If the space-time of the main universe was said to have all its undercurrents hidden under the calm surface, gradually exhibiting the harbinger of the coming crisis.
Then Luke's world was just like the retirement life for retired workers, with a slow and monotonous pace.
"Push harder, didn't you eat?"
"Think of me as Lana's quarterback boyfriend. Yes, that's it. Hit me hard!"
"Too weak, too weak ... Kakarot! You don't even have the qualification to be my opponent right now! "
"..."
Before facing such a boring world...
Luke may choose to pass the time by collecting Hollywood actresses like stamps and constantly working on his car.
But now, he had found a more interesting recreational activity.
That was to train the younger Kryptonian cousin!
Under the private mansion, there was a wide training area.
Boom!
Bang bang bang!
Muffled thunder-like sound strung together, like firecrackers exploding.
The fists had a swift and rhythmic drumbeat; they kept landing on Clark.
Like a human sandbag, he could only hold his head in his arms and passively withstand his older cousin's furious attack, with no room to even counterattack.
This was the training process these days.
Repeatedly beaten until he couldn't stand up.
"I... I give up... cousin!"
Feeling exhausted, Clark gasped violently. He could only say a few words between each breath.
"Clark, your will isn't strong enough. You should say, 'I can do this all day'!"
Luke withdrew his fist and spoke with slight disgust, "Admitting defeat so quickly is too unmanly!"
Clark took off his tattered gloves. His body seemed to be hollowed out.
The whole person sat on the hard ground, riddled with potholes, with his chest rising and falling like stretched bellows.
He looked up at his cousin's heavy fists. They were enough to hammer him to death. He felt the aching muscles shudder.
'If I spar with him all day, I might die.'
"I still don't know how to fight ..."
Clark shook his head, feeling a little depressed.
In front of Luke, he looked extremely clumsy.
His punches weren't fast enough, and he was slow to react. He could only take the beating every time.
The only difference was how long it would last.
"Fighting requires a long time to train, Clark."
Luke waved his hand. This amount of exercise was, at best, a warm-up to him. Not to mention gasping for breath, he didn't even break a sweat.
"I just want you to learn how to control your power first."
At first, every time Clark punched, he could create bursts of air.
With every stomp, he could make potholes in the ground.
Without Luke's bio-force field, this villa might have collapsed.
"At least now you have learned how to control the strength of your punches. if you could do that, you wouldn't lose control."
Luke smiled and threw a hot towel at his younger cousin.
Kryptonians had a strong physique. They wouldn't die even if they were beaten like a sandbag for 2 hours.
Clark was still alive and kicking. He just felt sore all over.
After a few minutes in the sun, he would be fine.
That's why Luke was so enthusiastic about training his cousin.
Since he became stronger and stronger, he couldn't find a suitable sandbag.
Right now, Clark was undoubtedly a good choice.
Who could fight better than a Kryptonian?
"When can I learn how to fly?"
Clark still remembered the beautiful feeling of overlooking the planet from the sky.
"When you can resist the gravity of Earth, you can fly."
For a real Kryptonian, flying wasn't an ability.
They could use their strong bodies, as well as bio-force fields, to escape the pull of gravity.
Zod, for example, was born with the genetic template of a Kryptonian general.
His gift of combat, and leadership ability, were at max stats.
So when he came to Earth, he quickly got used to the atmosphere and gravity.
Like flying and Heat Vision, he mastered it in no time.
"Cousin, I have something to do."
Clark rested a bit, dried his sweat, then got up and said so.
He recently joined the school football team, and he wanted to get close to his crush, Lana.
Coupled with his cousin's daily special training, although his back hurts, he really could control his body better than before, and he didn't have to worry about hurting others.
All in all, his life had entered the fast lane.
Everything was so pleasing.
"There might be a lot of strange things that are going to happen in town. If there's danger, remember to call for help."
Luke smiled meaningfully. He understood the threat of kryptonite to Superman, but he didn't say it outright.
Because telling Clark wouldn't make any sense and would only lead to more questions.
This small town was Superman's novice village.
He needed to finish his quests continuously and accumulate experience before he could become a beacon of hope for Metropolis in the future.
...
...
As time silently went by, between his school life and his cousin's daily special training, Clark felt like he was full of life.
