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

Chapter 1021 Clark defeats Dr. Manhattan!

Clark's fist, glowing crimson, tore through the air with a deafening bang.

His only target now is Dr. Manhattan, who is currently suspended in mid-air.

Faced with Clark's attack, Dr. Manhattan's body surface rapidly formed a layer of blue energy.

"boom!"

The fist slammed hard into Dr. Manhattan's chest.

There was no sense of impact; instead, it felt like hitting a barrier in the universe.

The energy particles that make up Manhattan's body rippled and collapsed violently the moment the fist made contact, like water with a stone thrown in.

The violent impact was perfectly dispersed and absorbed, quickly annihilated on Manhattan's body surface.

Clark felt as if he wasn't attacking a physical entity, but rather punching the laws of the universe.

"what!"

Clark let out a suppressed roar of pain, the recoil force like an invisible giant hammer, slamming back down his arm onto his own body.

The bones groaned under the unbearable weight, and the internal organs felt as if they were being squeezed tightly by an invisible hand.

Staggering back a step, blood trickled from the corner of Clark's mouth, dripping onto the scorched lawn where it was instantly evaporated by the intense heat.

Dr. Manhattan remained suspended, calmly watching Clark.

The blue aura around him flowed steadily.

Clark's punch did not penetrate his body's defenses.

“This is not your full strength, Karl El.

Manhattan's voice resounded directly in Clark's mind.

"Your power originates from the material rules of this universe, and I am the observer and weaver of those rules. If you want to use the 'spear' of this universe to pierce its 'shield,' these are not enough."

"Shut up!"

Clark roared at him.

The pain of having his loved ones erased, the immense frustration of being powerless, scorched his reason.

Clark transformed into a streak of crimson light and surged forward once more.

"This punch carries the Godfather's will. Die!"

The heat vision shot out from his eyes like two crimson divine punishments that burned everything in their path.

Extremely high-temperature rays, powerful enough to melt through the Earth's core, slammed into Manhattan's blue body.

Clark then charged forward and unleashed another punch.

This punch was even more powerful than the last one!
"Zizzizi!"

The blinding red and blue lights collided violently and annihilated.

The space groaned in agony, overwhelmed by the pressure.

Manhattan's body showed noticeable fluctuations for the first time under the impact of the crimson beam of light.

The blue particles churned violently as if boiling, attempting to repair the forcibly disintegrated structure.

However, the speed of repair is clearly not keeping up with the extent of damage to the body.

Under Clark's hateful and angry gaze, Manhattan's body turned into dust and slowly disappeared.

At this moment, Clark's red and blue suit was charred and torn, and his exposed skin bore burn marks, with blood constantly seeping from the corners of his mouth and forehead.

As Dr. Manhattan disappeared, Clark could no longer hold on and collapsed to his knees on the scorching ruins, breathing heavily.

Every breath was burning, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

He looked up and around. Before him lay a collapsing battlefield, Raven facing an attack from numerous superpowered individuals, Courtney struggling to hold on, and countless innocent people wailing in the flames of war…

Did I succeed?

He murmured quietly.

Exhaustion, like a heavy shackle, bent his back.

He lowered his head, sweat mixed with blood dripping onto the scalding metal wreckage, making a sizzling sound.

My vision started to blur...

"Godfather, did you see that? I won! I won this battle!"

Just as Clark was whispering, his consciousness becoming somewhat hazy.

A voice pierced through the clamor of the battlefield, like a gentle breeze passing through a cornfield on a summer afternoon in Smallwell, soft yet incredibly clear, resounding deep within his soul.

"Clark"

Clark's body jolted violently.

That voice…so familiar, so warm, so unforgettable!

Is it... is it the Godfather?!

Clark stood up excitedly. "Godfather, it's wonderful! You're back! Did I win this war that determined your survival? Did I succeed, Godfather?"

“You haven’t succeeded yet, this isn’t enough, Clark.”

Peter's slightly hoarse voice echoed in his mind.

"Dr. Manhattan won't be defeated so easily. To defeat him, we need to find his weaknesses, not with more violence. Don't let the wildfire of anger blind you."

