amaotonovel Chapter 4318 Body of Steel (23)
Chapter 4318 Body of Steel (23)
Chapter 4318 Body of Steel (Twenty-Three)
Later that night, it snowed again in Gotham. It was sleet, though. The sounds of this kind of weather were unusual; not as dense as rain, nor as quiet as snow. It sounded like rapid drumbeats, and the icicles hitting the windowpanes sounded like crystals shattering in a chandelier.
The fire in the fireplace flickered. The entire manor remained empty and quiet. Clark was truly finding the deathly silence unbearable. He had barely sat down when he couldn't help but ask, "Is there a coffee machine? I'd like to make a cup of coffee."
“Ah Fu went back on vacation, I’m sorry there’s no one to entertain you. The coffee machine is in the kitchen,” Bruce said without looking up.
Clark got up and went to the kitchen to make coffee. As soon as he opened the cupboard, coffee beans from all over the world seemed to greet him. Clark pulled out a packet—he didn't recognize the language; then another packet—it looked like cat food; another packet—it smelled like his mother's Minnesota pickles; finally, he pulled out a packet—which finally looked like coffee beans.
The problem was that this was a brand new bag of beans. Judging by the production date, it seemed to have just arrived from Africa yesterday. The bag was very well sealed, so scissors were needed. Clark searched the kitchen for ages and only found kitchen scissors.
He knew that wealthy families were very particular: they would separate scissors into those for vegetables and those for meat, and knives into those for 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 started rummaging through the cupboard again.
After searching for a while, he couldn'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 thought he could take the peeler blades off and use them.
He swore he had only pulled the blade out slightly, and the entire peeler head had come off. He glanced at Bruce again; the man was still working intently.
Clark thought for a moment; if he were at home, he would have used his teeth. But that wouldn't work at Wayne Manor; he needed a more elegant way to open the coffee bean packaging.
"The scissors are in the back storage room," Bruce's voice came, startling Clark.
Then he wished he could disappear into a crack in the ground. Clark Kent, what are you doing?! Can you please stop acting like a stupid country bumpkin in front of Batman?!
Clark went to the storage room, and then he realized he really couldn't blame himself. The storage room was roughly half the size of his house. The door was polished walnut wood, with a gleaming gold hook stuck to it. He had passed by this door several times, but never imagined it would be a storage room.
Pushing open the door, he felt as if he had entered Costco's storeroom. The shelves contained every tool a human might use in a lifetime. Scissors alone covered an entire wall. Clark even found a pair of medical cesarean section scissors. He didn't know in what situation Batman would need them, nor dared to think about it.
He picked the most basic one and finally went back to the kitchen, cutting open the coffee bean package. Then he encountered a new problem—this coffee machine looked even more advanced than the spaceship he'd blown up the other day. He didn't know where to put the coffee beans.
He turned to look at Bruce again. The other man, almost as if he could read minds, 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 looked legitimate. He pressed it, and the coffee machine emitted a terrifying noise he couldn't comprehend, followed by a series of incomprehensible changes. By the time Bruce arrived, Clark had already retreated to the corner of the kitchen.
He wasn't worried about the coffee machine exploding; he was worried about Bruce exploding.
Bruce walked over, operated the machine for a moment, and it stopped. Clark breathed a sigh of relief; thankfully, it wasn't broken. This coffee machine looked like it was worth his entire salary for the rest of his life, and maybe not even that cheap.
“What’s wrong with it?” Clark asked.
“Automatic cleaning,” Bruce replied briefly. He then opened the upper cabinet door, revealing a small, separate machine. He pressed a button on the side of the coffee machine, the lid opened, and he poured in the coffee beans.
He took a cup and placed it on the coffee machine's spout. Clark instinctively asked, "Aren't you going to drink some?"
Bruce shook his head and then walked back to the sofa and sat down. Clark craned his neck to look at him, and after finishing that cup of coffee, he took another cup, placed it on the spout, and then imitated Bruce's actions to fill another cup of coffee.
He placed the two cups of coffee on the tray and then took them to the coffee table. Bruce glanced up at him when he saw there were two cups of coffee.
"Uh, I just feel it's not good for me to drink alone." Clark rubbed his hands vigorously on his pants.
"Are you worried I'll poison you?"
"What?" Clark asked, somewhat bewildered.
Bruce picked up his coffee and said to himself, "I'm glad I don't have to wear a full surgical gown to arouse your suspicion."
Clark rubbed his face vigorously and said, "It was just an accident. Schiller really looks like a doctor; he seems very professional. I'm not kidding."
“He might actually have a medical background.” Bruce didn’t refute him, but went along with his words, “But that’s what’s strange.”