The first quest he had to face would happen in a week.
Today, he accompanied his mother to the town's bank to withdraw some money.
Thanks to his cousin's secret help, the scale of Kent farm had somewhat doubled.
Jonathan, his adoptive father, started to get busy. He took out his savings and prepared to buy a batch of brand-new farm tools and machines.
"17 years ago, the meteorite shower bombarded the town, causing great casualties."
Mrs Kent talked about the incident with a smile. She and her husband were driving home when they found Clark, who had fallen from the sky.
Because of the disaster, many families were broken, and innocent people were killed. The subsequent registration became much simpler.
Jonathan went to great lengths to successfully register him with the Census Bureau and the Social Security Administration.
And so, Clark Kent, an alien, became an American citizen.
"Mom, thank you for adopting me."
Clark often thought, what would happen if he didn't land on the farm in Kansas but fell to other places.
"You brought us hope, Clark."
Mrs Kent took her son's arm, and they walked into the bank together.
But before long, two gangsters wearing presidential masks broke in.
'President Kennedy', armed with a double-barreled shotgun, was in the lead.
They seemed to have been well prepared. Sending one man in first, to look around.
After observing for a moment, the gangster wearing the 'President Roosevelt' mask quickly brought down the security guards inside.
And then the two guards standing in the doorway, who were caught unprepared, raised their hands and dropped to the ground.
"Don't move! Everybody down!"
'President Kennedy' fired a shot into the air. He didn't worry about attracting the police.
Small towns weren't like big cities, with tight security measures.
Even if the police station received an alarm from the bank and immediately came, it would still take 7 to 8 minutes.
It was enough time for them to fill two duffle bags with money.
In fact, robbery was a criminal profession that paid great attention to efficiency.
Getting the most harvest in the shortest time was the goal.
The robbers who broke into the bank then caused an incident and were quickly blocked in by the police.
Apparently, they weren't professional enough.
"Open the vault and load the money in! Hurry up! Anyone gets in the way; I'll kill them!" "
The three robbers soon got the scene under control. Facing a double-barreled shotgun, the bank staff and the townspeople all crouched on the ground with their hands in the air.
It was like encountering a mugger, and they just had to hand over their wallets. Don't try to resist, or you'll take a bullet.
'President Jefferson' used a colt pistol to detain the bank manager and an employee to open the vault.
The other guarded the door, looking out to see the situation.
They had a clear division of labour without the slightest panic. It could be seen that they weren't rookie crooks.
"It's okay, Mom. It'll be over soon."
Clark stared at the armed robbers. Out of his inner sense of justice, he was tempted to jump right out and stop these bad guys from committing crimes.
But considering his mother's safety and the need to hide his identity, Clark could only hold back the complicated mood, even if he was eager.
When one's life was under the control of others, every second felt painful.
'President Kennedy', with a double-barrel shotgun, seemed to enjoy the feeling of having the power over people's lives in his hands.
The muzzle was constantly sweeping around. With each movement, it caused the people to whimper in fear.
"Bro, got it! "
The long minutes finally passed, and 'President Roosevelt' threw two full duffle bags on the ground.
'President Kennedy' kicked the bag to his partner at the door and told him to throw it into the trunk of the car.
He wasn't sure whether the police were still on their way and raised his hand to see the time.
It's only been 8 minutes.
"Get a hostage, and get in the car."
The leader, 'President Kennedy', carrying a bag of money, shouted orders to his other accomplices.
With a colt pistol, 'President Roosevelt' quickly glanced around and picked out Mrs Kent, who was trembling and looking very scared.
'Female, middle age, maybe a housewife ...'
Such a hostage would make those officers think twice about doing something reckless.
The robber violently grabbed Mrs Kent and tried to take her away.
The guy didn't know that this was a stupid thing to do.
Even General Zod was beaten to death for trying to hurt Superman's mother.
If someone else did this, then their fate could be imagined.
"Clark!"
Just when Mrs Kent screamed, Superman, who couldn't bear it any longer, suddenly jumped up like an angry bull.
Boom!
Thanks to his cousin's recent daily training, Clark didn't smash the criminal into tomato sauce.
He was caught off guard; he fell to the ground. The potentially 'threatening' colt slipped out.
