Chapter 4401: Far Star Project (26)

As long as it could be proven that Martians indeed existed, it was beneficial to a part of people. For example, the opposition party that wanted to use the excuse of "Martians mixed into human voting" to hold a re-vote.

Luthor was right, Clark thought. This group of politicians had already gone crazy, forgotten everything, and just wanted to drag everyone to participate in this crazy election game. At this moment, everything happening on Earth could become an excuse for them to re-vote or not re-vote.

Clark also realized that his move of moving the Capitol might indeed have been a bit reckless. If this opening hadn't been made, politicians might not have been so crazy.

Originally, the opposition party in this session lost many votes, and the President's re-election was promising. If the election proceeded smoothly, re-election was basically a nail in the coffin. At that time, the opposition party was in a state of semi-giving up, because the mid-term election performance was too poor, and they themselves didn't want to fight much.

However, the election frequently had problems, and the counting process had twists and turns. This gave the opposition party a hope, which was to pick the peach.

Didn't study much for a semester, if it failed, it was expected. But if there was a chance to successfully flip the table by opportunistic means, they would definitely go all out.

It was like a college student who didn't study much for a semester and failed the exam, but if they learned that a teacher was soft-hearted, they would definitely try every means to ask for a pass.

In essence, the desire for success wasn't that strong, but the desire for success without effort by drilling loopholes was very crazy. Obtaining without effort was more crazy than the acquisition itself.

So now the opposition party was like crazy, sprinting with all their might. They were crazy, and the ruling party could only follow crazy. Because compared to losing, paying all efforts and then being drilled by loopholes to lose again was more unacceptable.

These two sides were competing; they had already fought until they didn't know why the world was. In this situation, let alone two lives, if taking a missile to bomb this place could make one side win, they would definitely do it.

Clark immediately realized that what Schiller said was right. Having spent so much effort to set up a trap, and using so many manpower and material resources, they would definitely not be willing to have no harvest. Killing another one in

The guests attending the banquet were all under police surveillance, but who could monitor the police? Examples of law enforcement officers committing crimes they were meant to prevent were everywhere; they were the best candidates to carry out the act.

Clark began to look around. He had already checked just a moment ago, and among the police and agents who had entered later, no one had any physical abnormalities. Assuming they were all human, it was still quite difficult for humans to murder their own kind, especially under his very nose.

But Clark felt uneasy. For well-trained law enforcement officers, a sudden act of murder might only take a second, and he might not be able to stop it in time. He had to know where the perpetrator was most likely to strike and then get there ahead of time to prevent it. But he couldn't figure out where they would strike either.

So, he looked at someone suspected of being an experienced serial killer. Clark looked at Schiller and said, "Where do you think they will strike?"

"How would I know?" Schiller said. "After all, I am a serial killer with superpowers; how would I know how ordinary people commit murder?"

Clark clenched his fists. But he still patiently said, "If it were you, where would you strike?"

Schiller looked up at the skylight above.

The sense of urgency in Clark's heart grew stronger. Ignoring the surprised gazes of the crowd, he flew straight up and hovered in the center of the skylight, quietly listening to the movements of the entire building.

Then he heard Schiller say in a low voice, "... but those police officers might not have such artistic pursuits."

"Bang!"

A loud noise came from the back of the banquet hall. Clark was anxious and annoyed; with a "whoosh," he flew over, only to see a figure lying in a pool of blood. It was a lady in an evening gown who had fallen out of the bathroom door, her head having suffered a heavy blow; it looked like she wouldn't survive.

Clark flew into the bathroom but didn't see anyone. He scanned the area and didn't see any traces either. Very well, these people had definitely planned this for a long time. Even though he had arrived so quickly, he still hadn't managed to catch the killer.

He went forward to check the lady's condition, and as expected, she had already stopped breathing. He wanted to ask the police why they had let people go to the bathroom, but from the side of her opened gown, he saw that she was wearing breast pads. She must still be in the lactation period; the police really had no way to stop her from going.

All his emotions turned into a long sigh. Clark stared coldly at Schiller, who was walking over. He had definitely misled him on purpose.

If he had stayed in his original position, he would have been only ten-plus meters away from the bathroom behind the banquet hall, and he could have arrived in an instant. But after he flew up to the skylight, he had to descend first and then rush over, and he couldn't descend too quickly, or the airflow he stirred up would have slammed these fragile humans against the walls, invisibly wasting a few seconds and giving the killer time to escape.

He didn't understand why Schiller would do this. What benefit did it have for him to blow this matter up and confirm the existence of Martians?

Stepping back a bit to let the police examine the body, Clark fell into thought. He did indeed have plenty of time to think, because when the person died, he was under the watchful eyes of everyone, so he was not a suspect. The police were also relatively polite to him, only asking him to leave the crime scene and not to delay their work.

