In the video, Fran, tied to a chair, confessed his past crimes with tears streaming down his face.
"Frequently helping gangs sell out informants, harming colleagues who had conflicts with me, framing people who were obstacles to promotion in the police force, threatening people to steal various commercial secrets... The crimes he committed are enough to get him shot five or six times."
Finally, the video also showed Fran's intention to control Clark.
"If Clark doesn't listen, I'll teach him a lesson. For example, I'll bring in corpses and illegal guns, hide them in the barn, frame your father for murder, and send your father to prison. Only then will I truly have leverage over your family."
A trembling voice came from the video. Fran confessed fearfully, but Clark could still hear the chilling, sinister calculations within.
Perhaps his brother was right; he was too naively hopeful.
"I made a mistake with this."
After the video finished playing, Clark, with a slightly strained expression, admitted his mistake to his brother.
He then looked earnestly into David's eyes, his face filled with worry.
"But you shouldn't have killed people, brother.
You haven't even finished high school, yet you can turn people into vegetables without batting an eye, torture them for confessions, kill them, and dispose of their bodies.
I'm genuinely scared."
Strictly speaking, his brother David was still a minor, but many of the things he had done were enough to make many adults shudder.
Compared to someone being killed, the future Superman, Clark, was more worried about David's future.
[Concern from Clark +35...]
[Template Fusion 96%]
"What do you think of the soldiers who killed people during the defense battle?"
David asked.
"Are they uncontrollable murderers with evil intentions?"
"Of course not."
Clark replied. How could defending the country be a crime?
"Then don't bother me anymore."
With that, David turned and left.
"I am protecting this family from any outside trouble or destruction!"
Watching his brother's retreating back, Clark opened his mouth, but words failed him.
If his brother remained like this, he wouldn't worry. He was afraid that if certain things developed and you didn't pay attention or intervene, by the time the outcome was decided, you would be powerless to change it.
"Today, David crossed the line of killing, and he seemed to have no psychological burden, as if he were crushing an insect or doing something trivial."
Clark was deeply worried, which reminded him of the future visions Ms. Cassandra had seen.
If those scenes were real, David in the future clearly wouldn't limit his power to just protecting the family.
...
Clouds loomed over the sky, and cold raindrops pattered against the glass.
On the top floor of the Metropolis Environmental Center, a building with bright, clean windows.
A man in a suit and tie, meticulously groomed, with his hair slicked back, his brows carrying a fighter's resilience, and his expression serious, gazed out at the crowds holding umbrellas below.
"The view here is quite nice."
A kind voice came from behind. A brown-haired man in a black overcoat entered the office, removing his leather gloves.
His face wore a smile that was as pleasant as a spring breeze.
"Good morning, Mr. Rickman. We welcome your visit."
Paul, like a warrior preparing for a difficult battle, slowly turned around, his voice serious yet polite.
"Director Paul called me here. Is there anything I can contribute to the Environmental Center?"
Sitting down unceremoniously across the desk and shifting his body as if finding the chair uncomfortable, the millionaire Rickman, worth hundreds of millions of dollars, looked up and smiled.
"I heard your company is conducting some investigations in Smallville and plans to acquire a few farms.
Does your company have any plans?"
He also sat down in his own position, looking directly into the other's eyes, and got straight to the point.
"My plan is to build a large new factory and create some job opportunities and tax revenue for our dear Metropolis."
Rickman spread his hands.
Paul silently took a water sample from a cabinet and placed it on the desk, staring intently at him.
"What is this?"
"This is a groundwater sample taken from the location of a factory you recently built. The parameters exceeding the standard are even higher than those in your own factories," he said, his eyes sharp.
"Rickman Enterprises has always had a good relationship with the Environmental Center, Paul."
Rickman didn't even look at him, smiling as he pointed to a corner of the room.
"You know, the water dispenser in your room? My company sponsored that. I just had dinner with some of your colleagues the other day."
"Not everyone can be bought with money. Tomorrow, I'll issue a restraining order with my people to prevent your company from approaching that town."
He stood up, an unyielding look in his eyes, and braced his hands on the table.
"Listen to me, and everyone benefits. Otherwise..."
Rickman also stood up, his smile gone, his eyes revealing a chilling coldness.
"I've looked into the pesticide factory under your company. It seems there are an unusual number of lawsuits from employees suffering from poisoning, though you've managed to suppress them all."
Paul took out a thick folder, fearlessly confronting him.
"I've contacted several people and decided to refile the lawsuit against you. Mr. Rickman, you might be very busy from now on and have no time for anything else."
His gaze suddenly became more somber. After a few seconds, Rickman suddenly laughed, shaking his head as if in exasperation.
"You've really hit my weak spot, Paul."
He placed his hand on Paul's shoulder, his palm seemingly brushing his neck, making physical contact.
Paul's pupils briefly unfocused before returning to normal. Looking at the business elite before him, he felt an overwhelming sense of closeness and admiration, filled with deep regret. How could he have been so rude to Mr. Rickman, who had always donated to the Environmental Center?
"I'm sorry, sir, I just..."
"It's alright, Director Paul."
Rickman's smile was gentle as he put an arm around Paul and led him to the window, speaking as if to an old friend.
"I really admire your fighting spirit, but I've never bought anyone with money."
"You're right, sir. I shouldn't have doubted your integrity."
"Look at the buildings outside. You've contributed so much passion to your work, ensuring people live safe and environmentally friendly lives, but do you own any of it?"
"No, sir. My wife, my children, and I are still renting an apartment." Paul's brow furrowed with a hint of sorrow, as if recalling a sad memory.
Shaking his head, Rickman's face displayed what seemed like genuine pity.
"What's the point of living like this? Think about it, Mr. Paul."
He patted the bewildered Paul on the shoulder and turned to leave.
A while later, at the Metropolis Environmental Center, Rickman, exuding the air of a successful man, walked towards the entrance of the first-floor lobby.
Bang!
A figure leaped from upstairs, crushing a taxi parked at the entrance, and splattering into a pulp.
"Taylor, I heard a few stubborn farmers are refusing to sell their land?"
He withdrew his icy gaze, pulling out his phone from his pocket.
"Get the car ready. We're going to the town. I'll have a word with them."
...
The golden sunlight of noon streamed through the glass into the house.
David and Clark opened the door and returned home, only to find no scent of lunch. The atmosphere was oppressively heavy.
"Dad, Mom, what's wrong?" David asked, surprised as he walked into the house.
In the living room, his father, Jonathan, sat at the dining table with a worried expression, while his mother, Martha, stood beside him, angry. It seemed they had had an unprecedented shouting match, and neither was speaking to the other. This kind of situation had been rare in their warm little home over the past decade.
"What is this, Dad?" Clark asked, confused and worried as he looked at the documents his father was repeatedly examining.
"It's the contract for the sale of our farm and house," Martha said, unable to contain her anger. Her eyes turned red as she accused her husband. "How could you sell it without discussing it with me? Who was it that told me this land was our family heirloom? Who was it that said we would live here forever!"
"What?"
The two brothers were stunned. Everything had been fine that morning, and now, returning from school at noon, their home and land were gone in the blink of an eye?
David frowned and stepped closer, disbelieving. "Dad, did you really sell our Kent farm and Kent Home?"
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