"Fuck! You little brat!"
The robber didn't expect to get hit by a high-schooler and pinned down to the ground.
However, before he could do anything, a powerful fist smashed his nasal bone.
Along with it, the cheek felt like they had been scraped with a steel knife, grinding away large chunks of skin.
This was the result of Clark holding back his strength.
Otherwise, the other person's head may explode like a watermelon.
Warm blood splashed on his face.
Clark, who had to fight for the first time and saw blood. He was at a loss.
He got up in a panic and then saw two other robbers outside the door.
The double-barreled shotgun was aimed at Clark's chest, and the bandit leader wearing the 'President Kennedy' mask cruelly smiled.
Boom!
A cloud of smoke dispersed.
Powerful kinetic energy and buckshot struck Superman.
Everyone in the bank covered their mouths and eyes as if they couldn't bear to look.
Such a young life would die at the hands of bank robbers ... What a tragedy...
Especially Mrs Kent, she was so shocked that she almost fainted.
But after a few seconds, the bloody scene that everyone expected to see didn't happen.
Clark subconsciously looked down at his chest, where he had been shot, only felt a faint stinging, and took a few steps backwards.
Beyond that, there was no further reaction.
"What the fuck are you?!"
It was the leader's turn to be shocked.
The young-looking high school student in front of him was fine after getting shot?!
Unbelieving, he pulled the forearm and prepared to do it again.
But Clark didn't give 'President Kennedy' a chance. He learned from his older cousin that he shouldn't give the enemy a chance to make another move.
In a few steps, he crossed the distance between them.
He held the double-barrel shotgun with his hand and squeezed it!
Crunch!
The toothache-inducing sound of metal bending rang out.
The barrel was twisted and deformed.
Boom!
Clark easily grabbed the disabled gun from the leader of the criminals and swung it at his head like a baseball bat.
This time, he perfectly controlled his strength.
A severe concussion at most, but never anything life-threatening.
Seeing the only criminal left, 'President Jefferson', quickly climbed into the car without looking back, ignited the engine and drove away.
Clark wanted to catch up with him, then suddenly stopped.
He couldn't leave his mother alone in the bank. It may still be dangerous.
Ten seconds later, the bank clerk confirmed that the robber had left. Everyone gathered around Clark and looked at him with surprise.
At this time, Superman realised one thing.
The secret that he's a Saiyan seemed to be exposed!
In the heat of the moment, Clark struck out in anger, having long since forgotten Jonathan's warnings.
Only when he had finished tackling the bank robbers did he remember that he shouldn't have done it.
"You saved us!"
"The kid is a hero!"
"He wasn't injured ..."
"..."
All kinds of voices crowded into Clark's ears. He was a little overwhelmed, not knowing what to do.
For the first time in his life, he was in the spotlight and was called a 'hero'.
Clark wasn't used to it. He carefully pushed away from the people around him.
Pick up his frightened mother and prepare to leave.
At this time, shrill sirens sounded.
The police finally arrived.
But all they saw were two unconscious robbers and the cheerful bank employees.
'How did this happen?'
The officers' faces were covered with question marks.
The scene didn't look like a bank robbery but rather like some sort of themed party.
"Officer, it's the teenager."
Someone pointed to Clark and said so.
"Everyone said ... you brought down these two criminals?"
A fat police officer with a beer belly came over to ask. He watched the scene for a moment, deliberately or not, and spotted the double-barreled shotgun that had been twisted into scrap metal.
"Did you do this too?"
Clark was a little stiff. He scratched his head and didn't know how to explain it.
"Don't be nervous, kid; I'm just taking a statement. You prevented a bank robbery and saved everyone. They're very grateful to you, and the police department will also give you a commendation."
The fat police officer was experienced. He slowed down his tone, trying to get Clark's guard down, and then start a conversation.
"Tell me, how did you beat them?"
A high school student putting down two armed tough guys sounds like a miracle.
Clark's throat rolled, remembering what his cousin had taught him, and he replied, "Officer, I... I was born with some kind of godly strength and just swung my fist and knocked them over."
The fat police officer's round face suddenly turned serious.
"So, this is also godly like powers you were born with?"
He pointed to Clark's chest. His shirt was tattered.
It was clearly holes from a shotgun.
...
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