American comics: Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who worry about their fathers!.

Chapter 1007 The Red Square Explosion Caused by Clark

"Because you're taking sides, Clark!"

Peter Patrick's voice traveled through the Sands of the Sands to Clark's consciousness.

Peter, far away at Smallwell Farm, wore an expression more severe than ever before, as if he could see through space to the out-of-control vortex on Red Square.

"Don't take sides, Clark, come back now, immediately!"

He took a deep breath and continued, "No matter what you say now, it won't help. The tsunami of anger has completely overwhelmed the dam of reason. Every word you say, every tiny action you take will only be interpreted and distorted into your firm stance. Get out of there, Clark, immediately."

“But Godfather, I can convince the people that the so-called theory of creating superpowered individuals has always been a huge conspiracy, a tool to divide us and create panic. Didn’t you say that you have always had faith in humanity?! Maybe they can understand what I’m saying.”

"That's a different matter, Clark!"

Peter was speechless.

Clark, where's your super intelligence?!
At a time like this, wouldn't you be adding fuel to the fire?
Peter then sighed and said to him, “I have hope for humanity as a whole because I have witnessed firsthand how the smallest light can start a prairie fire in the deepest darkness. But I am never blindly optimistic, much less foolish to place my hopes on giving a speech while standing in the eye of an out-of-control storm!”

“Confidence is not recklessness, Clark, nor is it about making yourself the most conspicuous bullseye of the storm.”

Peter's voice suddenly rose, "Look around you, look at those dark, gun barrels pointed at you out of fear and hatred. You think you're upholding the truth? No! Clark, you're just adding fuel to the fire. Now, immediately, fly away from there. Only then can things be calmed down."

"I……"

Upon hearing Peter's words, Clark hesitated and struggled for the first time, but his stubborn desire to turn the tide ultimately prevailed.

“…I want to give it a try, Godfather.”

This was the first time in Clark's life that he chose not to heed Peter's warning.

He wanted to end the turmoil with his own strength.

More importantly, many people at the scene were listening to him speak, and perhaps they really understood what he was saying.

Clark took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the surging crowd, his chest heaving.

Just as he was about to continue his speech.

"fraud!"

A hoarse, furious roar, like a thunderclap from a clear sky, suddenly exploded from the crowd.

Clark's gaze was instantly drawn to it.

An elderly woman with gray hair and a hunched back was seen pointing directly at the area in the center of Red Square that was cordoned off and covered with a thick black cloth.

Several soldiers, their expressions as solemn as stone sculptures, suddenly lifted the huge black curtain.

"Om-!"

A gasp of shock erupted from the crowd, followed by an even deeper, deathly silence.

Beneath the darkness lies the most shocking evidence of the Uralsk massacre—those glass figures frozen in the last moments of their lives.

A father stretches out his arms in vain, as if trying to protect his family members who are no longer there; a mother looks up at the sky in despair, her open mouth emitting a silent lament; a child cowers on the ground in terror.
The crowd was stunned when they saw the frozen glass figure.

Peter, who was watching the live broadcast in the living room, frowned even more.

He estimated that Clark would not be able to handle this situation well.

After hesitating for a moment, Peter asked Raven beside him, "Has Bruce left yet?"

The moment Peter saw Clark appear, he contacted Bruce in Gotham and ordered him to fly the Batplane to Moscow immediately.

"He has already set off and should be arriving soon."

Raven replied to Peter.

"He killed them!"

The old woman pounded her chest frantically with her fists, screaming herself hoarse.

"My son! My grandson! Right there! Turned into... turned into this damned glass!"

She pointed at the curled-up glass child, her angry gaze fixed on Clark.

"And you, you, you cloaked alien, you're defending that murderer! You say he didn't do it on purpose, he didn't do it on purpose! Then my children... my children deserve to end up like this?!"

"He's blaming us!"

Another angry man roared like a wounded beast as he charged out of the crowd, swinging his fists as he rushed toward the police line.

“He said we are ‘demonizing’?! Look at her, look at my wife, what did she do wrong? Just because she’s scared of that monster from America, we are the victims!”

The pain and despair of the victims' relatives instantly ignited the pent-up anger of the crowd.

"Get out, Superman!"

"You're in cahoots with the murderer!"

"Russia has no need for your hypocrisy and lies!"

"A blood debt must be paid for with blood! An eye for an eye!"

Stones, frozen snow, and even lit Molotov cocktails rained down from the frenzied crowd, crashing into the fragile police line and onto the isolated and helpless Clark.

