Kansas.
Country radio played through the speakers of the Cadillac cruising along the highway, sounding cozy and relaxed, though the hands gripping the steering wheel were trembling slightly.
Rickman swallowed hard, instinctively glancing at the rearview mirror once more.
Completely empty.
Only occasionally would a long-haul truck roar past from the opposite direction.
Yet Rickman’s heart refused to settle down.
That damned gate…
Ever since he touched the blonde boy’s palm back in the exhibition tent…
Every time he blinked now, he could see the afterimage of that gate…
Carved flying pillars…
spiraling steps…
and at the very end of those steps…
A silver-white behemoth whose mane flowed with molten gold.
“Impossible…” Rickman muttered.
“He’s just a high school kid…
just a damned blonde brat!”
Taking a deep breath, Rickman forced himself to focus on the road ahead, twisting the radio volume up two notches in an attempt to drown out the lion’s roar in his mind with the music.
Right…
just like that…
Rickman began softly humming along with the beat.
The faint, earthy smell of the countryside, the scent of green grass, and an extraordinarily large moon.
Rickman instinctively stole a glance…
It was massive…
so round…
as if…
it were right beside him in the sky?!
Rickman’s pupils shrank.
The needles on the dashboard began to jitter, the radio’s song sputtered into static, and even outside the car window…
There were huge, cotton-like thick cloud masses…
Passing by both sides of the Cadillac, with occasional bolts of lightning silently dancing deep within the cloud layer, illuminating everything for a split second before sinking back into the gaps.
He was flying above a sea of clouds.
To be precise…
His Cadillac was flying at high altitude, flying beneath the moon, right above the cloud layer.
Accompanied by an ear-splitting roar, Rickman lowered his head in a daze, only to see a pair of hands tearing his Cadillac apart right down the middle of its chassis!
Crack-crack!
Fissures spread outward, molten golden light bursting forth from within!
“It’s you…” the middle-aged man muttered, the golden steps and the beast’s golden eyes from his memory flashing through his vision once more!
BOOM—!
The car chassis was torn in two.
The left half plunged into the clouds, while the right half fell into a sea of thunder.
Meanwhile, he was suspended high in the air, his neck coldly clamped by a single hand.
Behind him was the silver moon sliced by the sea of clouds, and before him were the scattered, twinkling lights of the towns across the Kansas plains.
Under the moonlight, the face beneath the blonde hair looked excessively young.
Yet those eyes…
The pupils were molten gold, surging with deep disdain.
“It really is you…”
Rickman muttered, tears and cold sweat trickling down his face…
The corners of his mouth twitched, utterly unable to find a fitting expression between crying and laughing to react to the scene before him…
A sixteen-year-old high school kid was hovering at the edge of the stratosphere, holding him by the neck with one hand, while thousands of feet of abyss and cotton-like cloud seas lay beneath their feet.
“It really…
is you…” Rickman wept and laughed simultaneously.
“I knew it…
I knew it was you…”
“GOD…”
Desirée Atkins sat before her bedroom window.
At this moment, her left hand was idly twirling a strand of hair, while her right hand gently reached down toward the hem of her slip nightdress.
The moonlight outside the window was truly beautiful.
Yet she was thinking of a certain someone.
To be honest, it irritated her quite a bit.
She was Desirée, and Desirée never tossed and turned in the middle of the night over a man…
Usually, men were the ones tossing and turning over her.
That was the privilege granted by her ability.
Yet that boy had shattered her privilege.
Ariel Kent.
She could feel an unprecedented pull from the boy that drew her in, making her unable to stop in a way she could neither control nor shut off.
“Dammit…”
Desirée suddenly snapped back to reality, only to realize she was unconsciously drenched in sweat.
She let out a sigh, pulling back her slightly trembling right hand.
Gazing somewhat emptily at the silver thread between her fingers.
If only he would come find her…
Well…
that was completely impossible…
That guy used her as a tool with absolute justification, leaving the moment he finished checking in every day without bothering to say a single extra word.
How could he possibly, in the middle of the night…
Leaves rustled softly outside.
Desirée stared out the window in utter disbelief.
Within the dark night, a red-gold glow lit up.
Him?
Could it be today?
Desirée swallowed hard.
Her slick legs rubbed together lightly, the skin on the inside of her knees adhering and separating with a sticky sound.
Knock, knock, knock!
Desirée quickly pulled open the window.
