Later, it started snowing again in Gotham. It was a mix of rain and snow. The sound of this kind of weather was distinctly different, neither as dense as rain nor as silent as a snow day. It sounded like rapid drum beats, and when the icicles hit the windows, it was like the crystals on a chandelier continually shattering.
The fire in the fireplace flickered continuously. The entire estate was still so spacious and quiet. Clark really couldn't stand this deathly silence. He hadn't been sitting for long when he couldn't help but ask, "Is there a coffee machine? I'd like to make a cup of coffee."
"Alfred's gone on vacation, sorry no one's here to serve you. The coffee machine is in the kitchen," Bruce said without looking up.
Clark stood up and went to the kitchen to make coffee. As soon as he opened the cabinet, coffee beans from all over the world greeted him. Clark pulled out a bag, but didn't recognize the language; he pulled out another bag, which looked like cat food; then another bag, which smelled like the Minnesota pickles his mom made; finally, he pulled out a bag that seemed to be coffee beans.
But the problem was that this was a brand-new bag of beans. From the production date, it seemed like they had just been shipped from Africa yesterday. The thing was sealed well, so scissors were needed. Clark rummaged in the kitchen but only found kitchen scissors.
He knew these wealthy families were picky: scissors should be divided into those for cutting vegetables and those for cutting meat; knives should be divided into those for cutting raw food and those for cooked food. He felt he couldn't use the kitchen scissors hanging with the cleaver to cut the coffee bean packaging, so he rummaged through the cabinets again.
After searching for a long time, he didn't find scissors, but he did find a peeler that looked like it hadn't been used in a long time. Clark glanced at Bruce and decided he could dismantle the blade of the peeler to use it.
He swore he only lightly pulled on the blade, but the whole head of the peeler came off in his hand. He looked at Bruce again, who was still engrossed in his work.
Clark thought about it, and if it were his home, he might choose to use his teeth. But at Wayne Manor, that clearly wouldn't do; he needed a more elegant method to open the coffee bean packaging.
"The scissors are in the back storage room," Bruce's voice came, startling Clark.
He then wished he could find a hole to crawl into. Clark Kent, what are you doing! Can't you stop acting like a silly country bumpkin in front of Batman?!
Clark went to the storage room and discovered this really wasn't his fault. The storage room was about half the size of his house. The door was made of polished walnut, and there was even a shiny gold hook attached to it. He had passed by this door several times but never thought it would be a storage room.
Upon opening the door, it was like he had entered a Costco warehouse. The shelves contained every tool a person might need in their lifetime. There was an entire wall of scissors. Clark even found a pair of surgical C-section scissors on it. He didn't know under what circumstances Batman would use them, nor did he dare to think about it.
Choosing the most ordinary-looking pair, he finally returned to the kitchen and cut open the coffee bean package. Then he encountered a new problem—this coffee machine looked even more advanced than the spaceship he blew up the other day. He didn't know where to add the coffee beans.
He turned and glanced at Bruce again. The other seemed to have mind sensing and said, "The second button on the side."
Clark sighed inwardly; the coffee machine probably had more than twenty sides. But he was too embarrassed to ask again, so he decided to give it a try.
He found a button that seemed right. After pressing it, the coffee machine emitted a noise he couldn't understand, followed by a series of incomprehensible changes. By the time Bruce came over, Clark had retreated to a corner of the kitchen.
He wasn't worried that the coffee machine would explode, but rather that Bruce would explode.
Bruce came over, operated on it for a bit, and the coffee machine stopped. Clark breathed a sigh of relief; thankfully, it wasn't broken. This coffee machine looked like it was worth his entire life's salary, and maybe not even that cheap.
"What happened to it?" Clark asked.
"Automatic cleaning," Bruce answered very briefly. He then opened the cabinet door above, revealing a separate little machine. He pressed a button on the side of the coffee machine, the lid of that little machine opened, and he poured the coffee beans in.
He picked up a cup and placed it at the coffee machine's dispenser. Clark asked instinctively, "Aren't you having any?"
Bruce shook his head and then returned to sit on the sofa. Clark craned his neck to take a look at him. When the cup of coffee was finished, he placed another cup at the dispenser, mimicking Bruce's earlier actions to fill a second cup of coffee.
He placed both cups of coffee on a tray and then brought them to the coffee table. When Bruce saw there were two cups of coffee, he glanced up at Clark.
"Uh, I just thought it wouldn't be nice if I were the only one drinking," Clark said, rubbing his hands vigorously on his pants.
"Are you worried I'll poison you?"
"What?" Clark was a bit bewildered.
Bruce picked up the coffee and said to himself, "I'm glad I don't have to put on a full surgical suit to make you this suspicious."
