Chapter 605: Borrowing a Knife to Kill the Eagle (Part 1)

Looking at the medal, Clark widened his eyes in shock and said, "This is Soviet… oh my God! They're Soviet spies!"

He rubbed the medal again with his finger, held it up close to his eyes, and said, "Yeah, that's the symbol I saw on TV—my dad told me the country across the way… what was it called again?"

"I remember my dad and mom argued about it because my dad didn't believe the U. S. government's propaganda and thought the other country wasn't so bad—my mom called him a show-off…"

Clark seemed lost in memory; clearly, during his upbringing, he'd often heard the name of that distant country. Then he looked down at the two men lying on the floor and said, "But why are they watching me? Could they be trying to use me to destroy America?"

Batcat leapt onto the table opposite Clark and said, "You really believe they're spies from the country this medal represents?"

"Uh, what else?" Clark blinked, caught off guard.

"When you do something wrong, do you write your name on your face?" Batcat asked, exasperated.

"I've never done anything wrong," Clark shook his head seriously. Batcat covered his eyes with his paw and said, "If they really are spies from some country, why would they carry an ID during a mission? Just so you'd know who they are when you knock them down?"

Clark finally realized it. He said, "Right—how could a spy carry an ID? They'd want everyone to have no idea who they are."

Clark wasn't stupid—he'd just never experienced anything like this. After all, his life before had been anything but dramatic.

Before college, his daily routine was rigid: rise with the sun, rest at sunset—besides farming, he watched TV or sat with his family chatting, a pure small-town boy through and through.

But since being dragged into Metropolis's mysteries, after the bizarre events at the mayor's estate, his quiet life was shattered. Now, Clark couldn't return to that simple past—he already knew someone was watching him.

For his own sake, especially for his family's safety, Clark had to fight. He focused hard, looked at Batcat, and said, "If they're not KGB, then who are they? And why carry a Soviet medal?"

At that moment, Pikachu jumped down from the sofa and landed on the same table as Batcat, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

He adopted a detective's mindset and said, "Let's look at this from their perspective. In their prior surveillance, they believed you were just a simple college student—perhaps even simpler than the average Metropolis citizen."

Clark nodded, unashamed to admit it. "When I first came to Metropolis, plenty told me I was a country bumpkin. But I don't see anything shameful in that—my parents raised me with their own labor. Isn't that how everyone does it? Look at me now—I've fit in just fine."

"True. Their intel may be outdated—they don't know you've changed, especially not that the cat you brought home can talk and reason." Pikachu pulled out a pipe from somewhere and stuck it in his mouth, then continued:

"If you were still the same naive, impulsive person, what would you think the moment you saw this medal?"

"I'd be angry," Clark frowned, stepped back from the two men on the floor, and said, "I don't care who they are—they have no right breaking into my apartment. That's illegal!"

"So what if I have special abilities? Have I used them to commit crimes? I've used them for good. Yet they want to use me." Clark rarely looked so serious—he clearly despised their actions.

Superman wasn't a complete pushover. In many situations, his will to uphold his principles matched Batman's. And when his boundaries were violated, he got angry.

"Exactly. If you were still that naive and impulsive, hadn't experienced anything like this, seeing this ID might make you furious enough to go after the country this medal represents—at the very least, you'd track down their base in Metropolis and demand answers."

Clark thought it over, then slowly nodded. "Without you two, I probably would've done exactly that. After all, if they're spies and they broke into my dorm, I'd immediately think they'd go after my parents—I'd go after them."

"Correct. That's exactly their goal."

"For a small-town kid who just moved to the city, this trick is enough. You're not Batman—you don't think something through ten times before acting…"

"A hundred times," Batcat snorted.

"So these two are probably KGB's rivals… KGB's rivals… could they be the CIA?" Clark frowned, scratched his head, and said, "Is the CIA really that low? Knowing I have powers, they frame the other side to make me use my abilities against them?"

"All intelligence agencies are equally corrupt. You can't do this job with clean hands," Batcat shook his head.