The next second, Clark's consciousness seemed to be forcibly pulled into a warm golden light.

No longer the desolation of Smallville, no longer the smoke of battle.

Before me lies Smallwell, the Patrick Farm.

The golden rays of the setting sun spilled onto the boundless cornfield, creating a warm sea of ​​light.

Peter stood on the edge of the field, wearing that plaid shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. He wore the smile Clark remembered most vividly, and his eyes gazed at him with gentle wisdom.

“Look around you, Clark.”

Peter's voice was like a gentle stream, cleansing his heart, which was clouded by anger and despair.

“You are blinded by anger. You only see that blue ‘god,’ only destruction and despair. But hope often hides in corners you cannot see.”

Peter's image became somewhat blurred in the golden light, but his voice became even clearer and stronger:
“Don’t forget who you are, Clark Kent. You are Martha and Jonathan’s son, my godson. You’re not all anger.”

"Anger is power, but uncontrolled anger will only burn you and everything you want to protect."

Peter reached out, as if to stroke Clark's bowed head. "See the truth. Use your eyes, truly see. Not with superhuman vision to look at molecular structures, but with your heart. See if behind that blue presence, there is truly only cold darkness?"

Peter's eyes became incredibly sharp, as if they could pierce through one's soul:
"I believe in you, Clark, my godson. Stand up, look with your heart. Hope is never far away; it is in every moment you choose to lift your head and never give up!"

Although Peter is trapped in the dream world by Manhattan, he may indeed be the guardian of this world, as Manhattan said. Therefore, Dr. Manhattan cannot truly erase his traces, but can only trap him.

During his time trapped in Manhattan, Peter did not do nothing.

He has been traveling through the dreams of countless people, trying to find a way to solve Dr. Manhattan's problem.

Persistence pays off; Peter finally found a clue in Rorschach's dream.

He has now used his Sandman privileges to contact Clark.

Despite the dire situation and the fact that he and his sons and daughters had been erased from existence, Peter believed that Clark and Raven could definitely defeat Manhattan and turn the tide.

"Clark, stop looking up. Look down and see where the other person is standing."

As soon as Peter finished speaking, the golden light receded like a tide, and Peter's warm smile faded away along with the Smallville sunset.

But the words of faith left by Peter, like burning seeds, took deep root in the core of Clark's consciousness.

The cold reality of the battlefield is instantly returned.

Excruciating pain, explosions, and screams filled the air, but Clark felt something inside him was different.

Clark suddenly looked up.

Those eyes, which had been almost bloodshot from being burned by anger and despair, were now clear again, like a sky washed clean by a storm.

Clark's eyes were now filled with a calm light that seemed to know everything.

Peter's words were like a lighthouse, dispelling the fog that had clouded his mind.

Dr. Manhattan, suspended in mid-air, was indeed not truly defeated, just as the Godfather had said.

He reshaped his body and reappeared in the air, still with that indifferent divine deity's posture.

But at that moment, Clark's clear gaze fell on a spot below and behind Manhattan.

General Zhishi appeared there!

This Russian strongman, consumed by the rage of revenge, took advantage of the moment when Clark was knocked down and Manhattan's attention seemed to be drawn away, and personally controlled a menacing-looking, man-portable phase disintegration cannon with a destructive energy vortex spinning around its muzzle.

The cannon was no longer locked onto Clark, but onto Dr. Manhattan's back.

Zhi Shi wore a maniacal grin; clearly, he considered this blue "monster" a greater threat and a priority target to eliminate.

The energy accumulated at the muzzle has reached a critical point and is about to erupt with a destructive torrent powerful enough to disintegrate the basic structure of matter.

The instincts awakened by Peter, and the belief deep within Superman's soul to protect everything, drove Clark's body.

"Uh!"

He let out a suppressed roar, enduring the excruciating pain tearing through his body, and sprang to his feet from his kneeling position. His speed wasn't as swift as at his peak, but it carried an unwavering determination.

This time, Clark's goal is not to rush to Manhattan.