Clark rubbed his face vigorously, then said, "That was just an accident. Shiller really looks like a doctor; he seemed very professional. I'm not joking."
"Maybe he really has a medical background," Bruce didn't refute him but went along with his story, "but that's precisely what's strange."
Clark was a bit confused. But just then, the screen lit up. His attention was drawn to the images on the screen. It was a bit blurry at first, with a bright spot in one corner, and then the spaceship quickly appeared at the center of the screen.
Seeing the content on the screen, Clark couldn't help but cover his face. When he had thrown away the wreckage earlier, he hadn't noticed this spaceship's design was akin to streaking.
A large part of the main cabin of the spaceship had huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The lighting was excellent, the entire main cabin looked very bright, but the problem was that anyone could easily see everything inside.
The most ridiculous thing is, these people seem unaware of this fact, standing right in the center, almost as if they're afraid no one will see their lips and expressions.
Clark sighed. He saw Bruce zoom in a bit. He could clearly see the tall man standing in the center rapidly speaking.
Clark was initially just watching his expression, but as he watched, he realized he could understand what the other person was saying. To be precise, he could understand the lip-reading.
He was somewhat shocked and widened his eyes, looking away before looking back at the screen, discovering that this wasn't something he imagined. There really was a voice in his head, a language he had never learned but strangely felt familiar with.
Bruce seemed to notice his anomaly and asked, "Can you understand?"
"I... think I can," Clark said somewhat incredulously, "but I shouldn't be able to. I came to Earth as a baby and never learned Kryptonian..."
"It might be ingrained in your genes, just needing activation to use. What are they saying?"
"Uh, those people call this man 'General Zod.' This General Zod is berating them for being useless, then asking what knocked them down, and continues berating them for being useless..."
"Looks like they themselves don't know their weakness," Bruce said, "This is interesting."
"I have a question," Clark said, "Why do they look so weak? I mean, it's like they have no superhuman abilities."
Bruce shook his head and said, "I might have an idea, but the theory isn't confirmed. If I get concrete data, I'll let you know immediately."
"Then share the idea first," Clark pressed, "Am I a special Kryptonian? Are the other Kryptonians not as powerful?"
Bruce shook his head again and said, "You might be a unique individual, but not in terms of strength. Each of you has this talent, it's just they haven't gotten the key."
"A key? What is the key?"
Just as Clark was about to ask further, some anomaly occurred on the spaceship. A table suddenly broke, and everyone was stunned.
On the Kryptonian spaceship, Zod was shocked, looking at the person beside him. And the soldier who broke the table also appeared surprised. Seeing Zod's murderous expression, he quickly apologized: "Sorry, General, I didn't mean to... I just wanted to wipe the water off the table."
Zod came over, looking at him grimly, "Seems like you're dissatisfied with me."
"I'm not!" the other emphasized, "This attack on Earth hasn't gone smoothly, and of course, I am responsible. What you said is right, we shouldn't be so reckless, shouldn't attack head-on like that. It's entirely my fault. I really..."
Zod wasn't planning to give him a chance to explain, waved his hand for someone to take him away. The other cried injustice while struggling, and with one wave, directly knocked another soldier flying.
Instantly everyone drew their weapons and aimed at him. The soldier looked at his own hand in shock: "I..."
Zod quickly raised his hand to stop the others. He squinted his eyes, stepped forward, wanting to say something, when a beam of laser just grazed past his scalp.
Everyone was in chaos again, searching for the insider who fired. As a result, another woman stood out, raised her hands, and said: "I didn't mean to, I didn't intend to pull the trigger. I just don't know why, my hand was shaking a bit..."
Zod recognized him. He looked back at the soldier who broke the table, these two were the soldiers attacking the military base, and both had been knocked out by unknown weapon attacks.
Zod casually picked up a metal long spear from the side, handed it to that soldier, and said, "Break it."
The soldier's eyes almost popped out. Cold weapons made by Kryptonians are extremely sturdy, this thing might not even melt in the sun, asking him to break it with bare hands?
But looking at Zod's murderous expression, and the shattered table, alright, break it then.
He picked up the spear, swallowed, gritted his teeth, afraid the General might think he wasn't trying, and took a horse stance to use the best force posture, and suddenly broke it.
With a squeak, the long spear actually bent.
Everyone on the spaceship gasped. Because they all knew how sturdy this spear was, it could even be used as a main cannon's projectile to pierce through most civilization's spaceships, now it was bent by bare hands???
The soldier himself couldn't believe it. Although he used all his strength, it didn't feel any different than usual, how did it...
However, Zod seemed to have thought of something else. He walked back to the table, then said, "Bring over the recorders from your armor."
After connecting the recorders to the computer, he stood there for a long time, the only thing he could confirm was that the two who mutated had come into contact with some green powder.