The soldiers were on high alert, and their riot shields were instantly raised.

The solemn Red Square was instantly transformed into a vortex of riots.

Just as this chaotic and hateful frenzy was about to completely engulf Clark—

"boom!"

A deafening roar erupted.

A fiery meteor, interwoven with crimson and orange hues, carrying a devastating heatwave and shockwave, slammed heavily into Clark's side.

Debris flew everywhere like shrapnel, leaving a charred crater in the ground, and the scorching shockwave instantly drove back the few furious members of the public.

As the smoke and dust cleared, the fiery storm was revealed.

The fusion of Ronnie Raymond and Martin Stein was surrounded by violently flickering energy, indicating extreme instability and enormous energy consumption.

His arms were tightly embracing a little Russian girl who was wearing bulky winter clothes and had two messy braids.

The girl's face was ashen, and her once innocent eyes were now filled with boundless fear.

The little girl clutched the scorching fabric of Huo Fengbao's uniform tightly in her hands, as if it were her only lifeline.

"Stop! Stop it all!"

The sound of the firestorm was amplified by energy and shouted towards the crowd.

He used all his strength to lift the girl in his arms high into the air.

“Look at her, look at her, she’s alive, alive! She’s the little girl from Uralsk who was turned into glass. I’m the one who saved her. I can save everyone. I can prove it. I can turn them all back.”

He excitedly pointed to the blinding forest of glass figures in the center of Red Square.

However, the arrival of the firestorm and the declaration of "saving lives" were, in the midst of the chaos and hatred, tantamount to throwing a red-hot ember into a boiling oil pot.

"murderer!"

"He's here! How dare he set foot here!"

"He wanted to destroy the evidence!"

"Protect the victim! Don't let him get close!"

The public's anger instantly found its most direct outlet.

Fear and hatred completely crushed the remaining reason, and the crowd rushed towards the firestorm even more frantically, like a flood that had burst its banks.

The Russian soldiers on the cordon were already on edge.

A “superhuman butcher” from the United States, who had just caused the “deaths” of hundreds of people in Uralsk and was wanted worldwide, landed in the heart of Russia—Red Square—holding a little Russian girl (whom they believed was likely a hostage).

And they even shamelessly claimed they wanted to "save people"?
This is nothing short of the most blatant insult and provocation against the entire country.

"Put down the child! Surrender immediately!"

The assault rifle in the officer's hand was locked firmly on Firestorm.

"No, listen to me, I can..."

Firestorm was eager to explain, and instinctively took a step forward while holding the girl.

Just one step, trying to get closer to the nearest glass statue of the father, which is being protected by outstretched arms.

This step became the fuse that ignited the final destruction.

"Open fire! Protect the civilians!!!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The piercing gunshots blended into a symphony of death.

More than a dozen assault rifles simultaneously spat out deadly flames, bullets whistling as they rained down on the firestorm.

"Do not--!!!"

Clark's eyes widened in fury, and he instantly transformed into a blur that tore through space.

"Puff puff puff!"

A series of dull, heart-stopping impacts rang out.

Clark, moving at speeds beyond the limits of physics, used his body to form an indestructible barrier, blocking the firestorm and the little girl.

The dense barrage of bullets struck the "S" symbol on his chest, instantly twisting and deforming it before falling to the ground.

However, several stray bullets still flew out and hit the glass doll area in the center of Red Square.

"Crack! Click!"

A series of soul-crushing cracking sounds rang out.

The glass statue of the mother, who was looking up and shouting, shattered instantly, as if struck by an invisible giant hammer.

A male statue near her also had one arm break off and shatter into pieces.

"Do not!!!!"

Firestorm let out a painful cry.

He watched helplessly as his hope for redemption was ruthlessly destroyed before his very eyes.

Sadness and despair instantly transformed into anger.

With a "whoosh," the firestorm released its energy, melting the weapons in the soldiers' hands.

When the soldiers saw the firestorm take action, they took it as a declaration of war.

More soldiers pulled the trigger towards the firestorm.

"Declaration of war! This is a declaration of war!"

The Russian official on the platform, pale-faced, roared into the communicator: "Attack them! Let our superheroes deal with them!"

"For Russia!"

A cold, mechanical voice rang out.

Upon receiving the order, the warriors appeared in Red Square.

As the core combat force of the Russian Winter Guard, it is covered in thick, dark blue armor, and the huge particle acceleration cannon on its back is instantly charged to its limit, emitting a piercing buzz.

Upon receiving the attack order, he charged headlong into the firestorm.