"Then I guess I'm stuck. I can't fight my own country's intelligence agency on my own soil—my parents still live here," Clark muttered, frustrated.

"Don't rush. Let's examine these two first—see if we can find any evidence. If they left behind something, it could give you the upper hand."

Batcat jumped off the table and circled the two men, checking their pockets first, then had Clark flip them over to inspect their eyes and mouths.

The two men were completely empty-handed—nothing in their pockets. That made the medal even more suspicious. Clark sighed and said, "I'll take them outside and drop them somewhere hidden—otherwise, if classmates come back and see them, I'm in deep trouble."

Clark glanced at his watch, gasped, and said, "Right now! I've got to hurry—they're almost out of class!"

After Clark tossed the two men into a dark alley and flew back, he saw through the window that Pikachu and Batcat were talking. He didn't think twice—he flew straight in through the window.

"Hey! We just came up with a plan," Pikachu waved at Clark. "You're alone and have no connections—but you can ask a friend for help."

"Ask a friend? Who? The CIA? Who can take them on?"

Pikachu leapt onto Clark's shoulder with a *whoosh*. Clark turned to look at him. Pikachu said, "You forgot? You still have to deliver me to that guy named Lu Se. I don't want to stay with this annoying cat any longer—let's go see him."

"The Lu Se family are Metropolis's local power brokers—and one of the top global conglomerates. If they want to contact the CIA and warn them off, they'll have it far easier than you."

Clark thought about it—he was a small-town boy, but Lex was now the sole head of the Lu Se family. They'd met at the mayor's estate. Clark felt their relationship had been decent.

Even if he owed Lex a favor, he had to make sure his parents weren't targeted by the intelligence agency. With that thought, he picked up the pet carrier with Pikachu inside and knocked on the Lu Se estate's front door.

Inside the Lu Se estate, Lex wore a cervical collar. The butler was adjusting its position—clearly visible was a large bruise on his chin. No need to ask what weapon had caused it.

Hearing the knock, Lex paused. He waved to the butler. "If it's one of my father's old friends, tell them I'm injured and resting—business can wait."

The butler nodded and left. A moment later, he returned and said, "A man named Clark Kent. He's holding a pet carrier. Looks like a college student."

Lex opened his eyes slightly, rolled them, then said, "Let him in."

Clark stepped inside, gazing around at the estate's opulent interior. Lex stood in the center of the hall, arms crossed. "Well? You never saw a house like this in the countryside, did you?"

"Never," Clark looked up as he walked forward, nearly bumped into a table, clumsily swung his leg aside, and kept marveling.

All the sarcastic remarks Lex had ready were swallowed. He could tell Clark wasn't mocking—he was genuinely impressed. You don't mock someone who's sincerely admiring you; doing so would make you look childish.

So he just scowled and turned to the butler. "Prepare dinner."

"Oh, you're inviting me to dinner? Perfect—I only had a hot dog this morning and haven't eaten since. I'm starving." Clark patted his stomach.

Lex had just opened his mouth to say, "Get to the point—I don't want you interrupting my meal," but Clark cut him off again. Now refusing to let Clark stay for dinner would make him look stingy.

In three minutes, Lex had swallowed two retorts. The good news? His chin didn't hurt anymore. The bad news? His heart did.

Clark exhaled, turned back, and walked toward the house. "What do you want? Come to brag about how you caught another plane today?"

"Huh? How did you know… no, I'm not here for that. I'm here to give you this." Clark caught up to Lex, blocked his path, and placed the pet carrier before him.

The carrier's door opened, and a yellow rat leapt out. Lex jumped back in surprise—then heard the rat speak: "Hey, little Lu Se, I'm your teacher's pet, Pikachu. His estate got blown up, so he's leaving me with you."

Lex stared wide-eyed at Clark. Clark spread his hands and shrugged: "That's it."

"You're Professor Shi Le's pet?" Lex narrowed his eyes at Pikachu, then said, "Then again—who else in the world has a talking rat?"