Batman could vouch for it, using his Wayne name as a guarantee.
He had never witnessed such a grand and magnificent spectacle in his life.
The curtain rose.
In the midst of a torrential downpour, two figures stood facing each other.
Intense red beams ignited the rain and air, creating a thick white fog.
Extreme blue currents froze raindrops and earth, turning a thousand miles into an icy wasteland.
Neither held back their strength; they went all out.
This magnificent scene was like an abstract painting by Mondrian, vast and breathtaking, as if the two were about to divide the world into red and blue.
Even a man as stoic as Batman found himself curious.
Who would be the victor? Who would be left in the dust?
With Batman's anticipation, the two distinct beams of light collided violently!
On the fertile plains, blue and red light intertwined and clashed!
"Buzz!"
A piercing sonic boom exploded in his ears.
The previously dark plain was illuminated by a dazzling white light.
The blinding beams existed for only a fleeting moment before intense heat and ice converged, kicking up a cloud of white mist that soared towards the sky.
A ravaged field, charred trees, and standing figures.
Everything was concealed and "swallowed" by the white mist.
Had the battle ended?
The thought flashed through Batman's mind like a shooting star, but he quickly and firmly rejected it.
He simply wouldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe that the Mysterious Man could fail so easily.
That was a terrifying opponent, cold, ruthless, and with unfathomable strength. How could such a formidable adversary, like the most powerful and outstanding predator, be defeated by a fledgling kitten?
Boom!
A surge of wind erupted from the ground, confirming Batman's suspicions.
The wind cleared the clouds, revealing two figures locked in combat.
Batman reached out to shield himself from the hurricane, squinting with effort.
In the swirling, hazy mist, two figures were throwing punches at each other.
Bang bang bang!
Sounds like firecrackers exploding echoed continuously within the fog.
The sounds of two figures fighting up close were like hundreds of cannons firing simultaneously.
At this moment, Batman gained a clearer and more intuitive understanding of the upper limits of a superhuman's strength.
The fight continued.
In a split second, their fists collided thousands of times, and the resulting shockwaves continuously expanded outward from the two combatants.
The ground beneath their feet had already shattered and cracked. Clark continuously swung and hammered his fists towards his opponent.
Beads of sweat, like soybeans, slid down his cheeks. This was the first time Clark felt this much effort and difficulty.
From the moment he could remember until now, he had never encountered such a terrifying opponent.
But he wouldn't give up.
Clark's emerald eyes blazed with a hint of madness, while the pain in his arm constantly reminded him of the most unacceptable reality: whether it was his vaunted heat vision or a contest of strength, he was inferior to the Mysterious Man.
"I refuse to accept this!" Clark roared, his hands shifting into a palm strike, aiming for the Mysterious Man's face.
"Raising your voice won't make you stronger."
Faster than Clark could react, the Mysterious Man intercepted the blow before it could land.
Bang!
Fists and palms collided, and Clark's arm went numb as a terrifying force surged through it.
The intense pain was too much for Clark to bear, and he released his arms.
"Hiss—"
Clark sucked in a breath, staggering backward, each step leaving a deep indentation in the earth.
The arrogant expression had long since been replaced by wariness and a grave look.
But, a fight is not a contest. Brutality and constant change are its core.
Mysterious Man obviously wouldn't fall for the "villains die from talking too much" trope. The instant Clark retreated, he also charged towards Clark.
Steel-reinforced arms burst from under his suit, piercing the white mist.
Fast, accurate, ruthless, and powerful!
Clark didn't even have time to react before that rapidly enlarging right hand slammed onto his face.
"BOOM!"
The irresistible force, like a divine decree, slammed Clark to the ground.
His filthy cheek was pressed back into the scorched earth.
The earthy smell of the soil and the humiliation flooded Clark's mind. He heard the man's voice: "It turns out that the Homelander, Clark, can't change the fact of weakness."
Homelander? What was that?
Clark was puzzled, but the next second, he felt his finger being grabbed, and the Red Ring, which he had been wearing on his middle finger, was pulled off.
"Waaah!"
Clark, his cheek pressed into the dirt, howled. If someone could translate, the general meaning might be: No! That's my ring, you, you can't take it!
"It's over."
Gino pulled off the "culprit" that had driven Clark so mad, the Bloodstone Ring that emitted a faint red glow.
Before Clark could finish speaking, a sense of weakness and exhaustion enveloped him the moment the Red Ring left his hand.
"Thud!"
This battle between Supermen ultimately ended with Clark's defeat, at least for now.
The downpour overhead had stopped at some point.
The surrounding ground was cracked and riddled with potholes.
Batman silently watched as the Mysterious Man took the ring from Clark's hand. He knew he had to make a decision immediately.
Should he fight the man to the bitter end, or would it be wiser to retreat?
Batman didn't have much time.
But before Batman could react, a voice sounded behind him, like a nursery rhyme from Gotham's Court of Owls: "I remember telling you, don't disappoint me next time we meet."
"But, you've disappointed me, Batman."
In the final second of the memory, Batman only felt a pain in his spine.
"Hoo-hoo."
The Night Owl's call rang in his ears, and a warm hot water bottle was placed on him.
Bruce's eyelids trembled slightly as he slowly opened his eyes.
He saw, saw Alfred, his loyal butler, standing by the bed. Beneath his aged face, there was a hint of sadness, but Alfred still spoke with a joking tone, "Master Bruce, your private jet is really fast."
"Is it the same as before, Alfred?"
Bruce looked at the bandages wrapped around his waist, his expression grim.
He failed again. Once more, that person broke his spine. Then, the Mysterious Man injected him with that mysterious serum, and he healed, just like a lab rat.
"Indeed, I also found you outside the manor," Alfred hesitated for a moment, then couldn't help but advise Bruce. "Master Bruce, perhaps we could try a more… ordinary way of life?"
Alfred really couldn't stand it any more. His master came back to the castle every day with a body full of injuries.
"No, Alfred. Gotham needs me. The world needs me."
Before Alfred could finish speaking, Bruce firmly cut him off.
He struggled to his feet and walked towards the Batcave. "This trip to the small town has been very rewarding."
Bruce's blue eyes flickered with a horrifying light.
His mind raced with the tasks he needed to handle tonight. "It's time to update the database on the Masked Man."
"His eyes can emit freezing beams."
"Also, create a file on Clark Kent and keep a close eye on him. We also need to follow up on the Red Ring stolen by the Mysterious Man, and it would be best to establish a mining company in the town."
Under the moonlight, Batman began another day of work.
-----------------------
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