Chapter 2585

Bullock arrived very quickly and understood what had happened in an instant. He said, "Your apprentice was found in an alley near the police station. She didn't die, but she was injured. The other party took some of her blood, possibly to imitate her."

"A very failed imitation," Gordon said. "She couldn't tell left from right, and her eyeballs had very obvious abnormalities."

"But fortunately, they finally know how to change their thinking," Bullock shrugged and said. "Imitating others to sneak in is much simpler."

He looked down at the corpse in the car and said, "What do you plan to do? Find a place to dump it?"

"Remember the first corpse of Clay? The forensic doctor found metal parts inside him. Even if we want to dump it, we have to take these things out first."

"Then we definitely have to cut it open; at least a craniotomy is unavoidable," Bullock puffed on a cigarette and said. "I know you can't do this; leave it to me. I've helped a few old friends solve their post-prison life problems; they should be willing to help."

Gordon's face was gloomy and he didn't say anything. Clearly, his good mood from the morning had been ruined. He waved his hand and said, "I'll go check on Winnie first. This ghost thing scared even me. She must be terrified. By the way, where do you plan to throw this thing?"

"Don't you worry about it; there's always a place for them."

"But it's best not to delay attending Schiller's housewarming banquet; he doesn't really like people being late."

Bullock gave him a gesture, signaling him to rest assured.

Gordon followed the main group to the vicinity of Schiller's house. Seeing Schiller surrounded by the crowd, he went up to greet him and then left, intending to go to the nearby woods to smoke a cigarette and clear his mind.

For some time now, there had been quite a bit of trouble in the police station, mainly coming from the pressure of superiors and this group of clones who were always causing trouble.

At first, they were stuffing people in for no reason, but the boys he brought out knew who was on their side. The people stuffed in couldn't even touch important work. Although they didn't create any opportunities for them, it was quite tiring to guard against thieves every day.

Unexpectedly, this group of idiots had become enlightened. Finding that they couldn't integrate into this collective, they started trying to find ways to replace Gordon's own people.

Fortunately, they had targeted Gordon's capable officers at the beginning. If they had started by replacing a small police officer, Gordon might not have been able to detect it.

Thinking of this, Gordon felt a lingering fear. If they had really succeeded, he didn't know what kind of mess would have been caused.

Gordon kept walking along the riverbank, but soon heard movement in the woods behind him. When he turned his head, Bullock darted out from behind a tree, gave him a gesture to be quiet, and lowered his voice, saying, "Schiller isn't around here, right?"

"He's over there dealing with guests."

"That makes it easy, Jim. Take them there."

Gordon watched as a few young men darted out of the woods behind, carrying one crate after another toward the lake. When he smelled the bloody stench, Gordon knew what was in those crates.

Bullock puffed on his cigarette and said, "Don't worry, everything is tied up. Jim and the others used to do dirty work for the mob; they guarantee no traces will be left."

"Are you crazy? You plan to dump a body in front of Schiller?!"

"I bet he wouldn't care," Bullock said. "Even if you went back covered in the stench of blood, he wouldn't care what you went to do. He's busy with the banquet."

Gordon was just about to open his mouth to refute, but he thought about it; perhaps in Schiller's eyes, this pile of corpse fragments wasn't as important as a rack on his grill.

But Schiller noticing was one thing, and a corpse that looked like his subordinate being discovered by so many people was another.

Gordon had already tightened his grip on his gun. Once the Joker mentioned anything about corpses, he would shoot him and call an ambulance.

The forest in the morning mist faded from its brilliant colors. Those reds, oranges, yellows, and greens were all covered with a misty filter, except for a single speck of red, which was shocking, but it flickered in Clark's eyes for only a moment before disappearing.

Lex turned his head and saw the worry in Clark's eyes.

Blood, blood was everywhere.

Lex stood before a pool of blood, holding the phone, and said in a detached tone, "My helicopter pilot is dead. I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you to take me over today."

In less than two minutes, Clark and Diana appeared on the helipad on the roof of the Luthor building, carrying large and small bags.

Then they were stunned by the scene in front of them.

Lex was holding a small knife in his hand, and the man wearing the helicopter pilot uniform was lying on the ground. Judging by the amount of bleeding, he was definitely dead.

"What's going on? Lex?"

There was no anger in Clark's tone, only shock and concern. He knew his friend wasn't a lunatic, and more importantly, he wouldn't let any irrational behavior delay his major affairs.

Today they were all going to attend Schiller's housewarming banquet. Even if Lex had a huge grudge against this person, he couldn't possibly take revenge now.

"Someone disguised himself as my helicopter pilot, but I discovered it, so I killed him."

"Who?" Diana asked with a deep frown.

"Who else could it be?"

Clark immediately stepped forward. He reached out and lifted the back hem of the helicopter pilot's clothes, and sure enough, he found the tattoo of the Penitence Cartel on his waist.

"Why does he still refuse to let us go?!!" Clark roared. "They almost killed Lois!!"

