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15.34% Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics / Chapter 658: Chapter 447: Screaming Poetry Returns (Last Part)_1

章節 658: Chapter 447: Screaming Poetry Returns (Last Part)_1

In the endless blizzard, a massive island was rising into the sky, surrounded by snowflakes dancing like elves celebrating the descent of a god. The constant howl of the cold wind seemed like a hymn singing praises to this mighty force.

Underneath this colossal island, was a small figure, a hand raised, holding up the entire structure, flying through the snowstorm.

His face was pale as death, but his expression held steadfast determination. He did not look back, did not dare to look at the massive meteor hidden underneath the mayor's mansion that nearly covered the entire estate.

Just now when he lifted the island of the mayor's mansion, the immense amount of radiation was once again causing him great harm. But Clark pushed through, teeth gritted and flying forward with the enormous mansion amidst the blizzard.

The blizzard blurred his sight, swallowed his voice and his thoughts began to drown in confusion.

A world of total white enveloped him.

With no direction, no destination, no hope, Clark knew. He needed to fly further, as far as possible from the deadly radiation, he needed to take the mansion to a safe place.

This goal echoed again and again in Clark's mind. He didn't even know what was driving him to do this.

He was not a fool. He was well aware of what had just happened in the mansion, it reflected the hideous side of these so-called elites.

They did not care for the truth, nor for justice. As hardly more than ants on the brink of collapse, they looked down upon the world from their lofty positions in the bustling society built by ordinary people. Yet their abilities or character did not hold a candle to the nobility of those hardworking masses.

They thought they were above the rules of society, yet they bow down to power more quickly than the howling wind outside the window. Be it in the farce that unfolded or the ant-like society, they were all too absorbed in their roles.

Clark didn't know how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity. Weakened by the Kryptonite, his strength was finally exhausted.

He tried to steady himself, but in the last stretch of descending, he could not control the balance of the entire mansion. On landing, a corner of the mansion struck the ground first, and then thumped into the earth with a loud crash.

Even this small tremor caused significant changes to the mansion.

Humans are incredibly fragile. Standing in their rooms, they might have been marveling at the might of God one moment, and be struck by disaster the next.

The unsteady mansion bounced and swayed, turning the entire estate into a centrifuge.

The mansion residents were thrown up into the air, and then landed with a crash. Some even hit the walls several times, everyone was bloodied.

The only positive aspect of this landing process over an earthquake or a plane crash was that it ended quickly. Those who landed awkwardly, died even quicker.

Amongst the residents of the three-story mansion, almost everyone got hurt in the unsteady landing. The lightest injuries were bumps on the forehead or scratches on the arms.

The majority of people suffered minor fractures, the number of deaths wasn't too high, about five or six. Most of them were the elderly, who couldn't withstand the violent collision.

Clark, having exhausted his last remnants of strength, collapsed onto the ground. There, in the icy snow, he felt snowflakes landing on his face.

Clark felt his body growing colder and colder, but he sighed in relief. Because he believed that he had saved everyone in the mansion.

Without the Kryptonite, his powers would recover quickly. Not long after, he felt as though he could stand up. But just as he was about to do so, he saw a person approaching from a distance in the blizzard.

The man was in a suit with green hair, face painted like a clown. But he wasn't the clown from the banquet hall. Clark found his face somewhat familiar. In a blink of an eye, Clark exclaimed, "Professor Shearer..."

What appeared in his vision, was the Kryptonite, raised high and striking down once again.

When Clark came to, he found himself back in the banquet hall. He was tied up again, the chunk of Kryptonite firmly fixed to his chest. He knew he wouldn't be able to break free this time.

Meanwhile, Batman, in the surveillance room, finally saw the true identity of the clown's accomplice - another clown.

Batman narrowed his eyes, showing the skeptical expression he usually wore. He looked down at the Batman puppet he had thrown on the floor, absorbed in deep thought.

However, the farce in the banquet hall was far from over. The clown dressed in a long suit walked over to Clark. He knelt down, playing with a button in his hand, then said to Clark, whose face was covered in blood:

"Do you think I'd be so bored as to let a bunch of idiots execute two other idiots?"