Muttering, she hooked up the strap of her nightdress, leaning forward to throw her arms around the boy.
“Am I dreaming…”
Smack…
A hand pressed against her face, pushing her back.
“You’re not dreaming.
Move inside a bit.”
The youth climbed in through the window, his tone laced with distaste.
Desirée fell silent.
She had just prepared a whole late-night script in her head, lines fully brewed…
Yet could someone tell her…
Why did the male lead smash his palm right into her face first thing and tell her to move inside?
Desirée rolled her eyes, sighing as she backed up to the edge of the bed.
Then, she noticed in surprise what Ariel was holding in his right hand…
With a fling of the youth’s arm, a middle-aged man tumbled onto the floor.
“Is this…
Bob Rickman?” Desirée couldn’t help covering her mouth.
“You know him?” Ariel asked in surprise.
“A famous Kansas capitalist…” Desirée nodded.
“Bob Rickman, the owner of Greenfield Agrochemical.
He carried out a land acquisition in Salisbury before, which later led to disputes…”
“Could it be…”
Desirée looked up at Ariel, her eyes sparkling with surprise and excitement under the moonlight.
“Ariel, if you need it, I know a place with quite a lot of alligators…
Of course, bacteria isn’t out of the question either?
But if we’re aiming for efficiency, I still think alligators are faster.”
“Sigh…
If only I had studied chemistry back then, I wouldn’t have to…”
“What on earth is your brain wired with?” Ariel asked sincerely.
“Pheromones?”
“Stop thinking about useless things, Ms.
Desirée.” Ariel shifted his gaze away from the woman, looking down at the unconscious Rickman on the floor.
“Just hypnosis?”
Desirée sighed in disappointment, but then her expression became somewhat hesitant.
“What’s wrong?” Ariel asked.
“Today…” Desirée’s eyes darted around.
“I was drained by you…
Did you forget?”
“There’s a daily cap on pheromone secretion.
When you check in every afternoon, you basically drain my entire quota for the day.” She let out a sigh.
“Now, to hypnotize an adult man’s consciousness…
my pheromone concentration is short by at least three to four units.”
Ariel fell into thought for a moment.
Alright…
that was indeed a factor he hadn’t considered.
Although Desirée’s pheromones were ineffective against him, as a biochemical product, its daily yield was limited by glandular secretion.
The more he harvested from her each day, the less was left for her own use.
“Then tomorrow I’ll…”
Before he could finish, someone tugged at the hem of his shirt.
Desirée was pinching the bottom of his shirt.
“Actually, there’s another way to boost secretion,” she whispered.
“What?” Ariel froze.
Desirée swallowed hard, her thighs unconsciously rubbing together again.
“Come take some extra lessons with teacher and you’ll know.
Ariel, you definitely haven’t been studying your biology properly lately,” she declared with utmost righteousness.
With that, she let go of the boy’s hem and motioned for Ariel to walk toward the room next to the bedroom, which she had converted into a crude laboratory.
Looking at the woman’s retreating back, Ariel was also somewhat surprised.
Pheromone secretion could actually be artificially boosted?
In biology, there were indeed external stimuli that could activate the glands’ emergency secretion mechanism…
Except, what did it rely on?
Exercise?
Temperature changes?
An adrenaline surge?
Regardless, if he could truly master this method, perhaps he could speed up his template progress a step faster.
A short while later.
“Ouch.”
Ariel walked back into the bedroom with a somewhat awkward expression.
Desirée came out behind him, her cheeks flushed red and her lips slightly parted.
“Darling, you hit way too lightly…” She walked over to the dressing table while limping and holding her backside.
“Next time you can go a bit harder.”
“I don’t think there will be a next time,” Ariel said with a straight face.
“Is that so?”
Desirée couldn’t hide her disappointed expression, but then seemed to think of something and hastily slapped herself, sending a ripple across her chest.
“Mmm…” she wore a enraptured look.
Ariel’s eye twitched as he tore his gaze away from the woman’s increasingly dangerous face, turning to the unconscious Rickman on the floor.
Bam!
He stepped forward and landed a kick.
“Cough—!”
Rickman jolted awake from his unconsciousness, but before he could regain his senses…
A fragrance spread out as pheromones gushed forth in full force.
Rickman’s pupils began to slowly dilate…
“Done,” Desirée nodded to Ariel.
“He can hear every word you say and answer every question you ask, but he won’t remember any details after waking up.”
Ariel narrowed his eyes.