Lex looked at Diana. Diana put down the things in her hand, sighed, and said, "Yesterday morning, when we were preparing camping gear together, someone attacked Lois. Clark had to expose his abilities. Fortunately, nothing serious happened."

"Also people from the Penitence Cartel?"

"We were busy saving Lois and let him run away, but Clark used his X-ray vision to see the other party's tattoo. It was indeed people from that drug trafficking organization."

Lex's face darkened. He said, "I know there will be many obstacles on this road, but a drug trafficking organization dares to break ground on my head..."

Clark straightened up and looked at Lex with a worried gaze, saying, "Are you alright? You weren't injured, were you?"

"I thought you would say I killed an innocent person."

"From any angle, they can't be considered innocent."

"But he didn't actually make a move on me," Lex said, looking down at the corpse. "I couldn't be sure he was a drug trafficker when I killed him."

"But fortunately you were smart enough; otherwise, if he had crashed the helicopter into something, you would definitely have died without a burial place."

"You really have changed a lot, Clark," Lex said with some emotion.

"My gentleness is reserved for friends, while cruelty is reserved for enemies," Clark's blue eyes seemed to be glowing. He said, "How gentle I am depends on how good my friends are, and the same goes for the opposite."

Lex was choked up again. He turned his head away to avoid looking at Clark, only able to curse a few times in his heart that Clark never knew how to speak indirectly.

"What now?" Diana asked, looking at the corpse with a headache. "The banquet is about to start, and we were already late."

"Leave the corpse to me. You guys avoid it for a while. Just fly me and the things to the destination later. Don't worry about the rest."

"Are you going to cut it open?" Clark asked.

"Don't ask what you already know," Lex pushed him away with some disgust and said, "You guys go behind the helicopter first. The following scene is not suitable for children."

But the red light in Clark's eyes flashed, and several lasers shot out. The corpse was instantly divided into several parts.

Lex was stunned. He looked at Clark and actually revealed a trace of fear, but suddenly remembered who he was doing this for, and felt ashamed of his previous emotions.

Clark didn't care at all that Lex was feeling complicated there. He said, "I should be able to burn it directly into ashes, but I always feel that I should leave some evidence. Can I take the part with the tattoo? Perhaps Oliver will find it useful."

"I didn't expect you to be so... pragmatic," Lex said in a complicated tone.

"Pragmatists are only so because they have no time for empty fantasies," Clark's natural worldly wisdom was fully reflected at this moment. He said, "If others have already brought knives to your house and are even about to cut your throat, do you still want to discuss cultural customs of respecting corpses with them?"

"It couldn't be better that you think this way," Lex could only say this sourly, while at the same time beginning to hate himself for missing the trip to Mexico. Being able to make an alien produce such a change, that must have been a great legendary journey.

But at the same time, Lex felt the relief of being understood. If one had to use a term to define Lex, he was a red pragmatist.

Simply put, his goal was not to achieve any ultimate communism, or even socialism. Due to innate mental defects, he was also unable to feel true sympathy for the bottom-level people.

Everything he did that was similar to promoting communism or liberating the masses, and all the spirit he upheld related to red thought, were just his weapons. He wanted to use these weapons to solve problems, not to achieve any great dream.

He knew that he and Oliver definitely couldn't get along because Oliver was an idealist. He believed that as long as the faith was firm enough, man could conquer nature, and as long as the theory was mature enough, he could always infect enough people. Lex, on the other hand, hated these chanting factions very much.

His cooperation with Oliver and his support for Oliver were also just out of pragmatism, believing that the situation in Mexico was conducive to the development of the Metropolis where he was, which was why he did so.

And as for Oliver being expelled from the center of the revolutionary army, he was not surprised at all, and even expected it long ago. Oliver's set of ideas was not mature enough, and it was reasonable for him to fail.

It wasn't that one couldn't have ideals, it was just that Oliver talked about ideals too early, and with the joint efforts of all parties, he had been smooth sailing and had never trained any political maneuvering skills. Any qualified leader couldn't be like him.

Lex originally thought that since Clark hung out with Oliver every day, he would sooner or later become a daydreamer like him.

But he didn't expect this alien to give him another surprise. Lex even began to wonder why Clark could always firmly choose the right path in crisis after crisis where he might have gone astray, and even walked straighter than any of them.

Thinking about it, Lex couldn't find anything too different about Clark compared to them. If there was anything, it was probably his happy family.

This was something one couldn't envy even if one wanted to. Just thinking about having a father-son relationship with Lionel made Lex's goosebumps rise all over.

Lex helped Clark peel off the part of the skin with the tattoo. Clark wrapped it up and placed it at the bottom of the crate, and then he offered to help Lex burn the remaining parts into ashes, but Lex refused.

"Then what do you plan to do?" Clark asked.

"I guess Professor Schiller will arrange a fishing activity, but I'm not good at lure fishing. As long as no one sees, I should be fine throwing some bait," Lex looked down at the corpse and said, "You cut it too roughly; let me do it."