Chapter 1219: The Farm of Justice (I)

The long sunshine hours in Kansas make the spring breeze here warmer. The wheat fields are blown by the breeze, and the rolling wheat waves are like the footsteps of the goddess of spring.

On the field path, the early summer drizzle brings the moist grass fragrance. After a few steps on the mud, you can see the shadow of the town on the skyline.

Smallville is located in the southern part of Kansas. It is also an unknown town, even unknown. The most eye-catching time here was when a meteorite fell here more than 20 years ago, which triggered a not-so-amazing discussion.

More than 20 years have passed, and most people have forgotten the original accident, and have forgotten the excitement of discussing whether there were words engraved by aliens on the meteorite in the only tavern in the town.

But whenever those years are mentioned, every Smallville person's face is filled with a proud smile. That was the most eye-catching moment in this ordinary town.

The floral curtains were blown by the breeze. A pair of slightly rough hands tied the curtains with the same rough hemp rope. The middle-aged man with brown hair turned around and said, "...Yes, I was at the scene that night. You would never imagine how close I was to the meteorite. The dust almost brushed my nose."

"When the reporters came, they all asked me if I was injured. They thought that such a big stone fell on my head and I could still survive. To me, these reporters are a bit too exaggerated..."

"Hey, Joe, stop talking. Don't forget that our dear Xiao Ke is now a glorious reporter. You will make him sad." A gentle female voice came from the kitchen next to her.

The busy figure in the kitchen has beautiful brown-red curly hair, a red plaid apron tied around her waist, and a long spoon in her hand, stirring the bubbling soup in the pot.

The aroma came from the kitchen. Clark, who was sitting on the sofa, seemed to have nails on his buttocks. He had to straighten his body and stretch his neck to look back every few dozen seconds.

After he did this action for about the twentieth time, Bruce next to him finally couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed Clark's arm and looked at him and said, "Your sight won't make the pea soup better faster. Can you sit quietly for a while?"

"I'm just guessing what delicious Martha will make. Before dinner, I will bet with Xiaobo, but he always guesses better than me, as if Martha is his mother...ah, of course, now it is also a member of our family." Clark said while stretching his head to look back.

"Yes, we all like Boo. I originally wanted to raise a hound, but Martha is a little allergic to animal hair. Fortunately, Boo doesn't shed much hair... You know, Clark, when I heard that your friend had the same name as Boo, I was really surprised. Did you name Boo after him?"

"Of course not, Dad, Boo has his own ideas. I think cats have more opinions than dogs." Clark turned his head in another direction and looked back at the man who was tying curtains.

"Don't mind, Bruce, you know what's going on with him." Clark lowered his voice and said, "Jonathan sometimes makes some inappropriate jokes. His sense of humor is a bit strange. I hope you don't mind."

Bruce put a finger on his temple and sighed softly. He didn't expect that when he came to Clark's hometown, Smallville, Kansas, the first problem he had to solve was that there was another Bruce who came earlier than him and took his name.

"Meow--"

A low and hoarse cat cry came from the corner of the stairs. Bruce turned his head and saw a black cat stretching its front paws on the carpet. Its two black paws scratched the carpet hard, and then kicked its hind legs. The hair all over its body exploded as if it was electrocuted, and then it returned to calm.

"Oh, no! Little Bu, you can't scratch the carpet! Bad cat!" Clark's father Jonathan rushed up and picked up the bat cat from the ground. The bat cat flexibly jumped onto his shoulder, and then jumped around his neck to the other shoulder.

Jonathan stretched out his arms and scratched around his head like dancing. Clark stood up helplessly, grabbed the bat cat by the back of its neck, and held it in his arms.

"How long does this guy plan to stay here?" Batcat stared at Bruce with his vertical pupils, looking a little alert. He sniffed lightly, then lowered his voice and said to Clark: "He smells of blood, he must have done something bad."

"Don't say that, Little Bruce, he is injured, and his mental state is also worrying. He came here for recuperation. It is estimated that he will stay for a few months until his mental state improves."

"Don't be silly, his mental state will not improve." Batcat rubbed his claws on Clark's arm, and bared his teeth and said: "Otherwise he is not Batman."

"He is not Batman, but Bruce Wayne, my friend, a mentally ill patient who needs love and care. Remember, Little Bruce, you have to give in to him. We must care for the old, weak, sick and disabled."

Bruce covered his forehead and said: "I am not old, weak, sick and disabled."

"You are it." Clark looked at him and said with certainty: "You have three broken ribs, injured lungs, injured shoulders, a knife in the stomach, and a knife in the neck. Isn't this old, weak, and disabled? Then who is it? It can't be me, right?"

Bruce was speechless, but a scream came from the kitchen door. Clark turned around and asked, "What's wrong? Mom?"

Clark's mother Martha came over as fast as she could, touched her earlobe gently and said, "Did I hear it right? What did you say he was injured by? He was stabbed?"

"More than one knife." Clark put his hands on his waist, stretched out a hand and pointed at Bruce and said, "He was stabbed at least four or five times in a week, and one knife cut into the artery."