"Stop him! Protect the target!"

Several other Russian superhumans also activated at the same time.

Their target wasn't Firestorm, but Superman, who was standing in their way. Left with no other choice, Clark had to fight these superheroes.

"Boom!"

The next second, the ground began to shake violently.

At the edge of Red Square, two heavy main battle tanks crushed the curb stones, slowly turned, and aimed at the Firestorm, which was fiercely exchanging fire with the Scorching Warriors, its energy surging wildly.

"Firestorm! Get out of here!"

While fending off the attacks of the three Russian heroes, Clark shouted anxiously towards the firestorm.

But the firestorm seemed to have disappeared.

He was being suppressed by the scorching warrior's ferocious attacks, and the violent energy collisions unleashed devastating shockwaves.

He saw the tank's cannon muzzle, and saw the direction it was pointing—it was the Glass Man's location.

If they fire, or are caught in the energy blast...

"No! Don't touch them!"

Firestorm roared like a beast, and a beam of energy forced back the scorching warriors, who tried to pounce on the tank to stop it from firing.

But before he could stop them, a loud "boom" rang out.

A tank opened fire, and a huge high-explosive shell was fired at the open ground nearby.

The shockwave from the explosion, like a deadly hurricane, instantly swept across the area.

"Crash!"

A father and son, both made of glass, curled up together, along with several other glass figures nearby, were instantly shattered by the shockwave of the explosion.

Upon seeing this, Clark froze.

He stared at the shimmering dust, his pupils blazing with uncontrollable fury.

"How dare you!"

A deep roar came.

Clark disappeared from his spot, and the next second, he appeared next to the tank that had just fired.

Without any fancy moves, his steel-like fist slammed into the tank's thick frontal armor.

"Boom!!!!"

A dull, loud bang rang out.

The main battle tank, weighing tens of tons, was lifted off the ground in an instant.

The turret was twisted and deformed, and the tracks were broken.

The tank rolled and crashed into the ground, carving deep furrows into the ancient bricks of Red Square, before finally overturning and billowing thick smoke.

Clark's punch, like a thunderclap, exploded in the sky above Red Square and on every screen around the world watching the live broadcast.

Riots erupt in Red Square! Superman chooses to support Firestorm! Violence overturns Russian tanks!

Superhumans openly attack Russian armed forces! On the brink of war?

Superman's stance collapses! Choosing to side with the "Butcher" against Russia?

All sorts of sensational headlines, the instant Clark threw his punch, had already spread like a plague to every corner of the world via satellite signals.

Two hours ago.

The night sky over Gotham was pierced by a trail of flame that tore through the darkness.

The Bat fighter jet pierced through the low-hanging clouds at an almost vertical angle, its engines emitting a deep and fierce roar.

Inside the cockpit, the light outlined Bruce's taut jawline.

He wore tactical goggles and steadily operated the complex control panel with both hands.

Soon the fighter jet broke through the troposphere and entered the stratosphere, where its speed increased dramatically.

The vast Russian landscape below flashed rapidly across the tactical screen.

Bruce's gaze was fixed on the coordinates representing Red Square.

Just as Bruce was about to arrive at Red Square, he used the live streaming equipment on the Batplane to see Clark angrily overturning the tank.

Bruce's voice cut into Clark's communicator through an encrypted channel, drowning out the noise of Red Square.

"Clark! What are you doing?! Didn't the Godfather tell you to get out of there immediately, immediately?!"

Bruce's voice was filled with suppressed rage.

He was also very dissatisfied with Clark's actions.

In the current chaotic situation, every move Clark makes will be interpreted as the intention of the US government.

From Clark's direction came the deafening roar of an energy explosion and the screams of the crowd. His voice was gasping for breath and brimming with lingering anger: "Bruce? Is that you? They... they crushed those glass men! Those people who could have been saved! They..."

"Damn it!"

Bruce interrupted him abruptly, his voice more urgent, almost a roar.

"No time for your explanation of justice, Clark. The energy readings in Red Square are skyrocketing, source unknown, danger level exceeding all thresholds. Repeat, evacuate immediately."

Bruce's fingers tapped rapidly on the control panel. "The energy there is abnormal, it's about to explode! Hurry, Clark! Quick!"

As Clark listened to Bruce's voice through the communicator, the irritation in his heart was somewhat extinguished by the jarring noise.

What followed was a chilling warning.

Energy readings increased?

Could it be that the firestorm is out of control and its energy is about to spiral out of control?
He suddenly looked up at the firestorm kneeling on the ground and instantly teleported in front of him.