Instead, with a speed beyond comprehension, he sidestepped and blocked the deadly cannon barrel between Manhattan and the enemy.

At the same time, he gathered all the remaining strength in his body and slammed his right fist down towards the position of Zhishi below the cannon muzzle.

"boom!"

Clark's punch landed faster than the opponent's.

Just a fraction of a second before the Phase Decomposition Cannon was about to fire, it slammed into the vulnerable energy node beneath the cannon.

The destructive energy, sufficient to break down matter, lost its restraint within the cannon barrel and exploded instantly.

"Boom!!!"

The warrior was instantly blasted away.

Clark was also violently thrown away by the shockwave of the terrifying explosion that was so close at hand.

His body, like a kite with a broken string, crashed heavily to the ground again, rolling several times before stopping.

He lay on the ground, coughing violently, spitting out blood, his body feeling like it was falling apart.

The entire space was deathly silent.

The battlefield seemed to come to a brief standstill due to this sudden turn of events.

Dr. Manhattan slowly and stiffly lowered his head.

Those calm eyes looked down in shock at the red and blue figure lying on the ground below, covered in wounds.

Then he slowly turned to the scorching warrior behind him, who was still emitting blue smoke and lying on the ground groaning.

Absolute rational logic has encountered variables that cannot be analyzed.

"why?"

Dr. Manhattan's voice rang out directly in Clark's chaotic consciousness.

This time, his voice carried a subtle fluctuation.

Why aren't you attacking me?

Clark struggled to prop himself up, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with his bloodied arm.

He raised his head, his scarred face showing no anger, only a calm and determination that had been tempered by the storm.

Clark's eyes met Manhattan's bewildered gaze without fear.

“I don’t know how to view everything you’ve said, Dr. Joan Osterman.”

Clark said firmly, “Your world, your despair, your experiments with our universe—it’s all too vast and too cold.”

He took a deep breath, as if drawing upon the last strength of the earth, and stood up unsteadily.

Despite his numerous injuries and near-exhaustion of strength, his spine remained ramrod straight.

"But I know that at this moment, I must make a decision. The Godfather has awakened me from my irrationality, and now I understand."

Clark's gaze was like a torch. "You just said there are only two possible outcomes: either you are 'destroyed' by me, or my universe is 'destroyed' by you."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "But why... can't there be a third option?"

Dr. Manhattan fell silent.

That eternal blue radiance seemed to dim for a moment.

A third option?

This completely exceeded his model of timeline deduction based on absolute rationality.

In that deathly still moment, Clark's gaze, as if drawn by invisible threads, suddenly fell upon the area below where Dr. Manhattan was suspended—the lawn scorched black by the repeated plowing of explosive energy.

A small piece of paper, with yellowed and curled edges, covered in dirt and suspicious dark red spots, was drifting slightly with the turbulent airflow.

a photo.

Clark's super vision focuses instantly.

Is this what the Godfather meant by "watching where the other person is going"?
Was this a revelation the Godfather gave him?
Clark looked at the photograph.

The photo shows a young woman with a bright smile and full of energy.

She has chestnut-brown curly hair, bright eyes like stars, and wears an old-fashioned floral dress; the background appears to be a university campus.

The girl's smile was so warm and genuine, full of love and anticipation for life.

In the lower right corner of the photo, a line of faded but still clearly visible handwritten cursive text reads:

"To my Joan, my eternal love. —Jenny, Summer 1958"

Who is that girl?

Clark asked in a very soft voice.

His gaze shifted from the photograph to Dr. Manhattan. "Dr. Joan? She's important to you, isn't she?"

For the first time, Dr. Manhattan's body trembled visibly.

The azure energy particles that made up his body churned and rippled wildly, like oil thrown into boiling water, and even briefly dispersed.

How could that photograph, which he thought had long been lost in the torrent of time, along with all his human emotions, have appeared here?!
"Jenny, my wife"

Dr. Manhattan lowered his head and murmured in pain.

Countless fragments of memory, forcibly sealed away, burst forth like a flood, breaching the dam of absolute rationality and instantly engulfing the core of Manhattan's consciousness.