Jonathan next to him also rushed over. The family of three plus a cat stood behind the sofa, all staring at Bruce, as if they were looking at an alien.

Martha took the lead in tying her untied apron back on, and rushed back to the kitchen as quickly as possible around the dining table and chairs. While resetting the pot, she said, "Oh my God, I said before that an appetizer, two main courses, soup and dessert should be enough, but that is for normal people. Patients must supplement their nutrition. Let me see, make some fish stuffing first, and then a baked chicken..."

"Clark, why didn't you say it earlier? I thought Bruce was just visiting. You should have told me earlier that he was so seriously injured, so that I could prepare a nutritious and hearty meal in advance, instead of a home-cooked meal like today."

"...Oh my God, where is the fish in the refrigerator?" Martha screamed again, but the next second she raised her voice and shouted, "Little Bull! Little Bull! Bruce... Sorry, I'm not calling you, I'm calling our cat, Little Bull! Did you steal the fish again?!"

Clark immediately broke open He opened the bat cat's mouth, took a look and said, "I'm afraid so, Mom, and the crime happened last night."

Martha lowered her arms, sighed and said a little sadly, "It's always like this. When I want to do something, there's always something missing..."

"Don't complain, Martha, we still have a son, Clark, drive to make up for your dear mother's regret." Jonathan waved his hand and said, "By the way, put the cat down, I hope the fish can live to be put into the pot."

Clark took the car keys from Jonathan's hand, hugged the bat cat and said, "I will take good care of it, let me take it with me."

Bruce stood up from the sofa and said, "I'll go too."

"Oh my God!"

"God!"

"Jesus!"

Three exclamations rang out in unison, and Bruce was stunned, not knowing what he said wrong.

Jonathan held his shoulders and pushed him back to the sofa, then said, "Stop talking nonsense, kid. You are covered in wounds. Now you tell me that you want to take a car to buy something four miles away? That will kill people!"

"Four miles? Why so far?" Bruce asked.

"Because only in the town can you buy fish." Clark shrugged and said, "This is a farm in the suburbs. Four miles is close enough. If you live at the dairy farm, you may have to drive ten miles."

"I just want to go out and get some fresh air." Bruce seemed very uncomfortable with the atmosphere here, as if he wanted to escape at any time.

Clark scratched his head and said, "But that's true. I heard from Dr. Weir that patients should get more sun and fresh air. This road is relatively smooth, so let's go together."

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief. Before Clark could react, he was already outside the door. Clark looked at him with some confusion and said, "Why are you in such a hurry? I still have to get the shopping bags and hat."

"Go ahead." Bruce stood outside the door, with no intention of going in.

"He's shy." The bat cat in Clark's arms said.

"I don't." Bruce denied.

"You do, I'm Batman too."

Clark pinched the bat cat's mouth, gave Bruce a fake smile, and then rushed into the house to get the hat.

After a while, he took out two sun hats, both of which were woven straw hats. Bruce put them on his head and compared them. He found that they blocked his vision a little, so he handed the hat back to Clark and said, "Forget it, just wear it."

Clark opened his eyes slightly and said, "Are you sure?"

Bruce nodded indifferently. Clark thought about it and did not force him. Instead, he put the huge hat on the head of the bat cat, covering the whole cat.

The two people and the cat came to the garage together. Bruce was stunned to see the old pickup truck in the garage, which he could not even judge the age and brand with modern mechanical knowledge.

Bruce pursed his lips, swallowed his saliva, looked at Clark and said, "Do you want to drive this thing to buy groceries?"

"Yes." Clark opened the door and sat in the driver's seat.

Bruce hesitated for a moment. He really didn't know how much force he should use to open the door of the pickup truck, which might be older than Alfred, so that it wouldn't fall off.

Unexpectedly, Clark had already turned sideways and stretched out his arm, pushed the door on the other side open, and smiled warmly at Bruce and said, "I know you can't lift your arm. Come on, I'll pull you up."

Looking at Clark's outstretched arm, Bruce hesitated for a moment, but still held the edge of the door frame and climbed to the passenger seat with a bit of slow movement. As soon as he climbed up, he heard the bat cat squatting in the back seat sneer like a cat's cry and a human's laugh.

Bruce wanted to turn around and look at it, but at this time, Clark turned the car key twice, sighed, waved at Bruce and said, "It won't start, get out of the car."

Bruce stared at Clark in a daze. Clark shrugged and said, "You can't expect this pickup truck bought by my grandfather to work smoothly every day. We are unlucky today. The old man may be a little tired."

After that, Clark got out of the car. Bruce wanted to get out of the car slowly again. Clark hugged his waist and took him to the ground, just like moving a bag of straw.

Before Bruce reacted from the confusion of the sudden change of position, Clark had already strode to another garage.

After Bruce followed, Clark rubbed his hands and said, "Fortunately, we have a backup option, otherwise we really can't eat fish today."

"Backup option..."

Before Bruce finished speaking, the garage door slowly opened.

Parked in the garage is a tall, majestic, brightly painted, modern industrial mechanical beauty...tractor.