The investigation into Rafanas had originally ended, but now that another person had died, the investigation was forced to be extended. Now that dawn was almost breaking, no one could leave yet.

Clark walked angrily to the sofa by the side of the banquet hall and sat down. After thinking about it, he felt it wasn't right; if they killed another person, and he was sitting in such a remote place, he might be framed again. So he simply moved a chair to the center of the banquet hall, fearing that others wouldn't see him.

He sat there and began to think: what necessity was there for Schiller to let the mastermind's backup plan succeed?

He thought for a long time but couldn't come up with any necessity; could it be that he just liked to muddy the waters and watch the fun?

Although Clark thought he was indeed that kind of person, he felt that this time it wasn't the case. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him.

He had been misled—confirming the existence of Martians was not the mastermind's backup plan at all, but the primary goal of the "yellow sparrow" that came after the mantis stalking the cicada.

Previously, he thought the mastermind wanted to implicate both him and Schiller, and then produce a list to gain political benefits. Now it seemed there might indeed be such a plan, but this plan didn't have any backup plan. This backup plan of confirming the existence of Martians was something Schiller had created.

And the reason he lumped the two plans together was to mislead him, making him think that they were both victims and that neither of them wanted the backup plan to succeed.

Clark had indeed been misled. He felt that confirming the existence of Martians had no benefit for Schiller, so when thinking about where the killer might strike, he subconsciously sought the other's help, giving Schiller the opportunity to mislead him, which ultimately led to the failure to prevent the second murder.

Schiller's various analyses and reminders beforehand were just a setup; the goal was to make Clark feel he was credible, and then deliver a critical blow at the key moment, just like prying a tiny crack on an entire ice sheet, eventually creating a massive iceberg.

Thinking of this, Clark began to wonder again: what benefit did confirming the existence of Martians have for Schiller, after all?

Due to the lack of clues, he really couldn't figure it out. And now, he didn't even need to open his phone to browse news websites; just by looking at the dense crowd of reporters surrounding the manor, he knew Schiller's goal had been achieved. This matter would definitely be exposed and blown up; everyone would know that Martians had begun hunting humans, and hunting important human figures at that.

So far, Clark didn't see any purpose other than spreading panic. Did Schiller think that by letting those important figures believe there were Martians hunting them, they would restrain themselves?

"If you still have fantasies about them, then I can only say you are too naive," Clark said to Schiller, who was passing by his chair. "Even if there really were aliens hunting them, they would only think of sacrificing others to save themselves, or feel that such things would never happen to them."

Schiller also moved a chair and sat next to him, then said, "Why would you think I still have hope for them?"

"You... I can't say for sure," Clark said. "I can feel that you hold great hope for me; perhaps you are just a very optimistic person."

"I hold hope for you because I am your fan. As for those boring fools, I don't care about them at all."

"Then why did you do this?"

"I've already made it very clear; I don't care about other people. From the moment I came to this universe, everything I've done has revolved around you."

"But what impact does confirming the existence of Martians have on me?"

"Still not quite right. Everything unrelated to you is nothing more than appearance and means. Perhaps the impact is more direct."

Clark looked at him, very puzzled. He could feel that Schiller wasn't lying to him, nor was he deliberately beating around the bush, but he truly didn't know what the so-called more direct impact was.

But suddenly, he felt an unusual pulsation coming from the ground beneath his feet. This made Clark's hair stand on end.

His super-senses were telling him that the subtle vibration coming from the ground at this very moment was definitely not something that could be achieved by damaging the surface. The entire crust, or rather, the entire Earth, was vibrating.

Clark stood up with a "whoosh," looking around in something of a panic. But the people around seemed to have felt nothing, which made Clark think he was hallucinating.

But he knew he wasn't; the earth beneath his feet was indeed trembling, even if the vibration was very slight...

"BOOM!!!!"

Very well, it wasn't slight anymore. The entire ground shook violently, and everyone was knocked down; screams followed one after another, and even the group of reporters outside the door were screaming as they ran away.

"Earthquake, earthquake!!!"

"Metropolis earthquake, run!!!!"

"My God, earthquake! Help!!"

Clark had no time to care about the sounds around him, because he knew Metropolis was a coastal city; once a violent earthquake occurred here, the risk of a tsunami was very high. And if a tsunami occurred, the casualties would be extremely heavy.

He flew out at top speed, intending to rush to the seaside immediately to stop the tsunami, but he was stunned the moment he flew out.

On the distant sea surface, a massive "pin" was fixed in the middle of the Atlantic, towering into the clouds, vast and peerless.

And the vibration that had just felt like an earthquake was the tremor triggered when the pin pierced through the crust.