“Rickman, what did you come to Smallville for?” he asked.
“To make money, isn’t that obvious?”
“…”
Desirée couldn’t help covering her mouth to snicker.
Ariel’s lip twitched, and he shot a fierce glare back at her.
Desirée returned it with a charming smile, even tilting her head to let the moonlight fall into the deep shadow of her cleavage.
The boy felt his eyes heating up slightly.
“What is your ability?” Clearing his throat, he turned his gaze back.
“I can stir up the desires in people’s hearts.”
“Anyone…
as long as I touch them, the thing they want most in their heart will become the only thing that matters…
and then they’ll do anything to get it.”
“What is your connection to Lex Luthor?”
“Nothing much…
I touched him once at a banquet.
He already had a desire to prove himself…
I just amplified that thought, making him feel that following me to invest in Smallville would definitely make a fortune.”
“So Luthor was manipulated into coming by you.”
“I don’t like the word ‘manipulated’…
I prefer to say…
going with the flow.
He originally wanted to prove he was better than his father, so I just helped him find a direction.”
Ariel nodded thoughtfully.
Immediately, he pulled a document from his pocket.
“What is S.H.I.E.L.D.’s connection to you guys?”
“I touched their regional manager at an industry forum last month.
What he wanted in his heart was a promotion and a raise, so I enticed him into thinking this Smallville project was very viable and very profitable.”
“Also for money?”
“Of course it’s for money,” Rickman giggled matter-of-factly.
“Buying land cheap, mineral development, taking cuts from contract growers…”
“Conservatively, net profit could exceed tens of millions of dollars.”
“Though that idiot seems to have a guilty conscience; he’s even planning to set up some farmer relief foundation…
to help affected farmers…”
Ariel fell into thought for a moment.
“Do you have ties to the State Department of Agriculture?” Ariel continued asking.
“Nonsense,” Rickman sneered.
“Otherwise how could I have come to Smallville?
I and Director Powell of the Department of Agriculture are…”
His words trailed off.
Evidently…
Even in a hypnotized state…
The human body still instinctively executed a self-preservation protocol.
The sensitivity of certain information would cause a brain completely swathed in pheromones to experience a brief hesitation.
The human body truly was remarkable.
Ariel scoffed.
“How long do the commands you give last?” He turned to Desirée.
“For a normal person, about a month,” Desirée withdrew her smile, lightly tapping her lower lip.
“However…”
“If you said he’s an metahuman as well…
his mental resistance will be much higher than a normal person’s, and the decay rate of the pheromones will be faster.”
“Specifically, how long?”
“Three to seven days.”
Ariel nodded.
“Make him leave Smallville.
Make him feel that this town’s project has no profit margin left whatsoever.
Make him cancel his agreements with S.H.I.E.L.D., Luthor, and all other partners, and then donate all the assets under his name.”
Desirée nodded, turning to Rickman to issue the command.
The fragrance surged forth once more.
Rickman’s body relaxed completely.
“Sir.” The driver in the Rolls-Royce driver’s seat looked at the rearview mirror.
“The visit to the Kent Farm is over.
Are we going to…”
“First head back to the manor my dear father built for me to see…”
“Wait.”
Lex’s eyes flashed, immediately signaling the driver to stop.
“Mr.
Rickman?” Rolling down the window, he called out in surprise.
“So late…
what are you…”
The man walking like a living corpse on the small road stopped in his tracks, turning his head toward the bald man inside the window frame.
The moonlight illuminated his pale face, making his slightly unfocused eyes look somewhat terrifying.
“Mr.
Luthor,” he said softly.
“As for the cooperation, after reconsidering, I’m canceling it.”
“Canceling?”
Lex was startled in his heart.
Had this idiot discovered the loopholes he had planted in the contract?
“Mr.
Rickman, are you joking?
Tonight’s briefing was extremely effective; at least twenty farm owners expressed preliminary intentions to sell…”
“There’s no profit left.” Rickman shook his head.
“The risk-return ratio of this project isn’t worth continued investment.
Tomorrow I will contact S.H.I.E.L.D.
and the State Department of Agriculture to withdraw all agreements and assessment applications.”
Lex fell silent.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
“Understood.” The bald youth’s smile turned warm once more.
“In business, plans can’t keep up with changes.”
“We’ll talk another day then, Mr.
Rickman.”
“Goodbye.”
Rickman nodded, turning around to continue walking toward the motel.
The car window rolled up.
