna snorted coldness.
“Of course you can,” Jonathan laughed heartily.
“You’re part of the family, after all.”
A short while later.
Clark—who had spent the day helping local residents harvest a few acres of crops and casually rescued a driver from an off-road vehicle that plunged into a river on his way home—walked up to the front door, soaked and yawning.
He was in a good mood today.
Especially when he recalled the handsome bald guy thanking him, Clark felt he was absolute coolness personified.
“Ariel!”
He shouted loudly the moment he pushed open the door.
Unfortunately, the living room was empty.
“Joanna!”
Silence.
“…Dad?
Mom?”
In the kitchen, there was only the sound of a dripping faucet.
Fortunately, a note left by Martha was sitting on the table…
Clark, our family plans to go into town tonight to attend a briefing.
Remember to heat up dinner in the fridge before eating—don’t starve yourself waiting for us to eat together~
—Love, Mom.
Clark: …
The drenched sun-boy couldn’t help shivering; he suddenly felt that Smallville in September was a bit chilly.
The temporary exhibition tent outside the town hall auditorium was significantly larger than Ariel had imagined.
In front of the tent sat a folding table bearing the sign for S.H.I.E.L.D.
Risk Assessment Company, where two young people were stuffing promotional flyers into the hands of passing residents.
“Hello, sir!
Our S.H.I.E.L.D.
Risk Assessment Company provides comprehensive free services for Smallville’s farmers…”
“No need.” Jonathan walked past with Martha without looking back.
Ariel followed behind his parents, his gaze discreetly sweeping over the setup.
—This service is provided by the Risk Assessment Division under S.H.I.E.L.D.
Integrated Holdings Group.
Integrated Holdings—quite a grand background.
Ariel pulled his gaze back as he was pulled into the venue by Joanna.
Wait, why was he being pulled?
He looked down at the pale little hand clutching the hem of his shirt, then looked up at the girl holding him with a frosty face as she followed Jonathan and Martha’s footsteps. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Am I some eight-year-old kid?
The corner of Ariel’s mouth twitched.
“Hey!
Jonathan!
Martha!”
Quite a few people had already gathered inside the tent.
Out of the sixty-some households in town, representatives from at least forty were present tonight.
In Smallville, this was practically a town-emptying event.
The last time this many people gathered was three years ago on Harvest Festival, the day the Kent family’s giant pumpkin made its debut!
“Jim.” Jonathan smiled and shook hands.
“Your boy saved my life today!
That kid’s as strong as a tractor!” Jim gestured excitedly.
“He even helped me harvest an acre of corn!”
“That Clark just can’t sit still,” Martha covered her mouth and chuckled.
“Ariel came too?
Good boy!”
Old Mike, who kept bees on the side, patted Ariel’s shoulder, then shifted his gaze to the blonde girl behind him.
“Oh!
Is this…
the Kent family’s little girl?
Haven’t seen you in a while, you’ve grown so big!”
Ariel felt the grip on the hem of his shirt tighten slightly.
“Joanna is a bit shy around strangers,” Ariel shielded her with a line.
“Old Mike, did you bring honey today?
Maybe the agricultural processing plant is short on your honey!”
The topic successfully shifted, and Old Mike immediately launched into an endless speech about how, despite this year’s constant disasters, his superb beekeeping skills had prevented the disasters from affecting the yield and flavor of his honey.
Ariel couldn’t help grinning, turning his head to look at Joanna.
The girl’s eyes scanned the entire exhibition tent, her sky-blue gaze patrolling through the crowd.
Ariel knew what she was doing…
She was looking for escape routes in case trouble broke out later…
No doubt about it, this was definitely an inherited talent from Uncle Ben.
These things were as beyond her voluntary control as her own heartbeat.
“Don’t worry,” Ariel spoke in a low voice.
“I’m here.”
Joanna didn’t make a sound, but her hand clutching his shirt hem loosened slightly.
Everyone took their seats.
The lights on stage flickered on.
A middle-aged man stepped onto the stage.
He was in his eighties, clean-shaven, his hair obviously styled with gel.
“Good evening, everyone!
I am Bob Rickman.”
“Standing here and seeing all of you truly touches my heart,” Bob sighed emotionally.
“After all, disasters have been relentless this year, and there’s so much work in the fields.”
“But…”
“You all came anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone cares about their land,” Bob answered his own question.
“You care about your crops, and you care about your family’s future.”
“I think everyone knows why I’m here, right?
I promise…”
“Wait a minute!”
Someone in the audience finally stood up.
Ariel recognized him—it was Howard Parker, who grew sugar beets at the east end of town.
A hot-tempered man in his sixties.
“Mr.
Rickman!” Howard Parker shouted.
“You talk a good game, but how do you guarantee your words are true?”
Bob cleared his throat.
“Mr.
Parker, that’s a very good…”
“I’m not finished!” Howard interrupted him.
“As far as I know, the scheme you pulled in our state last time got fined by the Department of Agriculture later!
Your fucking company’s working capital is almost dried up, isn’t it?
What are you going to use to guarantee anything to us?”
A commotion broke out among the crowd.
Many people began whispering among themselves.
Yet Bob Rickman merely nodded slightly.
“Mr.
Parker.” The man spread his hands.
“You’re right, I won’t dodge these points.”
“However, today is different.”
“Because standing before you today isn’t just Greenfield Agrochemical.”
Bob turned his body sideways, gesturing slightly toward the curtain behind the exhibition stage.
“Today, I’ve brought a friend who is far more qualified than I am to answer Mr.
Parker’s question.”
The curtain was pulled back abruptly.
A bald man who looked completely drenched and thoroughly soaked walked in.
“I fell into the water on the way here,” he waved his hand placidly at the stage.
“My apologies, everyone.”
Wait a second…
a bald man?
Ariel raised an eyebrow.
And in the very next instant, as if to confirm his suspicion, the bald man’s voice drowned out the murmurs among the crowd.
“You all might not recognize my face, but what I’m about to say is…” He chuckled softly and spoke, “I am Lex Luthor.”