"By god! That would be the worst script in the world, uninteresting, boring, and disregarded..."

"If that were the best I could do, I would surely starve to death, but Jack is the greatest comedian in the world!"

"It's just the beginning..."

With that, he gave a mad grin to Clark. Just then, a woman with disheveled hair ran out from her room to the banister in the courtyard, shouting frantically:

"Kill him, kill that damned monster!"

She pushed her hair back, a large wound stretched from one side of her face to her neck. It looked as if she had gotten hurt when she unluckily hit something during the landing.

Apart from her set of injuries, she was very beautiful, with a sexy figure. Her formal dress sparkled brilliantly, but the wound in her chest and the blood made her look like a hobgoblin.

"He ruined my face! He ruined my entire acting career! I have a movie to shoot in the second half of the year, I will go bankrupt if I break the contract!!! No!!!"

"Kill him! He's a monster! Wah wah wah..."

The woman's sharp screams and cries echoed throughout the mansion. Clearly, she was close to madness.

In another room, a man dressed like a politician leaning on a walking stick came out. His face was full of blood and his arm was bent at an odd angle. He looked at the Joker and said:

"It's not over! It's not over... I'm casting all my votes for Clark!"

"He moved the entire Mayor's Mansion of Metropolis, how are we going to explain this to the public? How can I face the inquisition of the State Council?! My entire career is ruined!"

"Have you lost your minds?!" Clark said in shock, "I was saving you! I was saving everyone in this mansion..."

But more people came out, all of them injured and covered in blood, screaming, "You monster!"

An older man who looked like a host stood up, pointing at Clark and said, "You don't want to save us, you want to kill us!"

With that, he pointed his arm towards the Joker and continued, "We did as he asked, we voted. We were safe at that time! But you, you've made a huge mess and got Sander killed..."

A corpse was dragged from the guest room, and a woman was crying over it, seemingly the wife of the deceased.

"You just don't want to die, you're afraid we'll vote against you, so you created this chaos!"

"If you can't guarantee our safety, why do all this?!"

"You're not human at all, you're a monster, only a monster could do all this, you're not doing this for us!"

"My arm hurts so bad, can someone save me, oh God..."

"My face is ruined, how can I host a show in the future? You've hurt all of us..."

"I'd rather have cancer than this, at least I can afford to treat the cancer, but now, I'm going to be handicapped for life!"

"You're not human, monster! Lunatic!"

All the people were wailing, dragging their injured limbs and leaving the room, shifting to the corridors of the patio, blaming Clark who lay in the middle of the banquet hall.

Clark felt like he was caught in a blizzard. The screams, wails, accusations, and curses, were like the bitterly cold snowflakes, causing unbearable pain that seeped into his bones and sapping him of all energy and will to fight.

Did he do something wrong? Clark wondered, maybe he did.

The terrifying lunatic, the lunatic who understood hearts the most, the Joker, gave everyone hope. He made people believe that only one person would die today if they voted as he wished: either Clark or Lex.

This made all of Clark's efforts and sacrifices look like selfish acts to save himself at the expense of everyone else's safety.

It was only now that Clark realized that everything was a conspiracy. The lunatic was just trying to provoke him from the very beginning.

From making him face Lionel's corpse, to misleading him to knock out Lex, then revealing the truth to make him feel guilty, even the so-called voting performance, and perhaps even that Kryptonite he easily got rid of, all were part of his plan.

Everything the Joker did was to throw him into the coldest blizzard in the world to make him realize there's nothing colder than facing human nature, nothing colder than that storm.

Suddenly, a scream came from somewhere, echoing in the empty mansion:

"Vote! I want to vote! I vote for Clark! Kill him!"

"Mister Joker, exercise your power! My vote grants you the power! Kill him!"

This scream seemed to remind everyone. They looked at Clark again, who was once again bound and incredibly weak, and saw those two Jokers holding the weapons.

They suddenly realized that the voting game had not ended. On the contrary, the performance was just beginning.

Once one person moved, everyone began to struggle back to their rooms. Even if their arms were broken, even if their bodies were bleeding, even if they were surrounded by pain, they still tried their best to press that button.

