The sound of the left ventricle pumping blood was strong and healthy, while the right ventricle sent deoxygenated blood to the lungs.
The two chambers worked in harmony, beating with a healthy rhythm—this heart was alive, beating within Soren's body.
…For the revival of this heartbeat, he had sacrificed his entire life.
In an almost euphoric sense of satisfaction, he struggled to think—his Soren was alive.
Soren was still alive.
Young, robust, cheerful, and radiant, filled with love from everyone.
After enduring all kinds of suffering and misfortune, he had finally found happiness.
Yet he had reached the final segment of a long life, becoming a frail old man.
How could he possess a newborn star, radiant and dazzling in the night sky?
He could no longer embrace Soren—
—he couldn't, nor could he occupy any place in Soren's life.
What had he brought to Soren?
Soren had come to him with thoughts of salvation, but all he had given Soren were misfortune, sorrow, and tears.
…He should have exited the stage long ago.
Even though every muscle in his body screamed at him not to let go, he slowly released his grip on Soren with a will that transcended the ordinary.
But at that moment, Soren grasped his clothing tightly.
He looked up at this unfamiliar man, his bright blue eyes unwavering.
"…I know you."
He said softly yet firmly.
His gaze greedily swept over the man's deep-set features, strong nose, chiseled jaw, and gray hair at the temples.
He knew he had never seen this man in his memories, yet he was utterly convinced that they had once met.
It was as if the shadow of this person had been imprinted in his young, unworldly soul!
He stared at him, and tears began to stream down his face.
Large droplets rolled from those Kryptonian blue eyes.
"I know you, I must know you…"
He tried to repeat, raising a hand to wipe away the hot tears while stubbornly holding onto the man's clothing, as if fearing he would vanish again.
Clark was taken aback by Soren's tears, his heart aching.
He hurriedly used his thumb to wipe away Soren's tears, whispering, "What's wrong? Don't cry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't cry—"
His words were abruptly interrupted by a loud explosion.
He instinctively embraced Soren and turned to look at the explosion's epicenter behind them—
At the spot where the gray-purple mutated monster had fallen, a golden-haired man clad in a stars-and-stripes-patterned cape and a deep blue uniform with shoulder pads was locked in a fierce battle with the creature.
The monster's gooey body could regenerate infinitely, emitting a deafening shriek that far surpassed any frequency found in Earth's creatures.
It writhed and lunged toward the golden-haired man, who soared high in the air, his eyes glowing crimson.
From those eyes shot thick beams of red heat vision—
The heat vision aimed at the monster but was narrowly dodged, instead piercing through the storefront of a nearby shop.
The building exploded instantly, sending shards of glass and splintered wood flying out, but fortunately, the civilians inside had already been evacuated, sparing them from this calamity.
The golden-haired man's heat vision attacks continued unabated.
He relentlessly pursued the monster's movements, firing heat beams in every direction.
Within seconds, he had devastated much of the block—storefronts shattered, bricks tumbled, and pavement cracked as people screamed and rushed to escape the chaos.
Tim immediately took action, using his mini bat-grapple gun to vault into a nearby building.
He landed on the ground and quickly rolled to his feet, running to the window to observe the situation below amidst the astonished looks of the building's occupants.
Seeing the escalating destruction from the battle between the golden-haired man and the monster, he pulled out his emergency communicator.
Just as he was about to notify the Justice League, he saw the gray-purple monster suddenly soar upward like a helium balloon released into the sky.
He hadn't had time to take a closer look when the monster's figure became a black dot high in the sky, disappearing from his sight in the next moment
.
The golden-haired man quickly shot upward, following closely behind.
…Tim hesitated before putting down the communicator, gripping the window's edge with one hand.
He agilely leaped down to the street.
He looked toward the distant intersection where Soren was.
Soren sat on the ground, staring blankly up at the sky, his expression lost.
"Soren!" Tim rushed over, carefully leaping over the cracked asphalt, anxiously asking, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Soren simply tilted his head back, gazing at the cloudless blue sky above them.
"Soren?"
Tim approached him cautiously and gently patted his shoulder.
Soren seemed to snap back to reality as if someone had suddenly called his name.
He lowered his gaze and saw Tim.
Tears still clung to his damp eyelashes.
"…Are you hurt?"
Soren quickly shook his head. "No… I'm fine."
Tim helped him to his feet, and they checked each other for injuries.
Soren brushed the dust off Tim's back and thought for a moment before saying, "I just saw someone."
"Who?"
Soren whispered, "—Superman."
Tim shot him a surprised glance. "Superman? No way! You saw Superman? Why didn't he show up just now?"
Soren looked up at the sky again. "Maybe… he can't show up."
At midnight, in a nondescript alley in Gotham.
This bar, nestled in Gotham, is a microcosm of the city's nightlife—it's dim, dilapidated, narrow, and damp.
From the rusty narrow door leads a corridor reeking of urine, with colorful neon tubes haphazardly placed along the brick walls.
Only by navigating through this corridor can one reach the bar's main hall, where a dozen rickety tables and worn-out booths are crammed inside, and the ceiling hangs low enough to feel like it might collapse at any moment.
The bar is filled with various characters from Gotham's underbelly: gamblers, junkies, drug dealers, smugglers, sex workers, and the enforcers of various gang leaders.