That wouldn't be fast!

If the firestorm gets out of control and blows up Red Square, then the two of them will never be able to clear their names.

"Calm down, Ronnie!"

Clark placed his hand on Firestorm's shoulder.

"Uh...I...I'm fine..."

Firestorm spoke to him with difficulty.

He had just exhausted a great deal of energy in the battle with the Blazing Warrior, and now he was kneeling on the ground, panting heavily.

Looking at the mess and shattered glass dust on the ground, an overwhelming sense of despair and helplessness almost overwhelmed him.

Firestorm stretched out his hand in vain, towards the debris, towards the angry and terrified crowd, his voice hoarse and choked with sobs: "Why...why won't you listen to me...just...just let me save one...just one...and I can prove...I..."

Although Huo Fengfeng looked pained, he did not seem to be on the verge of a breakdown.

But before Firestorm could finish speaking, Bruce's urgent voice came through the communicator.

"It's not a firestorm, Clark, be careful, the energy source is here."

next second!
Bruce's words were interrupted by a sudden, sharp buzzing sound that exceeded the limits of human hearing.

The piercing sound seemed to strike directly into the depths of Clark's soul.

"Boom!!!"

Above Red Square, deep within the leaden clouds, an indescribable burst of pure white light suddenly erupted.

The light expanded instantly, engulfing everything in sight.

It has no temperature, no sound (except for that eerie buzzing), yet it carries a terrifying will to annihilate all matter and energy.

The Bat fighter jets, which had just flown over Moscow and were rapidly diving down, were instantly swallowed up by the boundless pure white light, like moths drawn to the sun.

The screen in front of Bruce was instantly engulfed by a blinding white noise.
All sensor readings returned to zero, and only a continuous, sharp busy tone remained on the communication channel.

The fighter jets seemed to have rushed into a white hell that deprived them of all senses.

Bruce instinctively yanked the control stick, trying to force the fighter jet up and escape from the deadly white expanse.

However, the joystick did not respond.

The roar of the engine disappeared, the vibration of the machine disappeared, and even the sense of gravity began to blur.

Immediately afterwards, white light, like a surging tide, instantly covered the entire Red Square.

It covered the angry crowd, the terrified soldiers, and the superhumans locked in combat...

All ongoing global live broadcasts simultaneously turned into a blinding spectacle of static, before being completely cut off.

The energy from the explosion consumed everything.

the other side.

A devastating pure white light instantly engulfed everything in Red Square.

The screen turned into blinding static, then plunged into complete darkness.

"Fake!"

Peter cursed under his breath, and the Sand of the Sand in his hand exploded out of control due to his intense emotional turmoil, turning into a cloud of golden dust that dissipated into the air.

He stood up, gripped the back of the sofa, and stared intently at the black screen, as if trying to pierce through the void and see what was happening on Red Square.

In the living room, everyone else was stunned, exchanging bewildered glances.

No one expected things to develop this way.

"Is Clark an idiot today?"

Azu said with a somewhat grim expression, "Look at the mess our great 'Son of Tomorrow' has made. I knew that his childish 'embracing the sun and believing in humanity' playhouse would eventually blow himself and everything he wanted to protect to smithereens."

"Shut up, Azu!"

Raven suddenly stood up and glared angrily at Azu.

She clenched her fists tightly, staring intently at Azu. "Clark just wanted to save people!"

"Yes, he wanted to help people, but he messed everything up."

Azu wanted to continue talking to Raven, but seeing Peter's somewhat unpleasant face, he wisely kept quiet.

He feared that Peter, in his anger and embarrassment, would punish him as well.

Seeing that Azu remained silent, Raven's gaze shifted to the black screen, filled with endless worry. "How...how is he? That light..."

Little Mordred huddled on the sofa like a ghost, swinging her legs.

She asked Peter curiously, "Dad, what do you think that light... could be?"

Mordred looked up at Peter, her eyes filled with nothing but pure curiosity.

Azu also looked at Peter with a worried expression.

Although he had just called Clark an "idiot," he was also concerned about Clark's safety and wanted to know what had happened.

“I don’t know, but it’s clear that Clark has been tricked. Azu, Raven, Mark, get ready, we’re heading to Moscow immediately.”

As Peter spoke, he frowned at the static screen, a sense of unease creeping into his heart.

Why does this scene seem so strangely familiar?

On the other side, Horus stood like a silent statue at the entrance to the living room.

He frowned, wanting to say something, but after glancing at Peter, he ultimately remained silent.

(End of this chapter)