Marvel: Father of Superheroes

Support me and be 20 chapters ahead of webnovel:

patreon.com/Draco_

******

The plane soared through the blue sky, drifting amidst the white clouds. Looking out at the endless expanse of the sky, Clark's eyes shone with excitement.

Mike couldn't help but laugh quietly to himself.

This kid… he's probably going to be sick of the sky soon enough.

Suddenly, the plane jolted violently twice.

Mike's expression shifted slightly.

But thankfully, the plane quickly stabilized.

He let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Since the house was destroyed, Mike had been on edge, his nerves taut. He had suddenly realized that his child was a superhero, a future champion of justice. And superheroes, as they grow, always encounter crises—often at the cost of something important. The most common loss, in the end, is their parents…

A strange sense of impending danger lingered.

Mike sighed again.

Fortunately, nothing serious had happened on the plane, and they safely arrived at the airport.

As soon as they exited the terminal, Clark looked around, wide-eyed, amazed by everything he hadn't seen before.

Mike smiled as he watched Clark run about, taking everything in. In his heart, he couldn't help but reflect.

After the house had been blown up, he had come to realize one thing:

When trouble comes looking for you, no matter where you hide, you can't escape it.

Rather than dragging Clark from place to place, it seemed better to face things head-on and let the child grow accustomed to such matters. The challenges he would face in the future… there would be many.

Mike snapped back to the present, took Clark's hand, hailed a taxi, and quickly left.

---

*Evening, Kent Farm*

Father and son stood in front of the house.

"Back again," Mike said softly, taking in the familiar yet foreign surroundings with a quiet sigh.

Clark, however, looked around curiously and asked, "Is this our new home?"

Mike ruffled Clark's hair. "Go knock on the door."

Clark jogged up to the door, raised his hand to knock, but before he could, the door swung open on its own. A middle-aged couple appeared in front of them.

"Who are you?"

The man looked at Mike.

Mike answered, "Mike Kent."

The man's face lit up in recognition. He hurriedly stepped aside, looking a little flustered. "I thought you'd be arriving tomorrow. We haven't… had the chance to tidy up."

Mike smiled and gently led Clark into the house.

Inside, while the place had changed a bit since he last saw it, it was still spotless and well-organized. Mike nodded to himself in approval.

Just from this, it was clear the couple had done well.

Mike, holding Clark's hand, walked with the man to the living room. They sat down on the couch, and the woman quickly served them coffee and juice. She sat next to her husband, stealing glances at Mike, though her words seemed to be stuck.

Mike took a sip of coffee, then spoke slowly, "You two…"

"We've already found a place in town. We'll be moving out as soon as possible," the man said quickly, and the woman nodded in agreement.

This was Mike's house after all, but they had been staying here temporarily. Now that Mike had returned, it was only natural they would move out.

Mike smiled slightly. "There's no rush. Take three days to finish packing."

The couple sighed in relief.

Clark curiously watched the adults but was already distracted by the farm outside.

He was eager to meet new friends.

The woman nudged her husband with her elbow. He furrowed his brow, unsure how to begin.

For the past three years, they had worked for Mike as his employees, staying in his house without charge, and it made them feel a bit guilty…

The woman exchanged a glance with her husband, then, after a moment's hesitation, she bit her lip and asked Mike, "Mr. Kent, I was wondering... now that you're back, do you plan to manage the farm yourself, or will you hire someone else?"

Mike paid them a good salary, and they had become familiar with the work. Mary felt she should ask, hoping to keep this great job. It was hard to find a generous employer like Mike again.

Mike set his cup down, and noticing their anxious expressions, he paused for a moment before responding, "I will definitely hire someone."

At those words, the couple's tension only increased.

Mike smiled at the couple and said, "But just so you know, I have no intention of replacing you. You both are doing great."

"That's wonderful!" the man exclaimed, then quickly scratched his head, "I mean, thank you."

Mary, who was nearing fifty, finally relaxed, a smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, Mr. Kent."

Mike waved his hand. "In these past three years, you and Bob have done well. I have no reason to replace you."

Mike had been managing Tomorrow Farm for the past three years, and he was well aware of the farm's profitability.

The couple hadn't taken advantage of this situation; they were honest people, and Mike was very pleased with them.

Mike stood up. "I'm a bit tired. Where's my room?"

Mary quickly responded, "It's still your original room. We haven't used it."

Mike nodded and took Clark's hand, heading toward the room.

He opened the door, and everything inside was exactly as it had been three years ago—nothing had changed. Yet, there wasn't a speck of dust, indicating that the couple had kept it well-maintained.

Mike felt even more satisfied with them.

"Thank you both."

"No need for that!" Bob hurriedly replied. "We've been staying here; it's only right that we clean."

Mike smiled at them, then closed the door behind him.

"Sir, you rest first. I'll come to call you for dinner later."

Mary said softly through the door.

Mike acknowledged her with a quiet thanks.

As he listened to their retreating footsteps, Mike turned to see Clark eagerly exploring the room, touching everything.

"Clark."

Clark turned around, cocking his head.

"Do you want to sleep for a bit?"

"I'm not tired at all!" Clark shook his head. "Is this where you stayed before? It looks so boring."

The room was simply decorated, with nothing to play with.

Mike chuckled. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to buy some things."

Clark cheered, rushing over to hug Mike's leg with a beaming smile. "Dad, Dad, tell me some stories about your past!"

Mike shook his head.

Clark tried to insist.

Using logic to persuade.

"Ah!"

Mike sucked in a sharp breath. "Alright, I'll tell you!"

"Haha!"

Clark laughed happily, threw off his shoes, and jumped onto the bed.

As he began sharing stories from his past, which Clark eagerly absorbed, Mike couldn't help but feel happy too, watching the kid's adoring gaze.

Later that evening, after enjoying the hearty dinner Mary had prepared, Clark watched some television in the living room before curling up on the couch and falling asleep.

Mike carried him back to the room, wiped his face, and then went to wash up himself. Afterward, he sat at the desk in his room.

His journey with Logan to the Three-Mile Knife had consumed quite a few of his cards, so he needed to replenish his stock.

Not replenishing his cards in time always left him feeling uneasy.

As for the quantity…

The more, the better!

"Manifest!"

A figure flashed through Mike's mind. The manifestation power surged within him, and a blank card appeared in his hand.

(End of Chapter)