At this time, the only audience of this performance was watching everything in the surveillance room.

When the blue light climbed onto Batman's eyes, all that was left there was an endless darkness.


next chapter

章節 659: Chapter 448 Dazzling Final Chapter (Part 1)_1

Batman's arm began to tremble, and layers of illusions appeared before his eyes. These bluish lights formed a blizzard that sent chills down his spine.

Just then, a gentle "clack" echoed in his ears, hitting Batman's heart as hard as a heavy punch.

The door to the surveillance room opened.

Batman stood there, his body stiff, his leg muscles straining. His limbs wanted him to turn around, but another voice in his mind told him not to do so.

Because a bad premonition was circling in his mind, he knew. This is all a trap set up by the Joker, and if he steps out of this door now, he would fall right into it.

For some reason, Batman no longer felt confident this time. Because he saw another Joker on the surveillance screen, wearing Shiller's face.

Batman recalled the dark days when he first started, the most memorable place during those times was not the crime-filled alleyways of Gotham, but Shiller's office.

Has the Joker become Shiller or has Shiller become the Joker?

Batman didn't know, but he hoped it was the former, he hoped it was just a trick played by the Joker, not that Shiller really became the Joker.

Because if it were so, he couldn't even imagine what kind of interrogation he would face once he leaves this door.

Batman took a deep breath. In the end, he turned around and left the room. Before leaving, he glanced at the Batman puppet lying on the ground.

In the banquet hall, the once elaborate tables and chairs are scattered across the room. Lavish table cloths ripped and thrown on the floor, silver candelabras broken from impact, and other than the faint glow coming from the blizzard outside, there was no other light source.

Clark was lying in the midst of this wreckage, surrounded by broken debris. Blood was flowing down his forehead and dropping straight to the ground.

At this time, Joker Schiller came over, he crouched down, looked at Clark's face, and said:

"Do you know? The man who wanted to crucify Jesus was called Judah."

"People wrote a book recoding Judah's every misdeed, and they treat the teachings in this book as the Bible."

"But to this day, when people face a benign, good, just, and tolerant son of God, everyone is Judah."

"Clark, do you know why?"

There's something different between this Shiller with Joker makeup and the other one. His voice wasn't as sharp, instead, it was deep and even gentle:

But what he was saying cruelly destroyed Clark's last shred of faith, making it impossible for him to alleviate his pain through prayer.

"People only pray for God's arrival when they need him, and when they don't, they crucify him on the cross, like Jesus, like you."

"No matter how perfect you are, they will find reasons to kill you, when they no longer need God, your perfection will become your evidence of guilt."

Clark closed his eyes in pain, his Adam's apple was shaking incessantly. Even the muscles on the side of his neck were trembling, he turned his head as if trying to avoid Schiller's voice, but the devil's whispers infiltrated every crack.

"No…" Clark wanted to deny, his voice was hoarse:

"I don't save people for their gratitude, I just want to save people…"

"Even the ones who actually want to kill you?"

Clark's jaw was trembling, and Joker Shiller tilted his head, looking into Clark's eyes and asked, "What are you thinking about while pondering this question?"

Clark closed his eyes again, his eyelashes trembling, lips tightly pursed together as if he didn't want to voice the answer.

"You found that you're not that great, right?"

"When I asked that question just now, you realized you can't completely forgive them."

"You are not great enough to sacrifice your life for a crowd who wants to kill you."

"Why do you feel guilty about this?"

Joker Schiller kept staring at Clark's face, asking curiously:"Do you really consider yourself a god?"

"Do these thoughts come from your kindness and justice, or, does playing the role of a savior high above, somehow, make you happy?"

Clark's chest was heaving faster and faster. An emotion was brewing in his chest, but Joker Schiller continued:

"When they want to kill you, the most intense emotion you feel, is it betrayal, sadness, and loss, or…"

"Laughing at the stupidity of these creatures, weaker than you, just as you expected"

"Enough." Another cold voice came, a dark figure walked into the banquet hall, carrying the cold from the snow outside as he entered.

Another voice echoed in the long silent hall, attracting many bystanders to come out of their rooms, and some shouted:


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