He recalled memories of his wife, the woman he loved most.

In the lab, the warm touch of Jenny's fingertips as she handed him coffee.
The arc of her skirt billowing as she twirled at the school dance.
Her eyes sparkled with adoration and love when she learned that he had won the "Inner Field" project.
After the car accident, she stayed by his bedside, holding his bandaged hand, and silently shed tears.
And then there was the tearful glint in her eyes during their last meeting, a mixture of love, confusion, and ultimate despair, as he chose to become "Dr. Manhattan," choosing to abandon humanity and embrace divinity.
These images, these feelings, these "human memories" that he had long regarded as redundant data and deleted, now pierced his deepest consciousness like the sharpest blade.

The particles were wailing, and the blue light flickered violently.

A phantom of a young face belonging to Joan Osterman, bearing immense pain and confusion, flickered wildly on his perfect blue face, attempting to coalesce.

I have long since let go of all my attachments.

Manhattan murmured in a cold voice, but his voice was filled with a wavering and pain that he himself was unaware of.

"Completely free of worries?"

Clark's voice rang out as he pointed to the fluttering photograph on the ground.

"Then why, Dr. Joan? Why is this photo taken at every place you've been and at every point in time you've crossed?"

Clark stared intently at him. "Perhaps the darkness you see, Joan Osterman, is not the end."

He pointed down to the battlefield below, where mothers still held their children tightly amidst the flames of war, and strangers tried to drag away the wounded—a battlefield filled with cruelty yet also glimmering with the light of humanity.

"Perhaps the world you try to save by giving everything, even abandoning your humanity, is not destroyed. It is scarred, it stumbles, and it is filled with ugliness and darkness that you cannot comprehend."

Clark's voice suddenly rose in pitch.

"But it's still here, it's still struggling, it's still trying to live. And within that lies your future, the future Jenny hoped to see, a future worth letting go of, a future worth looking forward to!"

"boom!"

As soon as Clark finished speaking, the deep blue light surrounding Dr. Manhattan suddenly erupted like a supernova.

The energy particles that make up his body dispersed wildly and then recombine.

The photo of Jenny was swept up by the energy storm and suspended in front of him. Jenny's warm smile appeared so fragile, yet so eternal, in the raging blue light.

Countless images flashed wildly through his boiling consciousness.

In the Watchmen universe, fleeting smiles grace the faces of people celebrating the end of the nuclear crisis on the streets of New York.
His indifferent gaze as the comedian shot a pregnant woman on the battlefield in Vietnam.
The vague future of the child "foreseen" in Jane Krock's (the puppet) womb
And before him, this scarred yet still standing tall, Superman questions him about the "third option."

"Particles. Remember"

Joan Osterman, her voice filled with endless anguish, uncontrollably escaped from the raging blue energy core.

He finally understood.

He had been observing, experimenting, and trying to understand the nature of hope, but he had never truly immersed himself in it.

He saw the inevitability of darkness, but refused to acknowledge that the light struggling within the darkness was itself the most tenacious form of hope.

He erased Peter to observe Superman, but he overlooked the fact that it was Peter who represented the most basic emotional bond between humans, which was the true spark that ignited the flame of hope in Superman's heart.

Jenny's smile is captured in the photo.

That smile contained love, expectation, and complete trust in him—Joan Osterman—as a "human being."

The future she envisions is not a world saved or destroyed by God, but a future created by human effort, full of flaws yet also full of possibilities.

"I failed in the end, Peter Patrick. Your prophecy came true. I thought Superman was the strongest antibody released from the primordial universe, but I was wrong. You are the one who, no matter what I do, cannot erase his hope. In any case, he has awakened the hope within me."

As he spoke, the blue energy on the surface surrounding Dr. Manhattan suddenly collapsed inward.

Then he suddenly raised the hands that had once so easily erased existence and altered timelines.

An unprecedented, pure, and extremely deep blue light burst forth from the palms of his hands.

The light emanating from Manhattan this time is not destruction, but a reshaping force, an absolute power that transcends time and space.

To everyone's horror, the light instantly engulfed everything.

(End of this chapter)