Lex watched the man’s shrinking back in the rearview mirror.
Smallville was indeed bizarre.
Ever since that meteor shower twelve years ago turned him bald…
And burned away his childhood memories…
He knew this small town on the Kansas plains was definitely not as simple as corn and cow manure on the surface.
Yet Lex Luthor also knew better than anyone…
Releasing curiosity too early would only expose one’s own weaknesses.
If Rickman hadn’t used whatever means back at the Metropolis banquet to give him the urge to check out Smallville…
He might never have set foot on this land that left him childhood trauma for the rest of his life.
Yet he was already here…
He had seen, and he had obtained…
The bald youth pulled a small lead box from his pocket.
This box was a souvenir he had his butler bring back from Smallville after the meteor shower back then.
The lid opened.
A green stone lay quietly inside the lead box.
Lex Luthor closed his eyes thoughtfully.
Patience…
In Smallville…
He needed to release his curiosity at the right moment.
Before dawn.
Ariel Kent landed at the front door, quietly pushing it open.
The living room lights were off, with only a thin line of weak, warm light seeping out from the direction of the kitchen.
It was probably the small nightlight above the stove.
Thoughtful Mom Martha would specially leave a light on for family members getting up late at night for water.
As well as for certain guys who didn’t sleep at night…
Ariel let out a helpless sigh.
His super vision naturally caught his foster sister curled up in the corner of the sofa in the dark.
Turning her head, the girl’s sky-blue eyes stared at him moodily.
Blonde hair scattered, her two long legs were hugged against her chest, her ten fair toes instinctively digging into the sofa cushion because he opened the door.
“Didn’t I tell you to go to sleep early?” Ariel spoke in a low voice.
Joanna, however, knitted her brows, her eyes scanning his entire body, her nostrils fluttering slightly.
Ariel shuddered.
Fortunately, the girl didn’t say anything strange, merely standing up and walking toward the staircase.
Ariel couldn’t help feeling somewhat lucky.
It was fortunate he had passed through a rain cloud on his way back.
Otherwise, Joanna’s super senses would definitely have caught the pheromones Desirée secreted, and given Joanna’s sense of territoriality, she would never allow any unfamiliar scent to linger in this home.
“How’s everyone else?” The boy lowered his voice to catch up with the golden silhouette on the stairs.
Joanna stopped at the turn, the moonlight making her side profile look exceptionally cool and aloof.
“Clark had a fight with Uncle Jonathan tonight,” she said moodily.
“In the end, Aunt Martha scolded them both and told them to rest.
After all, Uncle’s heart isn’t good.”
“A fight?” Ariel rubbed his temples helplessly.
“Then I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
“But right now…
you need to go to sleep,” the boy said seriously.
Joanna didn’t move, however, merely watching him in silence with those sky-blue eyes.
“Goodnight,” she said.
The bedroom door closed.
Ariel also let out a sigh of relief, pushing open his own bedroom door.
He walked to the window, pulled the curtains open, and collapsed onto his bed.
He really couldn’t flake out tonight!
If he failed to show up today as well, that fluffy cat might actually launch a feline impeachment against him in the dream realm!
The position of Council President he had coaxed and trickery-acquired would probably be lost.
In just a moment, Ariel drifted into sleep.
His breathing gradually grew long and steady.
Creeak!
Yet the sound of a door hinge quietly turning rang out, and a fluffy golden head poked out from the door crack.
“Ariel?”
A soft call.
The girl, having changed into a white lace nightdress, lightly stepped across the doorframe.
Her delicate red-tinged toes curled slightly, revealing the inner hesitation of their owner.
“Sigh…”
The wooden door closed.
The girl ultimately hesitated, withdrawing her legs behind the threshold.
Footsteps grew distant…
Creeak…
The wooden door opened once more.
A small patch of white night mist silently came to a stop before Ariel’s bed.
The girl leaned down, resting her chin on the edge of the bed, close enough to feel the boy’s breathing brushing against the bridge of her nose in waves.
With her eyes half-lidded, she felt comfortably drowsy.
“Ariel…”
Joanna’s lips moved again, yet produced no sound.
Only airflow made a round trip between her lips and teeth.
After a long while…
The girl quietly looked at the figure submerged in sleep on the bed, seemingly having finally made up her mind.
The night wind blew loosely, and the moonlight was hazy.
The sleeping shadow was dragged off the bed, overlapping with the shadow of the one awake.