Clark was a little confused. But just then, the screen lit up. His attention was drawn to the image on the screen. At first it was a bit blurry, with a bright spot in the corner of the image, and then the spaceship quickly appeared in the center of the screen.
Upon seeing the content on the screen, Clark couldn't help but cover his face. How come he hadn't noticed when he went to dispose of the wreckage? What was the difference between this spaceship's design and running naked?
The central compartment of this spaceship is mostly made up of huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The lighting is excellent, and the entire central compartment looks very bright, but the problem is that you can see everything in it from anywhere.
The most outrageous thing is that these people didn't seem to realize this, and just stood in the middle talking as if they were afraid that others wouldn't see their mouth movements and expressions.
Clark sighed. He saw Bruce zoom in a little. He could clearly see the tall man standing in the center speaking rapidly.
Clark had initially been observing his facial expressions, but as he continued, he realized he could understand what the other person was saying. More precisely, he could read the other person's lips.
He opened his eyes wide in shock, looked away, then looked back at the screen, realizing it wasn't just his imagination. There really was a voice in his head, a language he'd never learned but felt strangely familiar with.
Bruce seemed to notice his unusual behavior and asked, "Can you understand me?"
“I…I think I might be able to,” Clark said, somewhat incredulously, “but I shouldn’t be able to understand it. I came to Earth as a baby and never learned Kryptonian language…”
"This might already be ingrained in your genes; it just needs to be activated to be used. What are they talking about?"
"Uh, those people call this guy 'General Zod.' This general named Zod was calling them useless, then he asked what had defeated them, and then he went on calling them useless..."
“It seems they themselves don’t know their weaknesses,” Bruce said. “That’s interesting.”
“I have a question,” Clark said. “Why do they look so weak? I mean, like they don’t have any superpowers.”
Bruce shook his head and said, "I have a general idea, but the specific principle has not yet been verified. I will let you know as soon as I have reliable data."
"Then tell me your thoughts first," Clark pressed. "Am I special because I'm a Kryptonian? Are other Kryptonians not as powerful as me?"
Bruce shook his head again and said, "You may be a special individual, but it doesn't manifest in your strength. Everyone has this talent; they just haven't obtained the key yet."
"A key? What is a key?"
Just as Clark was about to press for further questions, something unusual happened on the spaceship. A table suddenly shattered, leaving everyone stunned.
On the Kryptonian spaceship, Zod stared in shock at the person beside him. The soldier who had broken the table also looked surprised. Seeing Zod's murderous expression, he quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, General, I didn't mean to... I just wanted to wipe the water off the table."
Zod walked over, looked at him with a gloomy expression, and said, "It seems you're quite unhappy with me."
“I didn’t!” the other party emphasized. “This attack on Earth didn’t go smoothly, and of course I have to take responsibility. You’re right, we shouldn’t have been so reckless, we shouldn’t have launched a direct frontal assault. It’s entirely my fault. I really…”
Zod, however, had no intention of giving him a chance to explain. He waved his hand, ordering his men to take him away. The man struggled while shouting his innocence, but with a wave of his hand, he sent another soldier flying.
Instantly, everyone drew their weapons and pointed them at him. The soldier stared at his hand in shock: "I..."
Zod quickly reached out to stop the others. He squinted and stepped forward, about to say something, when a beam of laser light grazed his scalp.
Everyone frantically searched for the mole who had fired the shot. Then, another woman stepped forward, 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 little..."
Zod recognized him. He looked back at the soldier who had smashed the table earlier; these two were among the soldiers who had attacked the military base, and both of them had been attacked by unidentified weapons and fallen to the ground.
Zod casually picked up a metal spear from the side and handed it to the soldier, saying, "Break it."
The soldier's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Kryptonian-made melee weapons are incredibly sturdy; this thing might not even melt if thrown into the sun. You expect him to break it with his bare hands?
But looking at Zod's murderous expression and then at the shattered table, fine, let's break it.
He picked up the spear, swallowed hard, gritted his teeth, and, fearing the general would think he wasn't trying hard enough, assumed a horse stance and, in the best possible position, suddenly twisted it.
With a creak, the spear was indeed bent.
Everyone on the spaceship gasped. They all knew how sturdy this gun was; it could even be used as a main cannonball in an emergency, capable of piercing through most civilized spaceships, and yet someone had bent it by hand?!
The soldier himself couldn't believe it. Although he had used all his strength, he didn't feel any different than usual, so how could this be...?
Zod, however, seemed to have thought of something else. He walked back to the table and said, "Bring the recorders from your armor."
After he got the recorder and connected it to the computer, he stood there for a long time and the only thing he could be sure of was that the two people who had undergone the mutation had come into contact with the green powder.
(End of this chapter)